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620 lines
35 KiB
HTML
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<div class="section" id="xhtmldocuments">
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<h2>11</h2>
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<p>He reached out with his senses and touched her. She was coming
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closer.</p>
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<p>Here in the dark he became very still. The mother moved and he
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pushed at her until she stopped. She made a low noise and then was
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silent. He reached out again, pushing harder. There were glass
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sounds of ice forming in the air. A small thing rustled in the dead
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flowerbeds out there and that caused a reflexive pang of hunger
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which he pushed away. The footsteps were loud, picked up by his new
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and heightened ability, crunching harsh on the frost on the
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flagstones.</p>
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<p>They paused and there was another silence broken only by the
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whirr of starlings wings in the far sky under the blue of the moon
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and the chittering cheep as the flock wheeled towards the church
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tower to roost. The gate shrieked, a scream of protest that sent
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his own hackles rising. It sounded like a challenge and he
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responded to the high rasp with an involuntary twitch. Inside of
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him excitement surged for an incandescent moment and then slowly
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deflated.</p>
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<p>The footsteps came closer and he forced his sense out further,
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until he trailed them over her warmth. The new hunger swelled
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again. She was hot and pulsing, tense with readiness. Something
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familiar came to him. He concentrated, focusing tight.</p>
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<p><em>And he recognised her.</em></p>
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<p>He had no words, not yet, but the sense picked out the
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differences in texture and shape and heat and a thousand other
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subtle differences that enabled him to tell one from the other.
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This one had come before, to the other place where the old mother
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had nested. She had come with the other one and he had been afraid,
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vulnerable and threatened in the disorientation that followed hard
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on the loss and the change to a new mother and the imminence of the
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change.</p>
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<p>Was she hunting him? Was she a danger?</p>
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<p>He snuffled with his mind, questing and probing, but he was not
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strong enough yet for anything more than a brush of contact. It was
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difficult, impossible to tell, but still he felt the uneasy sense
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of approaching threat. His instinct was to avoid it, to stay still
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until it had gone. He could wait in the darkness, safe in the
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mother's warmth until it passed.</p>
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<p>The gate shut with a clatter of the hasp, cold metal on metal.
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The vibration racketed against the glass of the window and sent it
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shivering in sympathetic resonance. Footsteps came closer, now
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echoing loud and he had to muffle them out while he concentrated
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his thoughts. They stopped by the window where the curtains almost
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met, allowing in a sliver of moonlight to send a bright line
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running down the side of the wall. A shadow moved, cutting off the
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light, turned away to let it spear back inside again, then blocked
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it off once more.</p>
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<p>Tension rippled inside of him and his excited perception
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narrowed to target the approach.</p>
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<p>A different light came swinging up and speared through the slit
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between the edges of the drapes and he recoiled as a searing pain
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drilled into his eyes. If the light had caught him directly, they
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would have smoked and sizzled with the unexpected heat of it. A
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small sound blurted out from him and the mother went into a sudden
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spasm of shivering in response.</p>
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<p>Outside the new one shivered too, suddenly tensed, responding
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unconsciously to the subaudial sound.</p>
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<p>The shadow moved away out of sight and the cold moonlight was
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back again, wavering in his stinging vision. Something thumped at
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the door and the mother twisted at the sound. He sensed her
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protesting, felt her sudden lurch of hope and he clamped down on it
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hard. She grunted softly as the conflict within her mind and body
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pulled on her like warring tides.</p>
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<p>The door rattled and a metallic click came. He had heard letter
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flaps open before and dismissed the noise as insignificant. A human
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sound came echoing down the gall, garbled words that made no real
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sense. Just then the mother moved, her weight shifting off balance.
