“You’re not you. You’re different. You’re acting like your bitchy mate.”
“Me? Acting like Angie? You’ve got to be winding me up? I’m nothing like her.”
“No. That’s my point. You’re not normally like her at all. You’re sweet and you’re funny. And you’re kind of vulnerable. Bossy as Hell, but vulnerable all the same.”
“That’s what does it for you, is it? Vulnerable? You want to chain me to the bed, and use me when the mood takes you?”
“Chain you to the bed? Where the fuck did that come from? That’s not what I meant at all. You’re fragile. Broken almost. I guess I just want to fix you, that’s all.”
“Well thanks very much.”
He stared at her. “What? What’s wrong with that?”
“You make me sound pathetic, that’s what’s wrong with that. Have you any idea how patronising you’re being. Poor little broken Kate. I’ll come along and sort her out. A few days with me and she’ll be right as rain. As long as I make sure she doesn’t talk to any other men while we’re together. And under no circumstances whatsoever should she have anything to do with that woman who lives next-door to her; the woman who helped her when she was ill, who does practically everything for her.”
“You don’t need anyone to do things for you.”
“Then how come I need fixing, then, Smart-arse? You can’t have it both ways. Either I’m broken or I’m not. You make your mind up, and we’ll work it out from there.”
“That’s Angie talking again.”
“Oh, just fuck off, will you?”
“Okay. I will.”
He took the coat from the back of his chair, and started marching towards the exit. Kate panicked. She had played her “stand-offish” card a little too well. She had meant to fall out with him, so that it wouldn’t be quite so hard to do what had to be done at the end of the evening. But he wasn’t supposed to walk off and leave her. Angie would kill her if she returned empty-handed.
“Mike! You’re over-reacting. Come back.”
He reached the door.
“I’m sorry,” she ventured. And all of a sudden, she really was. What was she doing to the poor guy? He was nice. Much too nice for her. She had to let him go, whatever the consequences. Save him from Angie. Save him from her, too.
He started to walk back to the table. “Go away,” she said, when he was just a few feet away. “Before I change my mind.”
He looked at her in exasperation. “You just called me back. And now you’re telling me to go away again. What is it with you? Is it some weird power thing?”
“Mike, please. It’s for the best, believe me.”
“Come out with me tomorrow. We’ll go to the park or something. Talk. I don’t understand what’s going on here. If you want to dump me, then that’s fine, but I don’t want it to end like this.”
“I can’t. Not during the day.”
“Why not? It’s not like you’re busy or anything!”
“I don’t go out during the day. It makes me ill. And people would see me.”
“See you?”
“See how hideous I am.”
She started to cry. She had never told anyone that before. It was her secret. She’d told him, shared it with him, but now she would never see him again.
He tried to pull her to her feet to hug her. She shrugged him off.
“You’re not hideous,” he said. “You’re beautiful.”
“You don’t know what I am,” she sobbed. She was conscious that she was making a fool of herself in public. That was bad. She didn’t want people remembering her. She couldn’t afford to have a scene like this; she needed to stay in the shadows, where she belonged.
“Mike, please go. I’ll call you tomorrow. I’ll feel better tomorrow.”
“Feel better? Oh, I get it. You’re -”
“I’m what?”
“On the blob,” he blushed.
“On the what?”
“It’s your – you know, what you get every month.”
“My period?”
“Yes.” He avoided eye contact. All men are children, she thought.
“Okay, if you like, that’s exactly what it is”. It made her behaviour easier to explain. But it wasn’t her blood that was making her act like this. It was his.
“Tomorrow?” he asked. “You’ll phone tomorrow? Promise? We can have a proper talk?”
She nodded. She felt exhausted. The man at the next table –Alan, was it? – was looking over at her. He seemed a bit creepy. Not that she was in any position to judge anyone. Time to get rid of Mike, and work out how she was going to explain things to Angie when she returned home empty-handed.
“I’ll take you back.”
She shook her head. “It’s best you don’t. I’ll call a taxi. Really. I’ll be fine. I just need a minute or two on my own. To get my head together.”
He left reluctantly. He shot a wary glance at Alan on his way out. He looked like a child who had been substituted in a football match, and was desperate to stay on the pitch. He disappeared through the door. She couldn’t see him again, ever. Sooner or later, they’d end up back at hers, but she couldn’t take him home to Angie; she just couldn’t. But if she didn’t, she’d die. The Craving would kill her, she was certain of it.
