me? So certain. He wants me to go, he wants to finish us, but I cannot let
let him do that .’ She glared at the table and twitched imperceptibly. There
was a strangled scream from the bathroom, a loud snap.
Thom rushed to the door,
hammered on it, ‘NATHAN?’ He banged in desperation, ‘NATHAN?’ He put his shoulder to the door
and barged, but the wood was oak, the lock brass, and it wouldn’t yield. He
stepped back and kicked out — the frame splintered and the door flew
open, crashing against the wall. Thom brought his hand to his mouth.
Nathan’s lifeless body lay
slumped forward over the edge of the bath, but his face pointed at the ceiling. An immense purple bruise
circled his neck and a string of bloody mucus streamed from his open mouth onto
the linoleum flooring.
There was a sharp intake of
breath behind him.
He leapt at her, pinning
her to the wall, and grabbed her throat. ‘You’ve killed him you bitch ...
you’ve killed him!’
She grabbed at his hair. ‘
... Thom ... let me go ... I can’t breath!’
‘NEITHER CAN FUCKING
NATHAN! TELL ME WHAT YOU DID ... TELL ME!’
‘ ... Nothing!’ she choked.
‘What’s happened to him ... what’s happened ... to Nathan?’
His tears trickled down
onto her hands, which clenched his, trying to force them away from her
windpipe. ‘What are you ... in the name of Christ, what are you?’ He cracked
her head against the cutting, textured wall until it left a bloody mark. ‘What
are you ... what are you ....?’
‘Kristin!’ she spluttered,
her vision blurring. ‘I’m ...
Kristin!’
‘Kristin would have no
reason to do something like this!’
‘Kristin did not have a
reason ... I did!’ the monstrous voice gargled.
He let her go.
He was awake , sentient. His oldest friend lay contorted , dead at his feet and his lover had just
spoken to him , but in a voice that didn’t belong to her.
‘ ... Why? ’ he asked, in the surreal
stillness.
‘He would have ... been a
problem, would have represented a threat to my purpose.’
‘... Your purpose ?’
‘Find the Christ. Fuck the
Christ. Kill the Christ.’
‘ ... Why have you chosen
her?’
‘She is just a vehicle for
my use, the reason for her selection is irrelevant, she was chosen at random two thousand years ago.’
‘ Chosen ?’ By whom?’
‘ By the true child of
God.’
‘ The true child ?’ God only had one child,
a son, Jesus Christ.’
She roared bestially and hurled
herself at him, slashing his face with nails suddenly sharp and deadly. She
spat in his face as he struck her about the head with his fists. She forced her
head down to his neck and opened her mouth, revealing pointed, blackened teeth
and he smelt her suddenly putrid breath. But as she was ready to close her jaws
she squealed with pain and collapsed.
On his haunches, he looked
deep into her hollowed eyes and could see her tormentor had left her, that
she’d won this battle for her soul.
As she lay unconscious he sat on the bloody
floor, transfixed by Nathan’s distorted body. Some time later he stood, went to
the bedroom, pulled a sheet off the bed and wrapped Nathan’s body in it,
knotting each end. He picked it up gently and carried it down the stairs.
Outside, he fumbled with
his car keys, folded the stiffening corpse into the undersized boot and slammed
the door. He leaned heavily on it, white and sick: When he was done he ’ d tell Nathan ’ s parents that their son had been attacked and
killed out on the street. How could he tell them the truth ?
Thom drove along a Trafalgar Road darkened
by malfunctioning or defunct streetlights. Memories of his long friendship with
Nathan flashed in and out of his mind; a friendship that had been torn from him
by a force from hell that occupied the body of the only woman he’d ever loved.
He brought the car to a
halt by an old, rotting jetty on the Greenwich Peninsular, got out and swung
the boot open, losing his balance when he
let him do that .’ She glared at the table and twitched imperceptibly. There
was a strangled scream from the bathroom, a loud snap.
Thom rushed to the door,
hammered on it, ‘NATHAN?’ He banged in desperation, ‘NATHAN?’ He put his shoulder to the door
and barged, but the wood was oak, the lock brass, and it wouldn’t yield. He
stepped back and kicked out — the frame splintered and the door flew
open, crashing against the wall. Thom brought his hand to his mouth.
Nathan’s lifeless body lay
slumped forward over the edge of the bath, but his face pointed at the ceiling. An immense purple bruise
circled his neck and a string of bloody mucus streamed from his open mouth onto
the linoleum flooring.
There was a sharp intake of
breath behind him.
He leapt at her, pinning
her to the wall, and grabbed her throat. ‘You’ve killed him you bitch ...
you’ve killed him!’
She grabbed at his hair. ‘
... Thom ... let me go ... I can’t breath!’
‘NEITHER CAN FUCKING
NATHAN! TELL ME WHAT YOU DID ... TELL ME!’
‘ ... Nothing!’ she choked.
‘What’s happened to him ... what’s happened ... to Nathan?’
His tears trickled down
onto her hands, which clenched his, trying to force them away from her
windpipe. ‘What are you ... in the name of Christ, what are you?’ He cracked
her head against the cutting, textured wall until it left a bloody mark. ‘What
are you ... what are you ....?’
‘Kristin!’ she spluttered,
her vision blurring. ‘I’m ...
Kristin!’
‘Kristin would have no
reason to do something like this!’
‘Kristin did not have a
reason ... I did!’ the monstrous voice gargled.
He let her go.
He was awake , sentient. His oldest friend lay contorted , dead at his feet and his lover had just
spoken to him , but in a voice that didn’t belong to her.
‘ ... Why? ’ he asked, in the surreal
stillness.
‘He would have ... been a
problem, would have represented a threat to my purpose.’
‘... Your purpose ?’
‘Find the Christ. Fuck the
Christ. Kill the Christ.’
‘ ... Why have you chosen
her?’
‘She is just a vehicle for
my use, the reason for her selection is irrelevant, she was chosen at random two thousand years ago.’
‘ Chosen ?’ By whom?’
‘ By the true child of
God.’
‘ The true child ?’ God only had one child,
a son, Jesus Christ.’
She roared bestially and hurled
herself at him, slashing his face with nails suddenly sharp and deadly. She
spat in his face as he struck her about the head with his fists. She forced her
head down to his neck and opened her mouth, revealing pointed, blackened teeth
and he smelt her suddenly putrid breath. But as she was ready to close her jaws
she squealed with pain and collapsed.
On his haunches, he looked
deep into her hollowed eyes and could see her tormentor had left her, that
she’d won this battle for her soul.
As she lay unconscious he sat on the bloody
floor, transfixed by Nathan’s distorted body. Some time later he stood, went to
the bedroom, pulled a sheet off the bed and wrapped Nathan’s body in it,
knotting each end. He picked it up gently and carried it down the stairs.
Outside, he fumbled with
his car keys, folded the stiffening corpse into the undersized boot and slammed
the door. He leaned heavily on it, white and sick: When he was done he ’ d tell Nathan ’ s parents that their son had been attacked and
killed out on the street. How could he tell them the truth ?
Thom drove along a Trafalgar Road darkened
by malfunctioning or defunct streetlights. Memories of his long friendship with
Nathan flashed in and out of his mind; a friendship that had been torn from him
by a force from hell that occupied the body of the only woman he’d ever loved.
He brought the car to a
halt by an old, rotting jetty on the Greenwich Peninsular, got out and swung
the boot open, losing his balance when he
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