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She put a hand out to stop herself falling from the crouch beside
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the door. A floorboard creaked.</p>
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<p>The stranger shivered hard, not physically, but mentally. The
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vibration came singing through the dark, a pure and clear note and
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he sensed the primitive beginnings of fear. A swell of satisfaction
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and another hunger followed instantly. He swivelled his head, eyes
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wide in the dark of the room, waiting for the next move. Almost
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absently, he urged the mother to move, to pull back to the corner
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close to the door beyond the scope of the light should it come
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again. She responded sluggishly, a deep and untouchable part of her
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fighting him all the way, but he pressed, plucked on the inside of
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the nerves and she moved slowly. Her knee came down on the sprung
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board and made it creak again.</p>
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<p>The reaction from outside was instantaneous. He could feel the
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cold shiver in the new arrival transmit to him. Through the wall,
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through brick and mortar he saw the warm colour change and doppler
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down to a cool nameless shade as the tension altered the very
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vibrations of the other life. The alteration in sensation faded off
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quickly and the woman moved away from the door. He sat there in the
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dark, beside the lounge door, clasped tight in the mother's arms
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while she trembled almost imperceptibly. The new one moved, almost
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out of range, beyond the side of the wall and then came back again
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at the back. He strained to pick her up, almost ready to move, when
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there was a soft, slow scrape of noise from in the kitchen,</p>
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<p><em>She was inside.</em></p>
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<p>It was completely unexpected. Over by the far wall, the green
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eyes blinked at him, Celia Barker's answering machine. The colour
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represented a small and blinking animal in the night but he had
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learned to ignore the reactions the eyes sparked off within him. It
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had no <em>sense</em> of life. He ignored them now because of the
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noise in the kitchen. She was in now.</p>
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<p>The sensation of approaching danger inflated wildly.</p>
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<p>In the kitchen the woman called out in a low, unintelligible
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series of clicks and booms that sounded raw in his ears. She came
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closer, bright in his night sense and he reacted to the
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nearness.</p>
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<p>The mother moved. She tried to call out and he wrapped around
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her. His glands were primed, pumped up as never before as he
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prepared for flight or fight, though his instinct told him it was
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not yet the fight time. The mother moved and tried to pull back. He
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wrapped his tail around her, looping it round her neck, hauling it
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tight to strangle the sounds that were about to blurt out and
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reveal them both. It held her taut and she gurgled mutely.</p>
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<p>His glands were pumped up and he was ready.</p>
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<p>The presence came towards the door. The mother drew back and he
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forced her forward, one step, two steps. Beyond the door, the noise
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came again, a different sound of drawn out vowels and beating
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consonants, stretched by his altered timescale of sudden alertness.
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The mother's foot rapped against the skirting board.</p>
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<p>On the other side of the door the heartbeat thudded in sudden
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fast pulses of colour. Feral anger and hollow need rippled through
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him as the apprehension came to him in ripples. His glands swelled,
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lumping up below the skin, pressing tight under the surface.</p>
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<p>She came out of the kitchen and into the hall. He mewled. The
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sound came from low down in his chest, a smothered whimper of fury
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and his own kind of fear. A footstep came closer and he made the
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mother press herself in against the wall. Out there the woman
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called out, a stuttering rumble of noise that bounced and echoed
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from the walls of the narrow hallway. Muscles inside him clenched
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tight, pressing like a pain, suddenly urgent. Spiracles down the
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length of his abdomen, little parallel rows of holes that trailed
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from under each limb opened. There was no volition, no choosing of
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the mix he would need, the way he did with the mother or the others
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who came close to be manipulated. This time it all came out, every
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gland sphincter opening like a mouth, every muscle squeezing in an
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instant of relief. He could hear the pheremones spray from him in a
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hiss of mist.</p>
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<p>The mother went rigid. It was instantaneous. She jerked as if
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she'd been hit with a hammer right on the forehead and he gripped
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her tight. Her head rapped against the wall, her whole body
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vibrating so fast and so hard that the back of her skull jittered
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on the surface in a rapid series of dull thuds. Her mouth opened
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and a drool of saliva spilled out in a sticky rope. Inside her
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head, frantic fear screamed in a mental blast and he absorbed it
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with his own mind, soaking it instantly to damp its force.</p>
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<p>Out there beyond the door the spray caught the other one and she
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stopped dead, halfway out of the kitchen, one foot still raised
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from the ground.</p>
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<p>He felt it slam into her like a physical blow. His concentration
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was wound up so tight that all his receptors were wide open. She
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reeled back with the enormous force of the physical reaction as the
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pheromones triggered the responses. Adrenaline spurted into her
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veins. Complex dopamines and melatonins flooded receptors in her
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brain. Even more complex sugars urged in a powerful hit of energy
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that could not be expended. Her ovaries squeezed progesterone and
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oestrogen into her system and she fell back, almost doubled up with
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the overwhelming chemical overload.</p>
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<p>He felt it sizzle through her, perceived her galvanic reaction.