How was she going to tell Angie about this? Maybe she should phone her first. The coward’s way out. She’d still have to face her when she got home, but Angie might have calmed down a little by then. Then again, she might not.
She put her hand over her face. She noticed it was trembling. The Craving was kicking in again already. It was almost as if it knew she’d just lost her supper. It was like feeling hungry when you smell someone else’s barbecue. An automatic reflex, like Pavlov’s dogs only rather more sinister.
“Hello again.”
She looked up. Alan.
Her first impulse was to tell him to fuck off. She wasn’t in the mood to be chatted up by a seedy little bald bloke like him. But then she had second thoughts. Angie wanted blood. Okay, she’d asked for Mike’s, but surely this would be the next best thing? It wasn’t her fault that Mike had stormed off (well, maybe it was, but Angie didn’t need to know that). If she brought her home a peace-offering, a blood sacrifice, then maybe she’d forgive her for screwing everything up?
She crossed her legs, the short skirt of her dress riding up her thighs so high that she was almost exposing her thong to him. She smiled, a confident, “I’m-in-control” smile. Men loved that.
“Looks like I’m single, after all,” she flirted.
“Lucky me,” he grinned back.
She leant forward, giving him the opportunity to look down her top. She touched his arm, and whispered in his ear, trying to ignore the nicotine smell from his shirt-collar.
“This is going to be a night to remember.”
He nodded, enthusiastically. “Shall we stay for another drink, or -”
She got up and took her coat from the back of her chair. “Back to mine,” she said, in full seduction mode. “There’s a little game I’d like you to play. You do like games, don’t you?”
“Oh yes,” he said, nodding like the dog in the insurance adverts. “I love them.”
The Craving subsided. It was willing to be patient; it knew that she would be feeding before the night was over.
#
They took a taxi back to hers. She’d left the porch light on. He tried to grope her as she was opening the door. Why did men always do that (Mike excepted)? Well, let him. It was a small price to pay for what he would be giving her in return.
As the door opened, a rectangle of light appeared on the lawn next-door. Angie was up and about. One of these days, she’d nod off, and then she’d really be in trouble. Trouble like that first night, with Danny. She wasn’t sure how many of the men she brought home would be happy hearing that she’d changed her mind at the very last minute.
She unbuttoned Alan’s shirt in the downstairs hallway. He tried to pull her dress over her head, but made a hash of it, and she had to help him with it. No time to hang around; she needed him upstairs and handcuffed to the bed, before Angie came in. She went up the first few stairs, and then turned to beckon him to follow. He stood watching her for a few seconds, drinking in her body, now clad in just a blue bra and matching thong. She still had her high heels on.
“I think I’ve died and gone to Heaven,” he said.
One out of two ain’t bad, she thought.
This was taking too long; Angie would be here any second. Maybe some more encouragement to hurry him up. She took off her bra. “Are you ready for me?” she asked.
He charged up the stairs after her, snorting like a cartoon bull. She kept ahead of him, crying out in mock terror. She ran into the spare bedroom, and turned on him. He tried to push her back on to the bed, but she was having none of it. A change of tactic was in order to hurry him along. She pointed at the mattress.
“Down,” she instructed.
He beamed. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
He lay on the bed, wriggling out of his pants as he did so. He had a chubby little penis. It wasn’t an attractive look.
“What now, Mistress?” he enquired subserviently.
“I’m gonna handcuff you, and do whatever I like with you. Understood?”
He nodded eagerly. He was going to be the easiest victim ever.
She removed two sets of handcuffs from the drawer of the bedside cabinet, and chained his wrists up, left before right (that was the order it had to be). He looked as if he was going to explode with pleasure.
“Have I been a bad boy?” he asked.
“Not really,” she told him. Her voice had lost all seduction. She sounded bored. Now he was secure, she couldn’t be bothered to keep up the act. Just wait for Angie to put him out of his ecstasy, and then she could drink fresh blood for the first time since Clive had left her. Right on cue, she heard the door open and close downstairs. She looked at Alan, waiting for him to panic. He seemed perfectly calm.
“Have we got company?” he asked.
“Oh yes. Angie. You’ll like Angie if you’re into S & M. If you’re the “M”, then she’s very much the “S”, you just see.”
