by Zoe Marriott
“Fine. What’s going on there?” Rachel asked, surging into the silence I had left. “Are they treating you OK? Do you need anything?”
Jack shrugged a little, sending the neckline of her hospital gown slipping off one shoulder. I could see the ugly purplish marks spreading down over her chest. “Like I said. Fine—”
Her voice cut off as she started coughing again, turning her face away from the screen. For a second all we had was a blurred shot of a hospital pillow as the phone jerked in Jack’s hands. Harsh, dry coughing barked down the line, followed by ragged breaths.
Rachel turned away with a muttered swear word. She pulled the band from the end of her plait and yanked her hands through the wavy strands of her hair so hard that I was surprised she didn’t pull half of it out. My own fingers had gone bloodless as they clutched at the phone. The plastic case let out an ominous crack. Shinobu reached out and steadied my grip before I could drop it or crush it.
“Jack-san?” he asked gently. “Are you still there?”
“Wait… Wait. I’m … here.” Jack’s face came back into view. Her voice was even rougher and she was clearly fighting for air, but she acted like the coughing fit had never happened. “You … find out anything useful … from the Kitsune?”
“Yeah, we think so. We’re about to head out to do some investigating. We’ll figure it out soon,” Rachel promised, her voice unnaturally cheerful.
Jack’s sunken eyes seemed to brighten. “Really? Good work … team. Be careful … out there … though.”
“Don’t worry about us,” I said firmly, finally getting my voice back. “I’m a badass, remember?”
She snorted feebly. “Says … who?”
“Says the Nekomata. Except – oh, it can’t, because I lopped its head off and threw it in the Thames. Booyah.”
Jack let out a tiny laugh. Success. Then the laugh turned into a short, nasty cough and I felt worse than ever. After a couple of gasps, Jack nodded. “Yeah … all right. You can pull … the badass thing … off.”
“I will keep an eye on both of them,” Shinobu promised, solemnly.
“Yes. You just worry about taking care of yourself,” Rachel said. “Call us again if you need anything.”
“Will do. Catch you later … space cadets. Good … luck.”
The screen went dark.
We all stood, motionless, staring at the blank screen of the phone, for a long moment. Finally I lowered my hand and shoved the phone back into my pocket.
“She looks so…” Rachel said softly, moving behind the island to collapse down onto one of the kitchen stools.
“We did not lie to her,” Shinobu said. “The Kitsune King has given us a valuable piece of information, and we will follow it wherever it leads us.”
“But she’s all alone there, and she’s so sick.” Rachel stared blankly at the floor, then raised her eyes to mine hopefully. “I feel a lot better. Almost like normal. I could go back to the hospital and visit her.”
“No!” The protest shot out of my lips like a bullet. I saw Shinobu wince, and cleared my throat. Shit. “I don’t think that’s a great idea. We need you with us.”
Rachel’s eyes, which had gone wide when I shouted so suddenly, slowly narrowed. “You want to keep me away from Jack.”
“No, it’s not that.” I stopped. “Well, maybe a little bit. We agreed she was better off without us there, right?”
There was another humming pause as Rachel got off the kitchen stool and stood facing me from the other side of the breakfast bar. “What did the king tell you about me? I’m not stupid, Mio. I know you asked her, but you haven’t said a word. What did she say?”
I forced myself to meet her eyes, even though I wanted to squeeze mine shut. You can’t be a coward as well as an idiot.
“Well?”
I thought frantically, trying to present the king’s words in the best light. “She said … not many people survive a Nekomata bite. The ones that do sometimes develop strange abilities, like strength or speed, or even just really good vision.”
“And?”
I hesitated.
“For God’s sake!” She spoke through gritted teeth. I could see tiny yellow sparks swirling in her eyes. “For once in your life stop trying to spin everything and just tell the truth!”
“OK. I’m trying, OK?” I said slowly, lifting my hands in a calming gesture. “She said that some people – they – they mutate. And there’s no way to know if it’ll happen to you. If it does you might start to … lose control.”