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Inside her head the neural connections sparked and forked
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uncontrollably. She staggered back, mind emitting sharp and crazy
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pulses of thought-static that he picked up in the dark. It was like
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watching an explosion of light and colour, like tasting the
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concentrated essence of his own self in a mother's blood. It was
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like draining the pure distillation from deep in a mother's
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depths.</p>
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<p>For a moment he too was in sensory overload, experiencing
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everything that erupted within the new one. He was almost paralysed
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on the crest of the momentous reaction.</p>
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<p>In his grasp the mother quivered and vibrated, her own receptors
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shuddering under the impact but already, even in so short a time,
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inured to its full blast. He loosened his hold just a fraction and
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she gagged, choking for breath. The fear was swirling inside her in
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a hot stir while the mother-need clashed with it, sending
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counter-pulses through her. Her mind was ripping apart. He
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swivelled his head to peer through the crack between the door and
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the wall. In the hallway the new shape stumbled back.</p>
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<p>He moved then. He turned back and focused on the mother. She
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moved too. There was no hesitation. He pressed hard, swamped the
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fear with the need and the urgency and the urge to protect.</p>
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<p>Even in the dark, Ginny Marsden saw her baby's wide eyes and she
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sensed the danger.</p>
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<p>She came out the chemical assault, eyes staring and the panic
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already thrumming through her. The dreadful, supernatural fear was
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crushed down to a hot coal, while the mother-love simply ballooned.
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She felt her legs move, muscles still trembling hard enough to
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spill her to the ground. Something was coming for the baby.
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Something wanted to hurt it. She did not think, but reacted. She
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lurched out through the doorway, banged against the wall, now
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holding the baby tight in her arms. It whimpered. She groaned an
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unintelligible sound of panic and anger and threw herself
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forward.</p>
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<p>A shape was moving just inside the kitchen door, its outlines
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blurred in the dark.</p>
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<p>This thing was threatening the baby. She ran forward, clutching
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the mite in against her, feeling its soft skin, mind flaring and
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flickering with the irresistible need to protect.</p>
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<p>She hit the floundering shadow, reaching out with her hand to
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push it away. The back door was wide open. The silhouette whirled
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away from her, careered against the sink and bounced back. She saw
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a hand reach up and knew it was reaching for the baby. She tried to
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turn and then something happened.</p>
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<p>Ginny did not see it, but suddenly the shape was reeling back
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once more. There was a clatter of noise and a sharp unmusical crack
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as something made of glass broke and then shattered. A metal
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utensil fell into the sink with a ringing sound that seemed to go
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on and on. Something screamed loud and deafening in the enclosed
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space.</p>
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<p>_______</p>
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<p>Helen saw a lurching shape come through the doorway.</p>
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<p>Her stretched senses reached and touched something alien. She
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was still turning, trying to flee from the dark and the dreadful
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images that flickered and wavered and exploded in her mind.
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Enormous jolts of distilled terror sent shocks through her.</p>
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<p>Then her mind brushed against something scabrous and completely
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alien. In that moment, despite the other sensations careering
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through her and the fragmented horrors rolling and tumbling inside
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her head, a part of her knew this was different. The cold and
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loathsome touch slithered across the surface of her brain and she
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reeled from it. A scream tried to blurt.</p>
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<p>But no sound came out from her strangled throat. Her hair
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whipped like thick tentacles, slapping against her cheeks as she
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shoved herself away from that appalling touch.</p>
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<p>A dreadful <em>jittering</em> thing came rushing towards her.
