No Shelter from Darkness (20 page)

“What are you smiling at, Brownie?” Susan gave her a hard prod in the shoulder.

“Leave it out, Suze,” said Julie from behind them. “C'mon, let's just go.”

Beth jerked her head in surprise, but Susan ignored the plea. “Our street's off limits to you,” she warned. “Me and my friends better not catch you anywhere near it.”

That's hardly going to be a problem
, thought Beth. Norton Street and its surroundings were in the opposite direction of her house, and it was something Beth had always been thankful for.

“Suze, c'mon.” It was Julie again. Beth had to hide her curiosity as to why Julie wasn't following Susan's lead like a good little girl. Apparently, Susan was wondering the same thing.

“What the bloody hell is wrong with you?” she demanded.

“Nothing. Only, she did save your life an' all.”

Susan burst out laughing. “No, she never! There wasn't even any bombs. It wasn't even a proper bloody raid.”

“You didn't know that at the time,” countered Julie. “And neither did she.”

Susan's smile faded and she faced Julie straight on. Beth could see Julie's posture stiffening slightly. “Whose side are you on, anyway?” snarled Susan.

Angela followed her shepherd's lead and confronted Julie, and now both had their backs to Beth. She saw no reason to stick around. Walking away, she could still hear Susan's raised voice admonishing Julie. To Julie's credit she took all the spit-edged words without apologizing or changing her opinion. Susan and Angela backed down and finally walked away, leaving Julie standing by the gates.

“Bitch,” said Julie in a loud whisper.

Beth stopped and turned around. She was a good ten yards away from Julie. “Rot in hell,” she said before spinning around and marching off.

Beth looked over at the departing Susan and Angela, amazed that neither had turned back in response to Julie's insults.
Surely they heard that?
Instead they just carried on walking, and Beth just about picked out their voices over everyone else's, calling Julie a traitor and planning to give her the same welcome as they would Beth should she go near their street.

Beth turned back toward Mary and Gibson, but she didn't start walking. Instead she just concentrated on the sounds around her and tried to pick out their voices. Just theirs. And then she matched the words she could hear with the movement of their lips.

She gasped.

From an early age her mother had always commented on her hearing, noticing how she managed to listen in on private conversations happening in the kitchen while she was upstairs in her room. Recently, Beth had noticed how faraway sounds seemed louder than she'd
expected. Now it seemed she was honing her acute sense. She looked around at the dwindling groups of children around her, listening in to what they were saying. It wasn't like the wireless, where she could turn a knob and only hear one conversation at time. She could hear everything going on around her, but she could just about ignore the sounds she didn't want to hear.

She focused again on Mary and Gibson, realizing it wasn't the best time to interrupt; it sounded like it might be a goodbye what with Gibson leaving London soon.

And as she started on her way home, she heard the unmistakable sound of a kiss behind her.

*   *   *

Beth walked in through the front door. Already her father had become part of the furniture.

“Hi, Dad.”

“Afternoon.”

“Where's Mum?”

“Over the road, at Joan's.”

Beth nodded and took the armchair opposite her father. She knew Mary would likely be a while and Oliver would be getting up to no good. Still, she felt like time was of the essence. She rubbed her neck and her father looked up from his paper.

“I think I need some more bl-
blood
.” The word still caught in her throat.

“Already?” her father asked. “I thought we'd got the quantity just right for a weekly …” he searched for a word, “… dose.”

“Perhaps.”

“So why do you need more, then?”

Beth sat up straight and rubbed her lower back. She felt herself blush and looked down at the ground. “I'm, uh, losing a little extra this week.”

Her father scowled and Beth could see the cogs ticking. Suddenly his face brightened and she knew it had clicked. “Of course. Yes.
That makes sense.” He nodded. “It shouldn't be a problem.” Then he pondered for a second or two. “Every four weeks is it?” He sounded so clinical.

“Um. No, actually.”

“I'm sorry if this is embarrassing, but it would be best if I know how often it occurs so I can make arrangements.”

