Faerie (6 page)

This all done, she felt so much better, still afraid, still shaking a little, still seeing the terrible vision of that black snake striking at her, those dreadful green eyes burning bright in the darkness, but able to cope with it.

Chapter Five.

It was midnight before Lily finally settled down for the night to sleep. She cut off her plait close to her head, just above the clump of superglued hair, not even bothering to try and untangle it and shoved it into the dustbin bag with the bit of tarpaulin. She could sneak it into the rubbish tomorrow. She wore a long-sleeved cardigan over her floor length nightie, and long socks, so that if she accidentally touched the chain, it would stop it hurting to much.  Just before she settled down, she wedged the straight-backed, wooden chair under the door handle to keep out unwanted human visitors. Claire wouldn’t let her put a bolt on the door, but she couldn’t really stop her using the chair.

She settled down for the night in her nest of rusty chain, certain now that she would be safe.

“I told you that I wouldn’t let you stop me,” she said to the air. “I’m not afraid of you any more. I’m never going to be afraid of you again.”

Lily began to doze fitfully, too many thoughts tossing around in her head like flotsam on the sea. She finally fell asleep to these tumbling thoughts and she dreamt of Connor. She was flying high above the clouds with him, touching the stars, and he could speak to her, although she couldn’t make out what he was saying. She thought that if she practiced and tried hard enough, she might just be able to do it eventually. She knew, just knew that they were meant to be together – that somehow this was all being engineered by a higher power. The moment she had first laid eyes on him she had known that they were meant to be. It wasn’t love at first sight exactly, because she didn’t feel any kind of sexual attraction to him – it really felt more like filial love, the love of a sister for a brother, but whatever the flavour, it did feel remarkably like love. Was that even possible? Of course it was, because she was feeling such overwhelming sensations of belonging with him that it couldn’t be denied. And she knew that he felt the same. Whatever was binding them together was stronger than any romantic notion of love.

The dream was wonderful – they were walking through the golden halls of Elphame, the Seelie Summer Court, bright with sunshine, even when there was no sun, the smell of ripe fruit and flowers heavy on the air, blossom and apples both on the tree together, bright foliage and the sound of birds bringing the place to life. They walked hand in hand, just feeling the other there, exchanging smiles and whispered words that she couldn’t quite hear or understand. This was the closest she’d got to happiness since Maggie had died.

Then she felt the weight on the bed, and the nightmare began.

It was always the same, the way it started – the feeling of pressure, the helplessness, total paralysis that was more terrifying than anyone could imagine. Her first thoughts were of disbelief, because this couldn’t be happening. The chain had defeated the shadow snake, it had driven it away, the creature couldn’t get past her magical barrier. And yet she could feel it coming closer, ever closer.

She struggled, just as she always struggled, uselessly, to open her eyes. She heard the sound of chains moving and then the sound of them slithering over the side of the bed and onto the floor. This couldn’t be happening, just couldn’t. There were no tinkling bells, just the sound of someone, something, breathing in the dark: a terrible inhuman sound, that made her bladder tighten. She made a mewling noise, trying to scream, but her lips were clamped tight shut, and all she could do was make sounds in her throat that had no way of escaping. She prayed, prayed so hard, but the figure began moving up the bed, a slow relentless crawl towards her. And then he was between her pinned legs, ice hands on her thighs, caressing them, sliding over her sweat damp flesh. And her nightly struggle began in earnest. She fought with every fibre of her being, called on every reserve of strength and courage to free herself, but her unresponsive muscles taunted her, refusing to obey her.

Fingers crept up between her legs, inching upwards, exploring the most intimate part of her. They pushed up into her, a brutal probing that brought sharp nips of pain as nails bit into her flesh. She began to weep, silent tears through closed eyelids, trying so hard to break free, but every time she moved those relentless fingernails tore into her, breaking skin. She was so exhausted from her struggles, that she couldn’t fight any more, just couldn’t. She felt hands over her breasts, the sharpness of claws, that caused her bright pain as they broke skin, and she felt the cool trickle of blood as it slid down her sides to pool beneath her. The pain should have woken her, but it didn’t; her fear should have woken her, but it didn’t.

