The Monster Man of Horror House (33 page)

viii

There was far less fallout from the children’s home incident than I’d been anticipating
– both from the authorities and from Rachel. I’d expected a nationwide manhunt,
a media frenzy and pitchfork sales to rocket throughout the land, but there was
barely one word about it in the papers, just a little story in
The Times
concerning the Social Services
budget being questioned in the House following “a series of incidents at
children homes in recent weeks”.

A
“series of incidents”? That was the term they’d used to describe the multiple
injuries, the death of a child and the bizarre attack and escape by a [seemingly]
religious maniac on one of the nation's care homes. No wonder Rachel had been
getting away with murder for best part of the last century. It beggared belief.

That
said, if that was weird Rachel’s behaviour was weirder still. After a day of
sullen sulking she became the very picture of contrition, apologising
completely for her behaviour and assuring me that she finally understood the
pain she’d been causing all these years. Admittedly she only came to this
conclusion after I’d bought her a new set of Peter Pan books, so there was
still a certain amount of self-interest there, but she was remorseful nevertheless.
And she seemed genuine too. On our way across the fields one night we
encountered temptation in the shape of a courting couple who were going at it
like badgers under the light of a silvery moon. They were making such a
performance of it that I almost felt like ripping them to pieces myself, but Rachel
simply watched them from the shadows. Then, when they were finally – and
theatrically – finished Rachel turned, took my hand and led me away.

“Have
you ever done that before?” she asked as we climbed over a stile and into a
hedge-lined country lane, fags lighting in the distance behind us

“A
couple of times, when I was younger, but not for a long long time. That sort of
thing never really worked out for me I’m afraid. And I just sort of lost the
urge,” I shrugged.

Rachel
nodded like she understood, then said: “I’ve done it before.”

It
was a brave confession and I thought she meant since she’d been undead, but the
truth was more unsettling than that.

“Sue
made me do it,” she said, meaning Happy Sue, her mother. “She made good coin
from me, particularly those first few times, so good in fact that she never had
to do it again herself, especially not with anyone she didn’t want to.” She
looked away into the night and into her dim and distant past before passing judgement
on the experience. “I never liked it, but she kept on making me do it. Said I
had to support her how she’d supported me. That was on my sixth birthday.”

In
the absence of anything constructive to say, I simply said; “I’m sorry,” but it
barely registered with Rachel. It was like putting a sticking plaster over a
guillotine wound.

“Do
you really like young girls like me?” she asked after a little silent thought,
dredging up the bullshit excuse I’d told her when I’d made her wash alone. I quickly
turned this one over in my mind and tried to second-guess her reactions to a
selection of different answers, but in the end I plumped for the truth, simply
because I figured it was better to have my head ripped off for the truth than
for a lie.

“No,
not really,” I admitted. “I just didn’t want to upset you, that’s all.”

Rachel
just nodded and smiled.

“You’re
a good man, John Coal,” she said, then added; “for a mangy mongrel.”

*

The following week we took a break because it was my time of the month. Rachel
helped me get ready for my transformation and even moved her coffin to the
corner of the basement to give me room to stretch my claws. I can be a little
edgy and a little cranky on transformation days, particularly those last few
hours before I change, so we sat down and played a board game to help me take
my mind off the impending agonies.
The
Game of Dracula
I had thought was an inspired choice, and something I’d
picked up when I’d bought Rachel her new set of Peter Pan books, and thankfully
Rachel thought so too. We played a couple of rounds of it and I let her win, then
she asked me how long I had when she saw me cricking my neck.

“Maybe
just over an hour, I guess,” I told her, and that was the last thing I remembered.
Pain flooded my senses and the world turned to darkness and then nothing.

*

When I awoke I didn’t recognise where I was because the room was dark, but I
knew I was no longer in my basement. What’s more I could tell I hadn’t changed
yet, so I hadn’t ended up here after a night on the claw. No, my changing was
imminent, yet somehow I’d passed out and ended up here, outside of my sanctuary,
in harm’s way. I snapped awake, now alert and jumped to my feet.

What
the hell was going on? Where was Rachel? I needed her to help me get home
safely without hurting anyone.

I
felt around in the darkness until I found a light switch and flipped it on. In
that instant I knew where I was.

And
how I’d got here.

ix

Linen.

Piles
and piles of linen. It had been washed, ironed, folded and stacked away on the
shelves since my previous visit. The young girl I'd encountered before was no
longer here and her blood had been cleaned up, but I recognised the cupboard
immediately.

The
window at the far end had been forced, which must’ve been how Rachel had
smuggled me in, and beyond the woefully flimsy door, I could hear footsteps both
little and large as the residents got ready for bed.

They
had no idea I was in here. They had no idea what was to come.

And
they had no time to flee.

The
fires swept over me as my transformation ignited. I tried to scream a warning to
those outside but my throat was crushed by a thousand agonies that ripped me
apart. I kicked out at the door, but only succeeded in bringing a pile of
freshly folded linen down on top of me.

“Run!”
I gasped beneath the sheets. “Ruuunnn!!”

But
nobody heard. Nobody responded. And nobody ran.

Razor-sharp
talons sprouted from each of my black fingers and my feet made short work of my
shoes. The rest of my clothes soon followed, falling from my body as I ripped
through the seams until I stood in the cupboard naked as the day I was born,
except for a coat of coarse black bristles.

