Killing Kiss Page 10

  ‘They tell me you vomited blood, Mr Jeffries. Has this ever happened before?’

  ‘Leave me alone. My wife ...’

  ‘I know ... I’m very sorry for your loss but there’s nothing that can be done for the dead. My job is to take care of the living. I’m very concerned about your health ... Does this hurt?’

  He pressed my stomach and it was all I could do to stop myself from hitting out at him.

  ‘No. Please, just leave me. I can’t do this ...’

  Among the locked cabinets of medicines and portents I cried until the ship’s doctor thought I’d lost my reason. Amanda was gone. I believed I would never recover from this loss and here, to make matters worse, I found myself under the careful scrutiny of a clever and wise man.

  ‘There’s a chaplain on board. I’m sure he’ll have some words of comfort for you. Let me bring him in,’ the doctor suggested after failing to calm me.

  ‘No! No chaplains or priests. I’m ... I don’t believe ...’

  The doctor was shocked but I had the impression that this man of science was feigning piety.

  ‘Mr Jeffries ... Gavriel ... let me give you something to calm you. You can’t go on like this. I’m sure your wife ...’

  ‘Don’t ... You didn’t know her ... Let me be.’

  I pushed my way out of the sickbay and returned to my room to ensure that all evidence of Amanda’s real death was eradicated. The first mate had aided me immensely by ordering the deck swilled soon after I was taken below. This way at least no one was sure how much blood had swamped the polished wood, despite speculation.

  After breathing in the fresh air the smell in my room was nauseating. The sickly-sweet smell of rot had soaked into the walls, the furnishings, all of her clothes, even though most were still in her trunks untouched. I pulled off the sheets, gathered the clothes and nightdresses she’d worn - they reeked of the grave - and stuffed them into the used pillow cases. I pulled the mattress off and left the bed to air. The mattress held the faint smell of decay, and despite the large porthole there was insufficient air circulating in the room so I pulled it closer to the window, squeezing it into the narrow floor space.

  Once this was done, I took the pillow cases and under cover of dark, carefully destroyed the evidence by tossing it out into the sea.

  I returned to the cabin, to find a note pushed under the door from the Doctor, begging me to let him help me. I crumpled the paper and tossed it into the waste paper basket. I would have to make my escape soon. The net was closing and I couldn’t risk raising yet more suspicion by flying off the ship and simply disappearing, though it was tempting.

  My desperation drove me in and out of sanity while I remade the bed and straightened the room. The smell was diminishing, or appeared to be, perhaps I was merely getting used to it again? I straightened and tidied until there was nothing more I could do to distract myself and the thought of Amanda’s death returned once more to torture me.

  I lay on the bed ignoring the chatter of the couples in the rooms around me and the intermittent knocking of different crew members who came to check on my health.

  ‘Go away, damn you! Can’t you leave a man to his grief?’ I snapped finally.

  ‘Mr Jeffries, it’s the captain here. I just thought I’d let you know. There will be a full investigation by the relevant authorities. I want to assure you that if there is any blame to be found, we won’t shy away from our responsibilities.’

  I ignored him and eventually I heard him leave, traipsing heavily along the corridor, his large feet scraping on the navy patterned carpet.

  I managed to avoid the captain, Doctor and crew until we docked in Alexandria the next evening. I left my cabin, walking up on deck in plain sight of passengers, who gossiped and looked away embarrassed as they saw me. And then I left the ship for good. Leaving behind Amanda’s fine new trousseau of expensive clothes and jewellery, I only took the documents that gave me my next identity, a few items of my clothing and my money. I couldn’t bear to take anything of Amanda’s except the gold locket that held a lock of her black hair.

  As I walked down the gangway I heard the first mate call my name and I saw him fighting his way through the crowd of passengers as he tried to catch up with me.

  ‘Mr Jeffries!’

