Adam Nevill - Banquet for the Damned

He plods back to the lounge and slumps on the floor, panting with emotion. He clenches his teeth to suppress the imminent and explosive rage he is sure will wreck the flat if it breaks loose.

The Land Rover! It strikes him then. Maybe Tom left a note in the War Wagon. Through the fog of anger and frustration, he leaps to his feet, and then winces as his sandpapered thighs scream at the contact of wet denim on raw skin. Wasting no time, he pulls his sopping jacket back on, squelches down the hallway, and throws himself back into the storm.

It is perfume: faint, but still present. Among the smells of petrol, oily metal and damp seat leather, Dante can smell perfume in the War Wagon's cabin. It lingers on the driver's seat. Tom has not driven the vehicle home to the flat, a woman has. He immediately thinks of Beth and sinks back into the seat in despair, his head empty, his ears only hearing the patter of rain against the cabin roof. But no, this is not Beth's scent; he would know that anywhere. Dante sits forward and sniffs. This fragrance is different; it's not something he would associate with a young girl.

There is no reply. He bangs the door again with the side of his fist until the wood rattles in the doorframe. 'Eliot, I'm not going until you open this door!'

Yanking at the handle again, a strange sound erupts from his throat — something sharp-pitched and animal. His black hair hangs in spiky streaks across his wet and pallid face.

'He's not in there.'

Spinning around, Dante sees Janice. She stands at the other end of the basement corridor, by the stairwell door. Despite her elegant presentation in black, the senior administrator is nervous. The make-up and hair are immaculate, but there is something especially pinched about her already thin features, and something frantic about her usually cool, dismissive stare. Dante walks toward her. 'Where's Eliot? I want to see him now!'

'He won't be coming back. His contract has been cancelled,' she answers, her chin raised.

'What the fuck does that mean?'

'He's been fired.'

Dante rests a hand against a wall and stares down at his boots.

'This is too much,' he whispers.

'I doubt if you'll see him again.'

Dante looks up, sharply. 'Who, Eliot or Tom?'

Janice's expression signs a confession. She swallows.

'He's with Eliot, Beth and God knows what else. Isn't he?'

'I don't know what you mean.'

'Bullshit!'

Janice flinches, and takes a step backward to the foot of the stairs. Her body shrinks into the dark. Dante follows her, trembling with frustration and rage. 'My mate Tom has vanished, just like I was supposed to. You know what I'm saying, don't you?'

Janice turns to run up the stairs, but Dante catches her by the arm on the first bend. 'Let go!' she shrieks. But he grabs her other thin arm and presses her body into the wall. She tries to raise her knee and stab it at his groin. But her tight skirt restricts the movement, providing Dante with the opportunity to push her flat against the white plaster of the wall. The weight and force of his tensed body trap her fast. Their noses almost touch. Her eyes are wide with fear. 'I'm not as dumb as you think, lady. Eliot and his screwed-up girlfriend tried to give me to something. Did you know that?'

She turns her head away, her features crumpling.

'I didn't work out,' he says. 'And so they've turned their attention to Tom. Gullible, impetuous Tom who can't keep his dick to himself.

Beth will take advantage of that, won't she? He's been gone since yesterday, Janice. You can understand why he needs my help, or are you a part of Eliot's little coven too?'

'Stop it!'

'No! I saw the way you looked at Eliot way back on that glorious day when the great man shook my hand. You and Eliot have history. I don't care what kind of crazy shit has been going down in this quaint little town, but my patience has run dry. I want answers now.'

'I warned you. I told you not to come back.'

'But not loud enough. Eliot's out of control and I found out the hard way. What's he done, Janice?'

'I don't know.'

'Liar!'

Janice begins to sob. The strength drains from her arms. She collapses against him, her thin wrists going limp in the tight fetters of his hands. 'I saw Eliot with your friend… Yesterday.'

'Where?'

'In Eliot's study. Your friend went down there.'

'Two guilty boys. A sheep and a wolf!' Dante pauses to breathe deep. 'And?'

'Don't know. They were still here when I went home. I haven't seen either of them since.'

He watches her eyes keenly for the slightest flicker of deceit. 'You're lying.'

Janice stops crying. Her glossy lips part, and she bares her bright teeth in a snarl she speaks through. 'I don't know anything else, you little shit. And there are at least five members of staff in the building, so if you don't let go of me I'll make sure they hear me scream.'

'Yeah! And we can both go down to see Johnny Law and explain the mysterious disappearance of my friend. Now, where does Eliot live?'

Janice swallows. 'Strathkinness. The faculty cottage. But he loses the residence with the job.'

'But he'll get some time before the eviction. Eliot works fast. Two dates with Beth and Tom will be dead.'

She shakes her head. 'I've said enough. And I've heard enough. I won't have anything more to do with this.'

He squeezes her wrists. 'Yes, you will.'

Her eyes narrow. 'Make me.'

Dante releases her and steps back, breathing hard.

'Go on, hit me,' Janice says, smiling.

He shakes his head. 'You'd probably get a kick out of it.'

She swings her hand at the side of his face. Dante catches the thin wrist, making the gold bracelets clatter, before seizing her narrow chin with his free hand. He squeezes her mouth until her eyes water and then stops, disgusted with himself.

He looks at the trembling woman, about to fall apart, and suddenly wants to apologise. They stare at each other, both seeming to realise in an instant exactly what Eliot has reduced them to. 'We're going upstairs to your office, Janice. You're going to make a phone call to one of your poncy friends who took a special interest in me at the Orientation. You can tell them I'm coming over and I mean business. After that, you are going to give me Eliot's address.'

Janice straightens her clothes, the emotion seeping out of her in quick breaths. She teeters up the remaining stairs, and steadies herself with both hands as she climbs. Dante follows her back to the office in silence, shivering as the rain steams off him. The sudden change in temperature and his outburst at Janice make him feel lightheaded and sick.

Janice phones the Proctor first. His secretary tells Janice the Proctor is out. Dante clenches his fists with frustration. Janice misreads it as anger and quickly punches out the Hebdomidar's number. 'Hello, Marcia,' she says, fighting to keep her voice under control. 'Is Arthur in? Oh, I see.' She then looks up at Dante. 'He's busy. You'll have to make an appointment.'

'It's an emergency. Tell her,' Dante instructs.

Janice obeys. She repeats his line, frowns, and then hangs up. 'He can't see anyone before ten tomorrow morning,' she says in a thin voice that suggests tears are not far away. 'You can go and bully him for the information then.'

Dante points a finger at Janice. 'You people are crazy. None of your qualifications and Greek salad mean shit. People are dying in this town and you know it. If I get stalled again by any of you, I'll get the truth with my fists. That's warning number one; there won't be another.' Dante storms out of the office and runs into the rain. Ten o'clock the following morning may be too late; Arthur Spencer can cancel the rest of his appointments for the day.