The boxers danced around the ring, moving quickly on deceptively light feet. They weaved in and out, their huge muscular bodies never tiring as they reigned down blow after blow upon their opponent, knowing that victory was theirs. Then again, it always had been. It had been a one-sided match from the start. They knew it. Their opponent knew it. There could only ever have been one conclusion.
The bell sounded, loud and trill, marking the end of the round and the boxers drew back to their corner, their broad chests heaving in and out, more through excitement than exhaustion. They huddled together, not through fear of course, but rather a natural instinct that always drew the clan together, their putrid bodies twisting and writhing, casting monstrous shadows on the blood-splattered walls. Each round had seemed sweeter than the last and it was that which drove them forward. Victory, it seemed, was addictive. With each triumph of their fists against bloodied flesh, the thrill of the fight fired up their veins and now, as they waited while their opponent tried desperately to recoup enough energy to stay in the battle, the impatience bristled through them.
A shock of ice hit me full force and I gasped as the water washed my body of the blood and vomit that caked my skin. I was shuddering violently, teeth clattering against teeth as my body temperature plunged from searing agonised heat to torturous cold. It was a momentary freedom from the burning, however, and very quickly I felt the fierce pain of my wounds again. I felt the sting of my ravaged skin. I felt the agony of broken bone. Of course, everything would heal eventually. Skin and bone would fuse back into place but that was no consolation at all when I could feel every inch of ripped flesh and every fracture. Break tally stood at one cheekbone, two ribs, one arm and two fingers. The fingers had been accidental, caused when Paul had hit me which such force that the chair had gone flying back, crushing my hand underneath me. Of course, that still counted as a point to them. Nothing but sweet collateral damage.
Unable to hold my head up any longer, my wet hair hung over my face and I watched, teetering on the edge of consciousness, as fat droplets of water reached the ends and dripped down onto my lap. All around me, the room spun like a maelstrom and within the whirlwind I saw her. Jenny. Her long dark hair whipped around her pale bruised face, blood dripped from a wound on her temple and she laughed, the sound scratching at my ears. Every time I tried to reach further into the darkness, every time I tried to escape, she screamed at me and it hit me like a sharp slap to the face. She wanted me to feel this. I could feel it just as strongly as I could feel every inch of pain the Varúlfur had inflicted.
Seconds out, round five. The boxers moved in again, their long tongues hanging from wet mouths, smacking saliva between slavering lips. Their feverish excitement was palpable as they danced around me, assessing their opponent with a wicked glint in venomous eyes that burned brighter the closer they got.
The method of attack was always the same. First they circled, spitting and snarling, their stuttering gait juddering like watching an old film reel. Then, they took turns as if it were some kind of tag-team sport, each one slashing or ripping at flesh with their long ragged claws, hitting out with powerful arms. But it was the biting that terrified me the most. And I always knew when it was coming because one would drop to all fours, stalking up and down behind the others and I would see the gleam of amber through the mass of bodies as its eyes never wavered from its prey. When the beast attacked, it would leap forward, teeth locking into flesh and it wasn't just the prolonged agony that was so much worse than the brief contact of claw or fist. It was the look in its eyes. The look that told you this was all so easy. The look that told you there was no hope. The look of an animal so consumed by hunger, that it took all its power not to clamp onto your neck and rip out your throat.
As it turned out, it was this hunger that brought the battle to an untimely end.
The Varúlfur that was Felix, the over-enthusiastic junior lawyer from Walter and Noble, was a little too over-enthusiastic and as it sank its teeth into my thigh, my high-pitched shrieks only succeeded in exciting it to the point of frenzy. Its great drooling snout drilled deeper and as its head shook from side to side, the pain tore through me like nothing before. I stared into its rage-filled eyes and it was then I saw that Felix was gone, completely devoured by the beast within.
Even when they turned into their true selves, you could always see some vestige of their human side still in there somewhere. It was usually in the face, seemingly stuck halfway between human and wolf, which somehow made their transformation all the more terrifying because behind the animal, you could still see them; the person you thought they were until you discovered that they were actually some twisted, monstrous hybrid. And as they attacked, it was still that face you saw, still that person you remembered, and somewhere inside you, your grip on sanity would loosen because the reality really was just too horrifying to accept. But that wasn't the case with Felix. As I stared wide-eyed and unleashing the most pitiful of screams, I could clearly see that all remnants of humanity had been lost to the hunger and the animal wasn't going to let go until I was ripped to shreds, nothing left but gristle and bone in its powerful jaws.
