Kiera
I landed on my arse with a thump. Potter hit the ground just feet from me. The rucksacks I'd been holding were next to me. The sky looked like it was on fire, as a huge cloud of smoke and flame belched up into the night. Even though I was now twenty feet away or more in a nearby field, I could feel the heat of the burning car against my skin.
Isidor and Kayla stumbled towards us, Sam hanging limp between them. The sound of approaching police cars was almost deafening, barely drowned out by the booming thunder and crackles of lightning above us. I scrambled to my feet, my clothes, hands, and face spattered with mud. The ground was boggy, and was like walking in quicksand, making each step that I took sluggish, as if I were drunk. Potter sat in the field, and I glanced back to see him pop a cigarette between his lips and light it. He looked as if he were relaxing at some picnic.
I reached Isidor and Kayla as they struggled across the field with Sam. "Here, let me help you," I said, taking hold of him.
"Help me get him onto my shoulder," Isidor asked.
Together, Kayla and I hoisted Sam over Isidor's shoulder. Sam's arms were so long, that they hung down the length of Isidor's back, almost brushing against the muddy field. I looked at Isidor as he lumbered forward, his ear piercing twinkling in the night. His black hair hung over his eyes, and the tattoos that covered his neck were lost to the shadows. For the first time, Isidor looked older than eighteen. That boyish look was fading from his face, and I could see that he was turning into a man. But Isidor didn't look happy. I don't mean that any of us were overjoyed about the new world that we found ourselves in, but he looked troubled, as if he had something on his mind that he couldn't bring himself to talk about. I wanted to chat with him, ask what was wrong, but now wasn't the time - but when was the best time?
From the other side of the stone wall that circled the field I could hear the sound of the police cars screaming to a halt. Doors swung open and then were slammed shut. The faint sound of garbled radio messages hissed over the noise of the rolling thunder.
"They're going to start searching the area," Kayla whispered, her eyes wide with fright.
"How do you know?" I whispered back.
"Heard one of those cops talking into his radio," she said. "They were asking for Berserkers to be brought in to help track us."
"Berserkers?" I breathed, knowing that I'd heard that name before.
"Remember, I found out about them on the Internet," Isidor reminded me. "They're the wolves that don't match properly with humans. They go so crazy that they either get shot or locked up. They're vicious killers."
I glanced at Sam as he dangled over Isidor's shoulder. Wolves that didn't match well with their human host, I thought to myself, then pushed the thought from my mind. Then, spying Potter still sitting on his arse and enjoying his cigarette, I shouted, "Are you coming, or what?"
"Where?" he said. "You know, I've been thinking, perhaps we should stay and fight, instead of all this sneaking about?"
"They're sending Berserkers after us," I snapped, as I threw one of the rucksacks over my shoulder and the other two at him. "You stay and fight if you want to."
I'd never seen Potter look scared of anything before, but hearing me mention the word Berserkers, he flicked his cigarette away, snatched up the rucksacks and jumped to his feet. "This way," he ordered, and started off across the field.
We had walked for half an hour perhaps, when we found ourselves in a deep valley. The field had given way to a narrow path that weaved its way between two hills. The ground had become rocky, and slabs of black granite jutted through the earth. The wind still roared around us, and every so often, loose lumps of rock would break free in the wind and clatter down the hillside towards us. The sky was covered in a thick layer of cloud, which looked knotted and swollen. Lightning flashed deep within it, turning the night sky mauve then blue. Before entering the valley, I glanced back one last time in the direction that we had come from and could just make out the orange glow and a spiral of smoke coming from the car that Potter had torched. I faced front again, Potter striding ahead out front, Kayla and Isidor walking silently together as Sam hung over Isidor's shoulder.
Berserkers I feared, and hurried after the others.
We walked in silence, all of us. It was miserable. The storm blew so hard now, that for most of the journey, we walked, hunched forward, our bodies battered by the wind and driving rain. Isidor stumbled on, and twice Potter went to him and asked to take Sam. But twice, Isidor just silently shook his head and trudged forward. It was like Isidor had something to prove, but was it to us or himself, I wondered.
After two hours or more of walking, the valley opened out in to a wide, flat area. It was barren and bleak-looking. The ground was flat and covered in wild grass, which looked almost silver in the dark. Ancient trees stood at irregular intervals, and looked twisted and bent out of shape. The knotted branches were leafless, and stooped over like the elderly. Wales could be cold at the best of times, but this was ridiculous. I couldn't ever remember feeling so wet through and cold. I just wanted to lie down. The Fountain of Souls was hundreds of miles away, and I had no idea of how we would get there. We needed rest more than anything, and a chance to think of a plan.
