The house I’d hidden in with Ameena and the others was right ahead. The door was closed, but I knew it was unlocked. The howls of the screecher grew louder behind me as I slipped and skidded along the path. I grabbed for the handle and tumbled inside, kicking the door closed just as the screecher launched itself towards me.
There was a thud and the letterbox flapped open. My fingers were too cold and my hands were shaking too badly for me to work the lock. It took four or five attempts before I managed to slide the snib closed. Outside, the screecher gnashed and snarled as it hurled itself against the door.
Turning and running for the stairs, I took them two at a time until I reached the top. One of the doors on the upper landing was in pieces. The body of the screecher that had once been Billy’s cousin lay just beyond it. Gusts of icy wind blew in through the room’s broken window.
I picked another door and found myself in a small bathroom. The light switch was outside the room. I flicked it on as I ran past, and slammed the door behind me.
Either the screecher was no longer hammering on the front door, or I was too far away to hear it. I put my ear close to the bathroom door and listened for any sign of the thing.
Nothing. There was only silence in the house.
I crossed to the toilet, closed the lid, and sat down. I had to figure out what to do next. I realised quite quickly that the list of options wasn’t long.
With Joseph dead, Billy missing and Ameena working against me, there was no one to help me. For the first time since all this had happened I was truly on my own.
I forced myself to focus on the problems one at a time. All the villagers were mutating into monsters. That was a biggie. More than that, though, the barrier between the real world and the Darkest Corners was almost gone. If I used my abilities again it might collapse completely, letting the horrors of that world flood fully into this one.
Billy was gone, taken to… where? I had no idea. But his stitched-up lips and the sudden appearance of the hospital porter had me convinced that Doc Mortis was not only alive, but somewhere close by.
And then there was Ameena. Ameena, the girl I’d thought of as my best friend, my only friend. Ameena, who I thought would always have my back, no matter what horrors we were facing.
Ameena, who had been playing me like an idiot right from the very start.
I bent forward, letting my head rest on my hands. When I thought back, dozens of niggling little doubts swam through my mind. My dad was right, I’d had suspicions about Ameena from early on, but had ignored them because I was too scared to go on without her. Too scared to do anything without her there beside me.
And now she wasn’t there. And I was terrified.
So, to recap – everyone I loved was dead; the world was on the brink of disaster, and I was almost certainly to blame; the one person I thought I could trust was now my enemy; and Billy, the enemy who had become a friend, had been snatched away.
Oh, and I was locked in a bathroom with monsters roaming outside. But hey, at least it couldn’t get any worse.
I regretted that last thought the moment it popped into my head. What had I said in the tower earlier? It could always get worse.
There was a click from the hall outside and the light above me went out, plunging the bathroom into darkness. I held my breath and listened for movement outside the door, but the next sound I heard came from right there in the bathroom with me.
It was a giggle, like the one I had recognised earlier. It came from over on my right. I stood up. My eyes were adjusting to the gloom, allowing me to make out a figure standing in the bath, half hidden by a plastic shower curtain.
My throat went dry. Even in the dark, I recognised the outline. Terror cut through me like a knife blade as a voice came in a scratchy sing-song whisper.
‘Peek-a-boo. I seeeee you!’
I didn’t dare move, didn’t dare breathe, didn’t dare tear my eyes away from the small, frail-looking girl who stood in the bath.
Her white, Victorian-style dress was spattered with blood. Her eyes, ringed clumsily with eye shadow, peered out through a curtain of lank hair. A smear of red lipstick bled across her mouth, from one pale cheek to another.
And there, clutched in her hands, was a cracked and dirty porcelain doll, its one remaining eye fixed on me, as if watching for my reaction.
I’d thought the day could not get any worse. But the day had just proved me wrong.
Caddie had once been Billy’s imaginary friend. She’d turned up at my school one day with her doll, Raggy Maggie, and had immediately made my life a living Hell. But I’d eventually beaten her. To the best of my knowledge, she was one of the few fiends I’d fought who was dead. Properly dead. And yet, here she was.
