Stalking Tender Prey

by Constantine, Storm

  Othman wandered into the garden, and lay down in the seeding grass. He was tired. After a brief rest, he would go to Barbara, Louis and Verity. They would work for him now, and there’d be less resistance than from Owen the lover. Give me your son, he would say to Louis, and Louis would obey.

  When Daniel got home from school, he sensed something peculiar in the atmosphere of the house as soon as he stepped over the threshold. Low Mede was silent and dark. Like an omen, the petals from Verity’s flower arrangement lay all over the hall table. There was a stink of foetid water. The hot day had been occluded by thunder clouds, which had trapped the heat, making the air almost unbreathable. Daniel hadn’t gone home the previous night, but had stayed with Owen at the cottage. He was glad that Lily seemed to have accepted him now. He liked her. In the morning, Owen had driven him to school. Before he got out of the car, Daniel had said, ‘I’m thinking of leaving. I can’t handle these two lives.’

  Owen had looked shocked. ‘Leaving where?’

  ‘School, of course. I can’t be a school boy and... whatever else I’ve become. This life means nothing to me now.’ Daniel indicated the modern frontage of the school, the tamed creatures strolling down to its gates. ‘I’m not like them any more. I’ve become suddenly so much older.’

  ‘It would mean changing your life,’ Owen said. ‘Completely. Perhaps for ever.’

  ‘I thought you wanted me to leave!’

  Owen shook his head, perplexed. ‘I do, but I know you have a certain future mapped out for you. Dropping out now would destroy that.’

  ‘I know,’ Daniel answered.

  ‘It’s up to you,’ Owen told him. ‘You can only do what you think best. You will have my support — and Lily’s — whatever you decide.’

  Daniel leaned over and kissed him, uncaring of whether anyone saw him do it. ‘I’ll see you later. Don’t worry about picking me up, I’ll get the bus.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes. I still have some thinking to do, but first I have to steel myself for a whole day of playacting!’

  Now, Daniel wished he had asked Owen to pick him up after school. His instincts told him something was wrong. The house felt wrong. Had something happened to his father? He went cold as he thought about how Louis had been ill all weekend. Perhaps, unconsciously, he had wished his father dead, to free himself from the life that Louis desired for him. Horrified, Daniel opened the door to his father’s study. They were waiting for him there, as if they’d known he’d run to that room, as if they’d anticipated his guilty thoughts.

  Peverel Othman sat in his father’s big, old leather chair before the empty hearth. Behind the chair stood Louis, a man Daniel barely recognised as his father. Beside him, holding his arm, Barbara Eager, too, was a changed woman, her expression veiled and assured. Verity was sitting on the floor at Othman’s feet, hugging her knees. She alone of the group looked miserable, her eyes holding a hunted expression. Daniel wanted to laugh. They all looked both sinister and ridiculous, like a horror film family of vampires waiting for prey.

  ‘Daniel,’ Othman said, raising his head.

  ‘What have you done to them?’ Daniel demanded from the doorway, his hand still on the handle. He wasn’t sure whether to run or not, although his instincts screamed danger to him.

  ‘Done?’ Othman laughed sedately. ‘Look for yourself.’ He rose from the chair, taller than Daniel remembered. His hair hung thick and loose around his shoulders and chest, his hands were attenuated, demonic, and his eyes, narrowed like a viper’s, burned with a light that was almost invisible but which made Daniel’s own eyes ache. Daniel wanted to look away. He knew that he should, but lacked the will power. In his heart, he was aware of just how vulnerable he was, and that Othman knew that. He had dared to believe he was different, that a new, stronger self had awoken within him, but it was newborn and fragile. This man, this creature, was more than a match for it.

  Othman padded across the carpet, his posture stooped. He seemed too big to fit into the room, as if, should he straighten up, his head would brush the high ceiling, cause the light fitting to sway. Everything normal, Daniel realised, had been removed from his life. The inexplicable had come to replace it. His family were gone, the patterns of routine, the possibility of a mundane future. Was this what he had yearned for? These thoughts gave him the impetus to step back. He slammed the door in Othman’s face, turned towards the front door of the house, intending to flee the place, run to Owen and Lily. He had left the front door open. Before he reached it, it crashed shut, and refused to submit to Daniel’s struggles with the handle. He glanced over his shoulder. The study door remained closed. Panicking, Daniel began to run down the hall, towards the corridor that led to the kitchen, but then Peverel Othman stepped like a phantom through the closed study door, and stood before him. In his state of heightened awareness and emotion, his body recalled the most effective of its powers.

  ‘Daniel,’ he said in a soft voice. ‘Don’t run from me. Don’t be frightened. Why are you afraid?’

  Daniel would not answer. He tried to push past Othman, who grabbed hold of his shoulder with taloned fingers. Daniel cried out, beat at the hand that held him, kicked at Othman’s legs. He noticed his father and sister, along with Barbara Eager, standing in the doorway to the study, watching the proceedings as if hypnotised. Then Verity cried, ‘No!’ and ran forward. She clawed at Othman’s face and he was forced to release her brother.

