Chapter 62
The lights are on downstairs, but the music that was playing when I arrived is off.
As I tiptoe down the stairs, I scan for movement, for the sound of footsteps, breathing, heartbeats.
But all I can hear is the wind outside noisily rattling the window panes, howling through the trees, muddying the soundwaves.
Either they’ve run away, or they’re hiding.
Because they would have seen what just happened, what I did to Baxter. They’ll know I’m coming. They’ll be prepared.
And I know I can die now. But it’s strangely exhilarating.
I get to the base of the stairs and scan the room afresh. That Christmas tree is still there by the bay window, its little lights flashing sadly by the rug we slow-danced on . . . but where are they?
I step into the living room and swivel, alert for threat. But it’s just me here.
Shit.
Because they know what I am. They have proof of it. Which part would people find most compelling? Me zooming around his room, me climbing through a second-floor window, me feeding on Baxter, or me crying blood? Hard to say.
This could ruin everything for all of us.
There’s an open laptop on the coffee table and I quickly move towards it. I focus in on the screen.
A video image. The nanny cam upstairs. I can see the cage and the outline of Baxter’s body even though it’s dark now.
And then I hear . . . a heartbeat. A heartbeat I’d recognise anywhere.
It’s coming from my right. The kitchen.
I pivot to look, and there stands Jonathan.
I shudder when I see him and my head fills with white noise.
His hands are up in a gesture of surrender, and his eyes are so blue, so beautiful.
‘I’m so sorry, Aubrey,’ he says, his voice shaking. ‘I fucked up. I listened to them. I should have been stronger. I didn’t even know how much I loved you until I saw you kill Baxter and I was,’ his voice drops to a whisper, like he’s ashamed, ‘relieved.’
‘Where are the others?’ I ask, looking around.
‘They left. But I had to come back for you. We need to get out of here.’
A flash of Pepperoni Guy, then true fucking love and a smile, then a red beanie and ice skates and Brighton Beach and you don’t need to fake anything with me, Aubrey.
My ribs throb. He could have run away, but he didn’t. He stayed. To save me . . .
I take a step towards him, not sure what I’m going to do because also, his hands around my neck, my eyes rolling back . . .
And then: a sharp pain rings out in my back.
I look down and see a wooden point emerging from my ribs. I can’t breathe.
I’ve been staked. From behind. It only just missed my heart.
I stagger forward and look up, towards Jonathan. ‘Help,’ I cry out, my voice a whisper.
But he just looks at me, in the same cold way he was looking at me in the cage. And now comes a flash of me fighting for my life. Him hitting me over the head with that vase . . .
Something heavy is being put around me now.
I look to my left: Olivia. To my right: Riley.
They’re wrapping me in silver chains. And nobody is looking into my eyes, and I couldn’t hypnotise three at once anyway.
With these chains around me, and this stake in my back, I couldn’t fight them all either.
Now I’m scared. Because silver might not kill me, but the chains are heavy and if I fall on this stake and it moves just a quarter of a centimetre and pierces my heart, what then?
According to Oscar, that should do it. That should kill me.
I don’t even fight, I just listen to the chains rattling and the wind outside while they give each other instructions, because I know what comes next and I know I can’t change it. So, I succumb. I fall to my knees and bow my head.
Olivia says, ‘Good, now let’s go and get the cage ready again, see if we can do something about those bent bars. They sent spares, right? Are the tools up there?’
‘I’ll watch her,’ Jonathan says as they head upstairs.
Jonathan kneels beside me and whispers, ‘You stupid bitch, did you really think you’d win?’
But what he doesn’t know is that this stupid bitch may have been staked, these chains may be heavy, but they’re not that heavy. Not when I’ve just fed on Baxter. And my soul has known Jonathan’s for a very long time—I just knew he’d want a moment alone to gloat.
And I needed him alone.
My ears roar, my fangs ache, and then a volcanic rage, stronger than I’ve ever felt, erupts.
I extend my arms either side of me and hear the chains break. He has a split second to respond. I grab his hair with one hand, while the other grabs his shoulder and I don’t think, I don’t hesitate, I just . . . bite.
My fangs sink in. He tastes sweet, like everything I thought I wanted, needed.
Like my last chance at humanity. But bitter too, like sadness and hate.
And it hurts, I’m aching and I can’t tell if it’s my heart breaking all over again or this stake in my back.
I let go of him and he falls to the ground, then I reach behind me and pull the stake out.
I wince as it leaves my body, but as soon as it’s out, the wound starts to heal.