  I quickly lost myself in the crowd. I couldn’t allow any delay, I had to move on. I shrugged my way through the bustle of passengers emerging on the dock and with each step I grew darker and colder inside and I vowed never again to feel so deeply and passionately for another mortal. My sanity couldn’t survive another loss of this enormity. The gods had deigned to curse me infertile and I would never have the mate that I so truly desired.

  From that day it became a diversion, a hunt; pleasures and pains mingled into one never ending cycle; the game.

  As the lights go up and the curtain comes down for the final time, Carolyn applauds with exaggerated zeal, casting a sideways glance to me and I realise her enthusiasm is for my benefit. I smooth out my face as she turns to me. I am as always a master at hiding my true feelings, but the doubt in her eyes makes me wonder, how far did I allow the facade to slip? She stands, smoothing out her skirt and I take her arm leading her out as she chatters about the performance.

  ‘This program is excellent. It explains it all so well.’

  I think this may be a reproach because I have barely talked to her all evening. I am unusually subdued. Things are not going how I wish. Her childish delight grates on my nerves and my jaw tightens with the strain of appearing passive. I realise then that she is nothing to me anymore. Not even a meal. I have fooled myself into believing I could develop feelings for her. And although I do feel some fondness for her I know it is not love and never has been. There have been too many anomalies and I don’t really know where to take things. Compared with Amanda, Carolyn seems sadly lacking, yet wretchedly the same. I must review things. Perhaps it’s time to move on. In the words of the bard ‘the sport is at its best.’

  Not for the first time I build a wall around my heart. Resolve replaces the melancholy and the constant babble of Carolyn fails to pull me free of this new found depression; I have lost my way. I want nothing more than to escape from the claustrophobic world of mortals. But then, maybe tomorrow I will feel better and the will to carry on, the excitement of the game will brush away the misery of this day. Maybe tomorrow I will again drive aside the memories that threaten to consume me and finish this hunt sooner rather than later. Maybe tomorrow the lust will take control and my depression will be swept away with the gushing of Carolyn’s blood.

  Chapter 13

  The long chocolate suede coat parts to reveal the dark brown cardigan that is open slightly at the throat and a multi-coloured patchwork suede skirt. I take in the details in one glance because I’m trying not to look at her. Trying not to think about sex, because it’s all I can concentrate on when Lilly’s in my line of vision. The coat makes her look taller and longer. It belies, yet adds to, her curves.

  As usual the classroom is laid out in a semi-circle for an informal seminar. Lilly sits opposite me and out of politeness I nod but look away again immediately. I feel Carolyn smile across at her. They are friends now; Carolyn has me and doesn’t doubt my devotion. Out of the corner of my eye I watch her remove a beige coloured scarf that matches her outfit. Lilly never tries to blend in with the others; she is way too sophisticated for that and as a result she is much too well dressed to be taken as an ordinary student.

  The white board pen squeals as Professor David Francis writes. My attention is once more drawn to him, in his grey baggy suit that matches the colour of his thick moustache. Facial hair is so dated.

  I look around trying to ignore the flash of thought I’d received, denying to myself that it came from directly across from me and it had been so similar to my own thoughts I was not too sure if I had just imagined
it.

  ‘Needless to say, Freud would have a field day with the work of Anne Rice. Her obsession with immortality could be attributed the death of her first child or her fear of her own mortality. As for the homo-erotic element ...’

  Francis’ eyes sweep the room, landing on Lilly’s golden blonde head. Experience has made me an excellent observer and I note the swift flick of his gaze as it lands on her full chest. I receive a flash of irritation as Lilly also notices the Professor’s attention. The beam of her eyes sweeps the room like a search light or the intensity of an interrogation lamp; I can’t help looking at her even though her luminosity threatens to burn my vision. Her hand goes to her throat and she looks terrified. The colour drains from her cheeks; she is holding a book, half-open in her trembling hand - Dracula.