  ‘Run, Danny!’ she cried, and Daniel had no avenue of escape but the stairs. As he skidded round the corner before alighting on the first floor, he saw Othman strike his sister to the ground, where she lay still. Leaning on the banister, horrified, Daniel looked into the eyes of the demon, glowing vividly now.

  ‘Daniel!’ Othman began to lope up the stairs, taking them two, three at a time. Daniel ran, scrabbled with the door to his upper floor rooms, and slammed it shut behind him, turning the key. He did not consider that such a flimsy mechanism as a lock would do little to prevent Othman, a creature who could apparently walk through closed doors, gaining entrance to the room. All Daniel could think about was creating space between himself and Othman. He wondered whether he’d be able to climb out onto the roof from his room.

  In his bedroom, Daniel dragged furniture across the door, his strength augmented with fear. He went to the windows, opened them wide, looked out. There was no escape, other than to jump down. But it was too far. He would be injured or killed.

  Panting, Daniel backed against the wall of his room, staring at the door. All was quiet. For one, sweet, shuddering moment, he dared to wonder whether he’d just suffered some grotesque hallucination, and that there was no devil outside his door. He wanted to cover his ears, believe for just a while longer, that he could not hear its breathing. He closed his eyes. Suddenly, he felt so weary. How could he fight? It was impossible.

  He felt the presence of Peverel Othman before him before he raised his head and opened his eyes.

  ‘Offer unto me what is mine,’ said Othman. There was blood upon his face, but he looked beatific. His faded fair hair hung like serpents on his breast.

  ‘What do you want?’ Daniel said, his voice dull. ‘What do you want with me?’

  ‘I will not hurt you,’ Othman said. ‘Please don’t be afraid.’

  ‘My family,’ Daniel said. ‘What’s happened to them. What have you done?’

  Othman stepped towards him, reached out to Daniel’s shivering face with one hand. The touch was exquisite, so light, yet so electric. Daniel turned his face away. ‘Don’t touch me!’

  ‘Your father is healed,’ Othman said softly. ‘No more pain for him, no more illness. I have done this. Can’t you see, my pretty boy, how good I am? I don’t wish you harm, any of you. I love you all.’

  ‘You are evil!’ Daniel cried. ‘Please go! Please, please go!’

  ‘How can I leave you when you are so upset?’ Othman said. ‘Daniel, don’t cry. It hurts me to see it. Let me kiss your tears away.’<
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  He took Daniel’s head in his hands, and Daniel knew he could have crushed it like a paper cup if he’d wanted to. Daniel felt completely powerless; there was nothing he could do. Nothing. Othman kissed his face gently, licked his tears. Then he sank down with Daniel in his arms, to sit against the side of the bed. He held Daniel in his lap, stroked his face.

  Daniel looked up, and it seemed that reality was seeping away. The room was dark around him. All that existed was the demon’s shining face, and there were tears in his eyes, tears that fell like tiny flames.

  ‘I love you,’ Othman said. ‘You must believe it.’ He hugged Daniel tightly for a moment, and Daniel could feel Othman’s body trembling as if he was weeping. He knew then that Othman would kill him. Reality shifted before him, and there was a perfume in his nostrils, of flowers and dried grasses. The Garden. He saw them moving slowly, gliding phantoms at the very edges of his perception. They were tall, tall as angels. Their faces shone. And Othman was with them. He stood with a group of others on the brow of a ridge. On one side, the cultivated slope led towards shining water and the terraces of the Garden. Everyone was gesturing towards this place, discussing its features, suggesting innovations. Othman joined in with the occasional remark, but Daniel knew he was only pretending to participate, and his thoughts in reality were elsewhere. The others could not see him turning round to stare behind them all, down the spiked jumble of rocks and barren stone, the hard path that led to the lowlands and the people there, their daughters. Othman faced the Garden, but his mind looked backwards. His heart was full of a desperate yearning.

  There were symbols here to interpret, Daniel thought, but he felt too tired, too weak to analyse them. The demon’s face burned through the image of the Garden, and it was wet with tears.

  ‘You are Grigori,’ Daniel murmured. It was an effort to speak, but he knew he spoke the truth.

  ‘Yes,’ Othman said. ‘You can truly see me.’

  We could have moved to any other village, Daniel thought. It was blind chance that we chose this one. If only we’d known, on that day, that this would happen. It was waiting here for us all along. We should have known.

  The touch of the demon was the essence of pleasure. He stroked Daniel’s face, his throat, and his burning eyes were full of tenderness.

  ‘If you’re going to kill me, do it now,’ Daniel said. ‘Don’t make me suffer this.’ Would a demon care about suffering?

  ‘You are cruel,’ Othman said, shaking his head. ‘How can you say such a thing?’

  ‘Then let me go.’ Daniel tensed, wondering if escape was still possible.

  ‘But Daniel you are a lover and keeper of angels. Why do you fight me? Do you fight Owen this way?’

  It occurred to Daniel then that Owen knew what Othman was. They were the same. He felt sick to think that Owen hadn’t warned him, perhaps even knew what was happening now. ‘You are two of a kind,’ Daniel said. ‘I don’t fight him.’

