The Necronomicon

Chapter Eight

Bleary-eyed, Meredith blinked. She lay still. It felt like she had needles pressing into her back, and she tried to adjust herself, but her body was like lead. Her stomach throbbed slightly, similar to how it had felt after she'd eaten the berries. Slowly, the feeling came back into her, and she raised her head a little.

She could see a blurred figure of someone — who she did not know — a little way off. They were bending down, seemingly picking something up. Meredith watched them for a few seconds, before turning her gaze to the object beside her. She squinted at it, then reached out an arm to touch it. Meredith knew that fabric — it was her knapsack. Her nose abruptly picked up on a smell that almost made her gasp with delight — the scent of meat cooking. For a frantic moment she feared it was actually her being fried, her eyes going to the figure fearfully. What if she had run right into the path of a cannibal? Her heart was in her throat, and she tried to scream.

It came out as a faint whine, but she saw the figure straighten. Her vision was becoming clearer now, and she looked at the figure, stricken. It was definitely a man's body, she realised as he came closer, his taut muscles stretching underneath his thin shirt. "You alright?" He asked her, stepping closer, and she thought she recognised his voice. She struggled, trying to place it. It sounded like someone she'd talked to recently — perhaps at the party. Dmitri? Elder Watford? One look at the faint outline of his body told her it wasn't the wizened old man who'd sent her on this trip. Could it be... Alfred?

She could see perfectly now — his hand outstretched, reaching for hers. Meredith took it carefully, studying him with a smile etched on her face.

Frederick Barnes grinned back at her, pulling her up. "You took quite a fall, Meredith," He began casually, as if they were sitting opposite one another at a restaurant rather than in the middle of dense forest. "Trying to catch this deer, I think." He continued, gesturing to his right, where there was a fireplace built of wood, and large rocks in a circle surrounding it. It was expertly made, and her eyes roved over it. On the top of the fireplace lay the slain deer, held above it by poles of wood, a wound in its head.

Meredith went crimson. So Frederick had seen her chase after the deer like some sort of heathen. Brilliant. He seemed to know exactly what she was thinking, and chuckled. Her thoughts suddenly went to her looks, to her ugly hair and dirty frock. She wished a hole in the floor could swallow her up, she looked so unattractive. How he knew who she was she did not know. She looked more of an animal than the deer.

"I gather you're hungry?" Frederick said, a mysterious smile appearing on his open face. "I reckon the deer's about ready now." Meredith was practically salivating at the thought of food, her stomach rolling. She examined Frederick's clothes as he walked away from her, towards the fireplace, noting how clean his outfit was. Her eyes roved over him — his chocolate brown curls, a little lighter than his skin, spilling over his forehead messily. She looked down at her own appearance ashamedly, looking up to meet his eyes, a darker brown than his hair, piercing hers. "You may want to look away," Frederick said, turning to the deer.

Meredith blinked, and he elaborated. "I'm about to skin her."

Meredith nodded, looking away obediently. "Frederick," She said, hearing his blade cut through the deer's fur rather than seeing it. Meredith briefly wondered what he'd do with the skin — she needed a new fur coat... "How long has it been since my house got burnt?"

"Your house! Oh, I'm extremely apologetic about that. I assure you it wasn't done under my orders. Let's see, that must have been about... a week and a half ago?"

Meredith nodded, closing her eyes momentarily. Then she paused, confused. What did Frederick mean by it not being under his orders? "And my parents?" She asked, squaring her shoulders.

Frederick seemed to hesitate before answering. "Thankfully, your stepmother lives. But your father..."

Meredith sighed. "It's only what I expected." Her father was dead. It was confirmed now. How? He was so strong, so old, so... so untouchable.

He was dead now.

She heard Frederick's knife slice through bone and sinew, jarring her — and the thoughts of her dead father flew from her mind. "So, what are you doing out here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Frederick replied provokingly. Meredith let out a battered sniff, and he laughed. "Of course, it isn't prudent to ask a lady that." She heard the smirk in his lilting tone. "And you are quite the lady, Meredith."

"What do you mean by that?" She inquired guardedly, and she heard the cutlass strike one more time, stripping the deer's fur off its meat cleanly. There was a slight pause before he answered her.

"I mean," Frederick started, and she managed to stop herself from jumping when she felt his breath on the nape of her neck. "That you are quite the enchantress." She did not know how he had put down the blade and come to stand behind her so quickly and so silently, but she did not ask.

Instead Meredith cocked an eyebrow, spinning around to meet his eyes. "And by that do you mean I managed to capture your heart?" She was ready for his reply, ready to gloat of how she knew so many who would say they loved her — and how she did not care for a single one of them.

They were millimetres apart — she felt his cool hands just by hers, and she flushed involuntarily. Meredith looked up at him, biting her lip to tease him, still awaiting his reply. "No, not really," He said airily, grinning. "But I must say, you seem to have worked wonders on every single other man in the country." He drew away from her, pulling the deer's meat from above the fireplace, and halving it with a quick swipe of his knife. He gutted it skilfully, and Meredith smarted at his comment in silent contempt.

She dared to speak again. "And how did you escape my charms?" She watched his face brighten at the question.

"I'm glad you asked," He said, looking directly at her, blade still in his hand. "Among my other hobbies, I like to challenge societal norms." As Meredith dissected what he said, hardly able to think because of the deer's sweet smell, heaven to her half-starved body, he continued. "And everyone seemed to be in love with you."

"You danced with me at the party," Meredith stated almost accusingly, and he let out a low chuckle.

"You have a good memory — I'd almost forgotten." He stopped to let the words sink in, and she clenched her teeth in fury. As if any man could forget that they had danced with her! Why, that's all that men wanted to do — to be able to boast to their friends that they'd grazed the small of Meredith Hawthorne's back, that she'd allowed them to stand beside her. She sneered at him, and he laughed at her expression. "May as well make some of the lads jealous — that party was such a bore. The only interesting people there were your stepmother, Audrey Swindon, Alfred Floodwhistle, Olivia Middlesbrough, and Dmitri Antoniona."

"I think that you forgot a name." Meredith pouted, all politeness lost, her eyes sparking.

"No, I don't think that I did," He retorted, craving the rest of the deer. Frederick observed her growing anger with delight — Meredith was so easy to annoy.

"Well, I didn't hear my name on the list."

"It wasn't supposed to be. All you did at the party was flirt, and even, at one point, if I recall correctly, fake an injury," He uttered plainly. "Amusing, I must say, but not especially interesting."

She turned the same colour as her flaming red hair, and he passed her some of the meat with a smirk painted on his face. Unwillingly, she took it. Her hunger forbade her from refusing a meal. "And, forgive me," Frederick said, and she turned to face him, glaring. "But is that the same dress you were wearing at the party?"

"Yes, it is." She couldn't help but smile, all her fury evaporating. If Frederick remembered her dress, then surely he must remember her well. That was probably the cause of his mocking tone — pure jealousy that she hadn't danced with him during every number.

A playful look erupted on his face. "That makes sense," He began, as she started to chew on some meat. "May I suggest that after this meal, you get into the river and wash your hair? And change that ghastly dress — you smell bloody awful."

It took all of Meredith's strength not to kill him right there and then.