Blood Entwines

by Caroline Healy

  She doubled over and knelt on the side of the couch, gasping tiny breaths in and out, in an out. Then it stopped. Nothing, no feeling, no connection.

  Had he died? Was that what had just happened? She straightened up with considerable effort and leaned over to listen to his chest.

  She didn’t see his eyes opening.

  Kara didn’t notice that they weren’t Jack’s eyes looking at her. They burned black and vicious, drinking in the sight of her and all her human frailty.

  He had done a good job this time, this puppet of his. Something young and pretty. Surely she would scream for him. He liked it when they screamed.

  Jack grabbed her wrist, pulling her forward, upending her so her torso was swallowed up by the couch, her arms pulled back.

  She tried to struggle, but couldn’t find her footing in the softness of the cushions, material plugged up her mouth and nose, making it difficult to breathe. Jack was wrenching her arms backwards, straining the muscles to tearing point.

  She rolled her weight to one side freeing up her leg and, like a horse, she kicked back. Her foot connected with Jack’s abdomen and she heard a grunt. The reward for her effort was a lessening of pressure on her arms. Scrambling, she pushed herself up from the couch, spitting hair from her mouth. She stumbled into the centre of the room. Jack was kneeling on one knee, his arm clutched to his stomach.

  She backed away, every nerve in her body telling her she should run, telling her she was in danger. The only way out of the room was through the door. To get to the door she would have to be fast. Prone as Jack was at the moment, she did not underestimate his strength or speed.

  She took one step towards the door.

  ‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you.’ The voice was not Jack’s yet it came from his body. He lifted his head to look at her. She froze. Slowly Jack stood up and turned to face her completely.

  Kara swallowed a scream.

  His eyes were pure black, deader than anything she had ever seen. He looked at her with hungry longing. The facial features were angular, sharp, as if something with corners had been pushed into Jack’s body. The skin on his face, taut over these new angles, looked painful.

  ‘I like what he has brought me – this boy might be worth keeping after all.’

  He stretched out a hand, claw-like, in Kara’s direction and flexed his fingers, beckoning her towards him. She felt the ebb of her blood and the urge to step forward, but the voice in her head screamed with certainty. Do not go near him. He will rip you to pieces.

  She would fight if she had to; she would not let him take her.

  He sniffed the air around her.

  ‘You are pretty. How fortunate that I chose this boy tonight.’ His voice oozed with menace. Kara thought she was going to vomit. She swallowed and tried to buy herself some time.

  ‘What have you done with Jack?’

  He laughed a dry laugh. It rasped from him like plumes of smoke.

  ‘What, this useless thing?’

  He indicated his own body.

  ‘He does my will, as is fitting; I use him when I wish. It was Steve the accountant for a while, but I tired of that body.’

  She gaped at him. ‘But how . . . ?’

  He grinned at her and leaned his head to one side, appraising her again with his dead eyes.

  ‘It intrigues you?’

  She nodded. Keep him talking.

  ‘You are not afraid?’ He seemed somewhat put out by her reaction.

  ‘No,’ she said, trying to sound as unaffected as possible, hoping he couldn’t hear her thumping heart. He leaned against the chair arm and studied his nails, picking flecks of dirt from them.

  ‘I’m going to kill you, you know.’ He didn’t even glance up at her.

  ‘I know,’ she said.

  He looked up, disappointment creasing his angular features. ‘Hmm, that’s a pity. I was hoping to have some fun with you, but, nonetheless, I will kill you anyway.’

  Kara shrugged her shoulders. ‘Whatever. But you haven’t answered my question.’

  ‘Yes,’ he admitted, smiling with distaste. ‘That is true. This . . .’ He stood up and twirled round once, the smoothness and speed of his movement impressive. ‘I take what I want. I leave few alive. Those I do receive a gift from me.’

  He pulled up the sleeve of Jack’s shirt and exposed the pale flesh of Jack’s skin and with his claw-like nail he traced the blue-black veins up his forearm.