  He felt Othman stiffen a little, become alert. ‘You have told Owen what he is?’

  ‘No, it was the woman, Emma. She told them everything. You know that.’

  ‘I didn’t, actually. I was hoping to reveal the truth to Lily and Owen myself.’

  ‘Then they don’t know that you are Grigori?’

  Othman exhaled through his nose, and was silent for a moment before answering. ‘I expect Ms Manden has told them that as well.’

  ‘They didn’t mention it to me.’

  Othman looked into Daniel’s eyes. It seemed the Winters were playing a few games of their own. It did not matter. He directed his attention back to Daniel. ‘You must not fear me. You are right in saying Owen and I are the same. Come now, let me love you, and everything will make sense.’

  He lowered his face towards Daniel, but Daniel turned away. ‘No!’ He managed to find the strength to roll out of Othman’s arms. Othman remained where he was, looking at Daniel with a speculative eye. ‘You do not understand what you’re running from.’

  Daniel got up and lurched towards the door, began tearing at the obstacles he had stacked there, obeying a screaming inner urge to get out of the room. Othman leapt up and pulled Daniel back. ‘Oh no! You’re not leaving me.’

  Daniel struggled uselessly as Othman lifted him bodily and threw him onto the bed. Then Othman leaned down and, in a casual movement, ripped Daniel’s shirt open. His face was angry now, the features seeming more prominent, his eyes a dull glow beneath hanging brows. Daniel curled up into a ball, knowing that Othman could break his limbs to destroy his defences, if necessary. There seemed to be nothing he could do to save himself.

  Then came an enormous crash. Othman growled and turned towards the door. Shocked and dazed, Daniel saw it burst inwards. Shards of wood and fabric flew outwards, surrounding a leaping black shape that pounced into the room. At first, Daniel couldn’t make out what the creature was or exactly how big it might be; its outline seemed blurred as if a myriad of flickering images were superimposed over one another. The creature threw itself at Othman, snarling like a monstrous cat. Othman threw up his arms to ward off the attack, but the creature lunged forward, throwing Othman back onto the bed. Daniel rolled away quickly and landed heavily on the floor. Glancing back at the bed, he could see that the animal was nothing other than Raven, Verity’s cat. Raven was now clawing at Othman’s upper body, his ears flat, his back legs kicking. How had a cat possessed the strength to demolish the door and its barricade? Daniel could not hope to answer such questions himself. Only escape was important now. But before Daniel could flee the room, Othman managed to tear himself free from Raven’s offensive and flung the cat away from him. The animal went sailing over Daniel’s head to land with a dull thump against the far wall. Daniel cringed, expecting Othman to grab hold of him again, but Raven recovered immediately. With a furious scream, he lunged towards the bed again, but by this time Othman had leapt up and soared nimbly over the debris in the doorway. Already, he was disappearing down the stairs. Raven paused for a moment and glanced at Daniel. For a split second, his image blurred again, and it seemed as if a darkly furred man was crouching there on hands and knees. Daniel gasped, scrabbled backwards. Then, with a final red-mouthed hiss, Raven jumped through the doorway and followed Othman downstairs. After a moment or two, Daniel heard a cacophony of yowling and spitting, as if a dozen or more cats were having a battle on the first floor landing. There were sounds of things breaking, even the echo of an anguished voice from downstairs. Then, after a final feline scream, and a tremendous crash, silence. Daniel ran over to his window, looked out into the garden. He saw something like an oily black shadow slithering over the ground, covering the shrubs and fading flowers, pouring around the trees. Raven came after it, his long paws hardly seeming to touch the ground. Then Daniel saw his father coming out of the French windows of the back parlour. He looked as if he’d stepped from a photograph of a younger version of himself. In his hands, he carried a gun. Verity’s cries came from the house, but they were muffled as if she was being restrained.

  Louis raised the gun.

  The image hit Daniel like a physical slap. Louis was twenty-two, in South Africa, newly married. Verity hadn’t yet been born. And there was silly Janine, with her drawling English speech, her ‘darlings’, her neat, pressed khaki clothes. Louis, in bright sunlight, raised a gun and fired it. In the background, the chink of ice against glass, a stuttering radio sound. The smell of gunfire. And death. Something red.

  The gun went off.

  Raven jumped at least ten feet into the air, somersaulted, fell heavily back to earth. There was a confusion of screaming and shouting, a blur of movement. Daniel found he had slumped against the window sill, half kneeling. Weakly, he dragged himself to his feet. It was important to get out of the house, he knew that, yet the heat tugged at his body, clawing him down. Feebly, he crawled over the splintered furniture at the threshold to his room, and stumbled across the short landing. From downstairs, came the sound of a woman weeping inconsolably
. He thought of his mother as he felt his way dizzily down the stairs.

  He could see the front door, no longer closed, but standing ajar. Daniel ran towards it, the mad scramble of nightmare, when the limbs flail, the breath aches in the chest, but no ground seems to be covered. His hands were reaching, reaching for the outside. He nearly had it.