  Sitting with her head between her knees is undignified, but I can’t help but react to the nausea she is feeling. After the stray thought of sickness had entered my head I block her feelings. I don’t dare check on her. I still have not severed the connections we made during our encounter and I am afraid to feel her emotion.

  ‘I need some air. That’s all,’ she protests.

  I help her to her feet and lead her outside and down the steps to the front of the building.

  ‘I’ll go and get some water from the refec,’ Carolyn offers.

  ‘Thanks.’ Lilly nods, looking green.

  I sit her down on the oak bench underneath the vast tree that smothers the small lawn.

  ‘What was wrong in there?’

  The shocked pale expression leaves her face immediately and it is as though she has been wearing a mask.

  ‘Nothing. Francis was boring my arse off. Does he think we don’t know all that Freudian shit? He makes me want to puke.’

  ‘You mean ... you were faking?’

  ‘Yes. Worked didn’t it? I took drama in college. I was good too.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Why was I good?’

  ‘You know what I mean.’ She’s so damn irritating.

  ‘I wanted to see what you’d do. You didn’t disappoint me, Jay.’

  ‘I’m ... speechless.’

  ‘Then don’t talk. Here comes your girlfriend.’

  The mask is back in place and the sickly expression returns as Lilly gratefully takes the water from Carolyn’s outstretched hand. Extraordinary!

  ‘Thanks. You’re both such good friends.’

  ‘Jay. You go back in. I’ll look after Lilly now,’ Carolyn suggests.

  ‘No. It’s fine. I’ll be fine. I’ve just been a bit under the weather lately. You two go back in.’

  ‘I suspect you need more vitamins,’ I say, taking Carolyn’s hand. ‘If you’re sure you’re okay, we’ll get some notes for you?’

  I pull Carolyn away, though she is reluctant. Frowning over my shoulder I see Lilly, smiling her sweetest smile - and I can’t decide whether I want to kiss her or kill her. What a dilemma.

  We return to the seminar and Lilly soon follows. The atmosphere in the room cools when she enters. My eyes follow her secretly. I enjoy the little pout of her red coloured lips.

  ‘You’ve got to look after yourself.’ Francis leans over her.

  He wants to get a peek down the opening of her top and the gleam in his eyes confirms that he reaches his objective. The pen in my hand snaps sharply in two. Francis looks over at me. Then he returns to his desk, quickly picking up a spare pen.

  ‘Try this,’ he offers. ‘Those cheap biros are so flimsy.’

  ‘Thanks.’ I visualise ramming the nib into his groin.

  Carolyn nudges me, a coy smile lighting her face.

  ‘It was great last night.’ Where’re you taking me later?

  Her motives are more obvious and her punishment more deserving than any I’ve encountered and it is my turn to feel sick. I am now more certain than ever that Steve was nothing more than a ‘stop gap’. I am the ‘something better’ that has come along. Carolyn is not a woman of her time; she is like all women through time. They constantly look for a beneficial union. However Lilly ... She is ...

  Lilly crosses her legs; I blink but her lovely calves have me. I bow my head in Carolyn’s direction but can’t take my eyes from Lilly’s lovely limbs opposite and just when I manage to look away, I hear a short snip as a pen drops to the floor and bounces. Lilly bends down under the desk, scoops up the pen and winks at me. Francis barely looks up. Carolyn is concentrating on the extract we are supposed to be reading. No one but me notices - that Lilly is playing with me.

  Chapter 14

  It’s so strange. Jay would say ‘a weird compulsion’ has taken hold of me. I walk through the mist, and the wavering white smoke parts before me like sheer voile opening either side of a window. But the scene is not anything as ordinary as a lovely green, flower filled garden.

  I’m cold - in only a tee-shirt and pyjama bottoms. A strange hollowness suffocates my spirit and darkness presses in around the edges. I’m in a back alley. I think it’s one of the streets behind campus but I’m not sure. Shadows skulk behind the large black and brown bins. I can distinguish the colour of each as my eyes adjust to the night - creepy! At the end of the alley, I can see the brightness of the street. All I have to do is walk to the end and turn, back to the safety of the halls.

