From the Dark Read online

  ‘She’s okay – I saw her yesterday,’ whispered Annie, suddenly appearing beside him with a hot chicken wing in her hand. She passed it to him then headed back to their mam’s side.

  ‘I saw that,’ his mum said with a grin. She knew them all so well – none of them could resist the wings. It was their favourite bit of the meal. In days gone by all eight of them had fought for the four wings on offer – his mum had cooked two chickens to feed them when making a chicken dinner for as long as he could remember. There was less fighting now they’d all flown the nest but it still happened occasionally.

  ‘When’s Ali coming up, Ma?’

  ‘In a couple of days. He’s bringing Marlo and Edina as well. Such a lovely wee lassie, so pleased he’s finally settled down. The house is going to be full for Christmas, as well it should be. You know how I love everyone being here.’

  Mark nodded silently, then turned his attention to the chicken wing in his hand.

  Chapter 10

  18th December, 1940 hours – Toni’s flat, Harrison Gardens

  Toni had returned home after leaving Mark at the station and paced back and forth for a good hour or so before deciding that it wasn’t productive to worry like that about Mark. He was a grown man – if he wanted to work then he could. It wasn’t like she had any right at all to worry anyway.

  So, she’d focussed on things that needed doing. Or things that distracted her at any rate. It had taken her a good while but the flat was spotless after her cleaning frenzy took hold and she’d cleaned it from top to bottom.

  She’d even put some beef in the oven to slow cook and it was just now starting to smell divine. Her stomach grumbled and she realised she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Good things come to those who wait. The silent admonishment reminded her that she’d promised herself a meditation bath before eating – the hot water had filled the Victorian-style bath, the candles were lit and her meditation disc was in the CD player ready to go.

  Out of habit more than anything else, she moved the net curtain to one side and glanced up and down the street.

  Tension snaked up her arms and settled in her shoulders as she noted the white van parked up at the entrance to the park. Was that Duke? She knew she was being paranoid but seeing him the day before had been like a kick in the stomach. And the threats he’d made, well suffice to say they didn’t sit well.

  She couldn’t help but be apprehensive and if she was being honest, afraid.

  Duke had never had the best reputation when they’d been young – even before she’d been promised to him, she’d never liked him, had known he was trouble. She had clear recollections of her dad coming home from the pub one day, pissed and talking a load of crap generally, but then telling her he’d accepted a dowry offer and that she’d soon be out of his hair and being a pain to someone else. In Romani culture it was tradition for the groom’s family to pay a dowry to the bride’s family to compensate for the loss of their daughter. When her father had told her it was Duke, she’d felt hurt and betrayed initially, then a sliver of fear had descended on her and never left until the day her gran had told her to leave. That sliver was back now, clawing its way deep inside her.

  Whatever had brought Duke back into her life, it wasn’t good.

  She triple-checked the front door was locked and bolted, before finally heading to the bathroom. Stripping quickly, she dipped her toes into the hot water, testing the temperature. Meditation was exactly what she needed. Standing now in the water, she allowed her ankles to acclimatise and reached over to press play on the guided meditation CD. The soothing voice started instantly, soft pipe music playing in the background.

  Toni slowly lowered herself into the water, the bubbles sloshing to and fro as the water adjusted to her being there. Her head finally rested against the back of the bath and she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath in line with the instructions on the disc.

  Duck. Sam’s voice was a sudden interruption. It was urgent – louder than she’d ever heard him before.

  She knew something was about to happen. Every hair on her body stood to attention despite the hot water surrounding her, and the soothing tones of the meditation disc faded as she was pulled back to reality. She pushed her head under the water, hearing a loud crash above her. Her heart felt like it was going to pound out of her chest, her breath held tight in her lungs wanting to escape.

  Something sharp stabbed at her arm and her cheek at the same time.

  Get out now! Sam practically screamed at her.

  Toni jumped out of the bath grabbing the towel by the sink. Something dug into her foot and whatever it was penetrated deeply. Wrapping the towel round her, she glanced around and saw the rock on the floor – it confused her momentarily but as a freezing cold wind fluttered around the bathroom, she realised that someone had thrown it through her window. Hobbling on her injured foot, she stretched up on her tiptoes to look out of the hole in the broken glass. The street seemed quiet outside, though she did hear a squeal of a vehicle speeding off.

  Toni grabbed her mobile as she limped through to the living room. Pulling the nets aside, she looked for the white van that had been parked in the street.

  It was gone.

  With a deep sigh, she dialled 101 and waited for the line to connect to the police.

  18th December, 2005 hours – South Cantow Travellers Site, Edinburgh

  Duke entered the code on the locked gates to the traveller encampment where he lived with his family, revving the engine as they slowly opened electronically.

  The electronic gates had been his family’s idea – the perfect way to keep out the riff-raff who shouldn’t be there. Like the police and other enforcement officials for one. Anger bubbled silently. Bloody coppers pulling me over, like I’m some kind of criminal or was pissed or something.