Then, when I was on the verge of giving up and contemplating Potter's idea of standing and fighting instead of going on the run, he called out to me.
"Hey, take a look at this," he said, waving us towards him with his hand.
We made our way over the uneven ground and joined him. Through the overgrown grass, I could just make out a set of railway tracks. It looked rusty and worn; the wooden sleepers fixed between them were covered in moss. It looked as if a train hadn't passed through here in years.
"So?" Kayla asked sullenly, and I could sense that the storm and the cold had gotten to her, too.
"I know it doesn't look as if it's been used in ages," Potter started to explain, "but it could lead us to a set of tracks that are in use. There might be goods trains. We could maybe hide on board and get out of here. We could be miles away in just hours."
"We could get some rest," I said hopefully.
"And get out of this rain," Kayla muttered.
"Let's just get going," Isidor spoke up, repositioning Sam onto his other shoulder. The boy looked asleep, as Isidor supported him across his back.
"What have we got to lose?" Potter shrugged, and set off along the tracks.
In single file we followed him, walking between the running rails. The tracks weaved across the desolate moorland, without a sign of any trains, or even life for that matter. It felt as if we were the only creatures alive. But I knew that was not true. There would be a whole army of Skin-walkers searching for us already. We had walked for another hour or two, and I wondered how late it was. It must have been at least two in the morning by now. Then, in the distance, I could see a small squat-shaped building. I peered through the darkness at it, but couldn't tell if it was a house or some other type of building. I pointed out the structure to Potter and with caution, we made our way towards it.
As we grew closer, I could see that it was a small railway station and the tracks were winding towards it. About a quarter of a mile from the station, we reached a set of points in the track. They were overgrown with weeds and wildflowers. But Potter had been right; there was a set of gleaming silver tracks leading from the points. By the look of it, the other set of tracks appeared to be regularly used by passing trains.
As if knowing what I was thinking, Potter winked at me and said, "See, tiger, I was right." Then, he was gone, heading down the tracks towards the station.
There was a single platform, and we climbed up onto it. Reaching up, Isidor passed Sam into Kayla's arms so he could climb onto the platform. I could see two wooden benches and a wooden door which led into what looked like a small waiting room. At one end of the platform there was a sign erected to a tall wooden post. The sign swung back and forth in the wind on a pair of rusty hinges. The Great Western Railway, the sign read.
The station was constructed of grey brick and a wooden canopy hung overhead, which offered some protection from the bitterly cold wind and rain. Potter pushed against the waiting room door, it swung open and we followed him inside. I'd never seen such an ancient-looking waiting room in my life. It looked like it hadn't been modernised since The Second World War. Set in the wall by the door was a tiny kiosk which had been constructed from wood. Behind this, there was a chair and decrepit-looking ticket machine and cash register. The ticket office was still in use, as it was free from dust, and several pencils had been neatly lined in a row on the other side of the counter by whoever worked here.
The floor of the waiting room was made of stone, and had been swept clean. Beside the ticket office were several wooden levers, which I guessed worked the points that we had come across further down the tracks. These huge levers did look unused, and above them, written on a dog-eared piece of paper, were two words that had long since faded in the sunlight, which must have streamed through the windows during the summer months. But even though the two words were just a washed out grey, I could just about read them. Written above one set of levers was the word PULL. Above the other set, PUSH.
I turned away and could see three long benches set against the walls of the waiting room; but unlike the seats on the platform, these were cushioned in green leather. There was another door, and I watched Potter open it and disappear. Isidor and Kayla laid Sam on one of the seats. Kayla sat beside him. She looked down and gently brushed the fur that covered his cheeks.
"How's he doing?" I asked her.
"I think the fever might be easing a bit," she said, her eyes full of hope.
"You like him, don't you?" I asked, going over to her.
"He's my friend," she smiled, not taking her eyes off him. "We stuck together at Ravenwood School. "Sam's only like this because he tried to help me."
"Let's hope that fever breaks then," I said thoughtfully. "But just be careful, okay?"
"Careful of what?" she asked, and this time she did look at me.
Thinking of the Berserkers, but not wanting to scare her, I said, "Just be careful. We don't know what's wrong with Sam."
Not wanting to get into a debate with her, I was glad when Potter stepped back into the waiting room and said, "There's a small kitchen back here. There isn't much, but there's some bread and a pot of coffee that we could heat up."
"It's not coffee I want," Kayla said, glancing at the bag I was carrying.
