Nocturnes (Mary Hades Book 3)

by Sarah Dalton

  That’s when I realise I can’t do it. I have to get air. I need to get away from these people, from all this mess. I stagger away from Travis and run into the kitchen, breathless and sweaty. Lacey stares at me with big blue eyes. I pour myself a large vodka and stand by the sink, feeling the burn slip down my throat.

  “You all right?”

  At first, I don’t realise that the words are directed towards me.

  “Mary? Are you all right?”

  I sigh. It’s only Melanie.

  “I’m okay,” I reply.

  “You were right, you know. It wasn’t okay that night. I’m glad you got me out of there. I… I want to keep away from them all from now on. It doesn’t feel right anymore. I don’t want to be part of all that crap.”

  “They used to do it with Tasha, too,” I say.

  “They’re bullies. They tell you that if you don’t go with them they’ll tell everyone you’re a prude and frigid. They give you vodka and coke to calm your nerves. They tell you you’re beautiful and that they’ll look after you.” Her eyes are filled with tears. “The thing is… I wanted so much to be Grace’s best friend and hang out with her that I went along with everything they did. She seemed so perfect. I wanted to be just like her. But then I realised what it was all about. Now I can’t seem to go a day without drinking something. Grace takes stronger stuff. She’s a cokehead. Terri, she’s just addicted to relationships. Coll, she’s addicted to money. We’re all a mess, Mary. You’re the only normal one.”

  I have to laugh at that. I suck down the rest of my vodka whilst trying not to puke. “Why did you do that to Judith? You might not be Grace or Travis. You might not be the ringleader, but you still took part in her bullying. You hounded that girl until she felt like she couldn’t go on. How could you do that to another human being? You, who’ve been treated like shit by Trav, still went out and made another person feel like shit.”

  A tear rolls down Melanie’s cheek. “I guess we do it to block out our own shit.”

  “It ends tonight,” I say.

  I walk back into the living room and press myself against Travis, ignoring the stale cider on his breath.

  “Take me upstairs,” I say. I don’t need to say any more.

  I check that Lacey is following when we leave. This entire plan rests on her.

  “You’ve changed your tune, Hades. Not that I’m complaining.” He opens the door to a bedroom. There are two half-naked people on the bed. I don’t linger on them long enough to find out who they are. “Get out of my bedroom.” Travis slaps the girl on the arse as they leave, then says to me, “C’mere.”

  But instead of folding into Travis’s arms, I glance at Lacey and give her a nod before pulling out my phone. This is Lacey’s time to shine. Her eyes glow, and the light above flickers on and off. Travis lifts his chin, frowning at the sudden change in electrics. I get my phone set to record, and Lacey throws one of Travis’s rugby trophies across the room. She pulls down the curtains as I focus the camera on Travis’s face.

  “What the fuck?” he says.

  Lacey flies around the room, knocking over a lamp, swatting the cider out of his hand, blowing cold air down his neck. Travis backs away, his arms flailing. Lacey pushes him, and his arms windmill until he hits the floor.

  “What’s going on?” he demands. “Are you doing this? Make it stop!”

  This is exactly what I wanted: Travis to beg for it to stop, to be so frightened and vulnerable that when I post the video on YouTube, he’ll end up just as humiliated as Tasha, Judith, and I have been from his actions.

  Travis leaps back onto his feet while Lacey opens and closes all his drawers, pulling out socks and t-shirts. She throws the balled-up socks at his head. I had hoped that he might have run away screaming by now, but he stands in the centre of the room with a face as red as beetroot and veins pulsing in his neck.

  He speaks through his teeth, with spittle flying from his mouth. “I. Said. Stop. This. Right. Now.”

  “What is there to stop, Travis? I’m not doing anything.”

  “Put. That. Phone. Down.”

  I see him come towards me on the screen first. Then the phone is out of my hands and hitting the floor. Travis grips me by the wrists. His face is inches from mine, and it’s filled with anger.

  “Trying to make me look like a fool, are ya? Did you think it would be funny to manipulate me? You girls think that stuff is hilarious, don’t you? You’re all the same.”

