The Butcher's Daughter

by Jane E James

  Looking desperately ill, as if he might keel over any second, sweat pours off his face, landing like tears on the gun’s glossy brown handle. On the table in front of him is a large glass of whiskey. He takes a double slug, wipes his mouth, rolls his eyes as it takes effect and tries to still his trembling hands. It is clear from the expression on his face that he believes something bad is about to happen.

  Little Downey Beach

  Natalie

  Something runs past me. Almost touches me. Jed’s dog? I cannot see it, but I feel it. Holding my breath, I freeze, terrified it might come back to bite me. I wait. I listen. I imagine I hear a soft growling but tell myself it cannot be real. There. See. It has stopped, proving me right for once. Is it safe to go on? I am so near to home, yet still so far away. At least another quarter of a mile. And I still must cross the part of the beach that isn’t under water as well as climb the steep trail up to the house.

  Grappling over large wet rocks that feel familiar to my touch, I realise that this is the Old Sheep Wash part of the beach where I used to swim as a child. Suddenly, I am flooded with memories—the sound of laughter, the sensation of being thrown up in the air by arms stronger than my own, of being caught again. Not my father. It couldn’t have been him. I scorn the very idea of that. Then I remember holding hands with someone in the water and I realise this is the sheltered cove where Jed and I swam. This is one memory I can trust because it feels like it happened a long time ago, even though it didn’t. I have been told that this is the true test of a genuine memory. Even Dr Moses agrees with me on that score.

  I am about to continue my journey when I am unexpectedly blinded by a savage white light that causes my eyes to screw up in pain.

  ‘Going somewhere, Natalie?’

  I recognise the voice immediately. Of course I do. Daniel Harper. As soon as the name is in my head, I quickly build up a damning memory of everything that has happened between us. Once my eyes grow used to the searchlights on the grill of the pickup truck, I can make out Daniel grinning at me from behind the wheel.

  Realising I was right all along about being followed, I make a bolt for it, hoping to catch him off guard. But Daniel is after me in an instant. First, I hear his mad scramble to get out of the truck, then the muffled thump of his footsteps on the sand behind me. He is much faster than I am.

  I never stood a chance, I realise, as Daniel tackles me effortlessly to the ground. Luckily, I fall on soft sand, not harsh rock. Though temporarily winded, I am unhurt.

  As he presses his body into mine, the smell of butchered meat overwhelms me. But when he touches me through my clothes in ways that I do not want him to, I fight him. Of course I fight, I am a Powers, but he is stronger than me. My efforts to escape do exhaust him though and I take pleasure from this fact. Collapsing in a heap on top of me, our eyes shine with equal amounts of hatred as we catch our breaths. Behind him, I glimpse a skinny grey silhouette that is almost invisible to the naked eye. Nose to the ground, the dog’s hackles rise when it sees us rolling around in the sand. I watch it sniff the air, as if searching for a familiar scent, before disappearing from view.

  ‘We’ve got unfinished business, you and I,’ Daniel threatens, getting his breath back.

  ‘I want nothing to do with you.’ I spit, literally I spit, and then I try to bring a knee up into his groin, so I can roll away from him, but my attempt fails, amuses him even.

  ‘Yet something tells me the time is right for us to go into business together.’ He chuckles.

  I am hunched up in the passenger seat, as far away from Daniel as possible, but we do not take our eyes off each other. Because of this, his driving is erratic. We are travelling too fast along the coast road and the truck swerves, changing lanes as if it has a mind of its own. I am terrified but I will not let it show. Something tells me this would make him drive even more dangerously. I have no idea what is about to happen, or where he is taking me, but I do not want to die. Realising that I will do anything I can to survive, and yes, I really do think of the worst things that I may have to do, is an affirming moment in the life of someone who has thought often about suicide.

  When I finger the charm around my neck, hoping there might be some truth in its protective powers, I notice Daniel frowning at it. When he turns his head and keeps his cruel eyes fixed on the road ahead for once, I realise that the necklace unnerves him. I think about unfastening it and throwing it at him, but then I see a shadow, something on the backseat, and recoil from it. I am too frightened to look over my shoulder in case I really have conjured up a dark force that is about to kill us all.

