Sam Black Shadow

by Paul Berry

  ‘Well, isn’t that just typical of me!’

  ‘You know what will happen if I grow tired of you.’

  I nervously scratch the top of the owl’s head, burrowing the tip of my finger into the soft feathers. He lets out a low chirp that sounds like a cat purring. Adam returns and hands me a long woollen coat and a silk scarf. Helsing politely takes flight again while I put them on.

  ‘Marcus is still sulking,’ he says.

  ‘What about you?’

  ‘I gave up sulking when I stopped being a child.’

  ‘I mean, aren’t you going to need a coat too?’ Adam chuckles.

  ‘I don’t feel the cold.’ Helsing cheeps and I raise my arm. He swoops down and perches on it, swivelling his head around excitedly. Adam opens the door that leads out from the conservatory and I follow him with my arm raised as though I’m leading a marching band. There is now a frosty covering of snow on the grass, sparkling in the moonlight, and the frozen lake creaks like the deck of a ship.

  ‘He’s usually high in the sky by now,’ Adam says. ‘He’s definitely in love with you.’ I gently shake my arm and the owl takes off, his excited shrieks piercing across the ice.

  ‘Will he not just fly away?’ I ask.

  ‘He knows he gets free meals here.’

  Helsing suddenly dives at the ground, sending up a flurry of snow, then takes off. High-pitched squeaking echoes from above and he lands at my feet. Between his claws is a wriggling grey mouse.

  ‘Tell him to let it go!’ I shout, horrified.

  ‘It’s in his nature.’ Adam’s eyes flash with excitement and his face alters, his features elongating, his lips snarling over sharp teeth. I feel the sudden urge to run across the garden, through the gap in the hedge and back home.

  ‘Adam?’

  He looks at me and his face is normal. ‘Release.’ Helsing relaxes his grip and the mouse darts in zigzags across the snow and disappears into a hedge.

  I rub my eyes, trying to dispel the growing uncertainty. ‘Maybe I should do the same as the mouse and go home. I don’t think Marcus is happy with me being here. I’m only going to cause more arguments.’ Helsing chirps and claws the ground, as if hoping another mouse will poke its head through the snow.

  Adam puts his hand on my shoulder. ‘If you want to go, I can take you back to the park.’ I look towards the gap in the hedge where we entered and can almost hear the music from the disco floating through the air. I suddenly remember Terry and the look of disgust on Mr Hewitt’s face and Rachel holding the peacock head. I then have the vivid image of my dad picking up the framed photo of me in the lounge and stuffing it angrily into a drawer.

  I hesitate, suddenly feeling tired. The sky flashes with lightning, and snowflakes start swirling across my cheeks.

  ‘We should go back inside and put Helsing to bed,’ Adam says. ‘I’m sure Marcus is dying to apologise for being such a baby. Besides, it looks like a storm is approaching.’ A chill wind blows the flakes around my coat and there is a low rumble of thunder.

  Helsing chirps and I raise my arm. He flaps back onto it, ruffling his feathers against the snow. As we walk back through the conservatory doors, Adam tries to stroke his wing, but he pecks his hand.

  ‘Another ungrateful guest in my house.’ He laughs, sucking the end of his finger.

  The owl stares at him defiantly.

  We walk back through the dining room into a vast ballroom. The ceiling is mirrored, so when I look up I get the uncomfortable feeling I’m dangling there by my feet. I blink to clear the vertigo.

  ‘You’ll get used to that,’ Philip says, sitting at a black piano in the corner. Marcus is standing next to him, his face relaxed.

  ‘Forgive me for being such a cretin,’ he says. Adam kisses him on the cheek.

  ‘You’re forgiven.’

  ‘Any requests?’ Philip asks.

  ‘Play something jolly,’ Adam says, ‘not your usual depressing stuff.’

  ‘The usual depressing stuff is called classical music. Something your parochial ears wouldn’t recognise.’

  ‘Happy classical, then?’ Marcus suggests.

  Adam smiles at me and takes my hand. ‘Do you want to dance?’ I remember Rachel asking me at the disco. It feels like a thousand years ago.

