Wings of Sorrow (A horror fantasy novel)

by Iain Rob Wright

  Her dad’s expression sagged in horror, and he teetered from side to side. The police officers closed in around Scarlet, questions firing. “You know the man who did this? Explain to us what’s happening, Scarlet, and take your time.”

  So she told them the story, starting with the naked man by the lake and ending with the attack on her in almost the same spot, but there was where she stopped. She didn’t want to get into the whole insane fairytale that Mr Chester had told her. The police would probably lock her up for being loopy if she repeated that crazy yarn, so she told them enough to investigate: that two strange men had inserted themselves into her life, and that one had attacked her. Once she took the bandage off her arm and showed them the burn mark, they were all shocked. Her dad went teary-eyed—which surprised her. One of the police officers took photographs with his phone, while his partner took down a few more notes. Then they left the house together.

  Her dad locked the door behind them and put on the security chain. “What have you got yourself into, Scarlet?”

  “What? Nothing, dad, I swear.”

  “Then why would somebody attack you?”

  “I don’t know! You were the one who said not to walk alone by the lake. I should have listened to you.”

  “You’re really telling the truth?”

  “Yes, I swear. I don’t understand what’s going on. I’m scared.”

  He pulled her close and stroked her hair like he had when she was a child. “It’s okay now. Nobody is going to hurt you. I’ll drive you to work tomorrow and pick you up.”

  “Yeah, about that… I’m not going back to my job.”

  He moved her away so that he could look at her. “What? Why?”

  She considered telling him that Mr Chester was a few strawberries short of a punnet, but instead, she simply said: “I just don’t want to work there anymore. I’ll find somewhere else.”

  “Scarlet, don’t you think you should have found somewhere else first, before quitting? What are you going to do in the meantime?”

  “I’m sixteen, dad. Most girls my age are hanging around doing nothing.”

  “And you want to be like them? You want to waste your life doing nothing?”

  “I’m not wasting my life. It was just a stupid job.”

  “That you walked out on. You won’t get a reference now.”

  Scarlet clutched her forehead and groaned. “Look, I can’t deal with this right now, okay, so just lay off.”

  “Fine, then just go to your room while I sort out this mess. If I find out that you know more about what happened…”

  “I don’t,” she snapped, “so just leave me alone!” She stormed up the stairs and into her bedroom, slamming the door closed behind her. Like the living room, it had also been ransacked. She tidied up as much as she was able, and then sat down on her bed. It was then that she realised something was missing.

  She spent the next ten minutes searching high and low for her mother’s necklace, but it had vanished. It’d been hanging on a small display-stand on her dressing table, as it always did, but the stand was on its side. All of her other jewellery was present—rings, ear studs, and bracelets—everything except for her mother’s necklace—the only thing she had left of a woman she barely remembered. Had The Saint stolen it? Or had her dad removed it? She wasn’t in the mood to ask him about it right now, but she was almost certain he wouldn’t have touched it—it meant too much to her. So, if it was The Saint who had taken it, why?

  Too exhausted for thinking, she lay down on her bed. It was only a little after noon, but she closed her eyes. Life had become a droning headache, and she just wanted to shut it off and stop existing for a while. So that’s what she did.

  ***

  When she awoke, she was sweaty and laying in darkness. She checked the clock beside her bed and saw that it was 3AM. She’d slept for almost twelve hours.

  She bolted upright and clutched her forehead as a stab of lightning struck her skull behind the eyes. The ache had been there before she’d gone to sleep, but now it was worse. The throbbing had progressed from a woodpecker’s tap to a workman’s drill. Maybe she was dying? Lying in a coma somewhere and just imagining everything she had been told about monsters and mayhem.

  She slid out from beneath her covers and stood up. Her mind turned immediately to food, and her belly cried out in hunger. The last time she’d eaten was breakfast—yesterday.

