In the Blood

My boss has gone away for four days and left me to run the shop. This would be fine, but he only left enough money to cover my wages for one day. Grrr.... As I'm paid less than minimum wage you'd think he could sort this out.

This is where I work:

http://www.fossilcavern.co.uk/

If anyone is in the market for a nest of oviraptor eggs lemme know. I can hook you up...

I always take a notebook and pen with me to work. During quiet periods I make drafts of synopses or character studies. Today I'm going to try to finalise the synopsis for the WW2 story (still untitled) and then get back to my novel, 'In the Blood'.

I initially came up with this idea as a tv series. 'Demonheart' is a fantasy/horror series along the same lines as Buffy. I set it on the Isle of Wight in the hopes of boosting local tourism if the tv series was a success.

In the Blood is the pilot episode of thirteen. It became clear that I was being very naive expecting it to get made, so I am in the process of rewriting Demonheart as a set of books for young adults.

I love this story. I love the characters. The end of the book is in sight. I hope it gets somewhere.

Here's the opening chapter. Enjoy!
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Demonheart book 1: In the Blood
Chapter 1.

Miller’s Lane was long and winding, flanked on both sides by a dense and eclectic woodland of birch and pine, oak and ash, chestnut and sycamore trees. The winter chill had stripped most to the bark leaving the roadside littered with dank, rotting debris. Deep brown leaves swirled in the wake of the passing car, releasing an odour of damp decay. Their glittering veins, painted silver by evening frost, sparkled briefly in the red taillights before darkness claimed them once more.

Seventeen year old Eleanor Fry checked her make-up in the mirror as she drove. Her dark eyes smouldered above chiselled cheekbones and ruby lips. She pouted seductively, turning her head from side to side. Irresistible. Isaac Hunter hadn’t stood a chance.

Icy rain began to pelt the windscreen, forcing her attention back to the road. Ellie flicked on the wipers and turned up the radio. Christmas tunes blared loud and cheerful. Keeping her eyes on the winding lane she reached across to the passenger seat and felt in her handbag for a lip gloss. One handed, she twisted the lid and applied the shine. Ellie glanced in the mirror once more as she rounded a bend.

‘Gorgeous.’ She purred.

The man seemed to come out of nowhere. His bright yellow parka screamed in the headlights as Ellie slammed on the brakes. He dived to one side as the car swerved and came to a stop with the engine running.

Heart pounding, Ellie turned to look over her shoulder. The rear window was spattered with rain making it impossible to see. Had she hit him?

‘Oh shit,’ she muttered. ‘Shit. Shit. Shit!’ She turned on the rear wipers and killed the radio. Ellie grabbed her handbag and rummaged for her mobile phone. No signal. Typical!

A hammering on the side door made her jump. Yellow parka man was standing right outside. Ellie hesitated for a second before buzzing the window down just a fraction. She was surprised to see a young man in his twenties. Fit. Hot, even. He was holding the hood of his jacket protectively over his head, hunched and squinting as the rain ran down his face. He smiled.
‘Battery’s dead and so is my phone. Got any leads?’
He jerked a thumb, and Ellie noticed a car at the side of the road. Its dark paintwork rendered it all but invisible through the downpour. She looked back to the man. Shook her head.

‘Don’t suppose…?’ he left the sentence hanging.

Ellie faltered. She glanced at the jumble of blankets on the back seat, then back to the stranger. If she left him here it could be hours before another car came by, and it was only a twenty minute drive to the next town. He would have to sit in the front, of course. It might be nice to have someone to talk to. After all, she was dressed to kill, and a little flirting might make the journey seem shorter. What could happen in twenty minutes? She tossed her handbag into the back, and unlocked the door.

The man climbed gratefully into the passenger seat. He removed his hood and extended a wet hand, which she ignored.

‘Dan Taylor. I really appreciate this,’ he said, withdrawing his hand and wiping rain from his face.