  Kara shrugged her shoulders again, trying for nonchalance.

  He sighed long and deep. ‘Well,’ he pronounced after another minute or so, ‘I feed on fear. I kill whomever I want. I keep some alive. I pop –’ he pursed his lips together, exaggerating the word – ‘in whenever I feel like it. Like borrowing a body. Handy when I want to feed. I need to . . .’

  ‘Replenish?’ The word was out of Kara’s mouth before she could control it.

  He smirked at her eagerness for information.

  ‘Yes, my dear, replenish. I need a constant source of, how shall I put it . . . energy. And the purest form of energy is that from a human, and the more potent it is the better. Did you ever notice –’ he moved across the room and traced his hand along the mantelpiece – ‘how when a person is in a heightened state of emotion, say for instance fear . . .’ He swivelled round and eyed her expectantly.

  She nodded her head once.

  ‘Well, then their energy is so much higher. All it takes is a quick . . .’ He levelled his hands out and wrung them together, like you would a wet flannel. Kara could envisage them grasping someone’s head and twisting sharply. She shuddered.

  ‘So you use your . . . your host –’ she swallowed hard as she tried to say the word – ‘to do your bidding. To kill for you.’

  ‘Well, yes,’ he replied, evidently enjoying her distaste. ‘You could say that. Imagine, if you will, someone with a remote control reclining in their armchair in front of the television and the immense sense of satisfaction they get flicking the channels without ever having to get up. It’s like that. My blood spreads like a multiplying virus. I can body hop, inflicting maximum damage just by using the tools I have created and then . . .’ His words trailed away and he shook his head, distracted for a moment.

  Kara stepped closer to the corner table. A heavy vase sat only inches from her hands.

  He flicked a glance at her. ‘Well, well, this is irritating, it seems that this one is struggling for control. How annoying. He appears to have diluted the connection. Tsk.’

  He clicked his tongue in annoyance before whipping round and punching the wall over the fireplace with such brute force that a chunk of plaster came away just below the roof. It showered a haze of dust down on top of the mantelpiece.

  Kara heard the crunch of bone and saw his knuckles turn an unsightly purple colour.

  He turned towards her, a wicked grin on his face. ‘That should keep the whelp quiet in there for the time being. Nothing like pain to keep the subordinates in order. You understand.’

  He stepped towards her.

  She understood all right, she understood all too clearly what he meant.

  She thought she had a few minutes to bargain.

  She was wrong.

  He lunged for her, aiming for her bare throat.

  Kara ducked, throwing her weight to the left. Sharp pain shot through her shoulder blade and down the side of her body.

  He missed her throat, but latched on to her upper arm and was shaking her like a rag doll, ripping and stretching her muscles. It felt as if he was trying to detach her arm at the shoulder.

  He howled. His eyes filled with an insatiable thirst.

  She arched her body, away from the grip he had on her shoulder and using the momentum of her whole weight she flung herself round punching him in the stomach area, just below his rib cage where his kidneys were located. He curled in on himself, his hands gripping his belly.

  Sorry, Jack, she thought. The door was there, inches away. She just needed to get to it. O
nly five more paces. He tackled her at the legs and she folded, her body hitting the ground. His hand latched on to her ankle.

  She tried to claw away from him, but it was hopeless.

  He had her in his grip and was pulling, dragging her body inch by inch back towards him.

  She tried to strike out with her free foot, but he was prepared. He batted away her attempts with the injured hand.

  ‘Well, well,’ he cackled as he dragged her squirming body closer to him.

  His pupils were huge and dilated. Whatever he was going to do to her, he was beginning to get excited.

  A film of sweat had appeared on his face and she wondered how much damage the punch to his body and the pulverised hand that clawed at her leg had done to Jack.

  ‘We appear to have some kind of mutt. I didn’t make you. You’re not one of mine. What exactly are you?’

