Read Online The Hellbound Heart by Clive Barker - Free Book Online

pulled the knife from its hiding place. He was moving away from her, across the room.
    "There's somebody-"
    "Don't. "
    "-here."
    The last syllable faltered on his lips, as he glimpsed a fretful motion in the corner beside the window.
    "What...in God's...?" he began. As he pointed into the darkness she was at him, and slicing his neck open with a butcher's efficiency. Blood jumped immediately, a fat spurt that hit the wall with a wet thud. She heard Frank's pleasure, and then the dying man's complaint, long and low. His hand went up to his neck to stem the pulse, but she was at him again, slicing his pleading hand, his face. He staggered, he sobbed. Finally, he collapsed, twitching.
    She stepped away from him to avoid the flailing legs. In the corner of the room she saw Frank rocking to and fro.
    "Good woman..." he said.
    Was it her imagination, or was his voice already stronger than it had been, more like the voice she'd heard in her head a thousand times these plundered years?
    The door bell rang. She froze.
    "Oh Jesus," her mouth said.
    "It's all right..." the shadow replied. "He's as good as dead."
    She looked at the man in the white tie and saw that Frank was right. The twitching had all but ceased.
    "He's big," said Frank. "And healthy."
    He was moving into her sight, too greedy for sustenance to prohibit her stare; she saw him plainly now for the first time. He was a travesty. Not just of humanity, of life. She looked away.
    The door bell was ringing again, and for longer.
    "Go and answer it," Frank told her.
    She made no reply.
    "Go on," he told her, turning his foul head in her direction, his eyes keen and bright in the surrounding corruption.
    The bell rang a third time.
    "Your caller is very insistent," he said, trying persuasion where demands had failed. "I really think you should answer the door."
    She backed away from him, and he turned his attentions back to the body on the floor.
    Again, the bell.
    It was better to answer it perhaps (she was already out of the room, trying not to hear the sounds Frank was making), better to open the door to the day. It would be a man selling insurance, most likely, or a Jehovah's Witness, with news of salvation. Yes, she wouldn't mind hearing that. The bell rang again.
    "Coming," she said, hurrying now for fear he leave. She had welcome on her face when she opened the door. It died immediately.
    "Kirsty."
    "I was just about to give up on you."
    "I was...I was asleep."
    "Oh."
    Kirsty looked at the apparition that had opened the door to her. From Rory's description she'd expected a washed-out creature.
    What she saw was quite the reverse. Julia's face was flushed: strands of sweat-darkened hair glued to her brow. She did not look like a woman who had just risen from sleep. A bed, perhaps, but not sleep.
    "I just called by"-Kirsty said-"for a chat."
    Julia made a half shrug.
    "Well, it's not convenient just at the moment," she said.
    "I see."
    "Maybe we could speak later in the week?"
    Kirsty's gaze drifted past Julia to the coat stand in the hall. A man's gabardine hung from one of the pegs, still damp.
    "Is Rory in?" she ventured.
    "No," Julia said. "Of course not. He's at work." Her face hardened. "Is that what you came round for?"
    she said. "To see Rory?"
    "No I-"
    "You don't have to ask my permission, you know. He's a grown man. You two can do what the fuck you like."
    Kirsty didn't try to debate the point. The volte-face left her dizzied.
    "Go home," Julia said. "I don't want to talk to you."
    She slammed the door.
    Kirsty stood on the step for half a minute, shaking. She had little doubt of what was going on. The dripping raincoat, Julia's agitation-her flushed face, her sudden anger. She had a lover in the house. Poor Rory had misread all the signs.
    She deserted the doorstep and started down the path to the street. A crowd of thoughts jostled for her attention. At last, one came clear of the pack: How would she tell Rory? His heart would break, she had no doubt of that.