I
sniffed at the ceiling, now barely an inch from my snout and tasted the air
around me. Beyond the musty smell of institution was the unmistakeable scent of
young meat. It skipped and frolicked just beyond the feeble door and my mouth
watered at the prospect of sinking into soft, pink flesh. I’d not had wet meat
in such a long time. I’d been caged and denied for over a decade by my selfish
keeper but I would be denied no longer. I had to feast. I had to gorge. I had
to tear and crunch. My hunger knew no bounds.

With
one swipe, I knocked the cupboard door clean off its hinges and bounded out
into the corridor a single stride.

Four
juicy pups and an alpha guardian jumped out of their skins when they saw me and
I responded in kind, barking my ravenous intentions at their backs as they fled
for the furthest room. I advanced on them slowly, howling at their screams and
flooding their little hearts with terror for my own delectation. Terror is delicious;
terror gets the juices pumping and makes the meat richer. Terror is exciting.
It’s all part of the hunt and it was the thing I missed the most on those long
and bitterly frustrating nights when I found myself locked in that dingy little
basement, even if my keeper had left me a goat to chew on. But the bleatings of
tethered animals paled into insignificance next to the demented squeals of young
flesh on the hoof and they drew me in with their songs until I was drowning
with want.

I
stood in the doorway of a large end bedroom, filling the entire frame to deny
my quarry even a sporting chance of slipping by. I would have every morsel tonight.
There wouldn’t be so much as a toenail spurned, I owed that much to myself and
I was delighted to see a few extra courses had fallen out of bed to join the
platter. At least a dozen little faces looked up at me in abject horror,
desperately trying to wake themselves from this most desolate of nightmares,
but there would be no reassuring cuddle and fresh blankets for them tonight
because I was only too real.

As
their succulent little bones were about to find out.

“No
you dog!” the alpha guardian shouted, charging headfirst at me with a
broomstick in a futile attempt to prolong his mandate. He didn’t get to within
six feet of me though; I swung an open claw and swatted him into pieces, filling
the air with an arterial mist that basted the pups to perfection. How could this
get any better?

I
snatched the first up by a flailing foot and dangled him by the ankle. He
looked so tiny I could’ve almost swallowed him whole, but to do so would’ve been
to miss the crunch of flavour, so I gave him a cursory lick, tonguing the hot
blood and tears from his ruddy little face until my palate would be tantalised
no more.

I
stretched wide my jaws and placed the little pup inside, but at that moment of
satisfaction a cry more resonant and more reaching than I’d ever known before commanded
me to put down the pup and back away. Such was the power of this command that I
had no choice but to obey – to do otherwise would’ve been to refuse to
breath.

The
cry came again.

“Don’t
eat us! Please don’t eat us!”

It
was a plaintive cry from a fear-ravaged mind, but the very forces that changed
me from man to beast compelled me to do as the voice bid. I backed away to the
door, confused and frightened, and barked my unequivocal acceptance at whoever
had ordered me to refrain, scouring the sea of faces to see to which of them I
answered. In the centre of the fray was a familiar-looking eight-year-old girl
with bandaged arms. She was sprawled just in front of the others and shone like
a solstice moon, her supremacy was simply overwhelming, yet her demeanour was
cowering, as if she didn’t realise the dominance she commanded over me.

“Please
don’t eat us, please!” she was crying, so once again I barked my assent and
awaited her pleasure, only to tumble forwards when an axe was planted into the
small of my back.

I
spun around to see a second alpha guardian swinging his weapon at me for the
kill, but this time I caught it just below the blade and yanked the guardian’s
head into my jaws before he could let go of the handle. One bite and my mouth filled
with bone and brains as his head came apart at the seams. The meaty slop was
almost orgasmic in its deliciousness, but I spat it all out when the girl with
the bandaged arms once again commanded me to desist.

“No,
God no! Leave him!” she shrieked, so I let the carcass fall from my mouth where
it dropped and stepped away in deference.

Around
her the other children were still screaming random pips and squeaks but the
girl was all I could hear. She pleaded with me to spare their lives and cried
for her mummy over and over again, and it was almost an entire minute before
she realised I’d done all she’d asked – except fetch her mummy, and I
would’ve probably done that had she’d given me an address. The girl stared at
me in bewilderment for the longest possible moment and I stared right back, basking
in the heat of her attentions. After a time I had to look away, it got too
much, but I was soon looking again, her draw was too much to resist.

The
girl was confused, that was plain to see, but she was thinking fast. She looked
around at the other children going ballistic about her and saw I only had eyes
for her. She did a little more adding and subtracting before eventually she
spoke again, very very quietly, barely a nervous squeak in fact, but I have
seriously excellent hearing.

“Bark,”
she uttered, so I barked.

The
girl choked on a breath and put her hand to her mouth. After a moment she
removed it and told me to do something else.

“Stand
on one leg,” she said, so again that’s what I did.

Where
she’d been irresistible before, she now erupted authority when she realised the
extent of her powers and I could scarcely remember ever being able to think for
myself before she’d come into my life.

The
girl now urged the other pups to be quiet, but unbelievably they refused to
obey. She repeated her instruction, telling them over and over to “stop crying,
please be quiet, listen to me,” but still they ignored her so I barked my
loudest howl at them all, blasting out the window panes behind them and
toppling several of the lighter tots over as I blew every other noise from the
room.

When
the blinds finally stopped rattling the room fell in silence. No one dared
interrupt the girl with the bandages after that and I snorted my disdain at
their proximity to her beauty, but I let them be. If this was what she wanted,
this was what she got. Let any man or beast try to dictate otherwise and they
would have my unbridled fury to answer to.