‘Raggy Maggie’s very cross,’ she said, derailing my train of thought. ‘You sent us back to the bad place. We told you not to send us back to the bad place, but you didn’t listen.’
She raised the doll to her ear and bobbed its head up and down. I could see that aside from the crack it had always had, the doll’s head was in one piece. The last time I’d seen it, the head had been broken in two.
‘You think we should do what, Raggy Maggie?’ Caddie asked. Her dark eyes looked me up and down. ‘Yes, that would be a fun game, wouldn’t it?’ She smiled, then kissed the doll on its dirty forehead. ‘Oh, Raggy Maggie, you are naughty.’
‘You’re dead,’ I said, finally managing to find my voice. ‘You’re dead. I saw you die.’
Caddie stamped her foot. It made a hollow thunk against the plastic bath. ‘That is a horrible thing to say,’ she said, her bottom lip turned out. She covered the doll’s ears with her hands. ‘Don’t you listen to him, Raggy Maggie. He’s horrible.’
‘You can’t really be here.’ I pressed a thumb and finger against my eyes, but they were still there when I looked again. ‘You’re not here,’ I insisted. ‘You’re not real.’
The little girl let out her little giggle. ‘Of course we’re not real, silly,’ she said. Her eyes went to the doll, and she began to swing Raggy Maggie lazily back and forth by her arms. ‘None of this is real.’
I hesitated. She hummed a nursery rhyme softly below her breath. A draught came from nowhere and brought goosebumps to the back of my neck.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, of course it isn’t real,’ she said, her voice and face suddenly solemn. ‘Monsters, magic, people with sewing where their mouths are?’ She looked sadly at Raggy Maggie. ‘Talking dolls? How could any of that be real?’
‘But... but it is real. All of it. I saw it happen.’
She stopped swinging the doll. ‘No, silly, you dreamed it happening.’
I blinked, and she was out of the bath, standing right in front of me in high-heeled shoes that were far too large for her feet. ‘You’re very sick, Kyle. And you’re dreaming,’ she whispered. With one hand she raised Raggy Maggie until the doll’s face was right by mine. Its painted features came alive and crawled across the porcelain. The faded red mouth opened and a voice like dry leaves croaked out.
‘And it’s time to wake up.’
The bathroom door flew open, the fragile lock snapping like a twig. Caddie and Raggy Maggie vanished like mist before my eyes, and when I turned to the door another familiar face stood there.
‘Ameena?’
‘The one and only.’
‘You… You came back?’
My dad leaned round the door frame. ‘We both did,’ he smirked, then he reached into the bathroom and pulled me out on to the landing. Another shock of pain travelled the length of my spine as he tossed me against the wall.
‘Get away from me,’ I bellowed, shoving him with all my strength. He laughed off the push, then forced me against the wall for a second time.
‘Still got some fight in you,’ he said, his face right up in mine. ‘That’s what I like to see.’
I tried to swing at him again, but he leaned back and the palm of his hand cracked against the side of my fac
e, whipping my head to the right. Had he not been holding on to me I would have fallen, but he had me pinned in place with his left hand, as his right hand drew back again.
KER-ACK!
Pain burned like fire across the side of my face, bringing hot tears to my eyes. ‘You can stop me, you know?’ he said, before another slap exploded across my jaw. ‘You can stop me doing this with just a thought. That’s what makes you so special, son. That’s what makes you unique.’
I brought my hands up over my head to stop him hitting me again. He cackled, then let me slide to the floor. He crouched down next to me. I flinched and pulled back, but the wall stopped me going anywhere.
‘You’re one of a kind, kiddo. You know that, right? One parent who’s imaginary, another who’s a real live human being.’ He chuckled. ‘Well, not exactly live any more, but you know what I mean. You’re the best of both. You have the ability to imagine anything in the world, and the power to make it all come true. You could have been a god.’
He stood up and peered down at me. His nostrils flared in disgust. ‘But look at you. Some god.’
The corner of my mouth was sticky with blood. I dabbed it away and glared up at my dad. ‘I h-hate you,’ I told him.
