Blood Entwines (12 page)

Kara had been having second thoughts all day. Not about seeing Ben but about the exact nature of their night out. Was it a
date
date, or just a date?

She had no idea what to wear.

She pulled out a pair of jeans from the depths of her wardrobe. They were frayed at the knees, the denim soft from overwashing. Rosemary called them her hobo jeans. She lifted them to her nose and breathed deeply, jasmine flower and vanilla, the smell of the laundry room.

She flipped them on to her bed and knelt in front of her wardrobe, rummaging through her things. She pulled out a grey V-necked Stone Roses T-shirt with sequined lips sewn across the front. She liked this one. It made her waist look tiny. Next, a Superdry hoodie. If they were going to the gap, she needed to be prepared for the weather.

Non-committal – that was the best way to play this, casual clothing, in case she had misinterpreted the situation. It would not be a good idea to turn up in a short skirt and heels, especially if Ben wanted them to be just friends.

She'd carefully applied her make-up: some light foundation, neutral eye shadow, mascara and some lip shine. That was as complicated as she would make it.

She'd been pacing her room since six thirty, trying to compose herself. Eyeballing the mobile on her desk, she thought about Hannah. She'd been out of school for two days. It was the weekend soon.

Kara had digitally stalked her new friend, but couldn't find a Facebook account, Twitter account, nothing. It was as if she didn't exist in the virtual world.

At seven twenty-five she went downstairs, trying to think of an excuse for Rosemary. Her stepmum was working in the kitchen, hunched over her laptop, a complicated spreadsheet of figures open on the screen in front of her.

They had barely exchanged a civil word in the last week.

‘I'm heading out,' volunteered Kara, going to the fridge to pour herself a glass of orange juice, a means for her hands to keep busy.

Kara didn't bother to turn round. She was worried that Rosemary would ask questions.

‘Who with? And where to?'

Damn.
Kara glanced over her shoulder, draining the last of the juice. ‘Just hanging out with some friends.'

‘You haven't actually answered my question.' Rosemary was concentrating fully on Kara now, her eyes travelling over the worn jeans, the warm hoodie.

‘What's this, the Spanish Inquisition?' Kara was trying to keep cool, but it seemed as if every time Rosemary opened her mouth Kara could see the verdict of the coroner's report in her mind's eye.
It is our conclusion that Patrick Bailey died from a broken neck, manner of death, suicide.
The words were burned into her brain, into her heart.

‘I'm going out Rosemary, to hang with some friends, not to snort class A drugs and take part in an orgy.' Kara swung the fridge door closed. ‘Don't wait up.'

She could hear the sound of the gravel crunching outside. Ben must be here. How had she not heard the car? Heading down the hallway, she slung her keys into the bottom of her bag before stepping out into the dark night. She pulled the door closed behind her.

Where was Ben? The driveway was completely empty. Her eyebrows wrinkled together. She'd definitely heard someone walking on the gravel. The wind shifted and carried the faintest hint of rotting garbage to her nose. Her shoulders stiffened. She couldn't go back inside. There was no way she was attracting Rosemary's attention any more than was necessary.

Scanning the periphery of the garden, paying special attention to the dark places beneath trees and at the corners of walls, she tried to locate him. All was uncannily quiet. No sign of the weirdo. She took a step off the porch and walked slowly down the driveway, her heart hammering. She was inches away from the large cherry tree at the end of the garden when a movement above her caught her eye.

He swung lightly to the ground, crouching low, like a predator, his gazed fixed on her. She gasped and stumbled back a few steps, the smell overpowering her. Her blood began to hum in her veins, pulsating.

‘Kara,' he whispered into the night.

How did he know her name? What the hell was this guy doing up the cherry tree in her garden, in the dark.

‘What?' she demanded, her hands coming to her hips, her feet spread wide. ‘What do you want? This creeping-around business is beginning to piss me off.'

She spat the last word at him and tilted her chin in the air, daring him to take a step towards her. She tried not to think of what had happened the last time he had moved close to her; the remembrance of fire and ice blurred her vision for a moment.