  Quietly, not wanting to wake her dad, she crept out of her room and went across the landing to the stairs. The staircase was carpeted, but still creaked with every step she took. Each sound made her wince and pause, listening out for movement from her dad’s room. There was something instinctively naughty about creeping around at night while others slept.

  Finally reaching the living room below, she let out a sigh. Her dad hadn’t woken—or at least he’d made no sound to suggest he had. She was still upset with him, although part of her understood why he was upset with her. The problem was that he didn’t understand everything that had happened. He was looking at things as a parent, daddy-blinkers firmly attached to his head.

  It felt like something was attached to her head too—something heavy.

  She went into the kitchen and opened the fridge, enjoying the cool blanket of air that leapt out at her. The first thing that called out to her was a sealed box of spicy chicken wings—eat hot or cold. She snatched the box and pierced the plastic film with her jagged, half-painted thumbnail. The first bite was Heaven, the second Nirvana. She chewed and swallowed endlessly until all that was left was a box of sticky chicken bones.

  Realising that she had hot sauce and bird skin all over her lips and fingers, she threw the box in the bin and hurried over to the sink. She twisted on the cold tap and began swilling her filthy fingertips and face beneath the stream.

  What the hell is wrong with me? I’m acting like a pig.

  She poured a glass of water and forced herself to sip it slowly, instead of downing it in one chug like she wanted. Her body felt empty, like there was a gaping black hole in her tummy that needed to be filled. Her head began to throb less, but the ache remained with her.

  She felt hot, her skin clammy.

  Fresh air. She needed fresh air, so she hurried over to the back door and turned the latch. To her dismay, she discovered that the night outside was just as stifling as it was indoors. She growled, surprising herself by how feral she sounded. Something was wrong, like her mind had drifted a few inches outside of her head and was now misaligned with her body. Her thoughts were muddled and unfocused. And she was hot.

  So hot.

  She stepped out onto the lawn in her bare feet, enjoying the soft yield of the cool grass, and then sat down on the swinging bench that her dad had bought last May but still had not used to this hot, August night. It was a cheap, self-assembly item from the supermarket, but it was surprisingly comfortable now that she eased back into it. Sailing back and forth caused a light breeze on her hot cheeks that felt sublime. Slowly, her mind shifted back into its correct position.

  “Scarlet?”

  Scarlet flinched, which sent the bench swinging backwards faster. Once she swung forwards again, she saw the shadow of a man in the garden with her.

  “Sorrow? What the hell are you doing out here?”

  “I am guarding you.”

  “You’re stalking me,” she managed to snap, while keeping her voice to a whisper. “I should call the police. Did you take my mother’s necklace?”

  “I took no necklace.”

  She dug her heels into the mud to stop the bench from swinging, and then sat upright. “Then it was your pal, The Saint. He broke into our house and partied like a freakin’ rockstar.”

  Sorrow came over to her, so that he was standing right in front of the bench. “What is a ‘freakin’ rockstar’?”

  “Someone who likes to smash other people’s furniture,” she explained. “Don’t worry about it.”

  The expression on Sorrow’s face showed little under
standing. Once again, she got the feeling that he meant her no harm and was confused about things as much as she was.

  “Are you hurt, Scarlet?”

  “No, I’m fine. I’m just angry that your blond-pal took my mother’s necklace. It’s all I had from her.”

  Sorrow frowned. “You keep calling The Saint my pal, yet I do not know him—other than him being a threat to you.”

  “Whatever. He’s resorted to petty thievery now, so maybe he’s done trying to kill me.”

  “This necklace, I will get it back for you.”

  She laughed. “Great, then I won’t have to go back inside and call the police on you; although, God knows I should. Is there anything you wouldn’t do for me, Sorrow?”

  “No. I am here because of you.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  He looked at her earnestly, his face an unflinching, marble slab. “Yes, I do. I am here to ensure that you grow into the great woman you are supposed to be.”