But of course, my death wasn't part of the plan. Daniel himself had said it. And as soon as the rest of them realised that Felix wasn't relenting, the room erupted. Two of the beasts, the ones who I hadn't recognised from Brandon's group, seemed to catch fire with the same fever and they fought to reach me, turning on the junior lawyer when he wouldn't give up his prize. One clamped onto the back of Felix's back and tore manically at the Varúlfur's flesh, spraying blood into the air. The other, howling in fury, dug its claws into Felix's hind leg muscle and raked them down the length of its calf and with the combined weight of two of the clan on its back; Felix finally released me and turned on them. Together they went sprawling to the floor in a jumbled mess of limbs and twisted bodies and Daniel and Paul had no choice but to wade into the fight, leaving me to fade away, my vision failing and body plunging into shock.
From somewhere far below, I heard the screams of the dead as I plummeted towards them, unable to maintain my grip on consciousness any longer. Their faces twisted in horror and sorrow as I fell, their mouths open wide in shock and hopeless grief. Like a swarm, they converged at the point of my impending impact, arms outstretched and amongst them I saw the grinning visages of the demons, eyes alight in triumph and flesh like melted wax. But the power and agony of the dead was overwhelming and they surged forward, like wave upon wave, all clamouring underneath me as I tumbled closer and closer and the demons were lost in the melee, falling under the weight of so many souls. And the further I fell into the darkness, the louder they cried.
No, no, no, no, they screamed in unison.
It was then I heard another voice, cutting through the noise of the wailing dead. It was a howl of indescribable rage. A roar of incandescent fury. It sent tremors rippling through me and suddenly I was ripped out of the darkness, my body hurtling back up, my limbs flailing about me and now I was the one screaming no, no, no, no. I didn't want to come back. I didn't want to face the pain. I didn't want to know what else awaited me.
As I broke through the surface, with an audible rasping inhale of breath that sent shock waves of pain pulsating through my chest, I gasped for air, eyes stinging with tears that obscured my vision. Through the salty haze, I could make out the bodies of the Varúlfur, still struggling against each other. The room was heavy with the stench of their blood and sweat and filled with their snarls, which bubbled thickly from their snot-plastered mouths. A flash of darkness crossed my vision, a huge monstrous shape that towered over even Daniel and I watched in dazed horror as the blurred figure picked up Felix and tossed him against the wall with ease. I heard the crack of bone and the agonised yelp that followed and then the darkness seemed to swamp Felix, consuming him completely. The yelp quickly morphed into something far more human, a gargled, muffled scream that pierced the fog I was engulfed within and it was a scream that I would never, ever forget. I heard the sickening tear of flesh, a sucking, ripping wet sound and the heavy odour of foul Varúlfur blood filled my nostrils. A great roar of triumph emanated from the darkness and the beasts quickly retreated. I tried desperately to raise my head but it flopped uselessly to one side and through fluttering heavy lids, I watched helplessly as they withdrew and the dark shape remained, turning its attention upon me. It advanced, shrouding me in its awful shadow, and all I could do was wait and hope for the end.
The seconds passed and still it did not strike.
"Do it," I whispered, my mouth swollen and lips split in several places. "Do it now."
The darkness snorted in response and I heard the distinct sound of something hitting the floor by my feet, landing with a splat in the blood that pooled at the base of the chair.
I looked down into the face of Felix; his human face, with eyes wide and bulging from the sockets, his mouth still smeared with my own blood and his neck ravaged where it had been ripped free from his body. The dark figure grunted and then was gone, leaving me on my own in the room, staring down at Felix's decapitated head as the naked light bulb swung back and forth from the ceiling above me.
********
"It's beautiful," I gasped, feeling my breath catch in my throat and a warm haze spread into my cheeks.
I held the small Tiffany pendant up in front of me, admiring the small branded heart tag and key charm and the way the light from the setting sun glinted off the shiny silver. I didn't know much about Tiffany but I knew the delicate chain was expensive and a small thrill shot through me at the thought of wearing it to college the next day. The Argos girls wouldn't know what had hit them.
"You like it?" Brandon asked, his eyes nervously flitting over my face; the anxiety a stark contrast to his usual zealous confidence.
"I love it," I whispered, offering the necklace to him. "Put it on me?"
"Sure," he said softly, taking the pendant and moving to stand behind me as I raked my hair back with my fingers and pulled it up into a loose pony-tail. I couldn't help but smile as I felt the cool touch of the metal against my throat, nor could I stop the goose bumps that rose on my skin when I felt his warm breath tickle the nape of my neck. He deftly hooked the chain and clasp together and my fingers lightly traced the wording on the heart tag, as his lips planted a small soft kiss just behind my ear. His mouth nuzzled my earlobe as he wrapped his arms around my waist, tugging me against him and I relaxed into the firmness of his body, inhaling his musky scent. I moaned as his lips left a hot trail of kisses down my neck and I instinctively pushed against him, his hands gripping me tighter as his hardness pressed against the small of my back.