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She had no time to react. The sensory overload was so overwhelming,
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so devastating that she could not stop herself in the act of
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turning, could not raise a hand up. The shape came slamming out
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through the other doorway. A hand reached out, pale against the
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dark, expanding in her vision. It looked like a white and writhing
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spider. Her own hand, stretched out as it was, almost touched the
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fingers. They pulled back unaccountably. The shape lunged towards
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her.</p>
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<p><em>Oh my god it's got two heads</em></p>
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<p>A sudden clear thought blazed. The thing had two heads. It was a
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monster coming at her from the dark of the hall. Some rational part
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of her mind told her it was another hallucination, an appalling
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vision caused by a gas or a drug that she'd breathed in. Another
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part of her, completely primitive, completely fundamental told her
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it was a monster, a gorgon. It was a nightmare come alive and
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coming for her. Her mouth opened and this time a gurgle of fear
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escaped her. Her head twisted to the side. A pale face turned away
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from her, moving, it seemed in slow motion. She saw fair hair whip
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around, bouncing almost elegantly in the air. The first hand
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whirled away, flying of its own volition.</p>
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<p>And another face loomed up.</p>
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<p>Her heart punched into her throat and kicked so hard she was
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sure it would choke her to death.</p>
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<p>The face leaned forward, its features twisted and gnarled, eyes
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huge in the dark, large as golf balls, protruding from a face that
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she could never have dreamed. The eyes were staring, emitting a
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light of their own. The mouth was small and puckered, forming an
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almost perfect black circle inside which needle teeth looked like
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splinters of glass. The lids pulled back so far that the appalling
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amphibious eyes looked as if they would pop out and burst on the
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sunken cheeks. A papery, shiny substance fluttered on the skin.</p>
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<p>It screeched at her, so loud and so high she felt the bones
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inside her ears, the very shell of her skull vibrate so rapidly it
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caused a drill-bit of pain to cross her brow from one temple to
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another.</p>
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<p>Something came out towards her. It was only a blur. Her eyes
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were locked onto the protuberant eyes of the two-headed thing. It
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opened its mouth and its scream turned into a hiss. The smell came
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again, more diffuse than before. The shape blurred and changed. The
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colour, even in the dark, wavered from shades of grey to pale pink.
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The eyes shrank, swelled, shrank again. For an instant she thought
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she saw a baby. Some other strange sensation kicked in her belly.
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Need grappled with absolute and unspeakable supernatural fear.</p>
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<p>Then something came whipping out and caught her just above the
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eyes. Needle sharp points poked at her skin. She felt a rip. The
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face blurred and ran like wax, leaning in close to her. She sensed
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a dreadful hunger and recoiled aghast. On her forehead a pain
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erupted in a slender point of fire and she fell back. The last
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thing she saw was the two-headed thing dance back, along the line
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of the sink. Helen's head hit against something hard and colours
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sparked and spangled in front of her eyes, but they were real
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colours, not sick and alien. She realised that she was going to
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pass out and her survival instinct tried to prevent that from
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happening.</p>
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<p>The darkness closed in on her and she realised with fading
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horror that she would be left alone in the dark with the monster.
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The shadows of the kitchen spun away from her as a deeper dark came
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in and she felt as if she was falling down a long well.</p>
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<p>______</p>
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<p>"The door's unlocked," David Harper told the two uniforms.
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Another patrol were just coming up the alley. There was hardly any
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daylight left, but he hadn't wanted to waste time, not since the
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talk with Heather McDougall's old mother. John Barclay had left two
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messages for him at the station, both asking him to call urgently.
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David knew the ex-cop would be wanting his video tapes back, or at
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least to get the go-ahead to re-use the ones he already had. David
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promised himself he'd call in the morning, once the search of the
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dead woman's house was finished. Inspector Cruden had not been easy
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to convince, but the neighbours statements that the woman they knew
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as Thelma Quigley had always been seen pushing a pram and had
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always had a baby, were definite enough to make it worth the check.
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If there had been a baby, they had to find it.</p>
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<p>"It could be another West case," somebody had said in the
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squadroom and Cruden had lifted his eyebrows just enough to think
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about it some more. "She's always been seen with a baby in pram,
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but it's definitely not a neighbour's kid and she had no relatives
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to speak of. The house was full of toys and baby clothes. She could
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have been a weirdo, or just some sad old lady with a complex, but
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if she wasn't...."</p>
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<p>"You're sure she's Heather McDougall?"</p>
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<p>"Certain of it. We're getting dental records checks right now,
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but it's a formality. The three birthmarks on her cheek match
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exactly. No point of trying for prints. She was pure as the driven
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snow. Prof. Hardingwell confirms that too."</p>
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<p>"But you've already been to the house?"</p>
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<p>"We didn't know about the babies then."</p>
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<p>"Sounds a bit of a long shot to me," Cruden said, but he was
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policeman enough to consider the possibility however remote. David
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Harper was a good cop, and not given to flights of fancy. Finally
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the Inspector gave the go-ahead for the search and they got the
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warrant signed within the hour. There were one or two things David
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hadn't mentioned, not to anyone, because the information he'd got
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from Edinburgh was old and purely coincidental. It kept nudging in
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on his conscious thoughts quite insistently and he had to shove it
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away.</p>
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<p>"Is Lamont back?" he asked as he was pulling on his coat. He
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wanted her back on the case with him, told himself it was only
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because of her professionalism. Another internal voice told him he
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was a damned liar, but he ignored it.</p>
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<p>"No, she's still out," Cruden told him. "She's still working on
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the runner. Gone over to Gilmourhill to knock a door or two."</p>
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<p>David shrugged, buttoning the coat up to the neck for the short
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walk across the car park. "If she gets in, tell her to call
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me."</p>
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<p>It was bitterly cold now in the still air with darkness falling
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swiftly and a pale moon rising over the rooftops. The two patrolmen
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stamped their feet hard on the flagstones, making the ground quake.