“That’s it? That’s all she said? I don’t think so.” Her eyes went far away, drifting past me as if she was seeing something else, something in her own head. “She told you I could turn into a monster, didn’t she? It’s going to happen again. Just like before. Me and the Nekomata all alone, together, in the dark – only this time it’s inside me … and I can never ever get away…” She put her hands over her face.
My eyes swam with tears, turning her into a blur. I moved around the breakfast bar towards her, hand outstretched. “Rachel.”
Shinobu caught my shoulder and jerked me back as the katana let out a furious buzz of energy against my back. I staggered and clutched at the end of the countertop for balance. The tears trickled down my cheeks, clearing my vision.
One of Rachel’s hands still covered her eyes. Her other arm was fully extended, hand fisted in midair – on the air where my face had been one second before. Curving obsidian claws protruded grotesquely from the ends of her delicate fingers. The soft brown hair curling over her shoulders began to move as I stared, squirming around her head like a nest of worms.
“Don’t. Touch. Me.” The words came out on a low, guttural snarl. Her hand slid away from her face to reveal blazing yellow eyes.
Shinobu was pulling at me, trying to drag me away from her, but I couldn’t go. I couldn’t leave her alone. Not again.
“Rachel—”
“This is all your fault!” she hissed. “You did this to me!”
“No, no, no—” I didn’t even know if I was denying Rachel’s words or just begging the world for this to stop, for time to turn back, for this all to be a bad dream.
Rachel surged up onto the breakfast bar, sending plates and tea mugs flying. Her hair – black and glossy now – was writhing around her head. Both hands bristled with claws. Veins of darkness arrowed out around her eyes, as if her blood was turning black inside her.
“You…” she growled low in her throat. “You have to pay…”
She sank down into a catlike crouch, horrifyingly alien – and sprang at us. Shinobu dived left. I spun to the right.
The black claws grazed my cheek, opening lines of fire on my skin. Rachel landed in that same cat-crouch on the ground. Her talons dug into the floor, gouging chips out of the ceramic tiles and leaving a smear of blood – my blood – there. Warm rivulets slithered down my cheek.
Shinobu darted between us, his hands held up in a futile gesture of peace. “Do not do this, Rachel-san. This is your home. This is your family. You are loved and safe here.”
“Liar!” she shrieked. The word hit a high, yowling tone. It was the Nekomata’s voice coming out of Rachel’s mouth. My whole body jerked in reaction.
“Get out of my way!” She lunged at Shinobu. There was a wild confusion of movements that I could barely follow – Rachel striking and slashing, Shinobu blocking and dodging and struggling to hold her back without hurting her. One of Rachel’s arms seemed to elongate in the air, bending in a way no human joint could. He ducked. She knocked him off balance and surged past.
The next instant she was at my throat. The sheer weight of her – too great for her height and frame – slammed me back into the breakfast bar. One of her hands dug painfully into my hair while the other clamped onto my neck. Her claws pricked at my skin. Not quite piercing the surface. Not yet. She smelled familiar and homely, like Jack but with a bit more soap. Yet her breath, ghosting over my face, was the Nekomata’s breath. Hot and si
ckly sweet with decay.
The yellow intensity of her gaze found mine. The hate and fury and triumph burning there was terrible. But the misery I was sure I could see lurking behind them was so much worse. Oh, Rachel, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…
Slowly her yellow eyes lost their deadly focus on my face. A frown of confusion pinched at her brows. Her gaze slid down to where the narrow silver smile of my katana rested against her belly.
One twitch of my hand. The faintest pressure. That was all it would take for my blade to slice open her stomach.
The katana hummed eagerly in my hand. I couldn’t hear its voice in my head yet, not yet, but I could feel its desire, its yearning to strike out, to kill.
Tears streamed down my face, mixing with the blood. I didn’t relax when the yellow eyes finally lifted back to meet mine, even as their vivid cat colour leached away into a soft, natural brown. Her hair still snaked around her face, and the dark veins still showed on her skin.
“Sorry,” she whispered. “Sorry.”