"Suit yourselves," Potter shrugged, crossing the waiting room and going to the door. "Before we settle down, I'm going to make sure that there's no one else around." Then, he was gone, stepping back out onto the platform and into the storm.
Without saying a word, I handed my rucksack to Kayla. Unhesitatingly, she unfastened it and removed three tubes of Lot 13. Kayla handed one to Isidor and offered me the other.
"No thanks," I said.
"Okay," Kayla sighed. She unscrewed the remaining bottle, tilted back her head, and poured the thick pink liquid into her mouth.
With my stomach beginning to cramp for the red stuff, I went after Potter. The platform was deserted. I made my way along it, when suddenly I was grabbed and dragged through a door set into the wall halfway up the platform. I found myself in a bathroom. There was no lighting, but I could see him clearly enough in the dark. Potter locked the door behind me, and as if knowing why I had gone in search of him, he rolled down the collar of his coat and turned his neck towards me. Without saying anything, I darted across the bathroom and sank my teeth into his neck. Blood washed into my mouth, and it tasted coppery and sweet. It felt hot as it gushed over my tongue and down my throat. As his blood hit the pit of my stomach, the cramps eased. Even so, I kept drinking from him. Potter held me in his arms, and I felt him shudder against me.
Slowly, he eased me off him but I didn't want to stop, not just yet, and I tried to bite his neck again. The cramps inside me became nothing more than a series of butterflies, and I knew that it was more than just his blood that I now wanted. Potter entwined his fingers in my hair and pulled my face towards his. I only had to look into his black eyes to see that by sharing his blood with me, he now wanted his fill. Roughly, he pressed his lips against my mouth, and I could feel his tongue wrap itself around mine. With his free hand, he started to pull my coat from me. I felt it slide down my back and onto the floor. He then ran his fingers up the length of my neck. Finding a vein pulsating just beneath the surface of my skin, he plunged his fangs into it. At once I felt dizzy and lightheaded as my blood pumped into his mouth. How long he drank from me, I do not know; but when I felt so dizzy that I was sure I was going to faint, Potter took his mouth from my neck.
Then, kissing my mouth again, he pushed me against the sink where he put his hand up my top and ran them across my breasts. With my head spinning and feeling dizzy, I loosened the buckle that held up his trousers and worked them down. Removing his hands from beneath my top, he hurriedly yanked my jeans down over my hips and turned me away from him.
"You want this, don't you?" He breathed down my neck.
"You know I need you," I pleaded. Pressing the flats of my hands against the mirror, Potter pushed himself into me. Our lovemaking was quick, almost frenzied, the act of drinking one another's blood turning us both on. I didn't understand why or how, but just like in the summerhouse, it was an act so intense and intimate, that it made my whole body ache for him. The climax of our lovemaking was like a wave of unbearable pleasure. Turning me around to face him again, Potter pressed his lips over mine, and I felt his rough stubble prickle my skin like needlepoints. Our kissing was as passionate as was our lovemaking again, and still I felt unsatisfied. With a shove of my claws, I pushed him away from me. He crashed into the wall, shattering the mirror fixed to it.
Taking hold of him, I pushed him down onto the floor. Kicking my jeans free, I lowered myself onto him and as I did, I covered his chest with kisses. His skin felt cold and tight, his chest firm. Moving my hips back and forth on him, he closed his eyes, as my hair dangled just inches from his face. Losing his fingers in it, he pulled my face towards his, but instead of kissing my lips, he covered my breasts with his mouth. He freed one of his hands from my hair and traced his claws down the small of my back. His touch was light, but painful, and I arched my back and shuddered. Then, forcing me onto my back and pinning my wrists to the floor, Potter made love to me again. But this time, it was slower, each movement more deliberate and precise than the last. I wrapped my legs around his back and pulled him deeper into me. At that moment, nothing else seemed to matter; it was like nothing else existed apart from me and Potter.
"I love you, tiger," he panted, his voice sounding broken.
"I love you more," I breathed, when all I wanted to do was scream it out loud.
"Sometimes making love to you isn't enough," he gasped. "I want more of you. You drive me fucking insane."
"And drinking my blood - isn't that enough?" I moaned, as he moved faster above me.
"It's a start," he whispered and continued to make love to me until we both collapsed in each other's arms.
When we returned to the waiting room sometime later, Sam was still asleep on one of the leather benches, and Kayla was curled up on the other. She opened her eyes as we came in, the wind blowing in behind us.
"Did you see anyone?" she asked.