Beth shrugged. “I'm not sure. I thought it was five weeks, but this time it's been even longer. It's more like five and a half.”

“The interval is increasing,” her father said, mainly to himself.

“Is that normal?” asked Beth. “For me, I mean.”

“I really don't know.” He thought for a few seconds. “I wouldn't worry about it, though. I'll pop round the butcher's tomorrow, but I can't promise I'll
have
it tomorrow. Is that okay?”

“It's fine.” She felt her stomach as if she were hungry, even though that wasn't where the thirst seemed to set in. “I only got the first twinge of a craving today.”

Her father nodded. She was about to get up, but she couldn't hear anyone approaching the house. She didn't know how reliable her hearing was, but she was confident she'd hear footsteps before she heard the key in the door.

“Is there something else, Elizabeth?”

She was about to mention her ever-improving hearing, but thought better of it, keeping that little advantage to herself. She did, however, have something else to ask. “It's this,” she said, smiling awkwardly using only half her mouth to reveal the gap in her teeth. In the week since she'd pulled the old one out, the new tooth had grown and now half-filled the gap. Another two of the remaining three baby canines had begun to wobble.

“What about it?” asked her father.

Beth hesitated. Was it a trick question? “It's a fang, isn't it?”

“I would assume so, yes.” He seemed too calm and relaxed about it, as if this was a normal conversation a daughter has with her father.

“Aren't people going to notice?”

“Notice what? That you have a pointed canine tooth?” He shrugged. “Everyone has pointed canines.”

“This pointed?”

“Some people, I'm sure. Besides, you'd only notice it if you were looking for it.”

“What if it grows long, though? I mean, really long?”

“Then you'll be a bit long in the tooth.” Her father chuckled at his own joke.

“Dad!”

“I don't think it will.”

“How can you be sure?” asked Beth.

“I told you, I've done my homework.” He lifted his paper back up.

Beth huffed quietly, picked up her things and went into the kitchen. She couldn't understand how her father could be so blasé about what was happening to her, when it took all her determination to keep it from eating away at her. Rubbing her back, she went to her room with a glass of water and tried to lie on her new bed of blankets on the floor, trying to find a position that would ease the aching.

TWENTY-ONE

GLOBE BUTCHERS,
like many of the small shops on Globe Road, had sandbags piled up against the shop window, leaving only a small gap at the top to allow a little natural light in. The long pane of glass set in the door was crisscrossed with masking tape, behind which was a “closed” sign hanging from a yellowed tab of sticky tape. Putting his weight on his good leg with practiced ease, Bill rapped on the wooden doorframe, gradually softening to a tap from fear the glass would rattle out and smash to the floor. Through the gaps in the tape he saw his grizzled friend—a wall of a man—appear from the back. The butcher squinted, recognized him and came to open the door.

“Hello, my friend,” said Jeff. “Come in.”

Bill was led into the back where two large wooden tables in the middle of the tiled room had sharp chunks gouged out of them and large metal hooks hung from wooden rails across the wall. It was Sunday, so there was no trade, and no meat. Jeff kept a clean shop out front and in the back, but no amount of washing would ever take away that familiar smell.

“How's the leg?” Jeff asked, leaning against a table and folding his big arms over his broad chest.

“The same. Hurting.”

“You've been lucky. I know a few fellas who've been shot, patched up and sent straight back out there.”

“I think this one was a bit of a close call. Doctors said the nerve and muscle damage was extensive. It might be a while before I can dance again.”

“No loss there, then,” joked Jeff.

“Ha bloody ha. I'm serious, though. The doc said I might need a cane for the rest of my life.”

“From a small leg wound?”

“I told you, it was point blank.”

Jeff tutted, like Bill was being a big baby about the whole thing.

“How's life here, anyway?” asked Bill. “Enjoying the day off?”

“It's the one thing about this job I like.”

“Ah! Come on, Jeff. You're a natural.”

“Carving up meat is easy. Getting over the smell? That took months. Anyway, I'm sure you're not here to boost my ego and tell me what a bang-up job I'm doing. What's the emergency?”

