As the dog had passed on the Curse ofOg, so had Percy; but he he knew that Og didn’t feel satiated. He himself feltbereft and frustrated.
The voice was once more inside hishead.
Foolish man! They be of no use to me.Life has almost flown their tired old bones.
Percy was about to hit his head withhis hand to try to dislodge the voice, but realised what it was saying wasright. The blood that Claude had drunk was feeble, malnourished and lacking invitality. It was the blood of old men. It was nothing like the rich andnourishing feast that was Lilith’s blood. He’d learnt a valuable lesson, toseek out young people. The blood of youth was required, if he was to gain thegood grace of Og.
Lord Percy rode on a little further,the urge to please the voice still raging within him. To his right was a gap inthe tree-line and he could see that Old Road was still there, a narrow lanecutting a path through the woods. The route home was open to him! He couldfollow it all the way to Underwood, then on to Brimstone Manor.
The sky was beginning to lighten asdawn approached. He thought of Rowena, her skin smoking in the sunlight and herhands growing blistered and sore. He knew he couldn’t be caught exposed in thewoods with nowhere to shelter from the sun’s terrible rays. He saw, a littlefurther up the road, an old house set back with outbuildings and a sign on agatepost that read ‘Loft House Stables’ – a perfect place to rest Claude andBeauty. Maybe here he could shelter there and find some satisfaction for Og.
Lord Percy guided Beauty off the roadand put her into one of the stables. Claude shot inside and curled up on thestraw lined floor.
“You rest my lovelies,” said Percy,patting Beauty on her neck and stroking Claude. “For tomorrow night we have aperilous journey ahead, if we are to win back our home.”
He left the stable block and went overto the house. It was a fine old place with white washed walls and a slate roof.He walked around the back and noticed one of the upstairs windows was open slightly.A moment later he’d climbed up the drainpipe, forced the window open and hadstolen into the house.
He stood at the head of a darklanding. There was a stairwell to his right and three doors to his left. Hecould hear faint rumbling sounds coming from the nearest door. He opened it,went silently through and stood at the bottom of a brass bed, listening tosnoring and snuffling. The voice inside his head sounded very annoyed.
These two little piggies needawakening! What infernal clatter!
The snoring stopped, there was a moanand a bedside light came on. Percy saw a tubby man in striped pyjamas and awoman with a tight blonde perm sit up and gaze at him in astonishment.
“A burglar George,” shriek the woman.“Get the gun.”
“Yeah Lilly,” said George, climbingout of bed, fixing Lord Percy with a glowering look. “Prepare to have your headblown off. Nobody burgles me and lives.”
Percy watched the man pull a shotgunfrom out of the wardrobe.
“I always keep this handy,” he said.
Lord Percy was at the man's side andslashed a shallow wound across George’s cheek with the knife he'd taken in thechurch. He wiped it with his finger and licked the blood, then muttered a longindecipherable curse. Lilly screamed. It was gratingly high pitched. George hadthe gun pointed upwards and pulled the trigger. There was a loud bang followedby falling plasterwork – he’d blown a large hole in the ceiling. Lilly screamedlouder. Her face turned purple.
Lord Percy released George, who fellto the floor unconscious. He gave Lilly an impatient look. “Madam, please besilent! You are giving me a most fearsome headache with that infernal racket.”
Lilly threw a pillow at Lord Percy butbefore it had left her hands he was already sucking at a wound on her arm,muttering the Curse of Og between sucks. When he’d finished he tossed her outof bed and she rolled onto the floor unconscious. He’d cursed two more peoplebut he yet again knew that Og wasn’t feeling satisfied. This was mostfrustrating! These people were both fat and middle-aged. The vitality that hadonce flown through their veins had, like the old men, long since departed.
I grown a’tired of these old windbags!Bring forth a spring chicken.
There was a knock at the bedroom doorand a girl’s voice.
“Everything okay mum? I thought Iheard screaming.”
Lord Percy pulled the door quicklyopen. A young girl stood before him, around fifteen years old. She was prettywith large eyes and long brown hair and was wearing a white flannel nightdress. The girl shrieked, making a very similar sound to her mother.
Lord Percy was a fearsome sight: tall,gaunt, shadowy in the dim light, with fresh blood smeared all over his face anddripping off his chin. His facial expression was one of ravenous anticipation,like a cat about to pounce on a canary.
The girl turned to run but Percy hadalready torn into her soft young neck and was drinking blood of exquisitedelicacy. As he muttered the curse his head soared with blissful delight. Thisis what it was to be at one with the great God Og! He’d never felt more alive.The girl had given him and Og a wonderful gift. He finished drinking and shefell unconscious in his arms.
“Og thanks you, my dearest springchicken,” he said with a gracious blood splattered smile.
He picked her up and carried her acrossthe landing and into what he guessed was her bedroom. It was pink and messy andthe walls were filled with posters of young men in strange clothes with spikyhaircuts, singing on stage. Percy thought this most peculiar for a young lady’sboudoir. He tossed her onto the bed, still unconscious.
He went back into her parents’ roomand opened the bedroom window. Looking outside he could see a long drop into awide yard. He picked up the