"No", Potter said, before I'd the chance to say anything.
Isidor was looking at the levers sticking out from the wall to the left of the tiny ticket office. Hearing us come in, he looked around and said, "Look what I found."
He held up an old-fashioned radio.
"Great, we'll be able to have a party," Potter said, hunkering down on the floor, where he made himself comfortable by leaning against the wall and crossing his feet at the ankles.
"Actually, I can't get a signal," Isidor told him. "All I can get is static. We must be too remote."
I cuddled up next to Potter and glanced at Sam. His skin didn't look so sallow as before and his face was no longer covered in sweat. Perhaps his fever had broken after all, I thought.
"So what do we do now?" Isidor asked, sitting on the last remaining bench.
"We wait for the storm to clear," I said. "Hopefully it will have eased by morning." Then, as if speaking too soon, the night sky fizzled with lightning and a clash of thunder. Rain battered the windows, and I could hear it drumming off the waiting room roof.
"And what if a train doesn't come through?" Isidor asked. "This place doesn't look as if it's like a main commuter station or anything like that."
"Then we think of something else," Potter said, half closing his eyes. "You know, we use our brains. I know that puts you at an unfair disadvantage, Isidor."
"Fuck off!" Isidor suddenly said.
I was shocked to hear him say this, as I couldn't ever recall hearing Isidor swear. Potter looked just as shocked, as he opened his eyes and stared at Isidor. With half a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, Potter said, "What did you say?"
"I told you to fuck off," Isidor snapped again, and I could hear anger - frustration - bubbling away in his voice. "What, has your ego got so fucking big that it's covered your ears and made you deaf?"
"Isidor," Kayla gasped and sat up. "What's gotten into you?"
"He has," Isidor barked and pointed at Potter. "I'm sick and tired of him taking the piss out of me all the time."
"Look, can we do this tomorrow or something?" Potter moaned. "I need some sleep. We all do, by the look of things."
"The only thing I'm tired of around here, is you," Isidor spat, staring at Potter.
"Okay, kid..." Potter started.
"And I'm not a fucking kid!" Isidor shouted. "I'm eighteen years old. Stop treating me like a child."
"Grow up then," Potter shouted back. "You're always coming out with dumb stuff all the time."
"Okay, so I don't know as much as you do about cartoons and stuff," Isidor snapped back at him. "But who really gives a shit about Scooby-Doo, Captain-fucking-Caveman, or some stupid mouse?"
"Stuart Little," Potter smiled.
"Who gives a shit!" Isidor almost screamed and stood up. "You don't know anything about me. You only know what I've told you."
"So why haven't you told us?" I asked softly, seeing that Isidor was really upset.
"Because people never listen to me!" he roared. "Everyone just thinks I'm dumb. Good old Isidor. He's good to have around in a fight - but I'm not much more than that. But I am more. I know I'm more."
"Like what?" I asked him, my voice still soft and compassionate.
"Like I knew that Luke was really Elias Munn," he said. "I knew it was him back in The Hollows, but I was too scared to say anything."
"Why?" I asked him.
"Would you have believed me?" Isidor shouted. "No - you would've just taken the piss. Potter would have taken the piss. He would've called me numb nuts." Then, turning on Potter, Isidor said, "You wouldn't have believed me because Luke was your friend - he was your best mate - and I wasn't. I was just the joker in the pack - Shaggy-fucking-Doo. Just like Shaggy-Doo, I provide the laughs. He never gets to solve the mystery, does he? It's always the others - the clever ones. Well, I did solve the mystery way before any of you, but I sat back and let that animal kill my sister, then murder me, because I was just too fucking scared to speak up."
"Scared of what?" I asked, starting to feel ashamed of myself for not knowing that he had been feeling like this for so long.
"I was scared that you wouldn't believe me - that you would call me stupid," and he looked at Potter, who sat on the floor, that look of arrogance wiped from his face. "But I do know stuff and I can't stay silent again. I don't care if you laugh and take the piss out of me. I don't care what you call me. I won't watch my friends walk into danger again."
"What do you know?" Potter asked him, and for once, Potter spoke to him as his equal.
Taking a deep breath as if trying to calm himself, Isidor finally said, "I've seen that word push before."
"Where?" Potter asked, his eyes narrowing.
"I saw it before the world was even pushed, if that makes sense," Isidor told us. "And I have the proof right here."
"What proof?" I asked him gently.
Patting his chest, Isidor said, "Right in here."
Then, sitting down again on the bench, and with the storm howling outside, Isidor began to talk. This is what he told us.
