S. Bolton - Dead Scared

‘Toxic,’ she said as a trickle of hot liquid ran down her chin. For a moment, it seemed as if she didn’t much rate my coffee-making skills. ‘Or Tox,’ she went on. ‘Only the vicar calls me Talaith.’ Taking my coffee with her, she flicked the main door shut, staggered across the room, pushed open the door to her bedroom, put my mug on the floor and collapsed face down on the bed. She mumbled something in the pillow that I think was intended to express disbelief at how her evening had unfolded.

I stood up, not knowing whether I was amused or annoyed, and then the drumbeats started.

‘It’s not blood, Evi.’

Evi was sitting at her kitchen table, trying to make polite conversation with a young WPC. DI Castell stood in the doorway.

‘What, then?’ she asked.

Castell shrugged, looked apologetic. ‘Our kit’s not good enough to tell us that, I’m afraid,’ he said. ‘We’ll have to send it off. Could be a couple of weeks before we know. But definitely not blood. Some sort of dye or paint would be my best guess.’

‘How did it get in my bath?’

‘Now that we can tell you,’ he said, stepping further into the room. ‘Someone poured it into your header tank. We’ve run it all out and it’s filled up clear again but you should probably get a plumber round to check it out tomorrow. Just to make sure there was nothing corrosive.’

‘I had the locks changed,’ said Evi. ‘No one should be able to get in here.’

For a second, DI Castell just looked back at her. ‘If people were working here today, it’s possible that’s when whoever it was got in,’ he said. ‘We’ll check with university maintenance, see if anyone turned up claiming to need a look at the water system or anything.’

‘Thank you,’ said Evi.

‘That message written in the steam. I can see you . Does that mean anything?’

Evi shook her head.

‘Creepy sort of thing to write in a bathroom,’ said the WPC.

‘Right then,’ said Castell. ‘We’ve checked the entire house, upstairs and down. Nothing out of place and we’ll get SOCs out here in the morning. Are you sure you don’t want me to phone Meg? She can be here in ten minutes.’

Evi shook her head again and thanked him. She stood, found her stick and followed them to the door. Castell hesitated on the doorstep.

‘You know where we are if you need us?’ he said.

She nodded. He’d already given her his card with his direct line and mobile numbers. He’d been both kind and professional, but was she imagining it, or was he finding it difficult to make eye contact? What if he was reasoning that, if she’d bought the skeleton toy herself, maybe she’d put the dye in the tank too?

Ba ba ba boom, ba ba ba boom. Someone was beating out a rhythm on a large drum right outside the block. There were voices too, hardly audible above the drumbeats. Men’s voices, urging each other on; girls’ voices, squealing and screaming. Then something hit my bedroom window. A split second later it happened again. Talaith pushed herself up on the bed and staggered into the main room.

‘They’re not serious,’ she said. ‘Not again.’

‘What’s going on?’ I asked her. She didn’t reply, just muttered something about checking the front door was locked and ran from the room. The drumbeat went on. A bit like a heartbeat. Rather like my own heartbeat, which I could feel getting faster by the second. Stupid to be alarmed: students outside were just pissing about, the way students were supposed to do. They’d get bored and cold before long.

But there was something about that drumming that couldn’t be ignored. It wasn’t just the volume, there was something purposeful about it. Something instinctively intimidating. Not for nothing, I realized, did armies march into battle to the sound of a drum.

I leaned across my desk and opened the curtain a fraction. The lawn immediately below my window was full of people. Fifty students at least, and more appearing all the time. They were being summoned by the drum. I had a feeling they knew what to expect. Around the green, lights were on in every window and faces peered out. A couple of the braver ones jeered down at the crowd, getting abuse in return.

Talaith joined me at the window just as the crowd started to chant. Two words, over and over again.

‘What’s fresh wheat?’ I asked Talaith.

‘Fresh meat,’ said Talaith. ‘I think they mean you.’

A total surprise, that sudden stab of panic in my stomach. I let the curtain fall in place. This was for me?

‘What the hell do you mean?’ I asked the purple-haired, white-faced girl beside me.

‘It’s a stupid freshers’ thing,’ Talaith told me. ‘They did it a lot last term.’

‘Did what?’

‘It’s OK. I locked the front door.’

From the hall outside came the sound of banging and loud voices demanding to be let in. Then heavy footsteps.

‘I think someone just unlocked it,’ I said, still not quite believing this fuss had anything to do with me.

‘Get keys, quick,’ Talaith told me, striding towards the room’s main door and pushing it shut. ‘Mine are in my bag.’

She leaned against the door as I turned to find her bag. I had no idea where my own keys were. I’d picked up the small black leather rucksack when I saw the door slide inwards, Talaith’s full weight of something like seven and a half stone proving no barrier at all to the force that was pushing it open. Giving up, she staggered out of the way as three tall figures stepped into the room.

Three men, all of them over six feet tall, all powerfully built. All three were stripped to the waist and their fashionable jeans sat low on their hips. The flesh of their torsos was shiny with oil and had been painted with weird red and gold symbols. Two of them had slicked their hair up with gel to form spikes around their faces. The third had long dark hair that rippled down to his shoulders. All wore simple cloth masks covering their eyes.

Oh, to have been able to laugh, to pull my warrant card from my back pocket and tell them to get the fuck out of my room or I’d have the three of them banged up. Not going to happen. My warrant card was back in my locker at Southwark nick. As was all the authority I’d taken for granted over the past four years. I wasn’t a police officer in this place, just a student like thousands of others. And as the three of them came towards me, I felt something I’d hoped never to experience again, something that was verging on terror.

‘What the hell are you lot supposed to be?’ Talaith found her voice first. ‘Ninja bloody turtles? Get out of – no, leave her alone!’

The long-haired one had grabbed hold of me by the upper arms, the rough skin on his hands scratching my bare shoulders. He spun me round as the second closed in. I took a deep breath, bracing myself to swing both legs up and kick number two in the chest, hopefully hard enough to send him flying. Then before number one realized what I’d done, I’d drive one elbow back into his solar plexus. If he didn’t back off then, I’d go for his balls.

Except that, if I fought these guys with anything other than girly struggling and squealing, I might as well just announce who I really was. Emotionally damaged Laura Farrow would never get physical with three big guys. Shit, I would have to take what was coming with nothing more than a ladylike squirm and a few gasps. ‘Touch me and you’re fucking dead,’ I said, to number two.

OK, maybe a bit of strong language too.

I might as well not have bothered. Number two bent down and grabbed my legs and I was lifted from the floor.

‘Hit it,’ said the one who had my shoulders and we began to move towards the door. I twisted to get free and the third stepped in and grabbed me round the waist.