“Me too,” I breathed, not daring to move.
Rachel nodded, setting tentacles of hair shivering, jellylike, over her shoulders. I felt the sharp points of her claws retract into blunt human fingernails and her grip ease. “Take care of Jack.”
“Wait—”
She let go of me, whirled round, and ran for the back door, limbs blurring with speed. The door flew open. She was through it before it had banged once, gone before I could even lower my sword.
“Rachel!” I stumbled forward, staring at the empty garden in disbelief. She couldn’t have disappeared so fast! “Rachel, come back! Please…”
Shinobu stopped me from plunging outside. “It is no use now.”
“What?” I turned on him furiously. “How can you say that? We have to go after her and bring her back!” The intensity of the sword’s energy was flooding my body with adrenaline, heightening all my feelings of guilt, of horror, of rage. I would go after her. I would make her see sense. I would force her to—
“How?” he asked, as if he was responding to my thoughts. “The only way to get her back into this house would be to fight her.” He gestured to the naked blade in my hand. “Whichever of you won, you would both lose.” His jaw clenched and I realized that he was struggling with his own feelings. He let out a short, ragged huff of breath. “Sometimes the only thing you can do is let go.”
The scaffolding pole broke through his chest, blood gushing up like a red flower…
The green blade flashes down in the red light—
Don’t let go!
I exhaled, forcing myself to stand still, to resist the urge to stalk out of the room after Rachel. Slowly, with a great effort of will, I reached up and pushed the katana back into the saya on my back.
The moment the blade rested in the saya, I felt my emotions settle under my control once more, and my mind clear. It’s getting stronger. It’s getting worse. Oh God.
Don’t think about it now. You can’t break down now. Focus on Rachel and Jack.
Focus on what you have to do.
“You’re wrong,” I told Shinobu finally. “Letting go isn’t the answer. If this being on Museum Street is so ancient and wise, he can tell me how to save Rachel as well as Jack. Because I’m not abandoning her. Not again.”
She ran. She didn’t know where she was going – didn’t dare stop long enough to look, or even to try to recognize the buildings that wheeled dizzily past her eyes. Some panicked remnant of common sense led her into the shadows. She scuttled down alleyways, hid behind rubbish bins, and ran – always ran – from the sight or sound of people. She muffled her painful, gulping sobs with both hands over her mouth, terrified of what would happen if someone heard. If someone saw. If someone tried to help.
There was no help.
She would never, ever forget Mio’s face. Covered in blood – covered in claw marks – eyes huge and dark with fear. Not fear of Rachel.
Fear for her.
Mio could have killed her at any moment. Rachel knew that. She’d seen Mio fight. But Mio had only wanted to help Rachel. She’d let Rachel hurt her without even trying to defend herself. And Rachel had nearly killed her for it. She had wanted to.
Kill. Slash. Rend. BITE.
“No,” she whimpered, and kept running.
The urge to keep going, to get far, far away from home, from anyone she cared about, drummed in her blood, echoed in every heartbeat. She focused everything she had on it. It was all she had left.
She found herself on scrubland. Some abandoned building site, the chain-link fence half-fallen down into the litter of rubble from demolished houses. Everything was covered in nettles and ivy. Instinctively she headed for the shelter of a tumbledown corrugated iron shed. Graffiti was sprayed over the walls like blood. Inside it was crawling damp, and the floor was heaped with old fag ends, crumpled beer cans and broken bits of drug gear. It stank of vomit and urine.
It was safe.
She huddled in one corner with her arms wrapped around her body, rocking gently. Don’t go back. Don’t ever go back. Stay away. Don’t go back.
Her gums itched fiercely. So did her hands and face. Shudders ripped down her back. It felt as if her flesh was squirming, as if something was … was bubbling up underneath. Trying to shed her humanity the way a snake does its old skin.
Hunt. Bite. Drink…
No!
“Hey, bitch! What you doing in here?”
The voice was young, male and aggressive. The kind of voice that would have made her breathless with anxiety – would have made her hurry away without looking back – on any normal day. Now she curled into a tighter ball and dug her burning fingers into her upper arms.