  He was an arm’s length away, down on the rug, her left ankle grasped in his good hand, the other turning an ugly shade of purplish black.

  ‘Never mind. I’m still going to kill you.’

  He pulled her towards him.

  ‘I’m going to snap your neck and suck the life force from you.’

  She merely stared back at him, too stunned to react. He leaned slowly towards her.

  His battered hand twitched and Kara noticed that the fingers were flexing, one after the other, the colour of the bruise lessening, the flesh filling out again, becoming plump and healthy, healing at super speed. The thing in front of her didn’t seem to notice.

  She tried to pull away from him, but his grasp was iron-clad on her ankle. She wondered if begging him would do any good. She looked at his face. He stared back at her, a fleeting look of confusion crossing his features.

  She frowned.

  His eyes . . . one was blue, one was black.

  He shook his head and muttered a profanity under his breath.

  ‘Get down,’ he shouted. ‘Get down where you belong.’

  He clamped his mouth shut and concentrated on something within himself.

  He was distracted for a moment and Kara took the opportunity to swivel her head and scan the room, desperate for something, anything, she could use. On the table about two feet away from her was the marble vase, hideous but sturdy. Whether or not it was sturdy enough, she couldn’t tell. She stilled every muscle in her body, willing them to relax.

  The thing in front of her was having its own internal struggle. It shook vigorously, causing the grip on her ankle to loosen.

  Kara drew a deep breath and pulled. She was up in one fluid movement, almost twisting in midair, arching her body towards the table. She hit the leg of it before he reached her. His good hand grasped at her body and dragged her down once more.

  The table toppled over and landed beside her with a deathly crunch. She breathed a sigh of relief that it hadn’t landed on her.

  He wrenched her towards him, clawing at her with enough force to rip the hem of her skirt. She could feel him scratching through the material of her clothes, all the way to her skin, making it burn.

  He gripped her by the throat and raised her up, so she was half kneeling on the carpet. All her weight concentrated in that hold, in the pressure round her neck. She couldn’t breathe. She pumped her lungs, trying to fill them with air, but it was useless.

  Panic welled and the discomfort from her oxygen-deprived chest was turning to burning pain. Her hands tried to claw at his face, but he was too far away, holding her back, just so that she was out of arm’s reach.

  Then it happened. She could feel the connection. The flow of energy. It was like the thing in front of her was a vortex, a whirling Bermuda triangle, sucking everything in. She could see in her mind’s eye the points, like pins on a map, marking different locations, the other people, his energy points, his suppliers. She was connected to them for a moment, the minions he spoke of, hundreds of them. The energy zapped from them, feeding the creator, a gluttonous parasite.

  They were all afraid.

  She was different. Why? Why was she different?

  Jack, a pinpoint, a dot on the map. She could see his pulse of energy, less bright than the others, flickering on and off, as if it were faulty. Diluted. That was the word the faceless man had used. Jack was diluted. His blood, the monster’s blood, it had been shared with Kara but not in the usual way. There was no fear. That’s why she was different, that’s why the monster couldn’t find her. In her mind’s eye, the pinpoints of light, his energy supply, Jack flickered on and off, unreliable. Kara was off the grid completely.

  She could feel the veins in her head pulsing. Her eyes bulged in their sockets. She was going to die. And he would suck her dry, taking her into him, refilling her body with his poisoned blood, sending her out to do his bidding.

  ‘Kara.’ Her name startled her back from the brink of unconsciousness. Her hands had gone limp by the side of her body. She didn’t know who had called her, but for a minute hope flared in her veins.

  ‘Kara.’ She looked up at the monster in front of her, two eyes burning blue, his face a contortion of pain, uttering her name through partially clamped lips.

  A battle raged in him. Behind the angular beast was Jack. He was there, struggling, like she was, to be free.

  The grasp on her neck loosened slightly. A blood-curdling scream ripped through him as he slumped forward.

  ‘Now, Kara. Now! We have to distract him. Together.’ It was Jack’s voice; he was struggling to form the words.