  What am I doing out here?

  I haven’t slept much the last few nights. I’ve been suffering from some crazy kind of insomnia that has made me hyper rather than tired. Still, I’m wide awake. It feels as if I will never need to sleep again. I think - it’s something to do with Jay but I don’t know why. Even so, he doesn’t see anything but Carolyn. Why am I even thinking of him? Rich guys are a waste of a girl’s IQ.

  The air smells of rotten fruit and vegetables, which I think is coming from the bin that’s tipped over; its contents are all over the cobbles. This place reeks. What brought me out here in the middle of the night? I’m looking ...

  Looking out from the rooftops I see Lilly swaying dazed in the middle of the deserted back street. I stand up on the tiles. She moves slowly through the dark. She looks like a vertigo sufferer, her hands outstretched as though to stop herself from falling.

  What is she doing out on such a cold night?

  I walk stealthily along the roof following her path above the dark alley. Her movements are unnatural. Is she sleepwalking?

  I’m walking. Yes. That’s it. I need some air. I couldn’t breathe in that stuffy room anymore ...

  I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I’m with Carolyn - yet here I watch Lilly. I cannot pretend that night meant nothing, even if she can. She is Caviar and Bollinger; strawberries and cream at Wimbledon. I can’t remember fully what happened the other night. Was it something to do with the E? Anyway what difference does it make? It is time to move on. Why is she ... ?

  Why am I ... ?

  ... here?

  ... here?

  I smell blood. Brackish, hot and fresh.

  What’s that smell? It’s the most ...deliciously ...attractive ... Like the aroma of fresh coffee or chocolate chip cookies straight from the oven.

  The air swells with the aura of new death. I see ...

  I close my eyes. I can’t see but my sense of smell has taken over. That perfume is important to me and I don’t know why. It’s ... food! I’m hungry.

  The smell doesn’t affect me. I’m not hungry - things certainly have changed. What is this? I can see something ... behind the bin. My god! Lilly hasn’t seen him and she’s walking ...

  I walk towards the brown bin on the left hand side of the alley. I’m certain now this is where it’s coming from.

  ‘Lilly.’

  I say her name twice before she stops walking. She’s almost there when he decides to reveal himself. The stench of rotted liver and damaged organs
mingles with the blood of the girl lying dead behind the bins. The tang of crack flavours the sweat that seeps from his forehead. He’s out of his mind. Long term drug abuse has frazzled his brain. His trousers are soiled; they smell of stale faeces, ground-in gutter filth and fresh blood. He grins at Lilly but the smile does not reach his eyes, because they are dancing to their own tune. Spittle drips down his chin and onto his already grey and mucky tee-shirt. He leers at her. I’ve seen this look before.

  ‘Lilly. Step back slowly. Don’t make any sudden moves.’

  I try to get closer without spooking him but his hand comes up and I see the weapon he used on his victim. It is a broken beer bottle. Blood and gore from her torn stomach drip from the sharp edges of the glass. He shuffles forward, closing in on my girl and I’m suddenly afraid for her.

  ‘Lilly!’

  She jumps, coming out of her trance. I circle around, flanking him, trying to get between them. I can see her face, and she’s watching the bottle every bit as intensely as I am, except it is the blood that holds her attention; her eyes follow a red droplet as it falls to the ground and lands on the junkie’s mud splattered trainer. I am distracted by the red fluid and foolishly don’t anticipate his movement. He rushes forward, the bottle held out ready to tear upwards through her delicate flesh. I throw myself in without thinking, my hand swats at his wrist but he falls back shocked and the glass slices through my palm. I wince, pulling back my hand, though more from shock than real pain because within a second it is little more than a scratch. Even so, my blood mingles with the blood of the dead girl and dribbles down the rim of the bottle.