  Travis’s fingers are like a tight vice around my wrists. I can feel the bruises forming on my skin. “Stop it. You’re hurting me.”

  He imitates my voice in a whine. “Stop it. You’re hurting me. I’ll show you what really hurts.” He slaps me on the face. “Does that hurt? Does it?”

  The slap is like a bucket of cold water dumped over my head. The buzz from the vodka leaves my system in an instant, making me realise that I’m alone with a rugby player twice my size.

  Lacey, with panicked eyes, punches at Travis, but the blow hardly connects with him. He tosses me aside, and my bag goes flying across the floor. Lacey runs at him, but she fails to keep her hold over her spirit form. Instead of hurting him, she runs straight through him. I flash her a worried look as Travis comes back towards me. I reach out for the bag. My Athamé is inside. If I can get to it…

  Travis pulls me back. His great paw of a hand grasps hold of the back of my dress, which scrapes painfully against my skin as he forces me onto my feet. He takes hold of my hair in his fist and I cry out. With his other hand, he trails the length of my scars.

  “You’d be a pretty girl without these. Beautiful, even. As it is, you’re ugly and broken. The thing is, broken things turn me on.” His eyes are hungry for an instant. Then his smile turns into an ugly grimace. “By the time I’m done with you, you’ll have more than these scars.”

  Somehow, through the fog of fear, I manage to make my brain work. There’s one thing that everyone says you should do when you’re attacked by a man far bigger than you. Kick him, hard, in the balls.

  Travis doubles over. I force myself free and run towards the door. Lacey helps by revealing herself and kicking him in the stomach. I manage to wrench open the door, but then Travis grabs me around the waist and pulls me back. Now I panic. I hold on to the door, screaming at the top of my lungs. A few bemused partygoers turn towards me. Aren’t they going to help? My fingers can’t hold on. Travis’s arms squeeze me so hard I can’t breathe.

  Oh God. No one is going to help me.

  I try to scream.

  I have no breath.

  The door opens wider. I’m falling down, with energy leaving every muscle in my body. There’s a blur of movement. The vice around my middle begins to dissipate. The blood rushes to my extremities and I can think again. I burst forth, drop to the floor and search in my bag for the Athamé. When Travis reaches the floor, I realise Jack is in the room. He’s the one who got Travis away from me.

  I climb to my feet at the same time as Travis. He’s squaring up with Jack, ready for a fight. Jack’s leather jacket is on the floor. His jaw tenses, and his eyes are filled with determination. But as they circle each other, the temperature in the room drops. I look around me, waiting for Tasha to appear.

  “What’s the matter, Maynard?” Travis rubs the blood away from his nose. “I’m just having a little fun with my girl.”

  Jack takes another punch, but Travis is too quick. He feints, dives, and strikes Jack in the kidneys. Jack doubles over. I take a step forward, holding out my Athamé.

  “Don’t come any closer. This ends now, Travis. You’re going to stop all this, the intimidating and bullying. You’re going to stop taking advantage of the girls at this school. It all ends.” I lift the Athamé an inch to demonstrate that I’m serious.

  “You’re not going to use that thing on me,” Travis says. “You’ve not got the balls.”

  I think of the spirit inside my mother, the ghost who terrorised Seth, the serial killer who killed Lace
y. “You know nothing about what I’m capable of.”

  For a split second, there’s a glimmer of real fear in Travis’s eyes. He believes me. In that moment of hesitation, Jack flies at Travis, taking him down. The two wrestle on the floor for a moment before Jack manages to overpower Travis, hitting him in the face. As Travis squirms beneath him, Jack punches him again.

  I move towards them, shouting for Jack to stop. Jack’s head snaps up. I recoil. My stomach lurches. His eyes are black. I shake my head and back away. The air is cold, and my breath comes out as steam. Lacey is frozen, her skin white as milk. Jack’s arms thrash down on Travis, beating him into a pulp.

  I come to my senses. “Get off him!”

  Jack’s head turns to me. He parts his mouth, revealing his teeth in a slow, menacing smile. His eyes are a flat black. He’s possessed. When he speaks, it’s like an old record played on slow. “I’ll kill him.”