‘I know. I’ve gone to a lot of effort to make sure of that,’ he said darkly. ‘The question is, what are you going to do about it?’ He held his arms out wide and looked up at the ceiling. ‘You want me? I’m right here. Now’s your chance to get me back for all those things I’ve done. Make me suffer. Make me pay. Use that special gift of yours one last time. Take your revenge, kiddo.’
The sparks whirled like a tornado inside me. I stood, feeling taller and stronger than I’d ever felt in my life. Ameena took a wary step backwards, taking cover behind my dad.
‘What are you waiting for?’ he demanded, raising his voice. ‘Do it. Show me what you’ve got.’
I shook my head. ‘No.’
He kept his arms raised, but lowered his head to look at me. ‘No?’ he spat. ‘What do you mean no?’
‘I’m not going to do what you want. I’m not going to let you manipulate me any more.’
His arms dropped. ‘Is that a fact?’
‘It is,’ I said. ‘I don’t care what you do to me. I won’t do what you want. Even if you end up killing me.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘Now then,’ he nodded. ‘Killing you. That is an idea.’
His hands caught me by the hair and yanked me towards the stairs. I hissed in pain and twisted in his grip, but then the top step fell away and the wallpaper began to whizz past me. My chin hit the banister. My chest hit the carpet. My legs flipped over me and I rolled and tumbled and thudded all the way down to the bottom step.
He was on me before I could get up, dragging me into the hallway, shouting so loudly I couldn’t make out a word of it. I caught a glimpse of Ameena peeking round the corner at the bottom of the stairs, and then he was in my face again, his fist like an iron bar across my cheek.
The world whirled wildly, and all colour drained out of it. My mouth moved and something that may have been words came out, but even I couldn’t understand what they said.
I fell to the floor and rolled, with no real idea where I was rolling to. There was a creak as the door of the cupboard under the stairs was pulled open.
‘Aha. Now this should do the trick,’ I heard my dad say. I managed to turn and look up just as he stepped out of the cupboard. He was holding a cricket bat, both hands gripping the handle. The bat looked battered and well used. I had a feeling it was about to become even more so.
‘N-no,’ I croaked, holding an arm up.
‘You might not believe it, but this’ll hurt me more than it hurts you, son,’ he said, bringing the bat up to shoulder height. ‘I don’t want to do this. I want you to stop me. I’m counting on you stopping me.’ He stared at me expectantly. ‘I will smash you up,’ he warned, and flecks of foam formed at the corners of his mouth. ‘I will break you in half and grind your bones to make my bread.’
Veins stood out across his forehead. His eyes were bloodshot and bulging. They watched me as I shakily got to my feet.
‘OK,’ I said.
He frowned. ‘OK?’
‘Kill me.’
He laughed at that, my dad. He actually laughed. Then he stopped as suddenly as he had started.
‘What?’
‘Do it. Kill me. You’ll be doing me a favour.’
He seemed to consider this, then he shrugged. ‘Fair enough.’
The sparks flickered all through me. They danced behind my eyes, lighting up the world, begging – demanding – I put them to use. I saw the bat draw back again, as if in slow motion. I saw the look of demented glee on my dad’s face as his grip shifted and he took aim at my head.
And then I saw Ameena. She caught him by the shoulder, stopping him before he could swing. I realised for the first time she was wearing the brown robe, but with the hood down.
‘Wait,’ she said. ‘You’ll kill him.’
My dad looked from her to me. ‘And?’
Ameena glanced at me. Was that pity I saw in her eyes? Sadness? Regret? ‘He’s no use to us dead,’ she said gruffly.
Probably none of those things then.
‘The plan,’ she reminded him. ‘The plan to save everyone. To bring them through here.’
‘Ameena, Ameena, Ameena. There are many plans,’ my dad said. ‘Plan A, yes, in an ideal world, would involve us breaking down the barrier and turning this world into the Darkest Corners, thereby saving the poor unfortunate souls trapped over there.’ He scowled at me. ‘But my darling son is proving to be more stubborn than I thought, so we may have to move on to Plan B.’
‘What’s Plan B?’ Ameena asked.