  Granted, he knew he’d thrown the rock through Toni’s window, but they didn’t. He’d been nowhere near her house by the time he was stopped and they had nothing to stop him on, making some loose comment about his tail-light being out. Unless she saw me… even if she did, though, it was her word against mine. He’d checked the street thoroughly last time he’d visited and there hadn’t been any CCTV, council or otherwise, that he’d noticed. He knew he would’ve seen it if there was.

  They’d soon let him go when he’d started shouting about harassment because he was a gypsy.

  Being pulled over meant he was later home than he’d anticipated. And he didn’t like anything that changed his schedule.

  Still angry, he pulled the handbrake up as he stopped outside his static caravan. The door opened as he pushed his car door and got out.

  ‘You’re late,’ his mum said with a glare. ‘Ashleigh’s been asking for you for an hour. You said you’d be home at seven. It’s her birthday – you’re supposed to be here.’

  ‘I know that, Mum. Got pulled over by the bloody coppers, didn’t I? Fecking retards – hadn’t done owt either. But they kept me there ages, trying to get me to admit I’d done wrong. I’ll take her out tomorrow and make it up to her. We’ll get pizza for tea tonight – she likes pizza.’ Duke wasn’t technically lying – he’d have been late anyway, throwing the rock a last-minute decision. His mum didn’t need to know he’d found Toni yet – that was a secret he’d keep for a while longer.

  ‘She’s had her tea. We had it with her cake an hour ago. I did tell you I was cooking. Yours is being kept warm in the oven. Anyway, you’ll have some making up to do. It was her thirteenth. It’s a big age.’

  ‘Do you think I don’t know that, Mum? Leave it, will you? I’ll go see her now. Did you get what I asked you to? Is it in my room?’

  ‘Course I did,’ his mother scoffed, ‘and yes, it’s in your room. Wrapped and ready for you to give her.’

  ‘Thanks Mum. Love ya, you know.’

  Finally, his mum smiled, ‘I know, lad. I know. Now get in there and make that girl’s birthday special for the rest of it.’

  18th December, 2135 hours – Toni’s fl
at, Harrison Gardens

  Now the police had finally gone, Toni could set about cleaning up the mess. There were glass shards all over the bathroom – she’d already fished out a relatively large one from the bottom of her foot and put a bandage on it. It had bled quite a bit and she knew she’d have to put some baking soda on the bathroom mats or it would stain.

  The officer attending had seemed sympathetic, first checking the flat for a spouse or other half on seeing her injuries, not believing initially that they’d come from a breaking window. It had made her thankful – how awful it must be to be a police officer and always expect the worst in a situation.

  He’d actually helped put the bandage on her foot, offering to take her to hospital in case it had needed stitches. She’d mentioned to him about thinking Duke might be responsible but he’d said without further evidence they couldn’t question him about it. Toni understood but it was still frustrating.

  She focussed all her attention on getting the flat as spotless as it had been before her bath – another hour passed quickly and before she knew it, it was done. She’d applied the baking soda to the bath mats and they were now in the washing machine which was whirring away in the corner of her compact kitchen.

  Finally, Toni took a minute to take stock of what had happened. She’d never had an issue in the years she had lived in the flat, until now anyway. It was too much of a coincidence that it was happening now Duke had reappeared. She glanced at the screen on her mobile, instinctively checking to see if Mark had text. He had no reason to, she knew, but a part of her wanted to tell him about the broken window.

  Not that she needed a knight in shining armour – she took a lot of pride in knowing what she had achieved, she’d done entirely on her own. She didn’t need anyone. But Toni acknowledged it would be nice to have someone with her right now when she felt unsettled, and at odds.

  Picking up the phone, she typed out a message to Mark and hit send before she could talk herself out of it.

  Chapter 11

  18th December, 2210 hours – Wright’s flat, Canaan Lane

  Francis had found himself pacing the flat for some time. Lee had assured him he would arrive at his flat at 10pm and he was late. If there was one thing Francis hated, it was tardiness.

  He’d glanced out of the window a few times – reassuring himself that Mark McKay’s car wasn’t out there tonight. He sometimes came later than this but once Lee was inside, Mark would have no reason to suspect anything anyway.

  Not that anything was going to happen tonight – nothing that both he and Lee wouldn’t want when it came down to it. He’d already poured the lad a beer, slipping a little Rohypnol into the cool beer to assist his guest in relaxing. Relaxed was always better the first few times – he’d learned this from experience. The first time he had Lee, it would be pleasant and jovial. It wasn’t until Lee was fully comfortable that he’d start on his kinkier requests. It was always that point that they started to rebel – but by then it was too late.

  Much, much too late.

  Then it would no longer be a request but a demand. He had his ways, and he enjoyed what he did. This was always the best part for Francis – that feeling of utter control and euphoria. Nothing would ever take that away.

  Lee will be mine, and then he’ll submit to my every whim. It will be as it is. And not even Mark-bloody-McKay will stop that happening.

  The knock on the door was loud in the silence of the flat, and Francis jumped visibly before smoothing down his shirt. He’d latched the outer door earlier when he entered, wanting the lad to be able to come straight up with no problems.

  Frances tugged at his shirt cuffs, pulling them down and glanced in the mirror as he passed. He liked to look smart – it promoted the trusting relationship he was aiming to build.

