Blue Skin (Book 4): Blue Skin Page 2

  I close my eyes, accepting my fate, and wait for it to be over.

  Wait to be with Gregg again.

  Wait for the sound of my alarm clock ringing. To be safely in bed.

  Away from his world.

  Away from this unspeakable nightmare.

  Seconds pass.

  No bite.

  I open my eyes.

  The creature is sniffing the air around me. Her nose steers her to my swollen abdomen.

  No.

  Not my baby.

  Please God, not my baby.

  Black talons lightly drag over my stomach, plucking at my shirt. At the corner of my eye, I see the rock. I reach for it, but it’s inches away. Keep stretching. Almost there. The tips of my fingers touch it. The creature drags her nose against my belly, just as the baby kicks. I wriggle, shifting my body until my hand cups the rock.

  It’s my fucking baby!

  Mine!

  I squeeze the rock.

  Not yours!

  I’m ready to smash it over the creature’s head.

  Split her skull in two.

  You murdering bitch!

  I’ll fucking kill—

  Suddenly, I’m left weightless.

  Confused.

  Where is she?

  Where the fuck is she?

  I twist my neck frantically, searching the dark field for her, until I see her standing at the bushes, glaring at me. Shielding my abdomen, I scramble to my feet, ready to heave the rock at her.

  With her bony wrist and blackened tongue, she cleans Gregg’s blood off her lips and chin, glances at my stomach, my baby, and just like that...she’s gone.

  Hands shaking with astonishment, I take a painful last look at Gregg’s motionless body, wipe the snot and tears from my face, and run as fast as I can. And I keep running, never stopping, never looking back, never complaining about my aching legs, my stinging blister. All I can do is endure. All I can do is protect our child.

  For you, Gregg.

  All for you.

  And no matter what happens, know that I will never forget you.

  And I’ll always love you.

  Part II

  FREYA LAWSON

  2

  I stare up at the brown patch of crumbling plaster on the ceiling. It’s disgusting, just like the rest of this vile hotel.

  My stinging eyes find the digital clock on the bedside cabinet. 5:15 a.m. Another fifteen minutes before the alarm goes off—just like yesterday, and the day before. And just like then, I’ve woken up hours before it buzzes.

  Sean is still asleep next to me, his face buried in the pillow, his right arm and leg hanging off the mattress.

  I wish I could sleep like him, but I can’t seem to clear my thoughts. Like a fever, they swirl and twist in my head, making it impossible to shut down. The memory of my father burning to death is too vivid, too disturbing to block out. A part of me wishes I never found out the truth. It’d be so much simpler. Why couldn’t he still be that run-of-the-mill deadbeat who ran out on us before I was born?

  Arseholes like that are two-a-penny.

  Now his death—that face, that deformed monster—has left a hole in my life that I can’t imagine filling.

  He’s not a monster.

  Maybe it would be easier if I knew what he looked like before he changed. Mum never kept any photos, and if she did, she certainly never shared them.

  I suppose it’s no surprise. Mum was a master at hiding things. But in the end, keeping Ben from the world was the only thing she couldn’t do. And that’s why I have to find him. But not yet. Not until sunrise. Not until the alarm goes off.

  Not until Sean wakes.

  I drape my arm across his bare back and listen to his gentle breath.

  I can’t do this alone.

  Everything’s better with you...

  3

  In a daze, I watch Sean as he brushes his teeth, foam dribbling down his chin. Even though I’m exhausted, even though I’m sick of his room, it makes me smile. He spots me watching him through the reflection in the mirror.

  “What?” he asks with a grin.

  “Nothing.” I take a sip of coffee. “Just love watching you.”

  He spits into the sink, and then adjusts his messed-up ginger hair. “Even looking like this?”

  “Especially looking like that.”