“I’m talking to you! This is my place – get your ass out now.”
An eerie laugh, high-pitched and hiccuping, leaked out of her lips. “Go away.”
“What did you say?” The voice cracked with surprise and indignation, revealing the speaker’s youth. “You’re gonna regret laughing at me, bitch. You just made the worst mistake of your life. I’m gonna cut you up.”
She raised her head. A boy, no older than fifteen, stood against the light. She got a vague impression of a pasty, belligerent face, and knock-off gangsta gear. He clutched a tiny flick-knife in one hand. The other hand was hanging onto his baggy trousers. They looked like they might fall down any minute.
But it wasn’t his looks that interested her. It was the smell. The rich, delicious smell that flooded her nostrils, like no flavour she’d ever experienced before. It was irresistible and beckoned her, forcing her out of her miserable huddle into a tense, ready crouch. The scent of anger. Fear. Human blood.
Drink…
The laugh that spilled out of her this time was different. It was deep and gloating. It was the laughter that had haunted her nightmares. The Nekomata’s laughter. The boy’s expression twisted with terror as he caught sight of her properly for the first time.
Strike. Claw. Bite.
The itching in her fingers sharpened into a fierce, satisfying burn as black claws unsheathed themselves. She scraped the air, stretching her hands out luxuriously.
His knife trembled in the air. “What – what—?”
“Hmmm…” she purred, bouncing on her toes. “What if I cut you up instead?”
The boy let out a choked squawk. The knife hit the concrete with a tiny ping. He turned and fled.
Chase. Tear. BITE.
CHAPTER 11
HAPPINESS AVENUE
I fetched the kitchen first-aid kit from under the sink, and Shinobu quickly sponged the drying blood off my face and neck. He applied antiseptic and then a pad of gauze and some tape. The dressing covered most of my cheek. Even so, it had to be less eye-catching than the trio of deep claw marks Rachel had left, slashing across my face. They stung like mad, a constant reminder of the torment Jack’s sister had to be feeling right now. There was no time for a hospital visit, stitches, or any other fussing. I just had
to hope I wouldn’t scar permanently.
The top the Kitsune had given me – God, was it only the day before? – was soaked with blood over the whole left arm and shoulder. There was no way I could wear it out of the house, but I didn’t have anything else. I already knew that none of my old clothes was going to fit me. Mum’s things had been too small since I was twelve, and my dad’s were way too big.
The only wardrobe I could realistically raid was Jack’s.
I rummaged in the key drawer and found Dad’s keys to the old servants’ staircase, as well as his spare keys to the flat. Silently, Shinobu and I headed up the stairs. I didn’t bother trying to tell him that he didn’t have to come with me. It wouldn’t do any good. Anyway, I wasn’t sure I wanted to do this on my own.
Jack’s room was in chaos. The duvet had been ripped off the bed and flung into a corner. The huge pile of books and magazines that had reached nearly halfway up the wall had either fallen or been pushed over and was scattered all across the floor. Random objects had been tossed everywhere. Books, DVDs, old cuddly toys. One of Jack’s karate trophies had left a big black dent in the purple wall and then broken into three pieces on the carpet.
A stuffed toy – a grizzled, grey animal with a long stripy tail and a missing ear – sat in the centre of the pillow on the bed, leaning against the headboard.
“Ringo the Ringtail,” I whispered, recognizing him.
I was looking at the panic and fear Jack had felt after we realized the Nekomata had taken her sister.
“Are you all right?” Shinobu asked.
I jerked my head at him – not sure if I was trying to nod or shake. Jack didn’t even know what was happening to Rachel. She had no idea. She was lying in a horrible hospital bed, alone, waiting for me to save her. Waiting for her best friend and her big sister to come back, any minute, and fix all this. And Rachel? She was alone too, lost and afraid, traumatized and changing and out of control. I’d failed so badly. Failed them both, lost them both.
It might already be too late for Rachel. And I didn’t know how much time Jack had…