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Their batons and cuffs clunked and jangled. David pushed the door
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open and flashed his light into the hall.</p>
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<p>"Bulb's gone here," he said. "Take one from inside and set it
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up."</p>
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|
<p>"What are we looking for?" one of the officers asked. He took
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several steps up the hallway, then stopped. "God, what a stench.
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Has something died in here?" he turned, still holding his torch up.
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The beam caught David in the eye and he flinched back from the
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glare.</p>
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<p>"Turn that off," he snapped. The smell was different now to what
|
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he remembered. It was cold and stale and smelt slightly of rot. He
|
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recalled how he'd thought it was a nerve gas, remembering the surge
|
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of anger and the undertow of violence that last time he'd been in
|
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the dingy room. He remembered the other sensation, the different
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drive, and the image of Helen Lamont pale and spreadeagled. He
|
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shied away from that and forced it away yet again. Now the smell
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was thinned, but it still had the musky reek that conjured up
|
|
images of stoats and ferrets and movement in the dark. David
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realised he should have pulled a search team together the first
|
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time. If there had been a baby, and if the baby was in the room,
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he'd not only be turned over for missing something quite literally
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under his nose, but he'd find it hard to forgive himself.</p>
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|
<p><em>If there had been a baby and it had still been
|
|
alive....</em></p>
|
|
<p>He turned away from that kind of thought. It would get him
|
|
nowhere.</p>
|
|
<p>"Left is the living room. Beyond there's a bathroom and on the
|
|
other side a kitchen." He gave them directions and the five of them
|
|
began a systematic search. The nest of blankets and sheets was
|
|
still a swirl where he'd last seen them. The team carefully
|
|
unravelled the tangle, screwing up their noses at the smell that
|
|
still lingered on the fabrics.</p>
|
|
<p>"What did she keep then? This is worse than cat's piss."</p>
|
|
<p>"Dog farts. Worse than that." His partner went one better. "This
|
|
would make you puke your guts."</p>
|
|
<p>David was on the far side of the room checking among the piles
|
|
of toys. Opposite him, a young policeman was going through the
|
|
small cupboards on the dresser, neatly placing everything on the
|
|
floor beside him. He drew out a cardboard shoebox, opened it
|
|
slowly. The top slid to the side, David turned just in time to see
|
|
the recruit stumble back so quickly he fell on his backside with a
|
|
thump. The box flew out of his hand, twisted in the air and a white
|
|
ghostly shape came floating out.</p>
|
|
<p>"Holy fuck..." the patrolman at the bed barked. The youngster on
|
|
the floor scrabbled back as if he was being attacked. The ghostly
|
|
shape spun slowly in the air, a translucent face staring blindly
|
|
and hollowly and then sank to the floor. It landed with a papery
|
|
rustle and crumpled where it fell. The cop on the floor was still
|
|
scrambling backwards and his movements were enough to cause an eddy
|
|
in the cloy air of the room. The papery thing rolled over, scraped
|
|
against the edge of the dresser and immediately began to
|
|
disintegrate.</p>
|
|
<p>David crossed the room in three strides and tried to get a hold
|
|
of it. He reached a hand out and stopped.</p>
|
|
<p>The face moved. Small shoulders shrugged as it rolled, thin and
|
|
narrow, oddly slender. The face was in profile, flat and somehow
|
|
wizened. The eyes were huge and blind and the ears, set high on the
|
|
sides, were hardly more than pointed flaps. There was no real nose.
