“Claire!” Petra cried out, and ran over to her friend. Sarah stepped aside as Petra threw her arms around her friend lovingly, being careful not to be too rough. She was followed by Ben, and then finally Jim, and the group held each other for a moment.
Pete stepped over to his brother and whispered to him. “How long has she been standing there?”
“No idea,” Chris replied.
“You don't think she heard my bit about hoinky doinking someone else, do you?” Pete asked.
Chris rolled his eyes, but before he could answer Sister Sarah spoke up to the group.
“Come on, Claire Marie. Let’s get you that glass of water.”
Chris walked across the room and handed her his water. “There you go,” he said. “Thank you,” Claire Marie replied, and draining the glass of its contents in record time. Chris took the glass and refilled it and passed it back to her. She downed that one too.
“Crikey, Claire, you're thirsty,” Benjamin said.
“Like you wouldn't believe,” she replied.
Chris handed her another glass of water, but fixed her with a look when she took it.
“Go steady with this one,” he said. “You've been through hell and come out of the other side, but we don't want you drowning yourself. That would kind of spoil the day, wouldn’t it?”
Claire Marie smiled at him and nodded her thanks. She looked at the group of people in front of her. All of them glad to see her alive.
“I know you all have questions about what happened to me. About that… thing,” she said, looking at the Idols and Sister Sarah. “I understand. But before we do that, I need to talk to Steph first.” her tone was soft but serious.
The Idols looked at one another.
“Ah. Right. Okay then,” Pete said. “We'll just leave you to it.”
They all began to file out of the kitchen.
“Do you want me to stay?” Jim said. Claire looked up at him and gave a soft smile.
“Thanks, Jim, but no.” she said, and then looked up at Sarah. “The Sister here will be here just in case I lose my shit. Wont you sister?”
Sarah looked a little lost for words, before smiling back at Claire. She placed her hand on the poor girl’s shoulder.
“Of course, Claire, I'm not going anywhere,” she replied, then looked at the Idol brothers to let them know she was staying. Jim left.
The last thing Chris heard was Danger, begging, pleading with Claire Marie to forgive him.
***
As Chris joined everyone in the hallway, there was another rumble of thunder. His brother looked at him, concerned.
“Is that thunder getting louder, or is it just me?”
“I was thinking the same thing,” Chris replied.
Jim approached the brothers and gave them an exhausted smile.
“I'm sorry if I was short with you earlier guys. It's just been a pretty stressful time for all of us, and Claire… well she's very special to all of us,” he said, and then offered his hand. “Thank you so much for helping her.”
Chris and Pete looked at each other, not sure if they should accept thanks for something that they pretty much had absolutely nothing to do with. Eventually Pete took Jim’s hand and shook it.
“It's all part of the job, mate,” Pete said.
“Yeah,” Chris added. “There really isn't any need to thank us.”
Benjamin stepped up next.
“Yes there is. If this hadn’t worked, we don’t know what we would have done.”
“Well, let’s not count our chickens just yet,” Chris said. “We'll check on Claire’s physical and psychological state, then we can go on from there.”
“Do you think that she might still be...?” Jim started.
“Possessed? No. She's as clean as a whistle from what we can see; but she's been host to something unholy. That kind of shit takes its toll,” Pete replied. “She's going to need every single one of you, more than she knows. She… what the fuck is that!” He pointed across the hallway, to where a large case stood up against the wall. It was slightly hidden by a row of coats hanging on pegs. The case looked almost military grade.
“Is that a gun?” Chris asked.
“Oh that?” Petra said. “No. That is my Mathews Conquest 4.”
Chris and Pete looked blankly at her. She smiled at them sweetly.
“My bow.”
“Petra does archery.” Ben said, glowing with pride. “Ya know, in competitions and stuff?”
Pete looked suitably impressed.
“Cool! Can I have a look?” he gushed, before his brother put his hand on his shoulder.
“You can have a look later, Pete. We've got things we should be doing.”
Pete lowered his shoulder and sulked. “Yeah, okay. I guess,” he mumbled.
“Anyway, as my brother was saying, Claire looks to be back to normal. Whatever was using her as a host is gone,” Chris said.
There was another rumble of thunder, and the brothers exchanged a look. Jim went across to a window and stared outside.
“Looks like it’s going to rain,” he said. “And I just hung out a load of washing this morning.”
Beyond the kitchen door, an argument was in full swing, and then there came the sound of a door slamming.
“Should we go in?” Jim asked.
“No,” Petra replied
“But what if she—”
“No, Jim! Leave her be!” Petra said.
Chris and Pete felt like a couple of lemons, caught up in an awkward social situation they really wanted no part of. They glanced around and sighed as the group waited to see what happened next. Then, the kitchen door opened and Sister Sarah poked her head out. To Petra she said:
“Petra? Would you mind coming in please? Claire asked for you.”
“Of course,” Petra said, and trotted over to the kitchen and stepped inside.
The kitchen door clicked shut again, leaving the entrance hallway filled with uncomfortable silence and four men who didn't know what to say to each other.
