A few steps back into the woods, Pete spotted the remains of a fallen tree. He sat on the trunk, adjusting so he had a perfect view of the house. He couldn’t separate the little beasts from the shadows yet, but he heard the careful sounds of the next wave approaching as they followed the scent of the group he’d helped.
“Let the fun begin,” he said.
Neil trailed Sean as he sprinted back to his house. Already waiting inside, the Scot dragged Neil into the hall, slammed and then locked the front door behind them.
“Go check the windows in the living room. I’ll check the rest.” Sean shoved Neil in the direction he wanted him.
A trail of blood led up the stairs. Neil froze at the sight of this, barely aware of Sean as he shouted at him to get moving. On the first few treads, a few drops splattered the carpet. But further up, he reckoned someone had all but bled to death. Sean shoved him, but Neil hardly felt the push. Was the girl still alive? Was all the fighting for nothing?
The blood reminded him of all the times he’d tried, and failed to take his own life. The pain. Memories of swallowing burning acid, multiple hangings, regaining consciousness on the floor in a puddle of his own piss, Pete somewhere nearby with that look on his face, the expression that never seemed to leave his twin these days, a mix of self-righteousness, superiority, and joy. The day this curse ended, he imagined Pete would hold up his bottle of whatever he’d chosen to toast in another September, and walk away. No, not walk away, stroll away, with his damn hands in his damn pockets, and take his supremacy with him.
Neil glanced down at his wrist, the flesh still knitting together. He’d long since stopped bleeding, the last scab had formed, and the skin itched as it prepared to drop any hint of his suicide. He tightened his grip on the machete. The blood on the stairs called to him, made him want to find the girl.
Sean had moved in front of Neil’s line of sight, his mouth working silently, but his face contorted, angry. Suddenly sounds rushed in on Neil. Sean yelled, his lips inches away, “What are you waiting for, you silly eejit? Go!” And pushed him so hard, Neil almost fell over.
“S-s-sorry,” Neil said, and fled from the crimson steps.
The lounge was quiet, the room dark. The curtains had been left open to the night, the stars and moon providing the only light. Neil stood by the window, hands on hips, and searched the rear gardens for movement. Within the deep shadows of Sulham Woods something large shifted, a shape too big to be one of the ellyllon. Neil leaned forward so his nose almost touched the glass, and his breath fogged up his view. The shadow moved again. He knew that form.
“P-Pete,” he called out, and rapped on the glass. He took a steadying gulp of air to try and control the stutter. “Pete!” The shape in the woods stirred then turned in Neil’s direction before receding between the tree trunks. Neil frowned. There was another movement, this one far smaller. One of Eloise’s cats? Neil checked the window lock, rattling it in the frame. Eloise’s cats tended to stay down the other end of the yard. Amelia and Sean owned a large tom named Ginger. The cat protected his territory to the death.
“Oh my God,” he whispered, and slapped a hand to his mouth. “T-t-the cat f-flap.” Neil sprinted out of the room, grabbing the post at the bottom of the staircase to slingshot his way into the back hall. At the end of the hall was a back door. A door with a cat flap that no one had thought of.
“Sean!” he yelled. At the end of the hallway, several small creatures jostled for space. The cat flap slapped shut, and the numbers increased by one.
“Sean, g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g.” He took a deep breath and tried again. “Get here now!”
Sean was already behind him, blade raised, his tall frame filling the remainder of the small space.
“Any get by you?” he asked.
Neil shook his head.
“Living room secure?” Sean tossed his meat cleaver from one hand to the other, swaying slightly as if drunk. His ginger hair lay in lanky strips, still sweaty from the earlier battle. His Viking heritage showed as he gripped the handle of his weapon in alternating hands.
“Y-yes. I checked the window.” Neil paused, not daring to turn around to face Sean as the cat flap snapped shut on another arrival. “I-I-I t-t-t-t…” He gulped at his words. “Pete’s out in the woods.”
“One battle at a time,” Sean hissed.
In the shadows of the hallway, the number of the ellyllon increased again.
“Shall we?” Sean said, and took two long steps towards them.
