The woman looked over Marina’s shoulder. ‘Golem … ’
Marina felt movement behind her. Smelt something rank, Decomposition and corruption to match the smell of the house itself. She turned. The man mountain was moving towards her. She had time to notice him. His skin was grey. Like a dead person. Filthy, bloodied bandages were hanging off his arms. She saw glistening wounds beneath. He smiled.
And stopped moving. Turned.
‘Hey, mate … ’
Sandro had tapped him on the shoulder. He took advantage of the Golem not moving. Swung a punch at him.
The Golem, eyes full of surprise, tottered, slipped. Sandro followed up with another punch. The Golem went down on one knee, a look of surprise on his face.
Sandro looked at Marina. ‘I’ve got this. Go on.’
Marina turned back to the woman before her. Made her hand into a fist. Put everything she could behind it. All the pain, anguish, heartache of the past few days. And the rage, the silent screams she had wanted to release but had been unable to. Everything. And let it fly.
Her knuckles stung, her arm shook from the reverberation of the impact. She might have done serious damage to her hand, but she didn’t care.
The punch had connected with the woman’s jaw, spun her head backwards, her body following. She had let go of the gun in her hand, sending it flying across the room, and stumbled to her knees. Marina bent down, picked her up by her chin. There was blood all round her mouth. She made a kind of strangled growl as Marina pulled at her.
‘Where … is … my … daughter?’
The woman smiled. Blood glistening on her teeth. ‘Feel better for that? Won’t help you … because it … it doesn’t matter any more … ’
Marina pulled back her hand to slap her face but stopped. The woman was staring up at her, madness dancing in her eyes. ‘Where is she? Tell me … ’
The woman laughed. You can’t talk to me like that. I’m … I’m Dee Sloane … ’
Marina knew she would get nothing more from the woman. She was enjoying Marina’s pain. Instead she turned round, scanned the room, tried to tune out what was before her, listened for sounds of her daughter.
She heard them. Faint but unmistakable. Screams. Pounding. ‘Josie … ’
She dropped the woman who called herself Dee Sloane. Let her crumple to the floor.
116
Sandro was aware of Marina leaving the room. But he didn’t let his concentration slip, didn’t take his eyes off his opponent. Golem? Was that what the insane woman had called him? Whatever or whoever he was, he was there to be beaten. But it wouldn’t be easy.
The Golem looked at him, smiled. Advanced. He looked like he was going to relish the fight. Sandro hated those kinds of opponents. He always just wanted to get it over with. Put the other guy down as hard and as fast as possible. Win. And that was what he planned to do here.
‘You not hurt me,’ said the Golem. ‘I Superman … ’
Oh God, thought Sandro. Chatty and mental. Just what I need.
He squared up to the man mountain before him. The lack of sleep, the exhaustion of the previous few hours slipped away from him. The adrenalin high he had been on when he stepped into the ring hours ago kicked in once more. He brought his fists up, his system pumping. Felt that familiar bodily engine revving. It always kicked in. Like he was a car, speedy and powerful, one that couldn’t wait for the brake to be slipped so he could see how far he could get and how fast he could go.
And something else. Something that was always there. In every fight, in every aspect of every day of his life.
The rage. The familiar rage.
The Golem came towards him. Sandro saw his father’s features imprinted on his opponent’s face.
‘I feel no pain,’ said the Golem. ‘But you will.’
Sandro was ready.
He swung the first blow.
117
Marina ran. In and out of rooms, trying to make out shapes, objects in the dark, trying to find her daughter. Calling all the time, letting Josephina know she was coming for her. That it was all right. Her mother was here.
‘Josie, keep shouting, keep shouting … ’
She did. Calling for her, pounding too. But the calls, the pounding were starting to weaken.
‘Josie … Josie … keep going, keep going … ’
Marina ran into a room at the back of the house. The sound, the smell of the river was strong in there. She could hear it lapping at the foundations, curling underneath her, the wood beneath the floorboards creaking as it did so.
‘Josie … ’
The pounding had been coming from this room. Marina listened, tried to hear it. Couldn’t.
‘Josie … I’m here, Mummy’s here … Tell me, tell me where you are … ’
A thump. Small. Weak.
Marina looked round, scanned the room, eyes now accustomed to the darkness. Checking the rotting furniture, looking for cupboards, anything.
‘Again, darling, do it again … ’
Another thump, even weaker this time.
Another desperate scan of the room. The walls held nothing. Marina looked down, scanned the floor.
And then she saw it.
The trapdoor.
She knelt down, found the metal ring, recessed in the wood. Pulled. It wouldn’t budge. The wood damp and warped.
She pulled harder. Nothing.
Marina felt tears well up within her. Anger, rage and sorrow all built to an emotional crescendo. She wasn’t going to let this happen, she wasn’t …
She pulled again. Put everything she had behind it, every last piece of herself. If she never moved again, it would be worth it to get the trapdoor opened.
It moved. A small amount, but definite movement.
Encouraged, she pulled again, harder this time.
More movement.
She pulled harder, screaming at the top of her lungs.
The trapdoor gave, opened fully.
Marina fell backwards as it did so, letting the heavy wood drop to the floor, the noise echoing round the house, reverberating away to nothing. She got quickly to her knees, looked down into dark space.
And there was her daughter.
Pushed up against the top of the steps, her eyes wide with terror, soaking wet. Marina leaned in and Josie came straight into her arms.
‘It’s OK, it’s OK, Mummy’s here now … ’