  A vicious growling coming from the rear of the truck seems to confirm my suspicion, but then I realise rather stupidly that it is Jed’s dog, not a demon. I know I haven’t imagined this, because Daniel hears it too, and is as surprised as I am. I watch his eyes swing to the rear-view mirror and whatever he sees there alarms him.

  ‘What the fuck.’

  Ears flattened, and teeth bared, the dog’s head appears between us, causing us both to scream at the same time. The truck swerves again. When the dog sinks its teeth into Daniel’s forearm, he screams and loses control of the wheel.

  I am lucky to be alive, is the first thought that creeps into my mind when I regain consciousness. At first, I have no idea where I am, nor what has happened, but I do not think I am back at Thornhaugh, nor yet in my bedroom at my father’s house, because the overpowering smell of diesel fills the air, making me want to gag. I can taste blood and there is a sharp pain in my shoulder that I cannot reach. Looking down, I see the reason for that—I am restricted by a tightened safety belt, and I thank God for it, because when I spot Daniel next to me, his head resting on the wheel, I quickly piece together what happened. As I do, my fingers fly to my neck, and I am relieved to find the lucky charm is still there. I won’t be so quick to dismiss its power in future. Then I remember the dog, and I look behind me, but if it is still there, it must be hurt too, because it remains silent.

  I turn back to Daniel, wondering what I should do. Does he deserve to be rescued? Probably not. You can’t leave him here to die, Natalie. My inner voice denies me the pleasure this would bring. I think about shoving him to see if I can wake him up, but I am scared he will attack me again. Realising the truck could catch on fire and that we could both burn to death prompts me to get out of the truck. As far as I can tell, Daniel is still breathing, even if his eyes are closed, so he is in no immediate danger.

  It is a struggle to climb out and as soon as my feet hit the tarmac I realise why. The front end of the truck is buried deep in the side of the cliff and steam pours out of its crushed bonnet. I stagger around to the other side, limping badly on my right leg, to try the driver’s door handle but it won’t budge. Peering through the window, I notice that Daniel has a sizeable gash on his forehead. I do not pity him, but despite my previous evil thoughts, I am not the sort of person to leave someone to die. I am also worried about the dog.

  ‘Daniel. You’ve got to wake up. The truck…’

  I make the mistake of hammering on the window, which rouses both the dog and Daniel; something I hadn’t considered. I hear, rather than see, the dog attacking Daniel again and when a fresh spray of blood appears on the glass, I stagger backwards, unsure what to do. Then from behind me, I hear a distant gunshot coming from the house, and I make up my mind to flee. Everything becomes a blur after that and I limp away as fast as I can, not just to save myself but to escape Daniel’s terrible screams for help.

  The Whitewashed Building

  I watch Jed backing dazedly out of my father’s house with a look of astonishment on his face. Blood spurts from his chest and sprays the ground. When he sees me standing there, motionless, unable to believe what I am seeing, there is such disappointment in his eyes, I am reminded of the cow in the slaughterhouse, and I have to look away. When I glance back again, Jed is gazing in disbelief at the gaping wound beneath his ribs. Instinctively, he presses down on it with one hand, then
raises the finger of his other hand to point at the door he has just staggered out of. My father is nowhere to be seen.

  ‘He… He… ’Jed stumbles over his words, as if he still cannot take in what has happened to him, before collapsing.

  I move quickly. Putting an arm around Jed, I help him to get to his feet.

  ‘We have to get out of here.’ I warn. ‘Before…’ My eyes dart toward the house and Jed nods in agreement. He appears more shocked to see me than I am him; as if I am a ghost or an illusion. But having limped all the way here battered and bruised, I feel more alive than I ever hoped to. Plus, I have every right to be here, whereas Jed does not. What can he have been thinking to come here? While it is obvious that the quarrel with my father, which resulted in Jed getting shot, must have had something to do with Merry or me, I have been through too much today for my mind to process things clearly. First, the discovery of what they are feeding the residents at Thornhaugh, then Daniel, then the dog, and finally the car crash. Now this!