  Wiping his mouth with the towel, he joins me on the edge of the bed. Our only place to sit. No sofa. No chairs. Just a double bed. A wardrobe. A battered microwave. A tiny, chipped sink at the corner of the room. And a shared bathroom across the landing, with a leaky shower and no hot water. This room reminds me so much of the Newton Port flat. That stinking shithole Ben and I had to endure. The only real difference is that smelled a hell of a lot better than this mould-infested dump. “We’d better head out soon,” he says, his hand on my leg.

  I glance at the window. The sun is beaming through the dirty, single-pane glass, the light reminding me how rotten the windowsill is. “You don’t have to come,” I say, but I need him to. “I won’t mind if you prefer to skip this one.”

  Sean takes my hand. “Of course I want to come. I’d never let you search for him on your own. It’s too dangerous.’

  “I can handle it.”

  “I know you can. But I couldn’t handle it if anything happened to you.”

  For the second time this morning, I smile, a warm glow of relief inside my chest. “Okay.”

  We kiss, and then leave the room, just as the shouting from next door starts.

  6:00 a.m.

  Right on cue.

  4

  The hotel is situated right in the centre of the town. Normally, the centre of anywhere is the last place two fugitives should be, but in a town this rundown, there’s little-to-no chance of someone recognising us.

  The rooms are normally charged on a nightly basis, but Sean managed to haggle them down to a cheaper weekly rate. The funny thing is, with all that’s happened, I find myself still being bothered by Sean paying for everything. God knows how much money he has left, and he can’t use his bank card in case they trace our location. I don’t know what we would have done if his grandparents hadn’t given him his savings in cash.

  No, I know exactly what I would have done—been forced to work in a bloody kebab shop again. The memory of stale chicken and month-old fat stabs at my head.

  Gross.

  With his rucksack over his shoulder, Sean slams the rickety front door of the hotel, and we step out into the street. The sun is bright this morning, but it’s still chilly, so I zip my jacket up as we head along the pavement. Across the road, just in front of the church, there’s a small cluster of people, locals, junkies, all gathered around something. We keep our heads low as we pass, not that any of these people would give two shits about us. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I glance at the crowd, trying to see what the commotion is.

  Sean grabs my hand and ushers me away from the gruesome sight.

  It’s a dead body.

  A woman. Maybe forty years old. Homeless, no doubt. Without shelter at night, they don’t have a hope.

  “Don’t look at her,” Sean says as we turn left, heading along the riverbank.

  It’ll be hours, maybe even days before the cops come for her. They never bother in this town, but that’s exactly why we came here. Like Newton Port, the risk of getting caught by the authorities is slim. Fewer cops. Fewer HCA. The perfect home for vampires.

  And Ben.

  Even in the morning, this place gives me the creeps. Rubbish scattered across the ground. Shopping trolleys floating in the river. Your typical scum-town. Except, according to Sean, this town used to be pleasant. A town to spend your magical, stress-free retirement years. To shop. To visit the castle. To sip tea and eat scones at the many tearooms. Not anymore, that’s for damn sure. Since the curfew, small towns like this, with limited resources, got swallowed up pretty quickly.

  After about a mile, we cross over a narrow bridge, which takes us
onto a road. Burnt-out cars. More litter.

  “Is that it?” I ask, staring at the large building ahead.

  Sean nods.

  “Are you sure this time?” I ask with a frown of scepticism.

  “No, but it’s a good place for a nest. Abandoned building. Out of the way. Don’t you think?”

  “I suppose.” Nerves catch hold of my stomach when we reach the double doors.

  Copplefield Fitness Centre.

  Boarded-up windows. Weeds sprouting out from the large concrete car park. Graffiti sprayed over the walls. It’s a sad sight, but I’m practically numb to it now.

  Just another example of a dying world.

  Two large wooden panels cover the double doors, sealing the entrance completely. With just my fingers, I try to pry them free, but the screws are too deep. Sean takes out the crowbar from the rucksack and jams it under one of the panels. There’s a squeaking sound as he pushes against the crowbar. With bright red cheeks and a strained groan, he pops the board off.

