Invisible Monsters

by H L Macfarlane

  “And you!” he continued, rounding on Dorian despite the audience they were quickly gathering. “How could you do this to her? Even if you didn’t give a damn about the rest of us, how could you spend so much time with Poppy and still put her through what you did? Do you have no feelings at all?”

  “No,” Dorian said dourly. Poppy elbowed him in the ribs; he promptly responded by gently whacking her round the head and deftly moving away from the booth to avoid her fist.

  He walked right into Nate’s.

  “Oh for fuck’s sake!” he complained, holding a hand against his nose as he glared at Nate. “That was it. That was your one shot. I hope it was worth it.”

  “You massacred our club, you son of a bitch. It’ll never be –”

  “Nate, Dorian, sit down and stop arguing for five minutes!”

  “Why should we?!”

  “Fine; argue like children until you fucking die for all I care!” Poppy screamed, storming out of the café with what felt like a million pair of eyes following her but was, in fact, more like twenty. She didn’t have to look behind her to know that Andrew was following closely behind, only stopping when Poppy herself dropped onto a bench overlooking the turbulent waves of the Firth of Clyde.

  “You didn’t bring your jacket,” Andrew said simply as he sat beside her, taking off his own jacket and proffering it to Poppy. She shook her head, but when Andrew placed the jacket over both of them Poppy edged closer to him.

  “I’m sorry, Andrew,” she said after a while. Her words were barely audible over the wind and waves. “I’m sorry for all of them in there, acting the way they’re acting. For leaving you. For letting you get on the damn boat to Dorian’s facility in the first place. Everything.”

  “You’re only responsible for one of those things.”

  “Yeah, and that’s the worst one.”

  “So why did you do it?”

  Poppy turned her head; Andrew’s face was furious and confused. All she wanted to do was cry.

  “Why did you leave, Poppy?” he asked once more. “Why did you leave when –”

  “I wish I could tell you why,” she said, leaning towards Andrew until their foreheads were touching. “I really do. But I don’t really know why I did it…only that I had to.”

  Andrew’s earnest eyes were so close Poppy could see flecks of gold in his brown irises. She didn’t like that she could see herself reflected in them, so she tried to look away.

  Andrew’s hands came up to stop Poppy’s head from turning.

  “Do you love Dorian?”

  “Andrew –”

  “Don’t Andrew me, Poppy. I’m not a child. I’m not your brother. Do you love him?”

  “Andrew, please –”

  “Do you?!”

  “No!” Poppy bit out, too loudly considering how close the two of them were. “I don’t love him, Andrew. How could I?”

  He frowned. “But then why –”

  “I already told you I don’t understand why I went back. Don’t you trust me?”

  “I did! I do! I just…I thought you might be lying to me.”

  Poppy raised a hand and gently placed it over one of Andrew’s. When she squeezed it he returned the pressure.

  “When have I ever lied to you, Andrew?” Poppy asked, very softly.

  “Never. You’ve never lied to me.”

  “So why would I start now?”

  “Poppy, we need to go.”

  “Fuck off, Dorian,” Poppy replied immediately in response to the man’s clearly deliberate interruption.

  “Poppy –”

  “I heard you, so give me a minute!”

  Andrew flung his arms around Poppy’s neck before she could move away. “Don’t go, Poppy,” he begged. “Don’t go with him. You’ll never be safe if you go with him.”

  “And you’ll never be safe if I stay with you,” Poppy said, pulling away from Andrew in order to stand up.

  “I don’t care about that,” he replied, and Poppy hated that it was the truth. “I don’t care that –”

  “Andrew, she can’t stay with you, so stop making this harder on her than it already is,” Dorian said, talking over Andrew as loudly as possible.

  Poppy glared at him. Dorian merely glared right back, arms crossed tightly against the cold.

  “We do have to go, Poppy. You know as well as I do that –”

  “I know, I know!” She glanced back at Andrew. “I’ll get in touch as soon as I can, okay? I can’t promise when that’ll be; I just promise that I will. Can you live with that?”