The Scot swung high, beheading the first creature he came to. The head rolled to the side. The body twitched a couple of times and collapsed, blood spurting from the neck. The next ellyllon stepped forward over the remains, its cat-like eyes reflecting green at Neil, teeth white and sharp as it snarled. The beast rushed him, claws on its feet clicking on the tiles. Neil lunged, his machete slicing the beast through the chest. Impaled on the blade, its teeth clicked as it gnashed in his direction, eyes fixed on Neil’s. He shook the ellyllon off, and stabbed the tip deep into its chest before it could get upright again. Another jumped. The creature bit into his arm, teeth like mini-daggers piercing his skin.
“It’s got me!” he shrieked as a second latched onto his thigh. Neil pounded on the ellyllon’s head with his fist. Three, four, five times, until the creature unlocked its jaws, and looked briefly up at Neil. Stunned, the little beast let go and fell to the floor. Swiftly, he stabbed it where he thought its heart might be.
The other ellyllon dug its claws through the material of his jeans, clinging like a small child to his leg. He shoved at the creature, his skin shredding as its teeth sank deeper. Neil flipped his machete around, and bashed the back of its skull in with the hilt. Finally, the ellyllon released, and fell to the tiles. Behind it, a dozen more eyes glinted in the shadows.
Two steps in front of Neil, Sean slashed and stabbed, the ellyllon falling slain around his feet. “Come on, don’t be shy. Kill them!”
Three creatures approached, chattering their teeth in preparation. Neil let out a whoop, and swung.
One ellyllon darted between the men, and up the stairs.
“Shit!” Sean lunged at the next creature. “Go get it!” He stabbed, and sliced an arm off an ellyllon.
The floor in front of Neil was already deep with slain ellyllon. Some twitched, others, still clinging to life, dragged what was left of their bodies towards the stairs, teeth gnashing, claws clicking on the tiles. Blood splatters swilled up the walls and Neil slipped as he tried to break into a run, the floor awash. Most was ellyllon blood, but his leg had streamed after the damned creature took a chunk, and his blood had mixed with theirs until his healing had halted the flow.
“Snap out of it, Neil. Go upstairs before the beastie tears a hole in the door!” Sean poked him with the tip of his blade.
Neil blinked. He’d stopped again. He was suddenly aware of the scratching sound on the floor above him, and the movement of another ellyllon as it made a break between the two men, as one stood immobile and the other paused in his attack.
“Now you’ve got to get two. Go on, there’s not enough room for us both here, anyway.” As if to prove the point, he swung wide, narrowly missing Neil, and downing two ellyllon as they made a dash for the stairs.
Neil backed away, the knuckles on his hand holding the machete white, his arm drawn close to his side. Upstairs, the sound of splintering wood, followed by a scream of, “Help,” from the bedroom above, woke him from his daze, and he barreled up the stairs.
The ellyllon hadn’t made as much progress as he feared. They’d splintered off the edging to the panel. The doors, if the same as those in his own house, were solid oak, two hundred years old, and strong. He drew back his machete, and slashed one in half. The second one dodged out the way. It looked warily from side to side, perhaps weighing up its options. Then, as it made a run for the main bedroom, Neil plunged his blade into the creature. It fell dead at his feet.
“It’s okay, I got them,” he called
in to the bedroom. “D-d-don’t open the door, there’ll be more coming.”
Kellie listened to Neil scuffle around on the other side of the door as she threaded the needle for a second time. Eloise had backed into the corner furthest away from the commotion on the landing. She stared wide-eyed as Sean called out, “Another one got past me.” Seconds later, she heard Neil grunting. The sound of his weapon hitting plaster made Eloise jump and push further back against the wall.
Amelia stood still beside Louisa, supporting Hope as she suckled from her mother.
“I’m nearly done. How’s that baby doing?” Kellie pulled the flaps of skin together, and pushed the needle through. She snipped the excess thread, and tied a knot. One more, she thought, eyeing the wound.
“I think she’s getting full. Her eyes keep falling shut, and she keeps forgetting to suck.”
“Good.” Kellie pulled the last stitch closed. She put her medical tools in the bag and shoved everything under the bed with one foot. “Give me the baby.”