|
|
As David reached lift it, the whole thing crumbled.</p>
|
|
<p>"What the hell is it?" one of the men asked.</p>
|
|
<p>David did not reply. He was hunkered down, watching the papery
|
|
shape fragment into flakes. It was like a skin and it reminded him
|
|
of something he'd seen before. Even as he watched the thing
|
|
disintegrate, it came back to him. It was like the papery covering
|
|
of a dragonfly larva after it had split to free the jewelled
|
|
adult.</p>
|
|
<p>It made a tiny sighing rustle sound as the breath of air stirred
|
|
by his very reach shifted it again. The small face collapsed in on
|
|
itself. The translucent arms folded and bent. There were no legs,
|
|
just a slender, tapering body that ended in what looked like an
|
|
umbilical chord. There was nothing he could do right then but watch
|
|
as the littler shape fell apart into tissue scraps. The face broke
|
|
into a hundred pieces, more delicate than an old wasp's paper nest,
|
|
more fragile than butterfly wings.</p>
|
|
<p>"Jesus Sarge, I thought it was a friggin ghost," the young
|
|
policeman said. "Scared the shite out of me."</p>
|
|
<p>"It's a caul," David said, almost, but not completely sure.
|
|
"There must have been a baby here at some time." The thing was
|
|
unrecognisable as anything now.</p>
|
|
<p>"I'm sorry sarge. I just opened the box and it came out. I
|
|
didn't mean to let it drop."</p>
|
|
<p>David let it go. He stooped and collected some of the flakes and
|
|
put them back in the box. His mind was working fast and he could
|
|
have kicked himself for not searching the place more thoroughly the
|
|
first time.</p>
|
|
<p>"What's a caul?" the young man's partner asked.</p>
|
|
<p>"Something babies can be born with," David explained. "You must
|
|
have heard of it. It's like a fine skin, mostly covering the face
|
|
like a membrane. It peels away after birth."</p>
|
|
<p>The officer made a face. "Why would somebody keep it?"</p>
|
|
<p>"For good luck," David said, but he didn't feel there was any
|
|
luck in this. A caul would have to come from a new-born baby, which
|
|
meant there must have been an infant here at one time, maybe even
|
|
born in this room. If that was the case, what had happened to the
|
|
mother? None of the neighbours had ever seen her. They had only
|
|
seen the old woman with a baby.</p>
|
|
<p>The image of the fluttering, decaying shape crumbling onto the
|
|
old floorboards stayed in his mind. It had been a queer,
|
|
wraith-fine shape, with bulging eyes and a flattened face. No legs,
|
|
but long arms. It hadn't looked like any baby David had ever seen,
|
|
but then again, he'd only read about the caul that covers some
|
|
babies at birth. He'd never seen one before. But this caul, if it
|
|
really was a birth-mask, could be another clue to add the rest that
|
|
surrounded the woman who had taken the identity of a girl murdered
|
|
thirty hears before.</p>
|
|
<p>"Never came home," old Mrs McDougall had said. "She just
|
|
vanished. It was the same time as the baby was killed up there at
|
|
Duncryne Bridge."</p>
|
|
<p>The words kept coming back to him, intruding and insisting,
|
|
demanding attention. What old Mrs McDougall had said had been
|
|
repeated in the tag-on to the murder story and the tale of the
|
|
missing girl. There had been another death at the bridge on the day
|
|
Heather McDougall had disappeared.</p>
|
|
<p>She had gone up to Duncryne Bridge to throw herself off, to join
|
|
her murdered friend, but she had not killed herself. She had simply
|
|
vanished for thirty years. There had been a baby on that day and
|
|
there had been a baby now.</p>
|
|
<p>That nagged at David's mind and would not let him go. Was it a
|
|
coincidence? Or was there something deeper, something more
|
|
sinister.</p>
|
|
<p>Down on the floor the flaky remains of the membrane formed an
|
|
oddly sprawled light patch on the old wood. David had already taken
|
|
some samples for tests, to make sure it was what he thought it was.