  Jed opens his mouth to say something. I think his lips stretch to form my name, but I cannot be sure. Next, his beautiful mismatched eyes fill with confusion and I get the impression he wants to warn me of something. But there is no time. If I don’t get him to safety soon, he could die. My father’s house is obviously out of the question.

  ‘This way,’ I tell him, allowing him to lean heavily against me as I drag him toward the nearest building.

  Little Downey Coast Road

  Daniel

  If Daniel doesn’t get out soon, he’s a dead man. Either the dog will rip out his throat or the truck will explode in flames and he will burn to death. Mad as hell that he is unable to do anything about the situation he finds himself in, he has given up trying to beat off the dog and is concentrating solely on protecting his head from being savaged. The dog continues to shake him though, ripping through layers of skin on his arms and chest. The pain is excruciating but Daniel realises he is lucky the dog hasn’t so far damaged any vital organs.

  Deciding he cannot allow a dog or a girl to get the better of him, that he’ll live to spite them both, he braces himself for an even more ferocious attack before diving across the seat, to wrestle with the door handle. Try as he might, he cannot get it open. When he sees flames flickering over the bonnet, heading his way, he screams in fear and throws his weight at the door. This time, it swings open and Daniel falls out onto the road, gasping for clean air; wanting to laugh and cry at the same time. When he looks around for the dog, it is nowhere to be seen. Crawling away from the truck on his hands and knees, constantly checking over his shoulder in case the dog should show up, he thinks about how much he will enjoy making Natalie pay for leaving him at the mercy of a fucking dog, or worst still, being burnt alive. Just wait till he gets his hands on her. As for that dog—

  Behind him, Daniel hears a savage snarling and instantly freezes in the hope that the dog won’t see him. It is completely dark out on the road and if he keeps quiet and doesn’t move he might stand a chance. But the growling keeps on getting meaner and louder. Bracing himself for the inevitable, Daniel’s face twists with fear. He cannot bring himself to look. He doesn’t have to. The dog appears from nowhere to pin him to the ground; sinking its vicious teeth into his flesh. This time he hears the crunch of bone.

  ‘No fucking way!’ Daniel screams.

  Every time he moves or tries to defend himself, the dog attacks him with renewed fury. Its foul-smelling slobber saturates his clothing, until he’s no longer sure how much of it is saliva and how much of it is his own blood. He’s in a bad way, that much he can tell. Feeling as exhausted as he does, he guesses he’s running out of time. If he doesn’t do something soon—

  Managing to roll over on his back in a bid to face up to the dog, Daniel is surprised as well as relieved when it unexpectedly backs off. It doesn’t go far, and it continues to observe him with flattened ears, bared teeth and a bloody face, but it’s a start.

  ‘Good boy,’ Daniel cajoles in the fake tone he reserves for customers’ dogs; secretly he cannot stand them. ‘You have no idea what I’m going to do to you…’ he warns in the same deceitful tone.

  And realises his mistake when the dog stops circling and makes a sudden lunge for his throat. Bastard dog knew what it was doing all along, Daniel realises. It was simply biding its time. Drawing upon his last ounce of strength, Daniel kicks out with all his might and feels the soles of his boots connect with teeth and bone.

  Terrified of being set on again, he pulls himself to his feet, ignoring the pain coursing through his body. Spitting out an angry trail of blood on the roadside, he finds the dog over by the truck. It’s not dead, but it’s not far off. It lies whimpering with its long wiry legs going to ten to the dozen. Its snout is covered with blood and it looks as if it is missing some teeth.

  ‘Picked on the wrong bloke this time, didn’t you.’ Daniel laughs smugly.

  In response, the dog weakly lifts its head and growls in recognition. Realising it would still kill him, given the chance, Daniel staggers to the back of the truck, ignoring the gathering flames and cloud of black smoke, to take out a shovel. Raising it above his head, he notices that the dog doesn’t take its eyes off him. As if it knows what is about to happen, it whines pitifully and licks Daniel’s boot in a gesture of surrender, but it is too late for that.