Pete went across to Jim at the window. “Hey, look at that,” he said. “It does look like rain.”
***
'I can’t believe she doesn't get it. I thought she loved the band. I thought she loved me.'
Danger stomped down the street, away from the house and the girl he loved, and away from Gallows Hill. His long, slick black hair hung over his face, masking his scowl. So many emotions and thoughts ran through his head, it felt like it a washing machine on spin. He was angry with her for dumping him. No. She didn't say dumping, she would never say that. She said that they couldn't see each other anymore. Not after what he had done. Oh god, how could he have been so stupid?
She was ill. Why did he take those photos when she was having one of her weird fits? Yeah it was gonna look awesome on the new album sleeve, and she would have got her name in the album credits as well, but he should have asked her first, at least. She knew how much the band meant to him, though, so when she calmed down he was sure she would understand. She had to understand. What the fuck did that even mean? Didn't she know how much he had done for her? How much he had sacrificed? All those band practises he had missed out on whilst she was sick, all those times he had to put up with her stupid housemates, especially that dickhead Jim. That lovesick little prick. He so badly wanted to fuck Claire, and treated Danger like shit whenever he was around. Well if he thinks he can make his move now he's in for a world of hurt. She never saw him like that. Never thought of him like that. Danger had asked her point blank when they first started going out. She wasn't interested, and if that beardy little twat made a move, Danger was going to kick his head in.
She'd appreciate that.
Maybe she was lying though. Maybe she wanted to be with him, after all. Lying bitch. No. Claire never lied to him. Never. It was Danger who did that. He had lied to her about so many things. Saying he didn't mind that retro synth music she liked, that he was vegetarian, that he hadn’t been with anyone el
se since they got together. She had found out about that girl who he hooked up with an out-of-town Handspasm gig. Who told her? Who the fuck knew?
He stopped to lean against a pillar that doubled as a bus stop. He fished through his studded leather jacket for his tobacco tin. He needed to clear his head, and a toke on one of the joints he had pre-rolled would sort that out. He opened the tin, pulled out the largest rollie he could find and marvelled at it.
There were three things Danger was truly good at: bass guitar, fucking, and rolling a truly spectacular joint. At least, he thought so.
He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his zippo lighter, flicked it into flame and lit the joint. He took a deep, soothing inhalation and let the marijuana do its work. He held it for a moment, before exhaling a satisfying plume of weed smoke from his pierced lips.
Above him, the clouds darkened and thunder rumbled once more.
Danger looked to the heavens. The clouds. They looked unnatural, sinister in some way. They looked metal as fuck. He smiled and took another toke on the joint, before realising with some dismay that it was about to rain. He was wearing his favourite jacket and it was going to rain.
Could this day get any worse?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
DUCK AND COVER
SMASH!
The sound came sudden, loud, accompanied by a collection of high-pitched yelps.
A window breaking.
The men rushed into the kitchen, saw Claire and Petra huddled together by the worktop, cowering from the exploded window. The girls looked in shock, and Jim rushed over to them.
“Are you guys okay?” he asked.
“We're fine,” Claire said.
“What the hell was that?” Benjamin said, stepping over to check on Petra.
“We were just talking when… something smashed through the window.” She pointing towards the ragged frame and its ruined glass.
“Are you hurt?” Ben continued, gently checking over his girlfriend for injuries. She shrugged him off softly.
“I’m fine,” she said forcefully, but not aggressively. “Don't worry about me.”
Ben smiled and softly kissed her on the forehead.
“You know I can't promise that, baby,” he said, and hugged her close.
The Idol brothers moved across the room towards Sister Sarah, who was crouched down examining the kitchen floor and the broken glass scattered across it. Amongst the glass and debris was a small, dark shape. It was covered in a thick, dark liquid.
“Dare I ask what that is?” Pete said, as Sarah pulled a pen from her back pocket and prodded the lump on the floor. She squinted to examine it properly, her lip curling in confusion.
“I think it's a duck,” she said. “Or at least, it was.”
“A duck? That can't be a duck!” Chris exclaimed. “Where’s its feathers?”
Sarah pushed her pen along the side of the moist shape; there were feathers there. Covered with the oily liquid..
“What about its beak?” Pete asked.
“Ducks don't have beaks you dick,” Chris said. “They have bills.”
“Beaks, bills, bollocks, whatever they have, this… thing doesn't have one,” Pete answered.
“Yes, it does,” Sarah said, and with another flick of her pen pulled back the broken neck of the feathered corpse. Its misshapen and strangely large head rolled back limply, revealing a horrific sight.
“That’s just gross,” Benjamin said.
The head was disfigured; strange lumps and swellings protruding from beneath its skin. One of its eyes was swollen perpetually shut due to this malformation, and its mouth hung open. If you could call it a mouth. The duck’s bills was jagged, bent and distorted. A strange, long and blackened tongue hung from its mouth like a dead centipede. Inside its mouth were two small rows of sharp and misshapen teeth.
“Are those teeth?” Chris said in surprise. “Since when do ducks have teeth?”