Jonathan looks up at me with such loathing, saying something but I can’t make it out. I lean in slightly; his voice is a whisper. ‘You’re still a monster,’ he spits.
I lean forward and whisper back, ‘See you in the next life.’ But I really, really hope I don’t. That this is it. The circle, broken.
And then he’s gone, a dark pool of blood gathering around him, his eyes vacant and his heart silent . . . then I hear footsteps on the stairs.
Olivia and Riley.
I run over to the wall between the stairs and the living room and wait for them to pass.
Olivia sounds annoyed. ‘How would I know how to weld things?’
They’re getting closer.
Closer.
‘Jonathan,’ calls Olivia, as they take the corner.
But instead of Jonathan, they’re met with me.
I reach for both their necks at once, and I see the shock in their eyes.
I bite Riley first. He tastes like metal and microplastics and too much fast food, and as I drink, the night we met flickers in my mind.
Then him at Borough Market. The way he tracked me down.
As soon as his heart slurs to an almost stop, I drop him and turn to Olivia.
Her mouth is open like she’s in shock and her eyes are wide but all I can see in them is the way she looked at me in that cage.
Like I was some sort of zoo animal. No empathy for me at all. Well, let me be an animal then.
She smells like Jo Malone and tastes like Cadbury’s, and I feed until she’s limp and heavy, then I let her fall to the ground beside Riley.
Soon their hearts have both stopped and it’s just me here, and the rage is receding and even through the blur of my blood high, anxiety is bubbling up.
Danger swirling. Because as I glance from Jonathan to Olivia and Riley, I think: What am I going to do with all these bodies?
I’m not ready for this.
Think, Aubrey . . . what signs are there that you were here?
My suitcase is still sitting by the door. My coat on top of it. My fingerprints are probably everywhere—but that’s fine, I’m not in any database. My handbag is upstairs, I’ll need to get that. But also, again, my phone. Where is my phone?
WHERE IS MY FUCKING PHONE?
I look at Riley, then Olivia, then Jonathan. There, in his front pocket is a rectangular, phone-sized bulge. I grit my teeth and reach into it—his body is still warm as I pull it out.
But it’s almost out of battery now, the little icon reads five per cent. There is one new message on the screen. It’s from Es. I tap on it, frantically: Okay. HNY then.
No kisses. Not even one.
What did Jonathan send her? I tap through to the message thread and read the ones from tonight, the ones Jonathan must have sent to Es, pretending to be me.
Es: Any updates on the looooovvers? Xxx
Es: Are you too busy to reply? HAHAHA xxx
Es: Babe? Please just shoot me a quick reply.
Then came a missed call.
Then I (Jonathan) replied: Leave me alone. I’m fine.
Oh god . . .
Es: Well, how is Jonathan???? Babe you sound upset. What’s going on? xxxxx
Me: I’m fine. He wasn’t home so I went to a party in Hackney instead.
Es: Well where is it? I’ll come!!!! Is there food? I have the munchies xxxx
Me: I think I’d rather be alone.
No wonder she’s not sending any kisses.
I tap through to Es’s number and dial immediately.
I need her to know that I’m still me, that I’m not some mega-bitch all of a sudden.
I’ll need my friends now more than ever.
I’ll also need some sort of alibi for tonight.
I’ll just tell her I went to a party and wasn’t feeling like myself, but I still love her. Maybe we can meet up now.
It rings . . . and rings . . .
And then a phone starts ringing from just outside the window.
The world shrinks to a pinprick. My heart stops. I swivel to look towards the sound.
There’s a tapping on the window and I hear Es say, ‘Aubrey? Is that you in there? What’s going on?’
OH.
MY.
FUCKING.
GOD.
* * *
I wipe my face and try to hide out of view. Maybe she’ll just go away. Maybe she didn’t see me properly.
But it’s dark out there and light inside and there’s a thin space between the curtains.
‘Aubrey, open up, are you okay?’ she calls frantically. ‘What did they do to you? Is that blood? Should I call the police?’
FUUUUUUCKKKKKK.
Because not only am I covered in blood, but there are three dead bodies in here with me. Four, if you count Baxter upstairs.
Go away. Go away.
But this is Es we’re talking about, true-crime Es, Es who loves me, so she doesn’t go away. Instead, I watch in seemingly slow motion as she climbs through the fucking window. She steps out from behind the curtain, looking scared, holding a small can of hairspray as makeshift mace.
‘Thank god you’re okay,’ she says, running towards me. ‘What did they do to you, why is there so much blood?’
She hugs me and I hug her back.