Moonlight

by Tim O'Rourke

  Snapping open her eyes again, and clawing her hair from her face, the wind wrapped itself around Winnie like a cold, wet blanket and almost seemed to whisper in her ears.

  Come home...the wind cried as it circled her.

  Come home...he will kill you...just like the others...the wind whispered.

  Winnie threw her hands over her ears, closing her eyes against the leaves that now whipped violently around her as if she were trapped in a raging storm. Then, she felt her hands being pulled free from over her ears.

  “Winnie!” a voice shouted.

  This time it wasn’t a voice carried on the wind that she heard. Opening her eyes, Winnie stared into Thaddeus’s pale face.

  “Winnie!” he shouted, taking her by the shoulders and gently shaking her as if waking her from a dream.

  “There were faces,” she breathed, then glanced back over her shoulder at the treeline.

  “Faces?” Thaddeus asked. “What faces? Where?”

  “They were staring out of the woods at me,” she murmured, feeling confused and disorientated. “There were voices, too.”

  “Voices?” Thaddeus said, sounding evermore confused.

  “It was like they were talking to me,” she said, and her lower lip trembled as she stared into the darkness that separated the trees.

  “I didn’t hear anything,” Thaddeus said, and seeing that she was trembling, he pulled her close.

  “You were inside,” she tried to explain. “You wouldn’t have heard them because of the wind.”

  “Where were these faces?” Thaddeus quizzed her.

  “I’m not sure,” she said, a deep frown forming across her brow. “I saw them reflected in the window.”

  “Reflected in the window,” he frowned back at her. Then a half-smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Are you sure it wasn’t just the moonlight distorting your own reflection back at you?”

  “No, I’m sure,” Winnie whispered, now starting to feel confused, a sense of self-doubt taking hold of her. “What about the voices?”

  “The wind perhaps?” he said, looking at her. “We’re high up here. The wind can sound like a million different things as it cuts across the fields and rages against the cliff faces.”

  “Really?” Winnie asked him, a part of her hoping that what he said was true.

  “Sure it does,” he said. “Sometimes, when the wind blows really hard, you couldn’t be blamed for mistaking it for a giant pack of wolves racing up the hillside.”

  “But they sounded so real,” she mumbled.

  Then, leading her gently out of the shaft of moonlight, the wind and the rain, they headed towards the house. “I think you had a little too much to drink tonight,” he told her. “You’ll laugh about this in the morning.”

  They reached the open front door, and looking back at the pool of moonlight, Winnie whispered, “You never took that picture.”

  “I couldn’t find my camera,” he smiled back at her, and closed the door.

  Chapter Ten

  Thaddeus took their wet coats and hung them up to dry in the kitchen. He made them both a cup of sweet black coffee and Winnie sat at the kitchen table. Her head still felt a little groggy as she tried to make sense of what she had really seen outside in the storm. Her cheeks glowed scarlet from where she had been left waiting outside in the cold. Winnie sat and shivered before him, as Thaddeus pushed a mug of coffee towards her.

  "Here, drink this. It’ll warm you up."

  Thaddeus knew that Winnie was still a little tipsy from the wine, but he wanted to give her a list of instructions for tomorrow so that there wouldn’t be any more mistakes and embarrassments.

  He sat opposite her and said, "Winnie, tomorrow morning, a bundle of foreign newspapers will be delivered. They arrive once a week on a Thursday morning."

  She took a sip of her coffee, and then said, "Why do you have foreign newspapers delivered? What's wrong with the English ones?"

  Thaddeus smiled. “I have English newspapers delivered as well, but I like to keep abreast of what's happening all over the world."

  Winnie started to relax a little now that she was in the warmth beneath the glow of the kitchen lighting, the feelings of fear she had felt outside were now slowly ebbing away, like the broken pieces of a nightmare at dawn. With the mug of coffee warming her hands, Winnie looked with surprise across the table at Thaddeus and said, "You mean you can read and understand loads of different languages? What countries do these newspapers come from?"