  Sean peeks through the smashed glass of the door, but inside is pitch black. “You ready?” he asks, slightly out of breath.

  “No—but let’s do it, anyway.”

  Gingerly, he climbs through first, avoiding the small shards of glass that are still attached to the doorframe. With a torch in hand and a stomach full of butterflies, I follow him inside. Under my feet, there’s a crushing sound of debris, and a strong smell of mildew in the air. I move the beam around what looks like a reception area. A dust-covered counter. A fridge on its side, with the glass door smashed. Empty tubs of protein shakes scattered across the floor. Creeping silently further into the gym, the torch light reveals a seating area and a second counter. A cafe, maybe.

  So far, no signs of vampire activity.

  Just from the light of the entrance and torch, the gym seems pretty big, about the size of two tennis courts. The wooden floor is cracked and covered in more debris from the collapsed ceiling above. Looks like water damage. Dumbbells, weight-plates, and other gym equipment litter the rest of the room, and to the right is a wide space with hanging cables, most likely for powering treadmills, exercise bikes and other cardio machines. Probably sold or looted when the town fell.

  Sean takes my hand and guides me towards a door at the far end of the room. Male Changing Room & Spa is written in bold letters across it. A part of me wants this gym to be another deserted nest, a dead end, an excuse to go back to the hotel and watch TV. But no matter how disgusting and terrifying these places are, he’s got to be in one of them, somewhere close. I just know it. I can feel it in my bones. He’s alive, and he needs to be with me—even if he doesn’t know it.

  With caution, Sean pushes the door open.

  The hinges squeak and we both recoil, terrified that we’ve just woken up the entire nest.

  With my hand over my mouth, I listen out for movement, footsteps, breathing.

  Twenty seconds pass.

  No sound.

  Sean exhales, and we step inside the room.

  The torch beam lights up the changing room. Metal lockers to the right. Urinals to the left. Just a metre or so on, we stop by a row of four toilet cubicles. The first door is completely off its hinges, propped up against the thin wooden wall separating the next cubicle. I poke my head in and gag when the stink of piss, shit and God knows what else violates my senses. I quickly retract my head and move onto the next.

  My pulse soars because the door on this one is closed.

  Sean stands back, brandishing the crowbar, preparing to take out whatever might be lurking behind. With a slight tremble in my hand, I give the door a gentle prod. Fists clenched, I hold my breath as it swings open. It’s empty, but I keep my breath held because the toilet is overflowing with even more piss and shit.

  Still no vampires.

  I push the third one open.

  The same.

  Placing my hand on the last one, I push, but nothing happens.

  Oh, shit. It’s locked.

  I glance at Sean. Do we kick it in?

  With a wince in his face, Sean walks into the previous cubicle, and climbs up on the rim of the toilet. Straightening his body, he peeks over the separating wall, and instantly climbs down, suggesting that there’s no one inside.

  Through a stone archway, we tentatively step into a shower room. Three cubicles on each side. I shine my torch into the first and find a dark patch on the tiled floor.

  “Blood,” Sean whispers, his words cold, laced with foreboding.

  Loose bones, rotten flesh and dried blood occupy the next two cubicles.

  “Animal remains,” he says. “Cats and dogs probably.”

  There’s another door ahead, with a sign that says Spa above it. Sean gently prods the door, and we step into another tiled area. To the right side of us is a small white room. Its glass door is smashed, so I point the torch through the opening, illuminating the white wall and floor of a steam room.

  Empty.

  There’s another small room over to the left of us, which judging by the wooden door, is a sauna.

  I push the door open, and straightaway a stench of rotting meat hits my nostrils. Covering my mouth and nose with my hand, I shine the light inside.

  “Jesus Christ.” Sean heaves when he sees the bodies. Six of them, all dead, stacked up along the wooden bench like inventory, just like the last nest—only these are fresher.

  Heaving, Sean grabs the door and starts to close it.

