The Lamia Hunt

Chapter Thirty-Eight: The Note

15:47 26/11/2001

Lucy shivered. Her coat wasn't thick enough to block the wind, and wrapping her arms around herself didn't help much. The weight of her backpack was dragging on her shoulders, as if it were full of stones, and it was all the effort she could make to put one foot in front of the other.
Today had not been a good day. It had been cold from the morning, so cold that the sun had barely come over the horizon, as if it, too, wanted to stay in bed. That wasn't usually a problem, though. Lucy found these kinds of days to be the best kind of days, when there was more night than day, and when they knew winter was here. And it was her birthday in winter. She didn't have the best birthdays usually; Theodore didn't like it when she had friends over, so she didn't have parties, and the only gifts she'd gotten since she was seven were for her training. When she'd turned eight, it had been a pile of books on Lamiae, and the next year she'd gotten a thin metal stake, which she'd then been taught how to use. Her next birthday was in about a week, and she was eager to know what she'd get next. The gifts were odd, and she couldn't show them to her friends, but they were still gifts, and that was something.
But, despite the reasons she'd had to be happy, Lucy hadn't been happy today.
That had only started at school. They'd been getting ready for a school play, which was normal; it was normal for the year sixes to put on a play every Christmas. That was when things had started to go bad.
Since Maddy had left school a few months ago, Lucy hadn't been looking forward to the play. With Maddy around, it had been something she'd been eager to take part in, but now it was just something else to worry about.

It had been in the middle of the day, a while before lunch, and they'd been rehearsing under the instruction of several teachers who either didn't want to be there or wanted to be there too much.
They'd been given their parts about a week ago, and Lucy had been shocked to discover that she was playing the main character, a beautiful princess. Actually, she'd thought that it was a cruel joke, and that she'd be given her proper part later. That hadn't happened, though, and it had all been made clear to her when she read the story in a book from the school library. It was an odd story, bloody and strange and not much like the script of the play. And the main character wasn't the kind of princess they were used to. She kept on changing the way she looked, so there were two people in the year acting as her: Lucy and another girl, whose name was Cindy. Frankly, Cindy had the better role.
Anyway, they'd been rehearsing a scene where Lucy – as the ugly princess – was helping a boy to escape from a dungeon when things had gone bad.
Looking back, Lucy didn't know what it was that had reminded her of it, but there was something... Something exactly the same as in that room, that had transported her back there in an instant. Once more, she could see the black-haired man, feel the nails pressed into her side. She'd screamed, and, at that moment, she'd blacked out.
She'd spent the rest of the day with eyes constantly on her, waiting for something else to happen.
Nothing did, though but that hadn't been enough to stop one of the teachers from writing a note to Theodore and putting it in Lucy's bag.
Lucy could see the reason behind it, but now, as she kept herself from stumbling in the cold, she felt as if she had to get rid of it, before Theodore could get it. It wasn't the first note she'd gotten, and it would be easier if he didn't get it.
There was a bin coming up, too, just on the edge of the town square. She halted beside it, hefting her bag off her back.
Was there anyone watching her? She couldn't be seen; if one person saw, then everyone saw.
Tentatively, she unzipped the rucksack, holding it open so that she could see the note. There it was, embedded among her books, the paper stark white, its edges crisp and perfect. It had to go.
She reached a hand into the bag, grasping the note between two almost numb fingers, and drew it out. Now, all she had to do was put it in the bin, and it would be gone.
But first, she had to see that nobody was watching.
Slowly, she looked around, at the empty streets. It was dark, now, street lamps creating pockets of artificial yellow light, and there was nobody there, so far as she knew.
She turned back, poised to throw away the letter, but, at that moment, a gust of wind whistled down the street, nearly knocking Lucy over, and ripped the letter from her hand.
No!
With the wind carrying it, who knew where the note would go, and who would read it? Lucy couldn't let herself find out.
It was only a short way away, resting on the pavement. She could easily catch it. She pounced forward, and as she bent to pick it up, another gust lifted it from the ground, until it was just a little further away than it had been before.
Lucy sighed, and continued after it.

She didn't know for how long she chased that scrap of paper, or how many times she almost caught it; all that she knew was that the wind was always just a little faster; it was always there just before she was, and there was no way that she could beat it.
As she came to the alley between Brown Street and Blake Road, all thoughts of the note were gone, replaced with blind terror. That was because of the voice.
"Hello," the voice said, the voice she found all too recognisable and heard in every nightmare. "My, it's been a long time since I saw you, hasn't it?"
She felt a blow to the back of her head, and then the deserted road in front of her faded to black.