  ‘I can’t. Two left feet.’ Anxiety is still crouching in my brain like a black spider. Did Adam’s face really change or was it one of my hallucinations? Why can’t my crazy mind leave me alone for a while and let me have a few moments of fun? I breathe deeply and push the thoughts away. A hand lingers on my arm.

  ‘Sam?’ Adam asks.

  ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘You looked like you’d disappeared inside yourself.’

  ‘Just my past trying to catch up with me.’

  ‘Then dancing is the perfect way to escape it.’

  ‘Apparently, I look like I’m drowning when I dance.’

  ‘Don’t worry. You’ll pick it up in no time. And I’m the best teacher.’ Before I can back away, he places my hands on his waist and puts his on my shoulders. I look at him nervously.

  ‘Just move your feet a little,’ he says. Philip cracks his knuckles and starts playing a classical-sounding melody, and I shuffle awkwardly. Marcus leans against the piano, waving his hand around as if conducting an invisible orchestra. Adam slips his hands down to my hips.

  ‘Move these a bit more.’ Philip switches to a waltz.

  I look up and the mirrored ceiling undulates like water. Beneath the surface a dark shape swims, surrounded by a cloud of writhing tentacles.

  It sees me and fixes me with a malevolent stare.

  I stagger backwards, my heart racing. The music stops and Adam guides me to a chair.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I say, looking down at the floor, trying to avoid glancing at the ceiling.

  ‘I think that’s enough dancing tonight,’ Adam says.

  ‘Marcus probably undercooked the chicken again,’ Philip says.

  ‘Don’t insult the chef. My cuisine is always impeccable.’

  The room stops spinning and I look up at the ceiling. The only reflection is the ballroom.

  Adam puts his palm on my forehead. ‘You’re freezing.’ I stand up and stagger, my legs wobbly. ‘Looks like winter has started nipping at you.’ He puts his arm around my waist. ‘We’ll retire to the lounge and warm you up.’ He walks me out of the ballroom and back through the dining room. The scent of sandalwood and cloves wafts from his body, the same aftershave my dad wears, and I start feeling more relaxed because he smells like home.

  We enter the hall and he opens a panelled door next to the dining room. He guides me to a couch in front of a marble fireplace carved with reliefs of seahorses and mermaids, flames crackling between the logs.

  He unstoppers a square crystal decanter and fills a tumbler. ‘Drink this.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Medicine.’ He hands me the glass and I sniff it before taking a sip. The brandy is delicious, its liquid warmth spreading from my stomach into my limbs, and I turn the glass and watch the firelight sparkle over its facets.

  ‘I didn’t mean to scare you all. I thought I saw something in the mirror.’

  ‘You were having a terrible night before I found you. Your mind is just trying to deal with what happened.’ He sits down next to me and rests his arm behind my head, and I lean against it. I reach for his other hand and interlock my fingers with his.

  ‘At least now it’s turned into a fantastic dream,’ I say. I shake my head, the words feeling hollow as they pass my lips. I have the fleeting sensation of not being in my body and watching myself with Adam as though in a scene on a giant TV.

  ‘Then let’s hope you never wake up.’ I study his face, fascinated by the way his thick lashes frame his eyes, his brown skin reflecting flecks of gold in the trembli
ng light, and I trace the dark stubble spreading downwards from his cheekbones to his jaw.

  He slowly moves his head forward. ‘Are you ok with this?’ he murmurs, and I nod.

  Our lips touch and he lingers briefly before pulling back. I stare at his mouth, afraid that I will never feel his lips again.

  ‘I wish my father was here,’ he says. ‘It’s lonely without him.’

  ‘But what about Philip and Marcus?’

  ‘When Marcus isn’t sulking, all they do is argue about what clothes they’re going to wear or whose turn it is to make dinner.’

  ‘I’m sure your father misses you.’

  Adam shakes his head. ‘He says he loves me, but if you love somebody you don’t leave them.’

  ‘Where is he?’

  ‘Abroad. Far away. He said he’d return soon, but I don’t know when.’

  ‘Can’t you visit him?’

  Adam sighs. ‘That’s impossible. And he would never allow it.’

  ‘I bet he can’t wait to see you.’

