Awoken

Chapter 7

The bare-chested bald man staggered towards me, clutching a wound that oozed a thick black sludge. Jumping back, I raised my hands ready to defend myself but as he got closer I felt my resolve die. I backed away but the platform ended abruptly behind me; short of jumping onto the tracks I had no where left to go. It was then I remembered the dagger, which was stowed somewhere in my backpack several metres beyond where my attacker now stood. There was nothing I could do.

Grey eyes bore into mine, and black veins bulged under his skin, which on closer inspection looked filmy; there was nothing human about this creature. He raised his massive fist and brought it down on my cheek. The force of the blow sent me hurtling towards the ground. Stars burst into my vision and I tasted the saltiness of blood in my mouth. Rolling onto to my stomach I managed to push myself up with great effort.

The creature howled as he gripped his arm, which now looked like a stub of molten wax. But as I watched his hand began to reform, his pain seemed to subside and he turned on me again, spittle foaming at the corners of his mouth. A deep, gutteral bellow erupted from him and he charged.

Throwing up my hands in a vain attempt to protect myself, I screwed my eyes shut and waited for the impact. But it never came. Instead I felt a warm breeze buffet me and opened my eyes to see the giant man tossed into the air as if he were nothing but a feather in the wind. He landed with a thud, the rough ground tearing away his papery skin leaving grotesque black wounds. But he recovered quickly, climbing to his feet and pouncing before I had time to work out what had happened.

His foot caught me in the chest, sending me once more crashing downward. There was a sickening crack as my head hit the concrete.

“Praise Mara. She will welcome me into her embrace when I wake her. Now it is time for you to die, blood of her blood,” he roared. Sending up a quick prayer, I waited for the pain, knowing that there was little chance of me escaping alive. The first of the punches rained down and all I could do was roll into a ball and wait for death.

To my surprise the blows stopped.

John had wrapped himself around my attacker’s shoulders, trying with all his might to haul the giant off of me. But all he achieved was to enrage the beast further; he flipped my friend to the floor and curled his beefy hands around his neck. Somewhere I managed to find the energy to get to my feet. I crossed the short space to my rucksack quicker than I thought possible. My hand closed around the cold metal of the dagger and without thinking I plunged it into the bald man’s back.

Once was enough for him to release his hold of John but anger was bubbling in the pit of my stomach; I wrenched the blade from his flesh with a nauseating gurgle before burying it in his shoulder; his shriek of pain sounded oddly satisfying. Arching his back, he managed to twisted away from me and for the first time I seen something other than hatred in his eyes; fear. But it was just the briefest flash, his eyes regained their manic stare and his lips curled up into an ugly sneer.

“It’ll take more than that to kill me, witch,” he chided and then he was gone, bounding awkwardly into the night.

My shaky knees gave way and I sank to the cold concrete, dropping the dagger in disgust. My nose wrinkled at the putrid smell of the black gunk encrusting the blade.

John shuffled towards me gingerly; his neck had already began to bruise and the side of his face looked swollen. I mustn’t have looked much better myself judging from John’s hissed intake of breath as he inspected my face.

“Who or what was that man?” John asked breaking the shocked silence that had stretched between us.

“The man who has been following me. You can’t say he wasn’t there this time,” I said flatly.