Turning to face him, I perched on the edge of the car bonnet, the skirt of my dress sliding up my thighs as he parted my legs. I locked them around his hips and sighed as he continued to kiss my neck, my gaze drifting up to the evening sky. A deep burnt orange faded into warm pink just above the tree line on the far side of the park, the avenue of oaks slowly muting into shadow. It was the late May bank holiday and the weather had been gloriously warm for this time of year, a taste of the hot summer months to come.
Brandon had reluctantly spent the weekend away with his family, claiming that every minute was going to be torture and he had rushed to meet me as soon as he had returned. When he picked me up in his new Golf - a present from his father - I pressed him on the weekend's events, always strangely hungry for the little tit-bits he'd feed me about his family, but as usual, his answers were limited and I noticed, this time, a little strained. His smile tightened and wavered and I knew instinctively it was time to throw in the towel and stop bugging him. His relationship with his family was difficult, that much I knew, plagued with pressure to become a lawyer, something he was resisting even though I knew he'd make a damn good one.
In a secluded spot, close to the park, Brandon had taken the car off-road and parked up not far from the boating lake and there we had sat, wrapped up in each other and in the London sunset. As the evening dusk settled all around us, he had reached into the glove compartment and pulled out the small Tiffany box, placing it in the palm of my hand.
Now with the pendant around my neck, my back hit the black chrome hood, Brandon's kisses becoming more fervent by the second and his hand travelled up the back of my thigh, fingers slipping easily under the elastic of my underwear.
I pushed lightly on his chest. "Let's get in the car," I murmured, my lips brushing against his as I spoke.
"Spoilsport," he laughed, but he took my hand in his, pulling me to my feet and leading me to the rear passenger side. Opening the door, he motioned for me to get in as he glanced around the small copse of woodland, before climbing in behind me.
Lying on the back seat of his car, with my underwear quickly discarded over the back of the seat, I giggled as he kissed up the inside of my thigh, his lips tickling my skin. I was notoriously ticklish and wriggled under him, hearing him chuckle as I did so. The warmth of his face moved further up my legs and when he reached the top, he paused and grinned boyishly at me before pressing his mouth against me, his tongue moving in slow, languished strokes. I knotted my fingers into his hair, enjoying the way he moaned against my skin as I tugged on his dark curls. His touch was always gentle to start, relaxing me with a slow build-up that he knew I loved and when my hips began to move in time with him, he knew he could build the pressure, easing me quickly to climax as he covered me with his mouth. That night, with the added thrill of doing it in a place where we might be discovered, I came quicker than usual, bucking my hips up as each pulse shot through me.
As I lay there, still gasping from the heat that blazed through me, Brandon knelt between my thighs and undid his jeans, tugging both them and his underwear down over his tanned thighs. I still got a thrill from looking at him there, almost as if I were seeing him again for the first time. I could never stop the flush from creeping into my cheeks, that exquisite mixture of shyness and desire as I drank in every part of him; wanting every part of him. And I always got what I wanted.
Quickly pulling on a condom, he leaned over me, his eyes locking with mine when he pushed against my body and I sucked in a breath as he easily slipped inside, our hips soon finding the perfect rhythm. I wrapped myself around him, hands sliding under his shirt, loving the smoothness of his skin under my fingers and loving it even more when my nails lightly scratched his back and he began to thrust harder. We both laughed softly as the car began to gently rock but we were well past caring by that point. All that mattered was us, encapsulated in our own little world as we clutched each other, our heat filling the car completely and fogging the windows. As he came, he kissed me passionately as he often did, his tongue hungrily devouring mine and our mutual cries of pleasure were crushed between our lips as I finished also, holding him tight as I rocked against him.
Afterwards, as we lay with the window now slightly open and feeling the mild touch of the summer night air on our skin, my fingers found the pendant again and I idly played with the charms, rubbing my thumb over the smooth metal.
"Do you really like it?" Brandon asked.
I smiled a small contented smile. "I just love it," I replied. "I'm not really used to getting gifts, especially not ones as beautiful as this. Thank you, Bran."
"Well, you'd better get used to it because I'm going to give you everything. You want it, and it's yours. I'd do anything for you, really I would."
He bent down and kissed me very lightly on my nose but his eyes were heavy with that dark intensity that always sent a shiver of excitement through me.
"Trust me, Megs; this gift really is the first of many."