Skulk Read Free

fog.”
    There was no fog. The night sky had been cloudy, but the air was clear.
    “Take it.” His gaze focused and flickered to the stone.
    For a moment I still didn’t move or speak. Then I think I shook my head, and swallowed.
    “I called an ambulance.”
    “No,” he breathed. “You... have to take it away... from here...” The strain of uttering a full sentence looked devastating and his head drooped again, his mouth hanging open. A thin line of pink-tinged saliva dripped from it onto the grass. “Take.” He managed to raise his head just enough to look me in the eye. More tears were fighting their way down his face. He said nothing else, but that look did something to me.
    I tipped onto my knees and shuffled towards him.
    “Do – Do you have–?” the absurdity of choosing whether to say children or cubs made me stop.
    “Nnn... nn...” he couldn’t form the word but I think he shook his head.
    Blood bubbled at the corner of his mouth as I reached his outstretched hand. The stone was a gem, I thought – a polished black cabochon with a bright white star in its depths. Surely he wanted it to go to someone?
    “Take it where?” I asked. Warm tears stung my cheeks.
    “...way,” he whispered.
    As I reached out and touched the stone, he fell back, his eyes half-open and empty.
    I should have felt something, when he died – a shiver, something . But all I felt was the cold surface of the stone in my blood-slippery palm.
    I heard sirens.

CHAPTER TWO
    The fire escape creaked under me, sounding a hundred times louder than it had on the way down. I paused under Mum and Dad's window with my heartbeat thumping between my ears. I waited for the sound of the wooden frame pulling up, a voice yelling “MARGARET ELIZABETH BANKS!” as if she could be summoned into existence to replace the crushing disappointment lurking under the window.
    Nothing.
    My head swam. I realised, with a sick twist in my throat, that the journey home was a blur of lights and the thump of concrete against my soles. I wasn’t sure when I arrived home. I had no idea how I got back across the gate.
    There was a corpse in the school garden. He was lying with his arm stretched out, naked, bleeding. Bled.
    I took the rest of the stairs slowly, and only when I’d slipped through my window and locked it behind me did I put my hands into my pockets. Sitting on my bed in the rusty glow of the street lamps outside, bloodstained fingers pulled out keys, mace, phone. A shaky, messy swipe of sticky fingertips, and my recent call log shone through the dim red streaks. 999, Monday, 03.54.
    The other thing in my pocket was cold and smooth. I turned it over in my fingers, not pulling it out yet.
    I had to wash my hands.
    I stumbled into the en suite and jabbed at the light switch with my elbow. In the mirror above the sink I saw my reflection lurch into view. I looked like a zombie. My face was pale and my eyes were bleary.
    My hands left more red streaks on the wide white bowl as I leaned over and rested my forehead on the cool mirror. For a hysterical second I thought of leaving the bloody handprints there for Gail the housekeeper to find in the morning. It’d serve her right if they gave her a heart attack.
    You love finding things for my mother to freak out about. I’ll give you both something to freak out about.
    I put my hand in my pocket and my fingers closed on the smooth stone again. I pulled it out and examined it, turning it over in the harsh light. It fitted comfortably into my palm, about the size of an egg and perfectly oval.
    It wasn’t black. As I washed the film of blood away under the tap, the stone shone a deep blue with a bright white six-pointed star right at the centre. It happens sometimes when a gemstone cracks deep inside, at just the right angle to catch the light.
    Did that mean this was a giant sapphire? It was polished up, to show off the star, like a gem would be. I remembered seeing one a bit like it before, years ago.