  ‘I fucking hate dogs!’ Daniel yells, bringing down the shovel.

  The Whitewashed Building

  Natalie

  ‘I can’t believe Father shot you. Left you for dead,’ I exclaim for the third time since dragging Jed inside the whitewashed building. I stop blathering only when the distant sound of a dog crying out in pain cuts through the suffocating silence. As Jed doesn’t respond to this eerie echo, I cannot be certain it is real. I am finding it hard enough to believe what I am seeing.

  As always, it is dark and damp in here and the stench automatically has me covering my nose and mouth with my hand. I use my other hand to reach for the cord that I know is dangling somewhere above my head and I am relieved when my fingers curl around it. A dim light appears when I pull on the cord, creating shadows in corners that do not exist. I almost faint when I see that the butcher’s block has been moved aside and the heavy trap door is swinging open. This can only mean one thing—

  ‘She’s out.’ I gasp.

  Instantly, I revert back to when I was a child again; not wanting to see, not wanting to hear, not wanting to believe. But I have to see. Have to know. So, I take the smallest of steps towards the gaping black hole in the floor, but Jed, writhing in agony on the floor, almost trips me up, on purpose I suspect, to bring me to my senses.

  Not so long ago, I longed to put my hands on his body. Now, I recoil from it. I can smell the blood congealing on him. If he opens his eyes while I lay his head down on the floor, I am sure I will faint. I do not faint. As always, I am stronger and more resilient than I give myself credit for. I hold Thornhaugh responsible for my self-doubt, and so much more. Having had it drilled into me from an early age how weak and fragile I am, I almost came to believe it myself.

  Never taking my eyes off the trap door, I rip open Jed’s shirt and put pressure on the wound in attempt to stop the bleeding. Meanwhile, Jed drifts in and out of consciousness. Every so often his mouth opens as if he is about to say something or his eyelids flicker.

  Convinced he is going to die, I dig my nail into my thumb as hard as I can and concentrate on watching the skin pale to white. I do not know what else to do. I am unable to cope with this kind of situation. I hear Jed’s voice, barely a murmur in my ear, but I do not know what he is saying. His words grow louder inside my head until I cannot stand it a second longer.

  ‘Merry wouldn’t take off like that. Not without the baby,’ Jed states stubbornly, staring pointedly at the open trap door. ‘Frank swears he doesn’t know what happened to her, but I think he’s protecting someone. Why the gun, if he’s got nothing to hide.’

  I try to hush Jed, but h
e won’t have it.

  ‘I warned Merry, but she wouldn’t listen. Thought nothing could harm her as long as she wore that damn stupid charm necklace,’ Jed chokes.

  ‘What do you think has happened to her?’ I ask tearfully.

  He shakes his head. ‘There’s something going on this village, Natalie. Everybody seems to have a secret.’

  ‘Not everyone.’ I grip his hand, determined that he should believe me.

  He pauses to frown up at me. ‘Yours is the biggest of them all.’

  At first, I do not understand what he means by this, then I realise he is referring to my mother. He is right of course. But before I can agree with him, he’s off again, slurring his words.

  ‘You’ve got to find out what they did to Merry. Before it’s too late.’

  I cannot bring myself to tell him what I know in my heart, that it is already too late for his sister. Instead, I check his forehead. He is burning up. This is not good. Not good at all.

  ‘You’re delirious,’ I say, willing myself not to look at Jed. If he dies, my father will go to prison and I will end up back at Thornhaugh, for good this time. The possibility of this fills me with such dread, I rock my body from side to side. Usually, this action brings me comfort, but not today.

  ‘Natalie!’ Jed’s voice jolts me out of my self-induced trance. If Jed is to survive, he needs all the help he can get. This is not the time to think about myself.

  ‘What shall I do?’ I shake him awake when I realise that his eyes have dimmed again. ‘Tell me what to do Jed, please,’ I beg.