He was virtually quivering with anticipation. What was wrong with this bloke?
Angie came in, syringe already in hand. She stopped when she saw Alan.
“Where is he?”
“What do you mean? He’s right there.”
“Mike? Where’s Mike?”
“We had an argument. He said he didn’t like you. Thought you were corrupting me. I told him where to stick it. He stropped off. So I’ve brought you Alan instead.”
“It’s true,” Alan chimed in from the bed. “I saw everything.”
“Shut up,” Kate told him. He was starting to annoy her.
“Sorry, Mistress.”
“This isn’t what we agreed. I told you to bring Mike back. Who is this, anyway?”
“Some bloke I found in the pub.”
“Alan,” the man introduced himself. “Pleasure to meet you.”
“Pleasure to meet me!” Angie waved the syringe under his nose. “Are you blind or something? Can’t you see this?”
“Yes, Mistress,” Alan nodded eagerly. “Are you going to stick it in me? Stick me like a pig?”
“I was going to,” Angie replied. “But I’m not sure I want to, if you’re asking for it.”
“Angie, please!” Kate interjected. “Just finish him off. I’m starving.”
“Don’t tell me what to do. If you’re so keen, you do it.” Angie handed her the syringe, and stood back, crossing her arms. Kate took the needle reluctantly. She had never done this part before. She approached the bed. She expected Alan to start screaming, but he just nodded his head enthusiastically, urging her on.
“Yes, Mistress. Go on. It’s okay, really it is.”
“I can’t do it,” she told Angie. She didn’t want any part in this. She took no pleasure in sedating them. She just wanted the end product, safely drugged to the eyeballs and secured to the bed. Otherwise, it would be like going into McDonalds and having to slaughter your own cow.
“Please,” Alan wailed. “Just stick me. You’ll feel better for it.”
“Shut the fuck up, will you?”
Kate handed the syringe back to Angie. “You do it.”
“I’d rather the pretty one do it, given the choice,” Alan complained mildly. “But you’re the boss. It’s your call.”
“You do realise what we’re planning to do to you, don’t you?” Angie asked him in exasperation. “This isn’t just some kinky role-play game. This is real. We’re going to sedate you, drain you of all your blood, and bury you in a shallow grave in the woods in the back of beyond. Well, Ashford actually. You can start screaming now, if you like.”
“Oh, please! Please do it. It’s okay, I don’t mind. I want it. I’ve seen her in a pub before, chatting up someone I used to go to school with. He went missing. I thought it was down to her at the time. I didn’t say anything, honest I didn’t. The bloke was a prat. But I thought to myself, what a way to go. Hacked to pieces during sex (I didn’t know about the needle thing, but it’s fine if that’s the way you want to do it). And she’s gorgeous; just look at her, standing there pouting in just her pants. What a way to go. Naked and powerless, like a little baby.”
“A dirty little baby,” Angie scolded, but he just nodded all the more. “Okay, I’ve had enough of this.” She marched out the room.
“Angie!” Kate screamed after her. “You can’t leave me with him. What am I supposed to do with him?”
“Stick me like a pig,” Alan suggested helpfully. “Anywhere you like. I’ll close my eyes if it makes it easier.”
“I thought I told you to fuck off!”
“It’s kind of hard to fuck off when you’ve chained me to the bed,” he chortled. “I don’t suppose you could give me a quick hand-job while you’re waiting for your mate to come back. Only if you want to. You’re the boss, like I said. But it seems only fair, after what I’m signing up for here. Quid pro quo, so to speak.”
Angie re-entered the room. She held a hammer.
Kate held out her hands in a placatory gesture. “Angie, no! Not again. I can’t go through that again!”
“Have you got any better ideas?”
“We let him go.”
“We can’t. He knows everything. Besides, you need blood.”
“Well, we’ll syringe him then. I’ll do it. I’m fine to do it now. I was just a bit nervous before. Hand it over.”
“We’re not doing it if he wants us to. I’m the one who’s supposed to be in control here, not him. If he wants it, it would be his decision. I’d just be doing what he tells me. I’m not having that. He’s my bitch, not the other way round. I’m gonna smash his head in with a hammer instead. See how he likes that.”
“I’d rather be injected,” Alan remarked mildly. “But it’s your call. You can bash my head in if you like. Would you mind both stripping naked first, though? And maybe sit on me for a while before you finish me off. Wriggle around a bit, you know the thing. It’s how I’d like to go. That’s all I ask, really it is.”
