A Vision of Green (Florence Vaine #2) (35 page)

The manticore releases its hold on Ingrid and glances up at us. The myths might say it has a human head, but it doesn't look like any person I've ever seen. It's as though somebody took the idea of what a human face should look like and distorted it, put a strange plastic mask over the features, making them cartoonish and overly pronounced.

“
Help me,” Ingrid whimpers. Her legs look slack and lifeless, too slack actually. Then I see a black spike sticking out of her lower back and I remember more of Caroline's description of the manticore, with its shooting spines that can paralyse its prey. Ingrid might have lost the ability to walk. If we can even manage to rescue her and ourselves from this monster she might never walk again. I try to pull myself together, because I'm on the verge of losing it. I've encountered more monsters in this one night than I have in my whole life, and I've certainly known my fair share of evil beings, supernatural and otherwise.

The manticore opens its gaping mouth, revealing rows upon rows of razor sharp yellow teeth. Its horrific tail flicks up just as it lets out an awful roar. It's hard to describe such a sound. It's like the roar of a lion that has been filtered through an echoing brass object. The lion rears up and leaps at Frank, but Frank jumps quickly to the side and circles the creature, knife still grasped in his hand. I try to become as small as I possibly can so that this thing will keep its focus on Frank and not see me edging ever closer to Ingrid.

Frank makes a move to cut into the manticore's body, but instead of staying still it whips its head around, snapping its layers of teeth at Frank's arm. It goes up on its hind legs and roars again, the noise blasts at my ears, making them pop. I get to Ingrid and kneel down on the floor, taking her hands and putting them around my neck. Thankfully she doesn't weigh much or I wouldn't be able to lift her so easily. I grab her legs and heft her up, walking backwards, away from where the manticore and Frank remain at a stand off.

I almost fall to the ground when Frank tries another attempt at wounding the creature, but instead of him cutting the beast, the beast snaps at his arm, gets a firm grip and bites down into the flesh. Frank growls in agony and the manticore lets go, getting ready to finish him off. That's when Frank's aura transforms, perhaps in a desperate attempt to survive, and his demon explodes out of the flames, a glorious black winged dragon.

It bellows deeply at the manticore and the manticore howls in return. Neither monster is willing to back down. I hear running coming from behind me, and I turn my head to see several Nephilim racing toward the scene. Frank is standing stock still, but his demon is moving around. It's as though they've traded places in this moment, the boy has stepped back to allow dominance to the curse that infects him.

Frank's dragon opens its mouth to breathe fire on the manticore as the manticore's tail begins shooting venomous spines. The demon shakes them off with no affect. The Nephilim have reached us now, and a dark haired female silently takes Ingrid from my arms. The others stand watching the fight between beast and beast. The manticore's spines are doing no harm to the dragon, whose wings flap into the air, bringing it a foot or two off the ground. It looms over the manticore and breathes another burst of fire. The manticore's mane gets set alight. One of the Nephilim takes this weakness as his chance to pounce, and he swiftly chops off the creature's almost human head with a sword of light identical to the one Sam had.

Seeing the manticore has died, Frank's demon retreats back into his body, becoming nothing more than the barest glimpse of a wing tip amid the flames. Frank collapses back against the wall, looking drained and in pain. His arm is shredded from the manticore's bite. One of the Nephilim silently steps up to him, places his hand upon Frank's wound and it immediately begins to heal.

I turn to check on Ingrid, still clutched in the arms of the female Nephilim.

“
Can you walk?” I ask her.

Her blue eyes glance up at me in exhaustion. “No,” she manages, tears running down her dirty cheeks. “That thing has been dragging me through the forest all this time. Only now did it bring me outside, ever since it shot me in the back I haven't been able to feel my legs. I never should have left my car that night. I walked right into the forest without thinking, it was like I wasn't myself, like I'd been hypnotised.”

She's on the verge of bawling, and is clearly referring to the night she went missing. The manticore lured her into the forest, just like the N
ø
kken had lured me in. Only I had a much more lucky escape, thanks to Green George. Where is he anyway? Has he washed his hands of this whole affair since the creatures have escaped the forest and are no longer within his realm of authority. By the time I look back at Ingrid her eyes are closed, she's asleep. Wiped out from her ordeal.

“
I'll see to her,” says the Nephilim. “She'll be all right.”

“
Will you be able to heal her so that she c-can w-walk again?” I ask, it hurts to speak. To think that Ingrid could be paralysed for life. Nobody deserves that, not even the school bitch.

The Nephilim doesn't answer me, she only looks at me and shakes her head. There's my answer. Ingrid will never be completely healed. Mending a spine is on a whole other level to healing a bruise or a cut.

The Nephilim who had been helping Frank is now finished, and there's bright pink skin where only moments ago there was a bloody gash. He puts his arm around me as we make our way back to the assembly hall. When we get there I take another look at those present. There are more people here now, and the place is almost at full capacity. It's as I'm thinking this that my eyes land on a familiar face, sitting to the side of the room. My dad.

“
Is that who I think it is?” Frank asks beside me, his voice is like hard steel.

I grab onto his upper arm. “Don't g-go over there, now's not the time.”

“
That bastard doesn't deserve shelter after what he did to you. I'm throwing him out of here.” Frank's arm slips from my grasp as he heads straight over to Dad. “Hey!” he calls. Dad's head whips up at the sound and he spots Frank coming at him like a raging bull. I follow behind, helpless to prevent the drama. Dad stands up just as Frank stops in front of him.