  Andrew nodded miserably. “I’m going to have to, won’t I?”

  Poppy clutched at his hand once more, before fleeing down the street with Dorian towards the ferry that would take them back to the mainland. She swore loudly when a wave crashed onto the pavement, soaking her up to her knees.

  “Serves you right for feeding Andrew so much false hope,” Dorian muttered.

  “What do you mean, false hope? I really will be in contact as soon as I can!”

  He merely shook his head, laughing incredulously. “The more I get to know you – really, truly know you – the stupider you seem. How can you not see how much Andrew loves you?”

  Poppy paused on the spot long enough for another wave to hit her; she didn’t care. The salt water that filled her mouth only seemed appropriate given what Dorian was saying. “Don’t joke about things like that!” she complained, a beat too late, though somewhere deep inside Poppy knew he wasn’t lying.

  “Fine; if you want to remain wilfully ignorant and forever run from your problems then be my guest. It’s not like I have to be around to witness you doing so or anything.”

  “You could leave.”

  “And yet I won’t, and you know I won’t.”

  Poppy felt like banging her head repeatedly upon the beaten metal railings surrounding the ferry’s upper deck as they boarded. “You can’t complain if you’re staying with me.”

  “I can, and I will.”

  “Why are you so obstinate?!”

  “And why are you so self-absorbed you literally cannot see how people feel about you when it’s staring you right in the face?!”

  Poppy opened her mouth as if to reply. She thought about what to say – about everything she could say, especially after her conversation with Andrew.

  Instead she said nothing.

  “I never thought I’d be happy to see the back of Scotland,” Dorian finally sighed, when it became apparent he’d won the argument by virtue of Poppy never replying. She knew it was his least favourite kind of victory.

  “Where to next?” Poppy asked. She glanced at him standing by her side, tall and windswept and infuriatingly handsome and maddeningly Dorian.

  He shrugged.

  “Wherever you’d like to go.”

  INSATIABLE MONSTERS EXCERPT

  The story continues in Insatiable Monsters. Read on for a sneak peak of chapter one!

  Fred

  A week had passed since Fred and everyone else met up with Poppy and Dorian. A week. Seven days. One hundred and sixty-eight hours.

  It felt like a lifetime.

  The month following the Outdoor Sports Society’s escape from Dorian’s facility had, conversely, passed by in a blur. There had been so much to deal with: police reports, interviews, hospital check-ups, teary family reunions and, above all, the shock of their entire terrifying summer to wrap their heads around.

  But now the worst of that was over, and most of Fred’s questions had been answered thanks to Dorian and Patrick. Which left…nothing.

  Fred had no idea what to do next with his life. It felt like a distant, ridiculously banal dream that he’d ever tortured himself with what came next after university regarding his career. For all Fred cared now he could happily never have a career. A steady income and a secure place to live were insignificant goals in the grand scheme of things.

  For how could he worry about a job when there were monsters lurking in the dark, waiting t
o tear him limb-from-limb whilst he screamed for his life to be spared? He shuddered simply thinking about it. And yet that fear was nothing compared to the terror Fred’s memories of ripping apart Poppy instilled.

  He had done that. Not a monster.

  Not for the first time Fred wondered if that qualified him as one.

  And yet there was no physical sign Poppy had ever been hurt by him, thanks to her blood. Dorian had called it immortal. The idea still baffled him, all things considered, for how was it that Poppy King of all people ended up with such a wonderful, tragic, dangerous ability?

  He was desperate to fully understand how it worked. Perhaps that desperation was a result of Fred’s well-honed instinct to research all things unusual – an instinct shared with Poppy, given their six years of forcibly studying for identical biology degrees.

  He wondered how much Poppy actually knew about it herself. How did it feel, to have such a substance coursing through her veins? Did it feel different than regular blood? Would Poppy even feel a difference between the two?

  But it was too late to find out now. Poppy and Dorian – as well as Casey and Patrick – made no mention of when Fred and Andrew and Rachelle and Nate would see them again. For all Fred knew he’d forever be left in the dark about the subject of immortal blood.