‘Are you waiting for someone?' He laughed to himself, his long duffel coat whipping around his legs in the breeze.

‘Have you been watching me?' Kara glanced at the branches of the tree, wondering how much of her bedroom could be seen from that vantage point. A slow creeping feeling made its way delicately up her spine and into the base of her neck. She shivered.

His blue eyes watched her, his body still as marble while the wind moved through his long hair and beard, sending the scent of him to Kara's nostrils. She gagged.

He appraised her from beneath dark eyebrows.

‘The Watcher hasn't been around lately?'

How did he know that? How much about Kara and her friends did this weirdo know. Was he stalking her? Was he stalking Hannah.

What if he knew where Hannah lived? What if something had happened to her?

‘You stay away from both of us. You understand?' She moved along the footpath, she could see car lights approaching. It was Ben. She walked round the man, giving him a wide berth.

‘And if I don't? What are you going to do about it?'

She caught the question on the wind as he went in the opposite direction, into the night.

He had asked, but Kara didn't know the answer.

The drive to the gap was breathtaking. She'd been up there many times before with her family, but never at night, never with a boy and never with the stars like pinpricked jewels in the sky. Kara felt her heart squeeze in her chest with a mixture of expectation and trepidation.

Ben was quiet, paying close attention to the road, the twists and turns, the steep climb.

Her palms were sweaty. She had spent the first five minutes twitching in the passenger seat, checking the wing mirror, trying to see if the weirdo was following them. Every bright beam of a single headlight could have been him on his decrepit motorbike. But she could see no sign. Eventually she gave herself a stern lecture and willed herself to relax.

Ben parked the car and Kara marvelled at the view. The gap, or viewing point as indicated on the tourist map, was a plateau three quarters of the way up a steep rise. There was a pull-in spot, large enough for about ten parked vehicles.

‘You want to check out the view?' Ben nodded to a low stone wall that ran all the way along, separating roadway and exposed hillside.

‘Sure.' Kara's voice squeaked.

There was no putting this off any longer.

Her heart was doing a funny back somersault and she wasn't sure if her legs were working properly. She got out of the car, half stumbling in the darkness to the edge of the gap. It was cold. A breeze tinged with winter blew down the hill.

‘So . . .' he began, swinging his legs over the wall, sitting on the stone capping, his hand rummaging in his jacket pocket.

Kara wondered if he'd brought alcohol with him, a small bottle of vodka, something compact enough to fit into his pocket. She sat on the wall, balancing on the stone seat before dangling her legs over the slope. Was Ben the sort of guy who would drink and drive? Would she get into the car with him if he did?

The last time she'd got blotto was at Ashleigh's house. The Jameson's were away for a trip to New York. Ashleigh had planned a party to end all parties. Everyone had been there. Kara was off her face by ten o'clock, attempted to make snow angels in the grass in the middle of summer, when there wasn't an ounce of snow. She had been totally embarrassed by the whole thing, especially when Ashleigh accidentally, on purpose, told the whole class.

Her thoughts were jumbling around in her head, making her more nervous. She wanted to run off down the hill, her hands flailing in geeky awkwardness. The pressure to be cool was exhausting. Ben finally found what he was looking for and pulled the small paper bag from his pocket.

‘Want some?' He edged closer to her. She eyed the brown bag suspiciously before taking it in her hand. She began to laugh.

‘What?' Ben looked at her, the corners of his mouth pulled into a small smile.

‘Nothing. I just . . . I just thought that maybe it would be alcohol and I wondered what I would do if you started to drink and then got into the car. I wasn't looking forward to the prospect of walking home.'

A shadow passed over Ben's features and instantaneously his smile vanished. He rammed his hands into the pocket of his jeans, gazing out across the landscape, the lights of the town like fire flies beneath them.

‘I don't drink,' he said slowly. ‘And I would
never
drink and drive.'

She bumbled her words, trying to rescue the situation. ‘Sorry. I . . . I didn't mean to offend you.'