  He swung the door open with a smile, allowing Lee to access then handed him his beer. Lee looked like he’d already had a little something to knock off the edge. He swayed slightly as Francis took control and led him into the living room.

  ‘Sit, make yourself at home. You had a good night?’ Softly, softly now, Foxy, you don’t want to scare the little lamb away.

  ‘Yeah not bad, had a couple of drinks with a mate. Thanks for the beer.’

  Lee took a long swig and smiled at Francis.

  Francis felt his cock harden instantly – this was going to be such fun.

  19th December, 0200 hours – vaults under The Royal Mile

  He sat in the darkness. He needed no light or sound – nothing except this. Pure, unadulterated, swaddling darkness.

  It calmed him instantly – his evening hadn’t gone well. He felt the muscles in his face tighten into a scowl – it hadn’t gone well at all.

  He hadn’t been able to get a thing from Lee for a start – all that work and no play made Jack a very dull boy. He wasn’t ready to bring Lee to the vaults yet, but if he wasn’t careful he’d have to up his schedule. Too many noses sniffing round the pot for a start.

  The concrete felt cool under his bum as he sat in the centre of what he knew to be a large cavernous room. It wasn’t linked to the tourist network of vaults but was a privately owned one – deep under the city where the owner never acknowledged its existence. It was one of the easier vaults to access, entry through the insecure basement window of the man’s house, and then deep down into the darkness.

  It was cold tonight – the bitterness of the evening seeped down from above, giving him goosebumps even under his thick jacket. Snow’s forecast for tomorrow. I smelled it above ground. He couldn’t smell it down here, however – the only smell down here was damp, cold concrete. Somewhere in the vault, a steady but slow dripping noise sounded. No doubt a result of the rain above ground over the last few days.

  Sometimes if he closed his eyes tightly, and forced himself to let his imagination roam free, he’d be able to sense how it had been back then. All those years ago when Burke and Hare had terrorised the hidden streets where even the police didn’t venture. He could almost hear the bustle of the market stalls in the narrow streets, smell the acrid stink of urine and faeces as they made their way down the street to the river, feel the air crackle with the putrid and festering smells of an enclosed space with far too many people in it.

  He knew all the history about Burke and Hare – even the old children’s song that came about afterwards – up the close and down the stair, in the house with Burke and Hare, Burke’s the butcher, Hare’s the thief, Knox the man who buys the beef. What’s more, he respected them. As the serial killers of the time, they’d done a bloody good job. He smiled in the dark at his unintentional pun – bloody wasn’t even the right word. They’d not left blood. Not that Dr Knox had ever said anything if there was any. They left no other marks really. Suffocation was a clean kill method – they’d never have got the money they did if murder was obvious. He still preferred his knife, though: it made it all feel so much more personal.

  His mind threw back to the first time he’d ever killed. It had been a woman, small in stature. She had no fight in her at all, she was putty in his hands. Putty that he’d taken great glee in moving and squeezing until her very life left her tired broken body. Nobody had ever found her – he still visited her on occasion. She’d never had the fight he wanted in a victim. He much preferred a little work involved in the things that gave him pleasure.

  The first man had been a challenge. It had been back when he thought suffocating like his idols was a good idea. He’d ended up with a couple of broken ribs for his trouble, as well as facial bruising that he’d had to explain away. It was then he’d turned to his blade.

  Instinctively his fingers ran down his leg to the knife sheath at his ankle. Through the denim of his jeans, he touched the outline of the knife. It caused frissons of excitement that sped through his whole body. He knew that holding the knife in his hand would cause even more. Sometimes he wondered if he could orgasm just from touching the knife – it turned him on that much. The cold feel of the steel, the warmth of th
e deer-horn handle.

  He unclipped the holder and drew the weapon into his palm. His penis stood to attention like he’d expected. With his other hand, he undid his belt and unbuttoned his jeans. He went commando – always had, and his dick sprung out of the confines of the material.

  He put the smooth unsharpened edge of the knife onto the soft skin of his erection and slowly rubbed it up and down. He felt close already – this was his answer.

  Yes, I can come just from touching this knife.

  He moved the knife faster, taking care not to move the blade so the serrated sharp side touched his bare skin. Pleasure-pain though, it felt good.

  He let the sharpened edge catch the skin on his finger, and as a faint, unseen trickle of blood left his body, he came, grunting into the darkness as he spread his seed up over his stomach.

  This knife was so special – it practically had magic powers. He’d never known an orgasm be so satisfying.

  Carefully, he replaced the knife in its sheath and pulled a hanky from his pocket – he wiped his stomach down and fastened his trousers.

  Tonight hasn’t been a total waste. This bit’s been kind of great, actually.

  He pushed himself to his feet, whistling an eerie tune as he made his way out of the vault.

  19th December, 0635 hours – Toni’s flat, Harrison Gardens

  Mark woke to the sound of Toni making coffee. He closed his eyes and listened, not used to it. When he’d first stirred about half an hour before he’d wondered where he was, even had that momentary panic that he wasn’t at home in his bed. But now the sound of her rustling about the kitchen was somewhat soothing.