Ellie slid the car smoothly into first and began to drive. ‘I can take you as far as Collingwood.’ She stretched her fingers on the wheel, wondering if he had noticed the glistening polish that she had so painstakingly applied.

‘Great. Thanks.’ He wasn’t even looking. Ungrateful bastard. Ellie wriggled a little in the seat, allowing her skirt to raise a fraction. She pressed the clutch with a high heeled sandal and moved up through the gears, acutely aware of how this simple action flexed the muscles in her shapely legs.

‘Nice car.’ Dan smoothed the dashboard with an appreciative hand. ‘You’re lucky. My parents didn’t let me borrow theirs until I was… actually I don’t think they ever let me use their car.’

Ellie rolled her eyes. If he started talking about sport she was pulling over and he could get out – rain or not! ‘It’s mine,’ she countered brusquely. ‘Early Christmas present.’

Dan whistled. ‘Nice,’ he said again. ‘You know Taylor Automotives in Collingwood? The garage on River Street. That’s ours. You get any trouble just bring it straight in. I’ll get you a discount.’

‘Thanks,’ Ellie muttered, making a mental note to avoid the place like the plague.

‘So… you live on the island, or just down for the Christmas holidays?’

Ellie smirked. It made her laugh how the people here referred to the Isle of Wight as ‘the island’. As if it was the only one in the world. ‘Just moved here,’ she replied.

‘Yeah? How do you like it so far?’

‘It doesn’t suck. I guess.’

They drove in silence for a while. The rain had eased a little, and the rhythmic to and fro of the wipers became almost hypnotic. A cold, full moon shone white and strong above the treetops. It seemed impossibly large tonight, as if the Earth herself had reached out and pulled it close. Dark storm clouds rolled across the sky, blocking out the stars.

‘I’m surprised you pulled over.’ The man seemed to dislike the quiet and was struggling to make conversation. ‘Personally I’d never pick up a stranger. Especially at night.’

An icy shiver ran down Ellie’s spine. She glanced at Dan and saw that she had his full attention now. Unnerved, she plucked at her skirt, trying her cover her legs a little. He seemed not to notice.

‘Ever see that movie The Hitcher?’ he asked. Ellie shook her head. Dan laughed. ‘Scared the crap outta me! Not the remake. I mean the eighties version with Rutger Hauer.’ He gave an exaggerated shudder. ‘This kid pulls over to help a guy whose car has broken down. Right? Turns out the hitcher is really a serial killer who murders everyone that picks him up.’

Ellie’s knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. Why had she let him in? Stupid! She should have known that this would happen. Twenty minutes suddenly seemed like an awfully long time…

Ellie glanced in the rear view mirror.

She knew that Dan saw the look of horror that crossed her face, as his eyes widened. ‘I’m sorry!’ he said, and his face grew red. ‘I’m such an arse. I didn’t mean to scare you.’ He reached across to put a placatory hand on her arm.

Ellie screamed as a beast lunged at Dan from the back seat. It was covered in thick wiry hair, with the head and claws of a wolf, and the body of a man. The creature buried its teeth in Dan’s throat and began to savagely tear him apart. Blood splattered Ellie’s face and covered the windscreen, obscuring the road from view. She cried out in terror as the car left the road, crashed through the trees and slammed to a halt.

Dan’s arm fluttered feebly and then remained still. The snarling stopped. Blood dribbled down the windscreen and onto the dash as all fell silent.

Shaking uncontrollably, Ellie stared at the beast. Its fetid breath rose as hot mist on the icy air.

WHAM!! Ellie punched it in the face. ’Don’t you ever do that again,’ she raged. ‘Look what you did to my car!’

Slowly the creature morphed into a dark haired youth, naked and bathed in blood. Scott Fry calmly licked his fingers. His green eyes sparkled in the light of the full moon as he looked at his cousin.

‘I was hungry,’ he said.