  ‘I think he prefers it without me.’ I tighten my fingers around his and he responds by squeezing back. ‘Sometimes I can’t stand it here any longer.’ He looks into the fire, his eyes glistening. ‘Forgive me for being selfish and wittering on about my foolish problems. This night is supposed to be about helping you through yours.’

  ‘You’ve already helped me more than you know. You pulled me back.’

  ‘I’ll always be here to pull you back.’

  ‘You’re going to regret saying that.’

  Adam takes my glass and sips the remaining brandy. ‘How long have you been feeling sad?’

  ‘Almost my whole life. It got worse after my mother died, squatting inside me like some creature.’

  ‘We can face it together – cast out your monster.’

  ‘Then you can stick a sword in its belly.’

  ‘Indeed I can. I’m so happy I found you – and your monster.’

  ‘I wish I could stay here forever.’

  Do I?

  ‘You can. Don’t go back. You can live here with your friends and me.’ His offer makes my heart throb with longing. Every morning I could wake up in bed next to him and lean over for a kiss.

  But I feel racked with confusion. It feels like part of me is still standing outside, alone in the maze and shivering in the snow with a ripped shirt, shouting at me to leave, begging for me to listen.

  ‘I can’t. My dad. He’s probably at home worrying about me right now.’ I imagine him pacing through the house, anxiously waiting for a phone call to tell him I’ve been found.

  ‘I could speak to him. If I tell him how happy you are here, I’m sure he’ll want you to stay. I can say you’re painting my portrait.’

  ‘I don’t think he’d agree to that.’

  ‘You’re almost eighteen. You’re free to live any life you want.’

  ‘Adam, I don’t think I can abandon him. He’s all I’ve got.’ I try to remember if I’d told Adam my age.

  ‘All parents leave. Sooner or later they leave and then you’re left alone.’

  His hand slides over my stomach and his rhythmic breath is hot on my neck. The image of me shouting in the maze is obliterated by a flurry of snow.

  ‘Promise you’ll always be mine,’ he whispers.

  ‘I promise.’

  He lightly kisses me under the ear, his tongue caressing the lobe. His hand moves to my thigh and I lean forward, our lips pressing together. His tongue probes the inside of my mouth and he tastes of ozone before a storm. I feel all the doubt inside me vanish, replaced with calmness as though I’m lying in a boat on the lake with him and looking at the stars.

  There’s giggling behind the couch.

  ‘Don’t let us interrupt you.’ Marcus and Philip poke their heads over the edge.

  ‘Haven’t you two got better things to do?’ Adam asks irritably. They both laugh.

  ‘We’ve got a game planned in our room,’ Marcus says.

  ‘I’ll join you later,’ Adam says.

  Philip gently flicks my ear. ‘And what about Sam? Do you fancy playing with us?’ I cover my mouth and yawn loudly.

  ‘No, he doesn’t,’ Adam says sharply. ‘I think Sam needs to get some sleep.’ I lie back on the soft cushions, my eyelids heavy.

  ‘Let us know if you change your mind,’ Marcus says.

  ‘Have a pleasant evening, lovebirds,’ Adam says. They link arms and prance out of the lounge, laughing.

  He sighs and shakes his head. ‘It’s like living with comedians who are the only ones laughing at their jokes.’

  ‘They were the only people who made college tolerable. They never cared what anyone thought or said. I wanted to be fearless just like them.’

  ‘Your taste in role models is very strange.’

  I feel another yawn swelling behind my ears. ‘I can sleep on the couch. Do you have a spare blanket?’

  ‘Nonsense. My room is yours tonight.’ I can already imagine my body sinking into the enormous mattress on the four-poster bed.

  ‘I wish this night didn’t have to end. I’m scared of tomorrow.’ The scene of devastation in the art room flashes through my mind and I grimace when I remember kissing Mr Hewitt.

  ‘Try not to worry. In the morning everything will be better.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ He leans forward and I close my eyes for the kiss, but he just pushes the hair from my eyes.

  Chapter 11

  I follow Adam to his bedroom, and he lights some candles next to the bed and shadows dance across the ceiling. I hear Marcus and Philip’s faint laughter echoing from somewhere in the house.

