"Smith, Guy N - Sabat 02 - The Blood Merchants" - читать интересную книгу автора (Smith Guy N)

CHAPTER ONE



THE GIRL glanced behind her, saw only the darkness that hid twin rows of half demolished terraced houses, strained her eyes until they hurt; certain now that she was being followed. She listened, heard only the pounding of her own heart, a roaring in her ears.

The footsteps behind her had stopped, like they had the last time, and the time before; delicate tip-tapping that might have been the echoes of her own hurrying feet, but she knew they weren't. She was breathing heavily, didn't think she had the strength to run any further, wanted to scream out: 'For God's sake, who are you? What do you want with me?'

She guessed who it was, knew only too well what he wanted. The sallow faced punk with the corpse like appearance who had singled her out, bopped with her at the disco, the flashing coloured lights reflecting his expression of lust, eyes that bored into her, undressed her so expertly that at one stage she had almost believed herself to be naked. I wanna fuck yah baby, I'm gonna fuck yah baby! Bloodless lips seemed to mime the words and when the lights went up for a few seconds she'd seen the bulge of an erection pulsing inside his tight fitting trousers as though it was trying to fight its way out to get at her. Once he'd come close, moved in on her, and touched her arm with fingers so cold that she'd cringed. And that face had creased into a humourless, lecherous smile.

Shanda had tried to get away from him, attempted to lose herself amid the forest of cavorting bodies on the dance floor. But he was always there, a hunter stalking his prey, moving cat-like with an eerie rhythm of his own that defied the beat.

Shanda had glanced about, mutely seeking help from the other dancers, but they didn't even notice her presence. 'Girls didn't ought to go to them discos alone!' Her mother's words echoed their warning, had Shanda mentally apologising, wanting to run from this dingy hall without stopping until she burst into the tiny hall of her parents' council semi. 'Girls 'adn't oughta walk 'ome in the dark, not in places like this. Wot wiv all these muggers and sex maniacs on the loose, it ain't safe.'

Shut up, mother. For Christ's sake, shut up! He was there again, body arched, swaying, increasing an imaginary tempo, an act of copulation that was escalating into a frenzy, never once taking his eyes off her. I'm gonna fuck yah,baby!

Shanda felt hysteria building up inside her, looked towards the dim neon exit sign. One moment of indecision, saw him coming closer, stabbing his thighs in a manner that could not be misinterpreted. And then she ran!

Out into the deserted street, brightly lit for the first hundred yards but then petering out because the inhabitants of those derelict houses on either side were long dead and didn't need to see any more. She crossed the junction into the opposite street, her heels clattering on the broken paving stones, stumbled once and twisted her ankle but she ignored the pain. He was coming after her, a black wraith flitting in her wake. You only heard him because he wanted you to ... because he was sure of his prey.

Shanda couldn't go any further. Her breath was like scalding water in her lungs, her injured ankle making her drag her foot, threatening to throw her to the ground at any second. Standing there waiting, suddenly wanting to get it over and done with, to let him have his way and then perhaps he would let her go.

Suddenly she saw him, a smirking white face that appeared to hover in the air, bodyless; a floating, grinning skull. She tried to tell herself that it was because he was dressed all in black and you couldn't see the rest of his body. But she didn't believe it. He was some sort of evil entity, a spook like the ones she'd scorned in the late night horror movies, but this time she wasn't laughing. She wanted to scream but no sound came from her stricken throat.

Those eyes, oh Jesus God, those eyes! Bloodshot orbs in deep sockets, boring into you so that he even got inside your mind and knew what you were thinking. I don't hate you, really I don't. . . and if you just want lo do that with me then that's fine by me. I don't mind, really I don't! Crying now.

He laughed, and this time she heard him; a sound that was hollow and mocking, seeming to hang in the air. She shuddered, closed her eyes briefly but some strange force jerked them back open and she saw that now he was closer, barely a foot away from her. She could smell his stale breath, and was somehow unable to withdraw her gaze from those searching eyes.

'Honey, you gotta beautiful body.'

She found herself nodding dumbly. Echoes of Mick, her last boyfriend's words, but these had a sinister undercurrent. Then he was coming at her, seeming to be airborne in slow motion, cold hands reaching out, pawing at her. She shrank away, cringed, thought she was screaming but she could not be sure because he had her by the throat in a suffocating, choking grip. She was falling, so slowly, landing so gently, only aware of his weight on top of her but all she could see was a shimmering white face through a blurred haze. She smelled his breath, wanted to vomit, but she couldn't because her throat was squashed. Oh God, do what you want and get it over, but don't kill me! Please don't kill me!

Trying not to anger him, spreading her legs wide, doing everything to show willing; but he didn't appear to notice. The kiss was vile, an open mouth that stank of sewage and worse, a tongue that thrust like a cold slimy reptile.

Then the pain, her whole body shuddering, her limbs flaying in agony. It was as though a huge needle had been injected into her neck, going deeper and deeper; her throat and mouth were filling up with thick warm liquid, stifling her screams, drowning her! And suddenly her attacker wasn't there anymore!

She struggled into a kneeling position, looking wildly about her but seeing only darkness that could have hidden anything and everything. No lusting, bodyless white face. Only herself, cramming fingers over a wound that went right into her jugular vein, trying to stem the spouting blood.

Crawling, her sheer terror a red haze before her eyes, blood splattering on the pavement and leaving a dark stream in her wake; weakening so that now she was dragging herself along, knowing that nobody was going to find her before she died. Amid her fear she kept asking herself one question over and over again - why hadn't he raped her, taken advantage of her helpless body! He'd been lusting for her in the disco and instead he'd just killed her.