“What? Why?” Amelia looked away from the newborn for a second.
“Do you think that lot are ever going to stop? Those grimy little monsters claim the right of this woman as their sacrifice, and they will never go away - not until we hand her over!”
“But what about Louisa?”
“We let them take her.”
Eloise whimpered in her corner. Her legs gave out, and the old woman slid to the floor.
“And what about Hope?” Amelia asked in a quiet voice.
“If you don’t give her to me now, you may as well hand her over along with her mother. Is that what you want?” Kellie dipped her hands in the bowl of water, the liquid staining pink as the blood washed off. She dried her hands, and reached out. “It’s the only chance for the little one.”
Amelia took the baby from her mother’s breast and passed her to Kellie. She put the newborn on the bed, and as Hope let out a quiet grizzling cry, rewrapped her, swaddling her tightly in the soft towel. The baby quietened again. Kellie opened her cardigan, and picked up the baby.
“Button me up would you, hon,” she asked Amelia.
With her cardigan done up, Kellie was transformed from her normal slim self into what appeared to be a dowdy woman. She slid one hand in the gap between two buttons, and offered her pinky to Hope. The baby latched on, the only sound in the room the occasional slurp as she sucked.
“Now you two, move the bureau out of the way of the door.”
Eloise woke from her trance, shaking her head at Kellie.
“You want us to do what?” Amelia asked, amazed.
“First pull her shirt down. If they catch a sight of the stitches, the grimy bastards may guess what we’ve done.”
Amelia obeyed. Everything was covered in blood now, the girl’s clothes no exception.
“Now free the door.”
“We can’t!” Amelia said.
“What would you rather do? Wait until the baby decides she’s hungry again, and let her screams tell the ellyllon what we’ve done? Do you want to sacrifice this little baby for the sake of a homeless girl you didn’t know existed yesterday?”
“But…”
“But nothing. Move the bureau.” Kellie shrank up against the wardrobe. “Eloise, open the doors, and close them behind me.”
Eloise climbed up off the floor. The old woman moved slowly, but at least she did as she was asked. Amelia still waited, maintaining her vigil beside the dying girl. The wardrobe door open, Kellie retreated inside, shoving long coats out of the way.
“Now close them.”
Eloise clicked the doors shut on their magnetic clasps. The slats on the doors had been placed far enough apart to give Kellie a view of about half of the bedroom.
“Get Amelia to help you move the furniture out of the way.” She told them. Eloise was visible from the waist down. Her feet remained still for a second then she walked over to Amelia.
Thank God she’s listening, Kellie thought, and held the infant tighter. Eloise took Amelia gently by the arm.
“Kellie is right. We must try and save the baby.”
Eloise tugged at Amelia and moved her towards the door, Eloise’s feet making larger strides, bracing as she pulled her neighbor along. Amelia took little shuddering steps. Without Eloise to drag her away, she would have remained beside Louisa until the ellyllon broke in.
They got to the bureau. Kellie could make out even less; the other women were now too far away on the other side of the room. Both women braced their shoulders on the piece of furniture and pushed.
“Another wee beastie’s escaped me!” Sean called up from the hall. Seconds later they heard the metal of Neil’s weapon clash against the wall. Must have gone clean through the ellyllon, Kellie thought. He roared, and something thumped into the door.
“It’s okay,” he said, his voice muffled by the wood. “D-d-damn t-thing wouldn’t d-d-d-die.”
The woman braced again, and pushed the bureau all the way free of the door.
“Go on, open up,” Kellie ordered. The baby lay asleep under her cardigan, occasionally giving a small suck to the tip of the offered pinky.
Eloise flung the door open, making Neil jump as he stood guarding the landing.
“What the h-h-hell are you doing?” he asked. He held a machete in one clenched hand.
“She’s dying,” Eloise said. The old woman pointed in the direction of the bed, where Louisa was beginning to come to. She’d be screaming the place down soon, regardless of whether the ellyllon got her or not.
Eloise leaned forward and whispered in Neil’s ear, her words barely audible. “Kellie has the baby.”