Ben shook his head and continued to gaze across the town. ‘It's lovely, isn't it?' He inclined his head in the direction of the bright lights.

‘Ya, it's great. I've never been up here at night. And never with . . . friends,' said Kara.

‘I know.' Ben looked at her.

She glanced down at the pick-and-mix bag on her lap, breaking the connection between them. She picked it up gingerly and shook it.

‘I hope you got lemon bon-bons. They're my favourite.'

He smiled a winning smile and she knew that she'd been forgiven.

After a few minutes of silence he turned to her. ‘Most people come up here to chill and forget about whatever crap is going on in their lives.' He glanced back at the groups of people behind them. ‘I thought you might want to do the same.'

She caught her breath and sat very still, the sound of her heart beating in her eardrums. ‘Is that why you came up here?'

He looked out across the town and thought for a moment before answering. ‘No, I came up here to be with you.'

Kara smiled at him, a slight blush making her cheeks hot. She could feel the heat of his leg next to hers, the smell of his toothpaste breath. She wanted to kiss him, lean her body in towards him. She closed her eyes.

‘Why, look who it is.' Kara blinked and turned round, craning her neck. She groaned. ‘I didn't know you two would be here tonight. If I had, then I wouldn't have bothered coming.'

Ashleigh, with hair like flaxen gold, dark wet-look leggings and high-heeled boots to die for; she looked like something out of a movie. Kara brushed her hands over her thighs, feeling the soft over-washed denim of her jeans.

‘Conor wants to talk to you Ben.' Ashleigh smirked, turning on her ridiculously high heels and prancing back across the parking area.

‘Who's Conor?' asked Kara, trying to distract from the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Ben looked pale, his pupils large in the semi-darkness. ‘Conor's a friend. A guy I know from the gym. Wait here.' The last part of the sentence was less like a request and way more like an order. Kara bristled, her nostrils flaring.

Ben was up and halfway across the car park before Kara could get a word out.

She watched from her position on the wall as Ben followed in Ashleigh's footsteps like an obedient puppy. There was a black SUV with shiny hubcaps parked a few spaces away. The driver's door was open, R and B music spilling out into the night. They were obviously college kids, about nineteen or twenty. Some of them were drinking. Ashleigh sashayed up to one of them and tucked her petite frame next to him, whispering something in his ear. The guy wore dark jeans and a grey hoodie with a navy NY baseball cap pulled low over his eyes.

He turned in her direction and Kara could see his face briefly. He had a lip piercing and in the dim light from the front beams of the car Kara could make out the dark markings of a snake tattoo working its way up his neck, coiling beneath his ear. He must have said something funny because Ashleigh burst into a peel of laughter. For a moment Kara couldn't help but feel they were laughing at her.

Ben moved forward to greet his friend, their hands gripping together. Conor pulled him in for a hug and said something quietly, his fingers digging into Ben's shoulder. Kara couldn't make out what they were saying, their voices drowned out by the
thump,
thump
of the music. She climbed to her feet, her senses tight. Something wasn't right.

One of the guys next to the wall hurled an empty beer bottle off the hillside, the sound of shattering glass echoing. Several voices rose in a loud cheer.

‘Conor!' someone called from the wall. ‘Check this out.' Another empty beer bottle was flung into the semi-darkness.

‘Here, kitty, kitty,' one of the more sober guys called out, whistling low, as if to call a dog. Ashleigh reached into the SUV to turn off the sound system. Merciful quiet filled the car park. Then another bottle soared into the darkness, crashing against rock.

Kara found herself moving forward, curiosity compelling her to walk across the car park. The bright beam of light from the headlamps spilled over the wall and a little way down the hillside.

Ben was speaking low, his voice urgent. Kara caught the last words in the lull: ‘. . . supposed to be confidential?'

‘It is, man. Don't worry. My lips are sealed.' Conor ran his pierced tongue across his lips, wetting them, then pressed them together, as if glued.

Ben muttered something but Kara couldn't make out what he was saying. They separated and Ben put his hand into his pocket.

‘Yours?' asked Conor, eyeing Kara.