Angie smashed him hard to the head with the hammer. No warning; she just did it. Twice, three times, four times. Kate screamed. Alan said nothing. He just lay on the bed, his brains protruding from his battered skull, his erection slowly deflating as the blood drained from it like a little balloon with the air expelled a puff at a time.
Angie threw the hammer on to the bed. She glared at Kate, daring her to say something. “Your mess, Kate,” she told her. “You clean it up.”
And then she was gone.
#
This wasn’t the first time she’d had to scrub blood and brains off the carpets, the walls, the ceiling. Last time, though, she hadn’t had to worry about the bed linen. She would just burn it, she decided. It had been hard enough cleaning Clive’s body matter off them; Alan’s would be too much of a chore entirely.
She thought back to the first time, when Angie had battered Danny, the bastard who’d tried to rape her in her own front garden. That was the start of it all. They had both cleared up that time, Angie taking the garden by torchlight while Kate desperately tried to expunge all bodily fluid from her hallway.
She still remembered staring at the blood on the carpet. It was all over the place, a thick sticky substance which matted the carpet pile. There was one particularly large pool of it, which she was unsuccessfully trying to soak up with wet kitchen towel before she doused it with detergent. She’d stuck her finger in it, tasted it, felt it on her tongue. She had no idea why; she’d just had a sudden overwhelming urge to see what it was like. It didn’t taste of anything much, but it comforted her somehow; calmed her down. She did it again. Angie walked in, catching her as she was licking the blood from her fingers for a third time. Kate had leapt up, and ran upstairs, feeling as if she had been caught doing something perverse, something awful. Angie had followed her up.
“It’s okay. You wanted to taste it. So what?”
“I wasn’t tasting it. I was just getting it off my fingers.”
“With your tongue.”
“So what?”
“So nothing. I said it was okay, didn’t I? I’m not judging you. I’ve just battered a total stranger over the head with a claw-hammer. I’m in no position to judge anyone!”
So they had finished scouring the blood from the walls, the carpet, the lawn, and nothing more had been said about it. But while Angie had been out looking for somewhere to dispose of the body, Kate had tasted him again and again. She had this overwhelming urge, a compulsion, even though she loathed herself for doing it. It was one step away from cannibalism. What sort of monster had she become?
But then she had noticed that she had felt so much better for it. The cramps had gone. No nausea, no migraines, no meltdowns. It was the blood. It just had to be. Her body had told her what she needed to be well again, and it had worked. Her medicine was unimaginably gross, but 100% effective.
Eventually, she had confessed all to Angie. She had to tell someone; it wasn’t the sort of thing she could work through on her own. She had expected her to be repulsed, to tell her to pull herself together and get over it. But she had been supportive. Even with something like this, she had been supportive. Which was probably why she had become so dependent upon her. No matter what she did or said, however irritating and overbearing she was at times, Angie would always be there for her. She had to give her that.
Angie had confessed to her in return that she had got a kick out of what she had done. All of her pent-up frustrations, her rage, had evaporated one hammer-blow at a time. Was that sick? Yes, Kate thought, but she wasn’t in a position to judge her either. So they’d exchanged detailed descriptions of their depravities, again and again, until they seemed normal, until they seemed acceptable. And seven murders later, she was on her hands and knees, frantically trying to scrub the blood which had splattered on to the carpet, wondering how much more of this she could take before her cowed and battered little conscience decided that enough was enough.
#
Mike called her on her mobile the following day, but she didn’t take the call. What was she supposed to say to him? She couldn’t even arrange to see him. Meeting up during the day wouldn’t be safe for her, and meeting up during the night most definitely wouldn’t be safe for him. She didn’t trust herself with him anymore. Best to just steer clear.
Besides, it was Angie she needed to see. She tried calling her, but she wasn’t picking up her calls on her mobile. She called her landline, with the same result. That was strange. Even if Angie was ignoring her, she would have thought that Trevor would speak to her. Maybe he had been ordered to stay in bed.
She could go round to see Angie at nightfall, but wasn’t sure she was ready for a face to face confrontation yet. She preferred to weather the storm on the phone first. But that wasn’t going to happen as long as Angie was ducking her calls.
Time was in short supply. She needed to patch things up with Angie so she could go and find herself another victim. Angie ha