  “Do something!” Lacey shouts.

  I lift the Athamé, trying to remember the symbols Emmaline taught me to rid a person of a ghost.

  Jack hisses and steps back from the Athamé. The two black orbs are focussed on me. His lips snarl back. I arc the Athamé, ignoring the curl of his lip and the plummeting temperature in the room. He starts to growl, but I control the Athamé. I force my arm to move without trembling. I will not fear her.

  Lacey gasps first. As Tasha leaves Jack’s body, the swarm of black diffuses through the room before forming into the outline of a monster. First, the skeleton face appears in the flecks of black, then the ribs, the arms, and the floating black hair. Now I see all of her face. I see the agony in her eyes and the thinness of her retracting lips. She stands before me, a figure of wild fury. It makes the air thrum. Breathing her anger is like swimming through treacle. She fills the room so that everything else fades away. There is only her, and her rancorous passions. She floats towards me.

  Chapter Twenty

  “I know you’re hurting, Tasha,” I say.

  “You know nothing.” Her tongue is a dry husk. Her teeth are spikes. Her skin is so dry and paper-thin that little flakes fall away from her face as she talks. Her voice is so dry and deep that my arms break out with goose bumps.

  The door bursts open and Willa comes running into the room. “The doors and windows are locked!”

  Tasha floats away from us, chuckling deeply.

  “Stop this, Tasha. This isn’t you.” I step forward with the Athamé, but she shies away from me. A low hiss escapes through her teeth.

  The dance music stops abruptly, and I know then what is about to happen. The pain comes first this time. Then the cello music begins. Tasha lets out a low moan of pain, but what surprises me the most is that an almost identical moan escapes my lips too. I feel her agony. I feel the hunger that gnawed away at her. She ignored the hurt until it grew bigger, and bigger, consuming her, ridding her of the control that she so desperately needed.

  Willa grasps hold of my hand as I fall to the floor. Tasha flies towards the unconscious Travis.

  “No!” I shout, reaching for her.

  The last thing I see before I’m flung across the room is the open, snarling mouth of the emaciated ghost. Then I hit the wall. The wind is knocked from me. I’m a broken ragdoll.

  My protective best friend comes alive. Her eyes darken and her hair floats up and around her. Red lines emerge from the corners of her eyes, and she grows a few inches. Lacey flies at Tasha, connecting with her so hard that I could imagine those brittle bones snapping like twigs. But Tasha is stronger than she seems. She uses tooth and claw, biting a chunk from Lacey’s ear. I pull myself forward, ignoring the pain erupting from my abdomen. Lacey and Tasha screech as they lunge at each other, two spirits living in a different world, killing each other.

  But Willa is there first. She calls Lacey’s name, getting her away from Tasha. I look for the Athamé when another searing wave of agony grips hold of my stomach. I stumble forward, the room disappearing before my eyes. Flash. The room is different, tidy, and in it a young girl with black hair is lying on the duvet cover. Flash. Tasha’s emaciated ghost crawls towards Travis. Flash. The young girl laughs, tipping her head back. Flash. Jack’s face is slack with terror. Flash. The girl cries, pulling her knees up to her chin. Flash. A black swarm gathers over Travis’s head. Willa screams something. Flash. The once-happy girl pukes on the floor. Flash. Travis stands. His eyes are black.

  “This for every time you used me.” The voice comes from Travis, but it squeaks like a little girl’s. The discord sends a jolt down my spine. Tasha, controlling Travis, scrapes fingernails down his arms, drawing blood. He scans the room and picks up a rugby trophy with a sharp edge. “This is for every time you cheated on me.” The trophy is drawn across his wrist. I wince and turn away. “This is for every time you told me I was worthless, that your friends only wanted me because I was a slut. You made me believe it.”

  I scan the room, looking for the Athamé. Neither Willa nor Jack nor Lacey seems to be able to move. They’re stuck, like I am. Impotent with fear.

  No, I’m not like them. I have been through this before, and worse. I can stop this. My eyes find the glint of metal poking out from beneath the bed. I drop to my knees to reach it.

  A foot slams into my side, winding me. Then the squeezing of my abdomen comes back.

