Chapter 2
Sadie | Edinburgh, present day
Blood. There was so much blood. All over me. The last thing I remember is screaming at Hester and Floss. After that, I must have passed out as I’ve come to on my bedroom floor. Concerned voices are discussing me overhead.
‘She’s fainted from shock.’
‘We need to get this blood off her.’
‘I’ll clean up in here.’
I’m carried into the bathroom and bundled into the tub like a doll, fully clothed.
The shower starts up, and I’m doused in a warm spray of water from the handheld nozzle.
Blood sluices off me. His blood. I sit there, watching, unmoving, as Elliott is washed down the plughole.
I think I moan a little, I’m not sure. This all seems surreal.
There’s a buzzing in my head, and I don’t know what it means.
My head lolls back against the wall. I just want to sleep.
‘Sadie,’ a voice says sharply, jolting me out of my dazed state; and I jerk upright. Hester is kneeling beside me with the shower nozzle. ‘I need to get your clothes off,’ she says gently. ‘Will you let me do that?’
She looks worried, like I might bite her if she touches me.
I nod, feeling like my brain belongs to someone else.
Hester leans me forward and tugs my crop top over my head and unhooks my bra.
They’re chucked down the end of the bath.
My white T-shirt and lace bra are a mottled pink colour.
Hester is now attempting to pull down my skirt, and I come to a little more, realising I’m about to be naked with an audience.
I glance behind Hester, but it’s just her and me in the bathroom.
My blood-splattered denim skirt joins the rest of my clothes at the end of the tub with a squelch.
Hester doesn’t comment on the fact I’m not wearing knickers.
I never do when Elliott comes over. Don’t think about what happened.
I drag my attention back to Hester with an effort.
‘Where are the others?’
‘Floss is finding Damian something to wear. She flew him over to ours in a T-shirt and boxers, and he was freezing since we don’t use central heating.’
Floss’s fragile little human dentist. My gut twists in resentment. If she hadn’t gotten involved with him, then Elliott wouldn’t have been dragged off by Alexander, I think to Hester. I know that doesn’t make logical sense, but I need someone to blame.
Hester squirts shampoo on my hair and scrubs at my scalp. Pink suds trickle down over my breasts. Elliott was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, she replies, rinsing out the shampoo. I shut my eyes tightly and give my head a shake. That buzzing noise is really irritating.
Hester combs conditioner none too gently through my hair, and I hiss in pain when the comb snags. I hate people playing with my hair! Elliott is the only one I let touch it.
‘Sorry,’ she says out loud and combs more carefully.
I rub my temple distractedly as the buzzing intensifies. It feels like I’ve got bees flying around in my brain. Hester helps me out of the tub and wraps me in a black fluffy towel. She sees me looking at my bloody clothes in the tub.
‘I’ll get rid of them,’ she says.
‘Thanks,’ I say gruffly.
‘Do you need help getting dressed or ...?’
‘I’m OK.’
Hester: Come out to the lounge when you’re ready. I’ll have a little cup of something warmed and ready for you.
I balk at that, knowing that it’s going to be some of the fresh blood supply Elliott dropped off earlier this evening. It’ll remind me of him.
Me: I’ve lost my appetite.
Hester: You need to feed. Just a little. To keep your strength up.
Me: Fine.
Alone in my room, I curl up on the bed, nosing for Elliott’s scent on the pillow.
But someone has stripped and remade it since it was streaked with arterial blood.
It must have been Floss. That was thoughtful.
But no, I’m still pissed off at her. And at Hester.
Even though she was nice enough to bathe me.
I bat at my head with my hand. Arrrrgh. This fucking buzzing . ..
When I’m dressed in a French Connection T-shirt and low-rise skinny jeans, the thought of going out into the lounge and facing everyone after my wailing and fainting fit makes me shudder.
I hate showing weakness. I’m the strong one.
The practical one. The one who’s been keeping us fed via Elliott all these years.
Maybe that’s why Alexander targeted him because he knows he’s the linchpin of the group?
Take him, and we’re forced out of hiding and into the streets, looking for food. And easier to pick off one by one.
But Alexander had the chance to kill me tonight, and he didn’t.
The curious look on his face when he tasted Elliott’s blood and his remark ‘How intriguing’ give me the barest smidgeon of hope that my thrall is still alive and kicking.
It’s then that I realise what the buzzing in my head is. I let out a cry of stunned relief.
Now I know I’m going to need everyone’s help, and it’s that which forces me to head to the lounge.
Everyone looks up as I walk in, jaw clenched.
Floss and Damian are holding hands on the couch.
He’s white-faced and nervous. No surprise there.
I notice he’s wearing a spare pair of Elliott’s jeans and his old Duran Duran T-shirt they’ve found in my wardrobe.
Motherfucker. Elliott loves that T-shirt.
It’s even signed by the band. I grind my teeth.
But Hester gestures to my chair, which has a mug of blood in front of it. I give her a stiff nod and take a seat.
No one says anything as I take a long swallow of warm blood. It slips down my throat and warms the cockles of my long-dead heart. A heart that, I’m afraid, has been compromised many years ago, and I haven’t admitted to it.
Somewhat revitalised by the blood and feeling less inclined to scratch Damian’s eyes out, I lean back in my chair and cross my legs.
‘Right. Listen up, bitches. Elliott’s alive, and we’re going to rescue him.’