Neil took a step back, his weapon falling to his side.
“Tell Sean,” she said. “I’ll go and stop Harold. It’s time to give them what they want.”
Neil couldn’t make his feet move at first. How could they want to give up, when they’d fought so hard to save her? But he knew the ellyllon wouldn’t stop coming, not until the beasts had what they felt was theirs.
“Lost another,” Sean called from downstairs.
Moments later an ellyllon with long tawny fur bounded up the stairs. The beast stopped when it noticed Neil and bared its teeth, ready for attack.
“Are you c-certain?” Neil stuttered, his machete no longer hanging at his side, his fist white-knuckled around the hilt, his attention fixed on the creature.
“Let them have her,” Eloise whispered, and pushed the hand holding the weapon down.
The ellyllon didn’t move for a second, its reflective eyes flashing in the dim light of the landing. Giving them a wide berth, it ran towards the bedroom. Neil peered into the room. The creature jumped on the bed, sniffing the girl in deep breaths, then opening its mouth, let out a high-pitched call that ended with a trill rolling of the tongue. Neil moved a little closer, but the ellyllon growled at him, claws extended, ready to do battle.
“N-no,” he said. He put both hands up, and backed away. “Sean!” he yelled, and raced down the stairs.
Blood covered Sean, his clothes hanging in rags from his body. He lunged, knocking an ellyllon to its knees, then in one swift movement, stuck his blade through its neck. More blood splattered out in all directions. The hall was slick with the stuff.
“You n-need to s-s-stop!” Neil dragged Sean over to the side.
“Have you finally gone insane?” Sean yelled, and shoved the smaller man away. There was a clatter at the cat flap, as four of the little beasts climbed in.
“N-no,” Neil grabbed at him again.
Upstairs, the ellyllon he’d allowed to live was trilling once more. The newest entrants gazed upwards for a moment, and Neil could swear they were smiling.
“What about the girl?” Sean shook free, and swayed in the hallway. “Come on, you eejits,” he muttered and beckoned them forward with his finger.
“She’s d-d-dying,” Neil said. “Let the b-bastards have her.”
Sean stopped moving, frozen into position,
his legs parted, his tall body shortened by the bend in his knees, the blade still raised and ready for a fight.
“But…” He surveyed the hall. Blood covered the floor, walls, and even the ceiling. Feline-sized innards littered the tiles where Sean had gutted creatures with his meat cleaver. Piles of ellyllon corpses almost blocked off the entrance to the cat flap.
“Eloise said the girl’s all but gone. We’ve done all we can.” Neil put a hand on Sean’s arm, and pulled him backward towards the front door. Another batch of creatures clambered through into the back hall. They fixed their beady eyes on the men.
“But…” Sean seemed to deflate, and he stumbled against the wall.
Neil left him there, and opened the front door. “Harold, c-come here,” he called out.
Harold jogged up to the house. “The numbers must be dwindling. None have come through for some time now, maybe we’re finally beating the bastards!” He stopped talking and gaped at the gore in the hall. His expression of hope faded. “I take it they found you here.”
“We’re l-l-l-letting them t-take her,” Neil pushed the door wide, and secured it open with an umbrella stand.
“You’re not bloody serious?” Harold raised his sword, as if to use it on Neil. Neil pressed up against the wall, the sharp tip inches from the center of his chest. Sean put his hands on Harold’s arms and pulled the weapon down.
“She’s nearly dead anyway. Eloise said.” Sean indicated at the upper floor.
As if on cue, the ellyllon at the end of the hall jumped out from the shadows and bounded up the stairs, clicking and grunting commands to each other.
“After all our bloody effort. They’ll never stop coming. Each year. Every year.” Harold followed the creatures’ ascent up the stairs with his eyes. “When Margaret offered herself, I really thought we’d be free.” Harold dropped his sword to his side, his grip loose. “What a waste of life.”
Neil spoke, his voice low, “She was a wonderful woman, and her life was not in vain. We know because of my mother’s courage, that our deaths will not end the curse.” His words slipped out without stutter. “She was not a waste.”
Sacrifice (Sulham Close Part 1) Page 11