“She needs more.”

Jeff nodded. “I see.” He counted on his fingers under his breath. “It's only been five days.”

“I'm aware of that, but she's on her, you know … it's
that
time of the month.”

Jeff raised an eyebrow. “You're telling me bloodsuckers have periods?”

“Apparently.”

“Jesus.” Jeff stroked the stubble on his cheeks, deep in concentration. “How?” he said at last. “I thought once they're turned that sort of thing … well … doesn't work.”

“It wouldn't be the first time we've been wrong about them. We were still digging up graves until the turn of the century, after all.”

“Wait,” said Jeff, his brief pondering commanding silence. He smiled and shook his head. Whatever he was thinking, he'd decided it was preposterous.

“What?” asked Bill.

“Nothing. Just …” the butcher clicked his tongue, “if it's getting periods, if they have that biological ability …” Jeff paused as if afraid to speak his thoughts. “You don't think they're able to breed, do you?”

Bill shook his head. “I honestly don't know. It's a frightening prospect, though. Elizabeth mentioned that the interval between periods is getting longer. Maybe it's, I don't know, a kind of biological mishap or something. Besides, surely if leeches could breed we would've seen something by now.”

“Like what?” asked Jeff.

“A pregnant revenant? A bloodsucking kid?”

“A bloodsucking kid,” said Jeff. “Like Elizabeth.”

Jeff had a good point. Bill was surprised he was even entertaining the idea of monsters giving birth to baby monsters.

“I should inform the High Minister,” said Jeff.

“No. Not yet. It's too big a thing. If we're wrong …” Bill let his point hang in the air. “Let's sit on it for a while. For all we know, that human part of her might be gone in another couple of months.”

Jeff nodded his head. “It would be a revelation. I wonder what other surprises this abomination of yours has in store?”

Bill's cheek twitched. He felt an odd pang of discomfort at Jeff's name calling. He didn't want to share his own hypothesis about why Beth's cycles might be stretching out, despite the simple logic: she was a revenant, and revenants didn't age. At least that was the theory, but again Beth threatened to change that. She was growing up, but what if along with the other vampire characteristics emerging, so too was her longevity? It would make sense that other processes would also slow down. But would they slow down to a stop?

“Well,” the butcher said. Bill looked up from his thoughts. “I don't have what it needs right now, but I can probably get some for tomorrow.”

Bill nodded. “Good. I'll let her know.”

“Uh-huh,” agreed Jeff. And then he stood there, looking like he wanted to say something else.

“What?” asked Bill.

“Have you told it about me yet?”

“No.”

Jeff shook his head. “I can't help feeling you and me, we're treading on thin ice here.”

“What do you mean?”

“What if something happens to you, William? What if next time you get shot and don't come back? It's as good as turned, goddamn it. It may have been a harmless little girl before, but it's not anymore. If it needs blood and you're not around to get it, where's it gonna go? What's it gonna do?”

“That's not going to happen.”

“How can you say that? What about your family? I was going out of my wits before you got back, not knowing if I should do something about it.” Jeff shook his head. “I still can't believe you went away in the first place.”

“It's not like I had a choice, Jeff. Not one day went by when I wasn't thinking about Lynne and Oliver living in the same house with her, unprotected from her. You know I never wanted her in the first place.” Bill looked at the ground, checking his tone. “But …”

“But what?”

Bill looked up and shrugged. “Maybe it's the time I've spent away, but I don't see in her what I see in every other revenant.”

Jeff scoffed. “Don't kid yourself, William. It's a leech for God's sake.”

“She's a thirteen year old girl.”

“A girl who's been turned, or whatever the hell it is they do.”

“Yes, and she's just found that out! She's pretty terrified as it is. I don't want her finding anything else out for now. We've got to be careful, all right?” Bill could see Jeff wasn't buying it. “Look at what she's shown us so far. Think of what else we might learn.” He saw a hint of understanding in Jeff's eyes. “We can't afford to lose her and that means for now, you've got to remain ‘Jeff the Butcher'.”