‘I beat him to death with this cricket bat.’ He looked at her coldly. ‘Do you have a problem with that?’
She hesitated, just for a moment, then shook her head. ‘No.’
‘Good. Because Plan C involved torturing you while he watched. I bet he still cares about you enough to want to stop that happening.’
He laughed at the look of shock on Ameena’s face. ‘Just kidding,’ he said with a wink. ‘You see the thing is, between you, me and my boy here, I’ve never really cared about saving anyone.’
‘What?’ Ameena frowned. ‘But… but you said…’
‘I know what I said. But it was all just an excuse, really. I wanted free. Me. And not just for a few minutes or a few hours like I can do at the moment. Free. Truly free. For ever.
‘And I wanted him to suffer, of course,’ he continued. ‘Suffer like I did, stuck in there, rotting away in the Darkest Corners. I wanted him to feel pain like I had, feel loss like I had.’
He gave a self-satisfied smirk. He was looking straight at me, but talking as if I wasn’t even in the room. ‘I’ve killed everyone he loves, and I’ve made him feel that he’s the one to blame. I’ve stolen his whole life away, just like he did to me. Oh, sure, having him break down the barrier and bring about the end of the world would have been a nice touch. A really fitting finale. But we can’t have everything, right? So I’ll settle for beating him to death. Maybe he’ll man up and try to stop me. Maybe he won’t. Either way, I’m chalking it up as a win.’
He raised the bat again.
‘I get all that. It’s just... after all the planning,’ Ameena said. ‘When you’re so close to getting everything you dreamed of. It just seems like, I dunno, you’re giving up. Admitting you can’t break him.’
A twitch of anger flitted across my dad’s face. For a moment I thought he really was going to turn the bat on Ameena, but he simply glared at her until she stepped aside.
He grinned at me and shifted his grip on the bat’s handle. ‘This will not be a pretty death,’ he said. ‘It won’t be heroic. It won’t be noble. It’ll be all broken bones and missing teeth and you giving it “Stop, no, please, stop!”.’ His eyes blazed. ‘But I won’t. I’ll never stop. I want you to be very clear on that.’<
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I swallowed. I straightened my back and held my head high and thought of my mum.
‘Get a move on,’ I said. ‘I haven’t got all day.’
He roared. His muscles tightened.
And he swung.
The bat whummed by just centimetres above my head.
I exhaled.
My dad was staring at me. He was still holding on to the bat with both hands, but it pointed down towards the floor now.
From the corner of my eye I could make out shapes in the darkness, half-formed apparitions lurking in the gloom. The things from the Darkest Corners were gathering, watching and waiting, preparing for the moment when the wall would come tumbling down.
I inhaled.
Ameena had her back against the wall, not looking at me. She was focusing on my dad and the weapon in his hands.
I exhaled.
‘He didn’t flinch,’ my dad said, and it sounded as if he was talking to himself. ‘He didn’t even flinch.’
The sparks crawled like ants inside me now, no longer rushing, no longer zipping furiously around. They had finally accepted – I had finally accepted – that I was not going to put them to use.
He had gone too far, pushed too hard. Everything, every part of me, was numb. It no longer mattered what my dad did to me, or what any of them did to me. I was done. I was spent. I had seen all the horrors the world had to offer, and I was too sick and tired to see any more.
‘You’re bolder than I gave you credit for, kiddo,’ he said. He smiled, flashing his teeth. ‘Of course, you get that off your dad.’
‘But you’re not my dad.’ He opened his mouth to argue, but I jumped in first. ‘My father, maybe. But not my dad. Never my dad.’
Silence filled the hall. They were both watching me, waiting to see what I’d do next, but I just stood there and told it like it was.
‘I can see them, you know? Over there in the Darkest Corners. I can feel them too, waiting for the wall to come down. Waiting to come through here and run riot over this world. I can hear them, and I hope they can hear me too. If they can, I want them to listen because I want them to know something.’ I turned my head to the ghostly shapes and raised my voice. ‘I want them to know that this is as close as they’re ever going to get.’
The Darkest Corners Page 4