  “You feel it, don’t you?” Tasha says through Travis, in that creepy little girl voice. “The tightening of your stomach. I used to love the way it hurt. It made me feel alive again after he made me dead inside. I used to let them touch me, let them screw me, but I never felt anything. That’s what he did to me. He wore me down with his little threats and his ‘fun’ parties that would make me less of a prude. He kept wearing me down, further and further, until I was a husk. Dried up. Spit out.”

  I roll over onto my side and he bends down next to me. Tasha’s features seem to burn through his skin. Feral eyes stare at me through a tilted, deranged face. Tasha’s voice is a whisper. “You know as well as I do. You know. The living world is darker than the dead. Those who are alive do worse things to each other than those who are dead. You know it. I see it in you. It’s all over your face.”

  Jack pushes Travis back, giving me the few seconds I need to grab the Athamé. I try to stand, ignoring my throbbing abdomen. Travis gurns, chewing on his lips and drooling. A low growl comes from deep in his throat. He throws himself at Jack, teeth bared.

  I help Willa, trying to drag the possessed Travis away from Jack. Lacey lands a hit on the back of Travis’s head. I lift the Athamé, ready to draw the first symbol, but Travis lifts his hand and clenches his fist. I double over in pain, watching as sweat rolls over my nose. Travis laughs in a deep, animal way before shoving past Jack and Willa into the hall.

  “Follow…” I say through gritted teeth.

  Willa and Jack are the first to move. Jack comes to my side and helps me up. His body quivers next to me. His arms are strong, but his steps falter.

  “Are you all right?” I ask.

  He nods, but the tightness of his jaw, and the grey coating on his skin suggest otherwise. I remember what it was like to be possessed. I remember the utter lack of control. I remember how I sat up in bed trying to rid myself of the feeling. But there’s no time for him to freak out; we need to get to Travis and stop Tasha from hurting anyone. I grip the Athamé in my right hand whilst trying to ignore the agony in my stomach.

  Lacey walks next to us, alive with electricity. She crackles on and off like an anxious person pacing up and down. “You look terrible.” There’s doubt in her eyes. Doubt that I can do this.

  I pour all my concentration into walking forward. A scream comes from downstairs just before the lights go off and we’re plunged into the pitch dark. Jack’s breathing is close to my ear, hot and heavy. There are a number of nervous giggles downstairs, followed by a scream.

  “We need to hurry,” I say.

  “I can’t see anything,” Jack says. His voice is rushed and panicked.


  “Feel your way along. We’ll both do it,” I say. “Lacey, can you get downstairs?”

  “I’ll materialise there,” she says.

  “See if you can see Travis. Find me when you can,” I say.

  Jack’s fingers are tight around my arm. My fingers dig into the flesh of his side. We stagger along, and it comes to the point where I can’t tell if my raspy breaths are his raspy breaths or vice versa. Sweat rolls into my eyes, not that it matters. I tuck the Athamé into the belt of my dress and stretch out my free hand. Each time my fingers graze unknown objects in the dark, I think of Tasha’s deranged face staring out from Travis’s body. I think of the bones sticking out from her skin, and the dry tongue in her mouth. Dried up. Spat out.

  I don’t ever want to be a vengeful ghost.

  We make it out of the room and into the hallway. My feet trip over something that feels suspiciously like a person. As my skin prickles, I hope they’re passed out and will miss this whole thing. There’s another scream downstairs, followed by uncontrollable sobbing.

  “I’m cut! Something cut me! There’s someone cutting people!” screams the voice, a girl about my age.

  “What? Stop being a twat,” someone else shouts.

  “I’m fucking serious. I’m cut. We’ve got to get out of here.”

  There are a number of rattles, like a door handle moving up and down. “The door’s locked!”

  I hear the sound of people moving, then more rattles, followed by panicked banging. The noises go silent, and then people start shouting.

  “The windows are locked!”

  “What the fuck!”

  “Okay, nobody panic.”

  Too late, I think. My heart pounds against my ribs. I stumble with Jack, terrified that we’ll find the stairs and fall down them, breaking our necks before we can even get to Tasha.