“
I don't want any trouble son,” Dad says, hands in the air, obviously seeing that Frank is on the verge of hitting him. Dad doesn't fight with people who are stronger than him. Oh he'll mouth off at them, but he'll scurry away before they have the chance to get a punch in.

“
You asked for trouble the second you put your hands on her,” Frank spits.

“
What I do to my own daughter is none of your business,” Dad answers back.

Frank takes a step closer. “Are you fucking serious?”

“
Listen you little shit, back off now, you're pushing your luck.”

That sends Frank right over the edge, and his fist makes contact with Dad's face before I can blink. Suddenly Dad's tumbled to the floor and is holding a hand to his bleeding nose. A woman I hadn't noticed up until now rushes to his side, asking him if he's all right. I've seen her blond hair before, and not just when her and Dad had been messing around in Gran's bedroom. My brain takes a second to catch up, and when it does I can't believe the magnitude of the coincidence.

This is most certainly the woman who'd been keeping tabs on me before Dad came back to Chesterport. She'd been watching me because she was one of Diana's witches, the last woman standing. The one with the little boy and the bad aura. The one who got away. She peers up at me and there's still a little bit of fear in her, she's still afraid of me because of what I did to her. Because of the fear I put in her aura so that she'd run away and I could help save Ross' life.

“
Oh my God,” I whisper, staring right at her.

Her eyes go wide. “You don't need to do anything, I haven't got any magic any more, not since Diana left.” Her voice is jittery.

“
How the hell do y-y-you know my dad?” I ask her.

“
My name's Karen, I've known your dad since we were teenagers.” Suddenly it all clicks into place. She's Karen Slater, the girl Caroline's mum told me had been Dad's girlfriend at school.

“
Oh, this is just too perfect,” I say. “Bad must really attract bad, you two are m-made for each other.”

Frank turns to me. “You know her?”

“
She was in Diana's coven.” I answer simply.

Frank runs a hand over his jaw. “Sam's gonna love this, he thought they got all the witches, clearly one managed to slip through the cracks.”

“
I don't do any of that stuff no more,” says Karen as Dad groans with the pain of his broken nose. “Please don't hurt me, I've got a son to take care of.”

At this I become aware of the little boy sitting on a chair nearby, watching the drama unfold. He looks upset and his hands are clenched tight. I know what it's like to be a scared kid like him. I don't want to do anything to further his distress, so I back away from his mum.

“
You're lucky I'm not heartless enough to throw a mother with a kid out on the street when it's this dangerous.” I say to her.

“
Look at her all high and mighty,” Karen mutters under her breath. “No idea what her dad has been through, what I've been through.”

“
What are you mumbling about?” Frank asks her.

“
I'm just saying, Terry and I might have done some bad things in the past, but we've had our reasons.”

“
Oh yeah, and what were those?” Frank continues, his tone cynical.

“
Keep your trap shut, Karen,” Dad hisses, with his shirt bunched up and held to his nose to soak up the blood. Alex has just come over to see what's going on. He stands next to Frank, but doesn't interrupt the conversation.

Now I'm suspicious, what does Dad not want me to know about him? Karen whips her head to Dad. “She thinks she's the only one in the world who's ever had to suffer Terry, you should tell her why you drink, why you use. It stops the voices in your head, that's what you told me.”

“
Isn't hearing voices the first sign of lunacy?” Frank asks, his head cocked to Alex.

“
Nah, that's talking to yourself. Hearing voices can't be too far off though.” Alex replies, all droll.

I take a step closer to Dad. “What v-v-voices do you hear?”

He glances up at me for a second, but looks away without breathing a word. Anxiety sweeps through his dark aura. That's when I realise he
really
doesn't want me to know any of this. Unfortunately, Karen's let the cat out of the bag. There's no going back now. Hearing voices in your head sounds a lot like reading thoughts, like what I've experienced once or twice in recent weeks. Is my dad some kind of a telepath or a mind reader? Did he inherit an elf trait like I did?

“
You can hear thoughts, can't you Dad,” I say. All he does is nod his head dejectedly to affirm it. Oh my God. At first I'm in shock, but soon anger takes over. “And you think that's a good enough excuse for how you treat me, for h-h-hitting me?”

He peers up at me. “I'm not right in here Flo,” he taps his head. “So stop looking for logic in anything I do. I might be a fuck up, but truthfully I've never really cared.”

“
Being able to hear thoughts doesn't make you crazy Dad,” I say. “It's more likely that the things you've done to try and block them out are what drove you mad.”

I think back to the first morning after Dad returned. He'd made me drink a ton of shots the night before. I was hung over that morning, and still a small bit dizzy, but I noticed how I couldn't see everyone's aura as clearly as I normally do. If I kept myself drunk or high all the time then perhaps I wouldn't notice the auras at all. This is obviously what Dad's been doing his whole life, using substances to drown out the voices in his head.

“
Platitudes,” Dad mutters. “Go away Flo, I'm not in the humour to deal with you.”

“
Don't talk to her like that,” Frank grits.

I gear myself up for another clash between Dad and Frank, but it doesn't happen. This is because we're interrupted by a loud bang coming from somewhere outside the school. The Nephilim must have barred the front doors, because it sounds like something's trying to get in, or a number of somethings as the case may be.