  ‘We’ll talk in the morning about what to do,’ Adam says softly. I lean forward to kiss him, but he kisses my forehead instead. ‘Sweet dreams.’ His face looks tired and sad as he turns away and closes the door behind him.

  I wonder why he’s suddenly turned cold. Was I a bad kisser? I wish I’d agreed to stay with him, as he probably thinks I don’t have feelings for him. Would it be that terrible if I stayed here? I’m sure my dad would come to accept it once he realised how happy I was.

  I undress, carefully fold the clothes and place them on the back of a chair and blow out the candles. I slip under the warm sheets, which smell of Adam, and pull them to my face, breathing deeply and feeling him course through my body. The mattress is soft, and I stare at the moonlight streaming through a gap in the curtains, a cool breeze from the open window causing the chandelier to sound musical chimes.

  For the first time in years I feel safe and relaxed in a place where I don’t have to hide myself and pretend the names whispered behind my back don’t hurt. I close my eyes and feel myself drifting off.

  A scream pierces the air.

  My eyes flick open in shock and I protectively clutch the covers to my neck. I strain to listen. In between the rhythmic tinkling of the chandelier, I hear faint sobbing and pleading from behind the door.

  Adam is hurt.

  I jump out of bed, almost tripping over as I pull on my trousers in the darkness, regretting blowing out the candles. I slowly open the door and look down the corridor.

  Mixed in with the sobs is cruel laughter.

  ‘No … stop,’ a voice begs.

  I edge down the corridor, fumble in the blackness and grab a candlestick from one of the side tables. The only thing visible is a slit of light from beneath a door. I take a deep breath and slowly open it.

  The room strobes with candlelight. Marcus and Philip are standing on either side of the bed, holding down a struggling figure.

  ‘Stop wriggling,’ Marcus says.

  At the foot of the bed is Adam, his back to me, blocking the view of the figure’s face. He is holding something in his hand, something black and writhing that looks like a small snake. He moves towards the to
p of the bed. I see their captive’s face.

  It is Terry.

  ‘Help me,’ he croaks.

  ‘Hush now,’ Marcus says. He raises Terry’s wrist to his mouth and bites down. Terry lets out a high-pitched whimper and Marcus slurps up the blood that courses out.

  ‘Open wide,’ Adam says and squeezes Terry’s mouth open, dropping the snake-like thing into it. He chokes, his legs thrashing against the mattress, then closes his eyes, his body becoming limp. Philip chuckles, leans over and kisses Marcus. Adam caresses Terry’s face.

  ‘Welcome to the family.’

  Their faces start changing.

  Thin black tentacles squirm from their cheeks and foreheads, waving in the air like the eye stalks of snails.

  I gasp and drop the candlestick. They turn their heads. I try to move but my body is rigid.

  Adam advances towards me, the tentacles writhing on his face. He snatches the top of my arm and marches me back to his bedroom, his fingers digging into my bicep. I recoil when one of the tentacles brushes against my cheek.

  He pushes me in and slams the door, flames spurting from the candles. His face has returned to normal and I back away, my calves pressing against the bed frame.

  This has to be a nightmare. I’ve probably fallen asleep after watching a horror film. The events at the disco, the maze, this house, none of them actually happened. It’s just my brain conjuring up a monstrous illusion.

  ‘What are you?’ I stammer.

  ‘Something I didn’t want you to see.’ I squeeze my eyes shut and take a deep breath. When I open them I’ll be back in my bedroom, the video recorder still playing. I snap them open.

  I’m still in his room.

  ‘Get on the bed,’ he orders. The floor tilts as I start to black out. ‘Don’t be afraid, Sam. I’m just one of your monsters, your vampires.’

  I shake my head. ‘This isn’t real. You’re not real.’ I dig my nails into my palm.

  Wake up, wake up, wake up.

  ‘You’re right. You’re asleep and this is a nightmare. Lie down and close your eyes.’

  ‘Adam, please.’

  He clutches his head and cries out. ‘My god, Sam! Get out now, while you still can!’ A burst of adrenaline courses down my spine and I run to the door, but it’s locked. He starts laughing, his eyes jet black.