  But something inside catches my eye. Movement.

  I shove past Sean and reopen the door.

  “What are you doing?” he says.

  “I thought I saw something.” Holding my breath, I step inside. The sight of so many dead bodies is hideous. Some just a few days old. Others with skin barely clinging to their butchered bodies. But all drained of blood. And with this many empty water bottles, mouldy fruit, and chocolate bar wrappers on the floor, I’d say these poor bastards were being stockpiled. Kept alive to feed on for weeks. Months, even.

  My torch lights up a man propped upright in the corner, next to the heater. His eyes are closed, his skin is pale, and judging by his torn trousers and scruffy beard, I’d say he’s another homeless victim.

  “Come on, Frey,” Sean says, steering me out by my wrist. “Ben’s not going to be in there.”

  “I thought I saw—” I gasp when I see a pair of bloodshot eyes staring back at me. “Oh, shit! He’s alive!”

  Sean shoots up beside me. “Oh, my God!”

  Blinded by the torch light, the man coughs, the loud rumbling sound echoing around the sauna. I tighten, praying that it doesn’t alert the vampires.

  “Come on,” Sean whispers, aiding the man to his feet. “We’re getting you out of here.” Sean starts to walk him towards the doorway, but they come to a halt. With drool hanging from his mouth, the man peers down at his right leg. There’s a rope tied around his ankle. I follow its path to a thick pipe beneath the bench. From my jeans, I take out my pocketknife and cut the rope.

  Sean guides him out of the sauna, heading back the way we came.

  “What about Ben?” I whisper. “He could still be here.”

  “We’ll come back for him,” Sean replies, struggling with the man’s weight.

  The thought of setting foot in this building again sends a cold shudder through me. “I’ll meet you outside.” Before Sean can talk me out of staying, I creep further into the spa to finish the search.

  “No, Freya. We have to go.”

  “Just go.” I creep forward until the torch beam reveals a Jacuzzi—disused, damaged, and filled almost to the brim with more animal and human remains. The smell of decay makes me retch, so I hold my breath and walk to the edge of a swimming pool. It’s completely drained of water and is about two metres deep. With the light, I follow the cracked and stained tiles to the furthest corner—and almost drop the torch in fright.

  Heart screaming inside my chest, I light up the faces of at least ten vampires, all passed out al
ong the floor of the pool.

  Squinting at each purebred, I make sure that Ben isn’t one of them, perhaps tucked away in the corner.

  He’s not here.

  “Fuck,” I say under my breath.

  Where the hell is he?

  With disappointment and urgency, I march back towards the changing room. Just as I pass the sauna, the light on my torch flickers. I give it a tap, but it slips out of my clammy hand, smashing against the floor tile.

  The sound echoes around the spa.

  In the darkness, I hear a loud hiss coming from the swimming pool.

  “Run, Freya!” Sean cries. “They’re coming!”

  Leaving the torch behind, I sprint towards Sean’s voice, and we burst into the pitch-black changing rooms, guided only by memory. Back inside the gym area, the sunlight seeps in through the entrance. A shining exit. I glance over my shoulder. There’s a vampire on our tail. “Move!” I scream, just as Sean and the bearded man reach the reception desk. I leap over a capsized weights bench, but my foot clips the metal leg, and I tumble.

  “Freya!” Sean screams as he pushes the man through the entrance doors.

  In a frenzy, I scramble to my feet, the snarls of a feral dog bouncing off the wall, and charge towards the sunlight. Almost there. Galloping feet are just inches behind me, the vampire’s breath grazing the back of my head.

  I’m past the seating area.

  His claws slice my jacket.

  I keep pushing forward. My sights on the door. On the light. On Sean.

  He’s screaming at me. Horror painted over his face.

  The vampire grabs my arm, nails piercing my skin, and pulls me to the floor.

  But he’s too late.

  I’m through!

  Sean takes hold of my hand, hauling my body out of the building, and into the blazing sun.