She felt the figure hovering over her and something other than fingers between her legs, a hardness that pushed against her opening, an iron rod pressing against her, demanding entry; she could feel the head resting just inside, just the tip, trapped inside her and she tried to spit it out, to get it away from her, but still she could feel it there, a battering ram ready to smash down her defences. With one savage thrust it forced up into her; there was a sudden burst of pain and she made a sound from deep in her throat, a noise that should have been a scream if it had found a way to escape. She pushed her head back into the pillow, trying to wriggle free, trying to break that iron grip on her, trying to open her eyes, as the invader between her legs moved against her, a rhythmic pounding, on and on, until the world swam around her and she drowned in the darkness.

With one final, determined effort, she snapped open her eyes, and saw what was between her legs. The same dark creature that she had seen before, black as obsidian, with yellow-green eyes that burnt out of that terrible face. He gave a malevolent grin, pointed canine teeth, flashing bright in the moonlight. With one final thrust he orgasmed, making a dreadful sound that was a cross between a screech and a groan, spilling dark seed into her, a pulsing, throbbing beat that seemed to go on forever. Then it was gone, just gone, in a streak of black smoke, through the open window.

Lily lay on the bed, curled up in a foetus ball, sobbing.

She had no idea how long she had lain there like that, just curled up in a ball, trembling and sobbing, but she finally staggered down to the bathroom, too numb to even consider the danger of walking back through that darkness, of passing through those shadows to get to the bright sanctuary of the bathroom. She just needed to get clean. What else could they do to her? She threw up in the loo, then scrubbed between her legs, trying to wash away that creature’s filth. Was there any? She had no idea what had just happened, not really, how much of that had been real? She went back to her room, turned on the light and pulled back the covers. There were two patches of blood on the bed, one fairly large puddle at the side where the creature’s nails had punctured her breast, and another smaller patch of blood further down – her lost virginity. That was real enough. She looked down at her breast, and there were deep puncture marks around the globe of her left breast, dried blood caked around the crescent moons.

She knelt on the floor with her arms wrapped around her, hugging herself and rocking backwards and forwards, too terrified to think or feel anything but that darkness. There on the floor were the chains and the bells, useless wards against whatever that creature was. How could she have been so stupid as to think that they could protect her? It had all just been a game, a cruel trick of theirs to make her believe that she could keep herself safe.

And it might come back tonight.

She suddenly had a flash of an image in her head, and then frame by frame the images seemed to speed up to form one continuous movement. She saw Connor, alone in his room, dozing peacefully, suddenly woken by some night terror. He leapt up from the bed and started raging, shouting out his fear and frustration that he couldn’t get out of his room, couldn’t come to save her. He hammered on the door, for what seemed like hours, finally collapsing in tears. And she knew that he had seen and felt everything, had witnessed every moment of Lily’s shame. He lay in a crumpled broken heap in the middle of the floor, just as she did.

She sat for the rest of the night, staring out of the window, into the darkness, watching in case they returned, but there was no sign of them. Why did they need to bother? They had already done their worst. She had been brutally violated and she could tell no-one about it; there was no rape counsellor she could go to, no kind words from a loving relative, no therapy – nothing. No-one would believe her. They would put it down to sleep paralysis, interrupted REM sleep, anxiety disorders, sleep apnea – the usual fall back for those experiencing these night visits by the Shadow People. But she had been raped, brutally and cruelly raped, and there was nothing she could do to stop them coming back again and again. Was that their aim? To make her life so unbearable that she would rather die than face it again? She was already almost at that point. She couldn’t go through that again, she couldn’t.

She began to cry again.