  Thaddeus found her disbelief and wonderment a little amusing. "Yes, I can speak many different languages. The papers I have delivered are mainly European, but I also have papers from America, Australia, Japan, China, and a few more besides."

  Winnie sat up in her seat, eyes wide with interest. "You can speak and read in Japanese?"

  “Yes,” he smiled.

  "I don't believe it!”

  "Winnie, would I lie to you?” and his eyes twinkled.

  “Go on then, prove it. Say something in Japanese,” she egged him on.

  He laughed a little again and met her gaze. "You embarrass me, Winnie; not now, maybe another time. Let us master the English language first, and then I will teach you another."

  Winnie frowned, but she didn't want to press the issue. She would have loved to have heard him say just a few words in another language, to hear his soft voice in another tongue. Then looking at him, she said, “So what’s wrong with my English?”

  “Nothing,” he said. “But I remember you telling me while you ate pasta the other night, that your reading and writing wasn’t great.”

  “I was hardly at school,” she said, trying to excuse herself.

  “No matter,” Thaddeus said. “That was in the past. This is a new beginning. I have plenty of books. I’m sure I’ll be able to find one that you’ll enjoy reading.” Then, changing the subject, he said, "When the papers come, just take them in for me and leave them in the hallway. Could you also give the place a bit of a clean? I haven't touched it in over a week."

  Winnie nodded and said, "Sure.”

  “As for shopping, buy meats: pork, lamb, steak, and liver. Get some fresh vegetables, bread, milk, fruit, and whatever else you fancy."

  "But what do you want me to cook?"

  "Nothing,” he said with a shake of his head. “I'm going to teach you to cook, remember? When I wake tomorrow evening, we shall cook together. You just get the food."

  Winnie finished her coffee, and now just wanting to get some sleep, she said, "Okay, anything else?"

  "Yes, the clothes in your bedroom – treat them as your own. Wear whatever you want, when you want. They used to be my wife’s."

  "Oh, I couldn't. I wouldn't feel...." Winnie started to protest.

  "She wouldn't have minded. I know she would have wanted you to have them."

  "But...” Winnie started up again.

  Before she had the chance to finish what it was she had wanted to say, Thaddeus got up from his seat and said, "She really wouldn't have minded."

  He crossed to the kitchen door, paused, and turned to face her, "Thank you for a wonderful evening, Winnie, your company has been enchanting. I shall see you tomorrow.”

  He turned to go through the door as Winnie called after him, "What was her name?"

  Thaddeus stopped in midstride. He paused for what seemed an eternity, and then turned to face her.

  "Frances," he said, looking down at the floor.

  "What did she look like?" Winnie dared to ask, remembering how he had avoided the subject earlier that evening.

  Slowly, Thaddeus raised his head and fixed her sleepy eyes with his own cool, dark stare, then answered her question. "Strangely enough, Frances looked a lot like you,” he said.

  He turned on his heels and left the kitchen for his room high above, where, as far as Winnie knew, he stayed until the following evening.

  Chapter Eleven

  “You are truly beautiful,” he whispered in her ear, using one hand to
unzip her dress.

  “I bet you always say that,” the girl giggled at the touch of his breath against her neck.

  He made no reply as he slowly pulled the dress down over her shoulders, releasing her ample breasts. Swaying slightly, she helped him pull her dress and panties down over her hips and thighs, where they made a whispering sound against her flesh. He guided her away from the discarded clothing, and looked at her in the moonlight; it seemed to slice her living room in two.

  “So beautiful,” he said, looking at her.

  “You’ll have to be quiet, or you’ll wake the baby,” she giggled again, pointing upwards.

  Ignoring her, he looked at how her white skin glimmered like marble in the moonlight.

  “So much flesh,” he mused.