|
|
He scraped some more into the shoebox and again he thought of the
|
|
bulging eyes and the dragonfly as it peeled off its skin to emerge
|
|
a fast and dazzling predator from a black and scaly thing that
|
|
lived in the dark. The eyes on the caul had bulged.</p>
|
|
<p>The search turned up nothing new. There were stains on the
|
|
sheets at the centre of the jumble, which could have been
|
|
bloodstains. David had the men fold them for forensics. Apart from
|
|
that there was little to be found. There were no trapdoors to get
|
|
under the floor and no evidence that any of the boards had been
|
|
lifted in recent times. A hatch led up to a small loft above the
|
|
kitchen, a tight and dusty space where the rank scent lingered. It
|
|
had a narrow skylight that gave on to a low, sloping roof at the
|
|
back of the property. In the beam of the flashlight, David could
|
|
see scrape-marks on the moss where something had slid towards the
|
|
guttering that abutted the adjacent flat, and he wondered, trying
|
|
to recall the sounds he'd heard the first time he and Helen Lamont
|
|
had come to this house.</p>
|
|
<p>There had been a noise. He'd been almost sure. A whimpering
|
|
sound that he'd taken for a kitten, a slight scrape of a piece of
|
|
furniture being moved. He had not been sure then, and he was not
|
|
sure now, but now he wondered.</p>
|
|
<p>Had there been someone in the house all along?</p>
|
|
<p>_______</p>
|
|
<p>Helen Lamont staggered to her feet, gasping for breath, gagging
|
|
with a sudden roll of nausea that swelled up in a sickening
|
|
rush.</p>
|
|
<p>Her head thumped front and back giving her a wave of pain with
|
|
every beat of her heart, and she felt a trickle of blood slide down
|
|
her forehead and between her eyebrows. Her flashlight had spun away
|
|
and landed somewhere and she was in total darkness. Even the light
|
|
of the moon had gone. For an instant she was completely
|
|
disoriented, struggling to comprehend what had happened.</p>
|
|
<p><em>Monster...!</em></p>
|
|
<p>No, not a monster. The sudden jolt of apprehension had brought
|
|
back an image of something that had lurched out of the shadows.
|
|
She'd thought it was a creature with two heads, but that had been a
|
|
hallucination. Either that or she was going completely crazy. Hot
|
|
on that thought came the realisation that she had to get out of
|
|
here. There was a smell in the air, still rank and sickening,
|
|
though diminished now from what it had been. That's what had caused
|
|
the hallucination, she told herself, some chemical, some poison in
|
|
the close atmosphere of the room. She stumbled to the door and
|
|
yanked it open, vaguely aware that she had not closed it when she
|
|
came in.</p>
|
|
<p>Out in the dark of the winter the air was cold and clean and she
|
|
haled it in her heaving lungs, feeling the rasp of its icy touch at
|
|
the back of her throat, yet welcoming it. Out in the back of the
|
|
house she leaned against the wall and retched violently, bent
|
|
double with the force of it, though nothing came out except a
|
|
trickle of saliva. Heartburn flared under her breastbone and acid
|
|
burned her gullet, but she kept everything inside.</p>
|
|
<p>"Stupid bloody bitch," she told herself. "Should have called
|
|
in." Now she had to get on the radio and that would mean a red face
|
|
at best. She was still trying to work out what had happened, now
|
|
completely unsure of the train of events. Something had come
|
|
lunging at her.</p>
|
|
<p>Hadn't it?</p>
|
|
<p>She could not even be sure of that now. There had been the
|
|
smell, like the foul reek in Thelma Quigley's house. It had come
|
|
billowing up, thick and greasy and then suddenly she'd gone
|
|
completely crazy. There was no other way to describe it.</p>
|
|
<p>She'd fallen and banged her head. That was true enough, for
|
|
there was a lump rising on the back of her skull, still pulsing
|
|
urgently, and another pain on her forehead where the trickle of
|
|
blood welled from a cut. Something had come lunging out of the
|
|
dark, a dreadful shape that wavered and twisted and looked as if it
|
|
had two heads.</p>
|
|
<p><em>Hadn't it?</em></p>
|
|
<p>Or had she slipped and knocked her head? Out in the clear air of
|
|
the night, all she could be sure of was that she had thought she'd
|
|
seen something and she'd hurt her head.</p>
|
|
<p>"Damned silly bitch," she scolded herself again. Helen got to
|
|
the car and got on the radio. The control-room girl patched her
|
|
through. A squad car arrived in four minutes. David Harper was the
|
|
first to get out. He saw her in her own car and came walking
|
|
quickly across. The two uniforms followed behind.</p>
|
|
<p>"We were just passing," he said. "What happened?" He leaned
|
|
right over her, almost protectively, put a hand on her shoulder.