  “Frederick Sampson.”

  He froze. Fred recognised the sultry, low, feminine voice that spoke. But it was out of place; a voice from another, nightmarish time. Reluctantly he turned to face the woman who had spoken.

  Aisling smiled broadly, her perfect teeth gleaming.

  “You here to eat me or something?” Fred asked, his voice flat and dispassionate despite the throbbing of his heart and the adrenaline coursing through his body.

  “Maybe later. I have a job for you first, though.”

  Interest piqued despite himself, Fred muttered, “What kind of job?”

  Aisling’s dangerous smile grew wider.

  “A manhunt, if you will. Help me find Dorian Kapros and Poppy King.”

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  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Hey everyone, and thanks for making it to the end of this bizarre, genre-hopping book of madness. I don’t actually really know what to say.

  The inspiration for this came in the form of a very lucid dream back in August 2018, which I promptly noted down as soon as I woke up, though I was still barely conscious. When I finally got round to looking at the notes properly I realised at least half of what I wrote made zero sense.

  Anyway…

  After some careful planning and character development I came up with Invisible Monsters. It was always supposed to be a one-off book, since I already have the Assassin trilogy to work on, but I very quickly grew far too attached to the characters, and there was so much story left to be explored. Hence it became its own trilogy! Lord help us all. On the plus side, if you enjoyed this book then you’ll no doubt enjoy the second and third ones, too.

  It’s set in Scotland, in case that wasn’t obvious. I know broadly where I imagine Dorian’s facility is, though it’s unlikely something could ever get built there. I guess that’s what fiction is for. I really like setting my stories in places I know, so when the characters start moving about in book two I’ll definitely be using countries I’ve visited before to make sure the locations are believable. Barcelona, anyone?

  I don’t really know who is supposed to be the protagonist in the story. At first glance it’s Poppy, and I suppose she is. But if you look at it from Dorian’s perspective he’s the protagonist, and if you look at it from Andrew’s perspective he’s…okay, you get it. Actually, Andrew will always be the protagonist, or certainly at least the ‘hero’ of the story (and my heart). If anything happened to Andrew I’d kill everyone in the room and them myself (thanks Rosa), even if I was responsible for killing him and therefore the only person in the room, because Andrew doesn’t exist.

  What a sad thought, though in reality it’s a reassuring one, since I’d rather there weren’t monsters lurking our streets even if it also means Andrew doesn’t exist. However, as the ever insightful Clopin in Disney’s Hunchback of Notre Dame asks us, “What makes the monster and what makes the man?”

  I really hope Invisible Monsters explored that dichotomy appropriately, or at least started to. I shall continue doing so in the second book, so please bear with me as I muddle through scary things like themes and character arcs and, you know, story in general.

  I’d of course like to thank (because this is, in fact, an acknowledgements section) the ridiculously talented Howl, who was responsible for the gorgeous artwork gracing the Invisible Monsters cover; my partner, Jake; our wonderful bunnies, and each and every one of you out there who decided to pick up this book and read it to the end. But most of all I’d like to thank Kirsty, because this book is for her. What a bizarre token of my platonic affection: fictional, ravenous, murderous monsters.

  Oh well.

  Until the next one!

  P.S. This book is littered with awful references to various books, films and television shows. Let me know if you spotted any!

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Hayley Louise Macfarlane hails from the very tiny hamlet of Balmaha on the shores of Loch Lomond in Scotland. Having spent eight years studying at the University of Glasgow and graduating with a BSc (hons) in Genetics and then a PhD in synthetic biology, Hayley quickly realised that her long-term passion for writing trumped her desire to work in a laboratory.

  Now Hayley spends her time writing across a whole host of genres, particularly realistic science fiction (naturally), urban fantasy and psychological suspense. She supposes that she also writes romance, but it's pretty twisted.

  She plans to release a book every month of 2019, and this is her fourth. She’s very tired, but very happy she’s right on track.