  “Hey, you cheeky bastard,” she half-smiled, the strong smell of wine on her breath. “What are you saying, that I’m fat?” And she crossed her arms over her breasts.

  “No, no,” he smiled at her, gently pulling her arms away again. From the moment he had seen her sitting in the corner of the pub, with the wind and the rain roaring outside and the crash of the waves against the quay, he knew she would be the one. Again, it had all been far too easy for him. A few drinks, the right words, and a little harmless flirting. That was all it took. He was beautiful too, he knew that and so did they. Most women and even a few men turned their heads and looked twice when they first saw him. He wasn’t interested in them. He liked the girls who wouldn’t look at him, who wouldn’t match his stare because they believed they weren’t worthy. If he were to be honest - they weren’t. Not many were.

  But they went with him easily, without a fight, because they were needy, lonely, or both. The girl who stood before him was an ideal candidate. As she had knocked back the drinks he had placed before her, she had groaned on and on about how the father of her child had left her, how lonely she was, how unattractive she felt, and on and on and on. He wasn’t interested in any of that shit. He was only interested in satisfying the hunger that burnt inside of him. As he sat and drank, the more she talked. Christ, she made her life sound so fucking depressing, he honestly began to wonder if she wouldn’t be better off dead after all. She talked about how she only earnt minimum wage at the local store, and it wasn’t even enough to pay for childcare. How since she was the only one of her friends who had become a mum, they didn’t understand. They didn’t want to sit in of a night - they wanted to be out having fun and not wiping a baby’s arse. Even the friend she had planned to meet tonight had failed to show up. On and on and on she went. He just sat and smiled, pretending to listen intently, telling her that he couldn’t understand why such an attractive young woman was being so hard on herself, though all the while his innards seethed, and his blood felt like it was boiling in his veins as the hunger gnawed away at him.

  Then when he thought he couldn’t take it anymore, and that he might just rip her fucking throat out in the bar and be done with it, she staggered to her feet, giggling that she hadn’t meant to be out so long as she had left her baby asleep in his cot. Then, just like he knew she would, the girl looked down at him and said, “I’ve got a bottle of wine in the fridge at home, if you fancy another?”

  “Sure,” he had smiled at her.

  She pushed open the front door and stumbled into the hallway, kicking her heels off as she went. He closed the front door behind her, but not tight. He always left the door open just an inch so the others could join him.

  Now he took her in his arms and steadied her.

  “We can do it on the sofa if you like,” she said, as he leant in close and kissed her neck.

  He could smell her skin and cheap perfume. Beneath it, he could smell what he had really come for and it pulsed through her veins in a rush. He gripped her left breast with his hand, and she gasped. He could feel her heart thumping just beneath his fist, and his, matched its frantic pace.

  “How about on the floor?” she slurred in his ear, taking his hand that still cupped her breast and guided him downwards.

  “The floor would be good,” he whispered back.

  She kicked aside kiddie toys, which cluttered the floor of the living room, and lay on her back. Then kneeling over her, he gripped her wrists and pinned her to the floor.

  “It’s going to be like that, is it?” she squirmed with a rush of excitement beneath him. Then she froze and peered over his shoulder as she heard a sound in the hallway.

  “Stop,” she whispered. “I think there is someone else in here.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about them,” he grinned into her face. “They are just my friends.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” she said, looking back up into his face. It wasn’t the beautifully good-looking face that had turned her on so much before. Those wonderful brown eyes were now deep black holes, and his full lips were now stretched open across his face, disappearing behind his ears. In the moonlight, which sliced through the window, the girl at first thought he had somehow managed to put on one of those freaky-looking clown masks. As he spoke, his lips rolled back, revealing a set of long, jagged teeth.

  “Get off me!” she screeched, bucking her hips in an attempt to throw him clear of her. He was too strong and pinned her effortlessly to the floor. Then, with her eyes bulging, she glanced over his shoulder to see two others enter the living room – one male, the other female. At first glance, the girl thought them both to be as beautiful as the man had once been, but as they stepped into the moonlight, she screamed at the sight of their ragged mouths, which looked as if they had split their faces in two.