  “Who are you, Sorrow? Do you not remember anything at all?”

  He shook his head and seemed troubled. “I see flashes. Troubling images come to me, but I cannot make them out properly. They are upsetting.”

  “If you were sent here to protect me, why did you lose your memory?”

  “I do not know. Perhaps it is part of a plan.”

  “You don’t even know that there is a plan.”

  “Your angry pal, Mr Chester, seemed to believe that there was. Perhaps he can continue to explain things for us.”

  “You believe all that stuff he said?”

  “It sounded… plausible.”

  “Then that would make us both evil,” she said.

  Sorrow reached out to her. She went to move aside, but his hand settled on her shoulder before she had a chance. “That is the part with which I disagree. Nothing as beautiful as you could ever be evil.”

  Scarlet hated herself for blushing, but she did so in full force. Her mind conjured embarrassing images of her ruddy cheeks lighting up the dark.

  Unexpectedly, she yawned. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she said. “I just woke up, and I feel sleepy again.”

  Sorrow sat down beside her on the swinging bench, close enough that they were touching. He seemed confused by the movement at first, but eventually managed to perch himself securely. “Things will find their proper balance.”

  “You need to learn to talk like a normal person, d’you know that? And get some shoes!”

  “Shoes matter to you?”

  “No,” she said, stifling a yawn. “Not really.”

  “Then what does matter to you? I have no possessions, but I will seek to gain whatever you think I need.”

  The thought of Sorrow having nothing made her sad. It wasn’t a surprise, considering he had come from some other dimension—or something—but it was still sad. He seemed so lost and confused all the time, yet always brave.

  She thought of something. Reaching to her neck, she grabbed at her pendant. “I have something for you to have.”

  “What is it? I would very much like to have it.”

  She chuckled. “You don’t even know what it is yet.” She took off the pendant and split the dove in two. Gently, she pulled Sorrow’s head forward and fastened one half around his neck. Then she put the other half back around her own neck. It felt nice to only have one half. “There, now you have something. It’s a pendant. I have one half, and you have the other. It means we are friends.”

  Sorrow smiled wide enough that his straight, white teeth almost lit up the darkness. “Thank you. Our talismans will bind us. It is a wonderful gift, of which I am not worthy.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” she said, chuckling again. “Calm down, it’s just a necklace. Look after it, though, because I’m still making payments.”

  “Payments?”

  “Nevermind. It just me—” A yawn escaped her.

  “You are tired, kind Scarlet. You should sleep.”

  “I know, but I’m just going to stay here for a while. It’s too hot to go inside just yet.” She eased herself back into the bench and fought a losing battle against her drooping eyelids. The gentle swinging started lulling her to sleep within moments. She had not expected to fall asleep again so easily.

  ***

  The birds invaded her dreams before they did her reality. For a while, she imagined she was sitting in a rowboat in the centre of the town’s lake. Chirping robins and foraging sparrows surrounded her in the sky, but when her eyes fluttered open, she realised that the chorus was from the trees in her garden. She was lying on the swinging bench, while the morning sun hurt her eyes.

  Shoving herself upright, she glanced around, blinking. Sorrow sat on the grass against the fence and showed no expression on his face as he watched her. His voice, however, was full of concern when he spoke. “Scarlet, you are awake.”

  “How long was I out?”

  “From night until day.”

  She rolled her eyes, and decided to get the answer from her watch instead. It was almost 8AM. “Have you just been sitting there for the last four hours?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Where else would I go?”

  There was a noise from inside the house.

  “Sorrow, you need to leave! My dad will be getting ready for work. He can’t see you.”

  “Okay, I will meet you at Mr Chester’s trinket house.”

  “What? I’m not going back there.”

  “But we need answers, and he may have them.”

  She didn’t like it, but it was true. “Okay, fine. I’ll meet you there in an hour.”

  “Until then, kind Scarlet.”

  “Yeah, okay, weird demon-man.”