“They don't,” Sister Sarah replied. “The inside of their bills do have severed edges in order to feed on bugs and underwater weeds, but they don't have teeth. This is most peculiar.”
Pete leaned in to Sister Sarah.
“You can say ‘fucked up’ if you want to, you know,” he said quietly.
Sarah responded with a roll of her eyes.
“I'll tell you what’s fucked up,” Jim said. “That smell. That thing stinks!”
Chris crouched down next to Sarah..
“It's one hell of a humdinger, I'll give it that,” he said. “You know what that smell is, don't you?”
“Sulphur,” Sarah replied.
“Yep,” Chris continued. “This thing reeks like Hell. Literally.”
“Ducks from hell? Well that’s a new one,” Pete said.
“This thing didn't come from Hell itself,” Sister Sarah replied. “This was a living creature from our plain of existence. The poor thing was changed somehow. Mangled and mutilated to become something else.”
“Well, whatever it was, it's dead now,” Chris said.
It was at that moment that the supposed duck corpse reanimated itself. It flapped its wings chaotically, splashing dark liquid across the walls, sending Sarah and Chris tumbling backwards to the floor. Chris released an expletive on the way down. The mutated duck creature attempted to stand on its feet again, its broken neck swinging around. It unleashing a shrill squeal-quack. The sound was hideous. Everyone put their hands over their ears as they retreated in fear.
It swung its head in Sarah’s direction, fixing its solitary eye on her. She could see that it was bulbous, black as coal, with an otherworldly glowing red ember at its centre. She scrambled backwards as the creature advanced upon her.
It opened its hideous bill, revealing even more of those awful, knife-like teeth, and unleashed another ear-bursting howling quack. This one however, was cut violently short when Peter Idol kicked it directly in its face, sending it soaring through the air and against the kitchen wall with a sickening and wet thud.
Before its body even hit the floor, Pete had spun to the side and picked up one of the heavy wooden chairs sitting around the kitchen table. The duck had begun to lift its head once more in evil defiance, when Pete brought the chair down upon it, crushing its body with a fury of jabs. With one final stomp, he smashed its head to pieces with the leg of the chair, sending blood and grey matter spraying across the wall. With the chair pinning the creature to the ground, Pete turned to find everyone looking at him.
“Those are some bloody good chairs,” he said.
The students stood in stunned silence before Petra spoke up.
“They came with the house,” she said.
***
Chris climbed to his feet, dusted himself off, and looked down at the crushed carcass underneath the chair leg. Pete began helping Sister Sarah to her feet, when he caught sight of something he hadn’t noticed before.
“You're bleeding,” he said to her.
“What?”
“Did it cut you?” he asked. Sarah looked down at herself and noticed that thick, dark red liquid was dotted on her hands. She lifted her hand and examined it.
“No. It didn't get anywhere near me. Well, not before you kicked it.” She looked from her hands down at the fowl monster’s body. “This stuff was all over the body when it crashed through the window.”
The trio looked from the duck corpse to the smashed glass on the floor where it had originally landed, and saw that there was indeed a small pool of thick, dark red liquid on the floor.
“It must have cut itself to ribbons when it smashed the glass,” Chris said.
“I don't think so. This blood was all over the body, but it hadn't been cut by anything. This poor creature looked like it had been dipped in oil, not cut to ribbons by glass.”
As the Idol brothers and the nun stood contemplating the situation, the four students began to relax. Claire Marie stepped towards the exorcists who had, moments ago, saved her life, and as she approached them.
Sarah lifted her head and give her a soft smile.
“Should we bury it?” Claire Marie asked.
The brothers turned to Claire Marie, and suddenly it dawned on them that they had yet to talk to the poor girl about her experience with the demon that had treated her so vilely for so long. She had been through an awful experience, one neither of the brothers had experienced themselves, and despite that she was still more concerned with the welfare of another creature less fortunate than herself. That said a lot more about her than any file of printed information ever could.
“I guess so,” Pete said. “But we can't at the moment. Not with that rain out there.”
Chris walked across to the kitchen window, now nothing more than a hole in the wall.
“What is it bruv?” Pete asked, following his brother and turning his gaze to the outside
Chris took a moment, then swallowed hard.
“Look at the rain, Pete,” he said.
“What about it?” Pete replied as he looked out at the downpour currently taking place. “Just your average, run-of-the-mill British weather.”
“No. It isn't. This is as far from normal as you could possibly get,” Chris replied, and then nodded in the direction of a gathering puddle on the pavement outside. “Does that look normal to you?”
Pete looked at the puddle. There was something very different about it, and Pete’s jaw tightened.
“Oh fuck. Is that what I think it is?” he said.
“Unless we're both going crazy, I believe so,” Chris replied.
Sister Sarah appeared at their side.
“What is it? Is there something we need to be concerned about?” she asked.
“Concerned is certainly one way of putting it,” Chris said. “Unless of course the sky raining blood is a normal occurrence where you come from.”
“What?” Sarah said, and looked outside.
The three of them stood in stunned silence, watching the blood rain and listening to the noise it made, until a voice startled them back into the real world.
“What does it mean?” Benjamin said.
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