The house still lay in quietness, everyone apart from Lily still sound asleep. Lily stripped off the soiled bed linen and went down to the utility room, putting the sheets on the hottest wash she could, hoping that the utility room was far enough away from the rest of the house to stop anyone from hearing the machine washing away her shame. She’d been half tempted to throw the sheets away altogether, but that would have begged questions – she’d be gone soon anyway and would never have to use them again.  She went back upstairs and took another shower, the third since last night, then dragged herself back down to breakfast, desperately tired and miserable. Liam ran up to her and hugged her legs ferociously as if somehow he sensed that something was wrong. She stroked his curly blond head and smiled down at him.

“Morning, sunbeam,” she said, hoisting him up and giving him a proper hug. He wrapped his arms around her neck and gave her a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

Claire slapped the cereal box onto the breakfast table, and went to the fridge to get out the massive plastic bottle of milk, stomping it down on the table beside the box. Sarah had crept up to the table, a silent little wraith, and sat down, her shoulders hunched, her always pale face just a little paler than usual.

“Are you all right, sweetie?” Lily asked, suspecting that the poor little mite must have had another dream and definitely had wet the bed. She would usually creep up to Lily and whisper in her ear, hoping that Lily could sneak up and change the bed before Claire found out, and Lily always did. There was no reason Claire should find out because Lily did all of the washing anyway.

“I had a accident,” she whispered. Lily put her arm around her shoulder and gave her a hug. Last night Lily had very nearly had an accident herself.

Claire heard.

“Oh, not again,” Claire said, “as if I haven’t got enough to do. You’ll have to deal with it Lily, I haven’t got time.”

Lily very nearly said, ‘What's new?’ but kept her mouth shut because she knew that Claire would only take it out on the kids.

“It’s all right sweetheart. Bad dream, ay?” Sarah nodded, and pressed her face into Lily’s waist.  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll sort it out. You get on with your breakfast.”

Sarah managed to pour the cereal, but couldn’t even lift the four litre bottle of milk, let alone pour it. Lily wrestled with the lid and poured it for her, casting a very unpleasant look in Claire’s direction. Then she went upstairs to change the sheets, wiping down the rubber mattress. It brought home to her just how hard life was going to be for the two little ones once she was gone. Perhaps if she got a job and could pay Claire board and lodging she’d let her move back here... but that couldn’t happen now, could it? She had Connor to consider.

“Have you got a job lined up yet?” Claire asked, lighting up a cigarette and dragging on it.

“No, I was waiting for my A level results. They should be here quite soon, but I am looking around. I thought I could go fruit picking for the summer. I’ve found some places that are taking on and I can start as soon as the fruit’s ready. It will tide me over for a bit while I look for something else. I’d like to work on a farm permanently if I could.”

The thought of all that fresh air and chance to be outside was like the promise of six weeks’ holiday in paradise to her.

“I wouldn’t pin my hopes on that,” Claire said, with barely concealed satisfaction. “I heard in the village that a lot of the orchards around here have lost most of their crops – some sort of blight, the fruit is all rotting on the trees. They reckon that apples and pears are going to be twice the price they usually are. I don’t think they’ll be taking on any pickers.”

“That’s really awful,” Lily said. “I feel so sorry for the farmers, not to mention the thought of all the poor creatures that rely on the fruit trees to survive.”

Lily hadn’t heard anything about it, but then she had been a bit preoccupied lately. Still it was a blow – she’d pinned her hopes on a few weeks picking to get enough cash to tide her over until she got a proper job. Worse, she daren’t think what damage it would do to the ecology of the area.

“You’re a right little tree hugger you are,” Claire said, with impressive disdain. “I sometimes think you like trees and plants more than you do people.”

Her gleeful malice made Lily’s skin prickle.

“I do. Trees don’t hurt you,” Lily replied, not trying to conceal her annoyance.

“Unless they fall on you,” put in Kieran, pushing his chair back from the table and balancing precariously on the back two legs. “Might improve your looks.”