  Sorrow disappeared and Scarlet headed inside. She made it into the kitchen just as her dad entered wearing his suit and tie. “Oh!” he said, startled. “You’re up!”

  “I, eh, didn’t sleep well, so I decided to get up. You want coffee?”

  “No, thanks, hun I’m running late. I didn’t sleep well either. I’m sorry I shouted at you yesterday. If you’re not happy at your job, then of course you shouldn’t stay there. Things are just tough at the moment, and I want the best for you. I thought a job would keep you out of trouble.”

  “I know. I shouldn’t have just walked out. I’m going back there this morning to talk to Mr Chester.”

  He looked surprised. “You are?”

  “Yeah, I’ve thought about things. I don’t want to get into trouble either. What happened back when we lived in Birmingham… It won’t happen again, okay? I want to be an adult.”

  “That’s very mature, Scarlet, I’m proud of you. Hopefully Mr Chester will forgive you.”

  Scarlet almost frowned at that, but forced a smile instead. “Yeah, hopefully. I’ll have to speak to him; see what he has to say today.”

  “And if he doesn’t forgive you, we’ll find you someplace else—somewhere that will look good on your CV when you start applying to colleges.”

  “Can we talk about college some other time? I have a lot going on right now.”

  “Like what?” He looked uncomfortable. “Boys?”

  She stiffened. “In a way.”

  “Oh, Scarlet, please don’t end up getting pregnant, or something just as bad.”

  “Dad, what have I ever done to make you think things like that about me? I might have taken a bit of dope at my last school, and yeah, I might have got expelled, but that doesn’t make me a slut. I’m not going to get pregnant, okay? I’m not even seeing anybody.” He looked relieved, but she was so angry right now that her mouth was acting on its own. “You know, maybe you should try judging yourself for once. You’re not exactly dad of the year. Mum left us ten years ago, and you still take it out on me. You think I’m going to turn into some kind of massive bitch and leave you, but the truth is that mum left because of you, not because of anything I did.”

  He reeled backwards as if she had slapped him, and when he recovered, h
e was furious. His dark eyebrows formed an angry V. “What’s got into you? How dare you say those things to me, Scarlet. I work my fingers to the bone to feed you, clothe—”

  “You work your fingers to the bone because you would rather be anywhere else than at home with me. Maybe I should get pregnant. Least then I would have some company.”

  “Go to your room this instant.”

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” She sneered. “I spent all of yesterday in my room, and now you want me to spend all of today in there too? I’ll tell you what: I’ll just go seal myself up and you can push food under the door. That way you won’t even have to look at me anymore.”

  He might actually have gone to slap her then, but he stopped himself from doing whatever he had planned and just stood there. When he spoke again, he spoke very slowly. “You have a job to go and beg for. I suggest you get dressed and get out, but I want you home by six o’clock, because we’re going to have a talk.”

  “Looking forward to it.”

  Scarlet had to fight back the tears as she fled upstairs. What had got into her?

  ~ Chapter Seven ~

  Scarlet did not walk from the bus stop in town, she marched. When she entered the Little Treasures Emporium, the door crashed into the wall so hard that the glass pane almost cracked. Mr Chester was nowhere to be seen, but Indy was kneeling down on the floor stocking a shelf.

  “We’re not open yet—oh, hey, Scar, you’re back. I was worried about you. I tried to call…”

  “I lost my phone. Where’s Mr Chester?”

  “In the back, but wait…”

  Scarlet didn’t wait. She went behind the counter and into the back, where she found her ex-boss standing in the middle of the room as if he’d been waiting for her. “Scarlet,” he said. “I’m glad you came. We need to try and solve this.”

  She placed her hands on her hips and pulled a face she imagined was not pretty. “Understatement of the century. Saint Psychopath broke into my house yesterday. I don’t even want to think about what he would have done to me if I’d been home.”

  “Did he take anything?”