  “Please don’t hurt me,” she begged softly.

  “That’s what they all say,” the man pinning her to the floor whispered, his lips spreading too wide across his face.

  She kicked wildly out with her legs, but just like her arms, her legs became pinned to the floor by the female and male.

  “Please...” she struggled against them, as the female holding her leg drew her tongue along the outside of the girl’s thigh, as if tasting her.

  Then, from above, a different kind of cry cut through the night – the sound of a baby. The girl glanced up at the ceiling and so did the others.

  She saw the delight in their sunken black eyes and sobbed, “Please don’t hurt my baby. Please...I won’t tell...” but the last of her sentence became nothing more than a series of undecipherable gurgles and spluttering’s, as the vampire lunged forward and greedily ripped out her throat.

  The sound of their ravenous feeding drowned out the sound of the baby’s cries for a while, but not for long.

  Chapter Twelve

  Winnie lay on her bed, arms stretched out on either side of her. She was cold, wearing only a pair of panties and a bra. Her eyes were closed and she didn’t need to open them to know that her room was in complete darkness. Her heart raced behind her narrow chest and her mind swam sickly from side to side. She wished again that she hadn’t drunk so much. She reached for the covers, then stopped. There was a noise - she was sure of it, like someone moving in her room. She wanted to open her eyes but couldn’t. It was like they were being held shut by two invisible thumbs.

  Then she felt the cool touch of a hand on her ankle. A man’s hand. Strong. Moving like the legs of a giant spider, she could feel fingers slowly traveling up her leg. They worked slowly, caressing her calf muscle, stroking and pressing her inner thigh. She reached out with her hand, to brush it away but there was no one there.

  Open your eyes, she cursed herself. She couldn’t.

  The room fell silent again. The only sound she could hear was her own heart thumping in her ears. She felt scared but didn't want to yell out, in case she disturbed Thaddeus.

  Then, she felt those fingers again as they passed over her stomach and worked their way up between her breasts. Winnie reached out again but still couldn't find anybody there.

  Open your eyes, the voice inside urged her. She couldn’t or wouldn’t. She was no longer sure. Then she felt the warm wetne
ss of lips covering her own.

  She felt scared now, but kind of excited, too. How was that possible? She wondered behind her closed eyelids. The mouth worked its way up her throat and nicked at her fair skin. She moaned in pain, and then the mouth covered hers again. A tongue darted into her mouth and she kissed back. Then for the first time, she could feel the whole of his body pressing down over hers. Winnie reached out with her hands for him, wanting him now, yet hating him. She could feel no one there.

  The mouth broke away from hers and she threw open her eyes and although the room was in complete darkness, his face shone palely down into hers. She looked up at Thaddeus. His eyes bore right into hers and he smiled...

  ...Winnie sat bolt upright in bed, her whole body covered in a sticky sweat. She sucked frantic mouthfuls of air into her lungs as she fought to breathe. With her heart racing, she peered about her room as the early morning sun streamed through the windows in thin ribbons of light. Her head ached from the alcohol she had drunk the night before. Winnie sat and shivered as the last fragments of her dream ebbed away. She felt troubled by her dream. Not because it had scared her - but it had felt so real. Not just the feel of his touch, but the feelings she had felt while kissing him.

  Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, Winnie tried to push the last remaining shards of the dream away, which still lingered on in the furthest corners of her mind. Why had she dreamt of them together like that? She thought, as she padded over to the bathroom. Sure, Thaddeus was hot, with his messy hair, stubble, and dark brown eyes, but to have had such a vivid dream...what did that mean? As she turned on the taps and watched the hot water slosh into the bath, Winnie feared that just like she had tried to push him away in her dream, where she had secretly wanted him, she didn’t want those feelings to become a reality.