|
|
She felt herself lean against him, felt the warmth of his solid
|
|
weight. For a moment she wanted to hold on to him, hold on tight,
|
|
and let loose the tears that were close to the surface. He steadied
|
|
her, eyes full of concern.</p>
|
|
<p>"Got a bang on the head, that's all," Helen said. She was still
|
|
unsure, still confused. She didn't want to say the wrong thing.
|
|
Could have been a burglar, but it was dark and hard to tell. I
|
|
think I was dazed for a minute."</p>
|
|
<p>"Did you get a look at him?"</p>
|
|
<p>She shook her head. "No. Couldn't say if it was a man or a
|
|
woman. Just a shape in the dark. Slammed into me."</p>
|
|
<p>"So why were you checking a place out on your own?" he asked.
|
|
"You should have called in."</p>
|
|
<p>Helen shot a look at the two policemen who had just reached the
|
|
pavement. She quickly drew her eyes back to David, giving him a
|
|
sign to leave it alone. He picked up the message, but his eyes had
|
|
that confusing mix of concern and anger.</p>
|
|
<p>"I thought I saw something and slipped when I turned round. It
|
|
was nothing. I was just on a routine check, a long shot. I'm still
|
|
looking for the girl and there was a possibility she might have
|
|
come here to feed the cat." She kept her eyes on him, knowing he
|
|
was right, but unwilling to take it in front of uniforms. "I'll put
|
|
it in my report."</p>
|
|
<p>One of the patrolmen walked up to the gate. "Want us to take a
|
|
look around?"</p>
|
|
<p>Helen swivelled round. "No. I've done that. The place is empty."
|
|
David saw the tension in her look. For some reason she didn't want
|
|
them going into the house. He went along with that for now.</p>
|
|
<p>"That's okay with us," the man said. "We're off shift ten
|
|
minutes ago Sarge."</p>
|
|
<p>"Fine. You might as well knock off. I'll check the place out and
|
|
then I can take DC Lamont back."</p>
|
|
<p>Once they were gone he turned back to Helen. "I should get you
|
|
back to St Enoch's." He reached towards her and felt the back of
|
|
her head. She stayed still while he palpated the lump, wincing
|
|
slightly under the pressure of his fingers. "You got a right crack
|
|
there." He brought his hand round, cupped it under her chin and
|
|
tilted her face so that she was looking directly at him. "And a cut
|
|
there too. How many of me can you see?"</p>
|
|
<p>"Just the one, and that's enough," Helen said. "I didn't need a
|
|
rip in front of the boys. It was just a routine check. I never
|
|
expected anything."</p>
|
|
<p>"Okay. I wasn't giving you a rip. I was worried, that's all. But
|
|
then you didn't want them to go inside. So what's up?"</p>
|
|
<p>"I don't know," Helen said, glad of his concern. She cold still
|
|
feel the pressure of his fingers on the back of her head where the
|
|
lump throbbed in time to her heartbeat. "It's really weird. I
|
|
didn't want to make a fool of myself, but there's something funny
|
|
going on. You remember Thelma Quigley's place? The smell?"</p>
|
|
<p>He hadn't got round to telling her he had identified the Jane
|
|
Doe.</p>
|
|
<p>"Well it smells like that in there, but worse I couldn't be sure
|
|
what happened. It made me dizzy and I might have fainted. I'm not
|
|
even a hundred percent certain that I was knocked down, but I think
|
|
I was." She explained what had happened, or what she thought had
|
|
happened and then he made her stay in the car until he checked out
|
|
Celia Barker's small house himself. There was nothing much to find
|
|
except for a swirl of blankets on the floor and the dead and
|
|
stiffened cat. If there had been any smell inside the house it had
|
|
not lingered long. A faint, acrid scent was barely discernible and
|
|
could have been anything, but he knew Helen Lamont. If she said it
|
|
was the same as the dead woman's house, then he'd believe her.
|
|
There was no sign of anything that could have caused it, no
|
|
canisters of chemicals, nothing. The dead cat was a puzzle, but it
|
|
was close enough to the door to have crawled in through the cat
|
|
flap. It looked as if it had been mauled, maybe caught by a dog,
|
|
and the missing eyes told him it had been dead a while. Even in
|
|
winter, they were always the first to go. He dumped it without
|
|
ceremony in the waste bin outside the back door rather than leave
|
|
it to rot any more. A dead cat was not important.</p>
|
|
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|
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