Written In Blood

Chapter Two

Zack remained in the doorway long enough to acknowledge Lucy's wave and then he closed the door. Making his way into the living room, he collected the mugs he and Lucy had used so he could take them into the kitchen to be washed up. Once that was done, which didn't take him long, he made himself a sandwich, to take care of his hunger, and returned to the living room and his desk.

He intended getting on with his novel, he wanted to get at least a bit more done that day, but no matter how hard he tried, he could neither settle nor think of what to write next. The only thing he could think of was Lucy Goulding's orange underwear, which she had contrived to flash at him multiple things. Finally, he pushed his chair back from the desk and got to his feet to find some other way of distracting him from his thoughts.

Lucy was pleased with how her visit with Zack Wild had gone; he had not come right out with a declaration of interest, but she knew when someone was attracted to her. The attraction she knew Wild had for her would get her what she wanted; he had already agreed to her returning with her manuscript so he could look it over – she was not so vain that she thought her, as yet unfinished, novel was perfect, it needed work, and that was where Wild came in. He had agreed to give her some guidance to make it better and, more importantly, to get his agent to read it when it was done.

She was so pleased with how the encounter had gone that she didn't notice that Constance Hawkins was still in her garden, watching her, as she walked down the road. When she reached the end of the trio of the houses, she crossed the road and approached the gate that separated the road from a field belonging to the Wright Farm. The gate was not locked and she slipped through it without a care for the fact that she was trespassing on private property; she only cared for cutting the journey home in half.

With her successful visit with Zack Wild keeping her mind occupied, it was no surprise that she was unaware of the Land Rover until it skidded to a halt, practically on her heels. It startled her out of her thoughts and made her jump; when she came down, she quickly turned to see what had caused the noise – it was a green Land Rover, identical to the one she had just passed in Zack Wild's drive, though she couldn't tell if it was the author behind the wheel for the sun was shining on the windscreen and reflecting off it glaringly.

Lucy remained blinded by the sun's reflection as the driver's door opened, and so had no idea who it was that shouted at her.

"Whore! Cock-teasing whore!"

There was such anger and hatred in the voice that it was impossible for her to tell who it belonged to; it held not one recognisable element, and she could not think who would want to speak to her in such a way. Her inability to tell who it was speaking, she could tell that it was a man but that was it, combined with the anger and the hatred to make her concerned, even a little afraid. It suddenly occurred to her that it was not such a good idea for her to have left the road, and nervously she looked first one way and then the other as she tried to decide what she should do.

"What's your problem?" she demanded as she moved around the Land Rover so she could start back the way she had come – returning to the road seemed like the best thing she could do.

"You. You think people don't see what a cock-teasing whore you are, but they do." The anger and intensity in the voice increased. "You dress like a tart; you act like one as well. You make everyone think they can have a piece of you, if they'll do whatever it is you want. You buy your grades with your body, you buy everything with your body, and you don't care who you buy it from. You'd even fuck Sir Virgil if it'd get you something you want."

The verbal attack, especially the suggest that she would sleep with her own great-uncle, struck Lucy like a physical blow and left her reeling. She wanted to say something, anything, to defend herself, but no words would come.

"It's time you learned what happens to cock-teasing bitches."

Lucy's fear became almost overwhelming and she picked up her pace while keeping an eye over her shoulder. She was a good runner, but didn't want to break into a run until it was absolutely necessary – she preferred to conserve her energy until she needed it.

"You're just like Georgie."

Lucy felt a ball of cold dread settle heavily into her stomach at that; Georgina had been missing for a week, and now she had the distinctly unpleasant feeling that she was going to find out what had happened to her fellow teen. That knowledge didn't help her, though it did intensify her desire to get away before she suffered the same fate.

It was just as well she had one eye over her shoulder, for he suddenly rushed around the Land Rover and lunged towards her. She reacted the moment she saw him get close, pivoting, she slid her bag off her shoulder and swung it with all her strength. Her timing could not have been more perfect; the bag crashed into her would-be attacker just before he reached her, throwing him into the side of his vehicle; from there he fell to the ground at the edge of the chest-high golden corn.

Dropping the bag, Lucy ran for the gate. She couldn't be sure if she was being pursued, the ground under her feet was uneven and she didn't dare risk looking back in case she lost her footing, but she believed she was. The thought spurred her on until, after she had covered about a third of the distance to the gate, she stumbled and fell, her momentum sending her sprawling along the dirt path.

Winded more than hurt she scrambled to her feet, where she discovered she had sprained her ankle. She was reduced to a hobble after that, and over her own, too slow, footsteps she could hear Him getting closer. She thought about calling for help, but decided she was better off saving her breath for her flight; the only person who might hear her was Constance Hawkins, and that was doubtful given how far away her house was.

She made it about half-way to the gate before being caught. One moment she was moving along at a fast hobble, the next she felt a sharp pain in the back of her head as she was yanked off her feet by her hair. She found herself flat on her back and was then spun around to face Him, before being pinned to the ground by his weight as he sat on her.

"Thank it's funny d'ya, hitting someone with a bag of books?" The question was snarled in a voice that remained unrecognisable, though there was something familiar about it that time. "How 'bout this?" He smashed his fist into the side of her jaw. "Think that's funny? How 'bout this?" He hit her again, and then reached down to grab her skimpy top, which tore easily in response to a quick yank from his strong fingers.

Lucy was dazed by the two blows but she was a fighter. She couldn't see clearly enough to be sure of where she was aiming but that didn't stop her lashing out. She bucked and heaved, writhed and twisted, but most of all she struck out again and again with her fists as she sought to make Him get off her or shift his weight so she could get away.

When her efforts failed to get Him to move, or even to stop his painful groping of her breasts, Lucy changed tactics. Instead of lashing out blindly, landing blows that had barely any strength behind them, she sought to use the only weapon she had that might do some damage – her nails.

Lucy had only a moment to enjoy drawing blood and a quick curse, for her defiance inflamed his anger. He hit her again and again, until he succeeded in knocking out two of her teeth, one of which she managed to spit out before it went down her throat, the other she didn't. She was unconscious before her jaw broke with a sharp crack, which was a blessing since it meant she couldn't see the lust-filled expression on His face as he finished tearing her top in two, and then ripped from her the scrap of bright orange that protected the last vestiges of her dignity.