  Kara stopped trying to prise the fingers from her throat, instead, reaching to the right, she searched the dusty carpet.

  The pain was becoming unbearable and this was her last chance. She felt frantically for the table, found the upended legs, felt the smooth timber finish. She patted the floor, searching till her fingers closed round the lip of cool marble.

  Sorry, Jack, she thought, before heaving with all that remained of her strength.

  She crashed the vase down with as much force as she could manage on the temple of the thing in front of her. A pair of stunned eyes, mostly blue with some blotches of unsightly black, looked up in astonishment before fluttering closed. A small smile played across his lips and a single word escaped. ‘Regenerate.’

  He sank to his knees, his body falling on top of her legs.

  The pressure released from her throat and Kara, gasping for sweet breath, heaved herself out from under his weight. She pushed herself back along the floor, too winded to be able to stand properly. She found the wall for support and slumped there, her eyes closing in blissful relief.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  The sound of the front door banging open startled her to complete awareness. Her body felt as if it had been stretched to the four corners of the world. Her neck and throat burned, making swallowing difficult.

  She tried to push herself up into a standing position, but her legs would not co-operate. Jack was slumped where she’d left him in the middle of the room, his face crushed into the carpet. Fragments of vase were littered about his head like a ceramic halo.

  Kara heard the thump of boots on the wooden floor, the cold prod of something in her brain.

  ‘Quit it,’ she croaked.

  The door flew wide, Hannah standing there wielding a carved walking stick, extracted from the coat rack in the hallway. Her hair was dishevelled and she looked determined to inflict maximum damage. If Kara hadn’t been so badly winded, she would have laughed out loud.

  Hannah surveyed the room, dropping the stick to the floor.

  ‘You OK?’ She moved to Kara’s side, helping her up.

  ‘Ouch.’

  ‘What is it? What’s sore.’

  ‘Everything.’

  They limped to the armchair and Hannah eased her into it.

  ‘Don’t move.’

  ‘Unlikely,’ groaned Kara.

  The girl went to the curtain and dragged off the curtain ties, ripping the cords apart, creating a makeshift rope. Kneeling down she laced the rope round Jack’s f
eet, securing it with a complicated knot formation, then looped it up towards his arms, pulling them back behind his body, securing them in place with a couple of deft movements.

  ‘Where did you learn how to do that?’

  ‘My friend, Bunny. She taught me about knots. Don’t ask.’

  ‘How did you . . .’ Kara changed questioning tactics.

  ‘Ben. I mind burgled him. Caught the tail end of his last decision. I knew you were here.’

  Kara nodded. ‘That thing, that thing that took over. Did you? I mean . . .’

  Hannah settled back on her heels, prodding Jack with her finger. He was completely out of it.

  ‘There is some kind of link between me and the . . . people . . . the people who experience fear.’ She took a deep breath, choosing her words carefully. ‘The university student Angie, the kid who disappeared, Steve the accountant. I dream about them. I dream about them all. I have some kind of link to them. To the thing that . . .’ Hannah was shaking, her hands twitching.

  Kara stood up, limping to her friend’s side. ‘Don’t worry. He can’t hurt you. He doesn’t know where you are.’

  ‘How can you be sure?’

  ‘Just before he tried to feed off me, I saw them, all those people, his connection with them. You and me, we’re not on the grid.’

  Kara knelt down beside Jack and touched her fingertips to his cheek. The faceless man knew which light was Jack’s. But that light was faulty. Had the link been completely severed now or was it reestablished, stronger than ever?

  His skin burned hot. Kara experienced a rush of energy through her arm and down her hand. She withdrew in disgust.

  He’d saved her life, had battled for control of his body, taking on the faceless man.

  But he had killed her father.

  There was no room in Kara’s heart for forgiveness.

  ‘The blood I received. It was without fear. Jack was unconscious, so he had no emotion. That’s why that thing didn’t know about me.’