Yes, and doing so ‘till you are gorgedlike the fattest of leeches.
Grace would be useful. In this bizarreland of unfamiliar customs and mysterious machines she would take him to placeswhere its young people congregated.
“Away!” he cried.
Beauty whinnied and stamped her hoovesthen bounded off at great speed, galloping out the front gates and turning downOld Road – into the overreaching darkness of Wych Elm Wood. Claude followedclosely behind.
They cantered through the coldclaustrophobic woods for a while. It was very dark under the leafy canopy butGrace was surprised to find that she could see every twig, stone and plantwithout any trouble whatsoever.
“I’m confused,” she said. “There’ssomething I crave. I wish I knew what it was.”
“My dear sweet innocent child – it’s avictim’s blood for your new master – Arddhu Og.”
“Blood?” replied Grace, thinking hard.“Oh yes, you’re right! How very odd.”
From somewhere off in the darknessthey could hear the thrum of engines. The sound grew louder until – with a deepscreaming roar and the illumination of trees – two large motorbikes came flyingpast, causing Beauty to rear and whinny with fright.
Lord Percy saw red carriage lights andthe backs of two people riding away on fat noisy bicycles. Their black leatherjackets were painted with a crude rendition of skull and crossbones.
“What the devil was that?” he said.
“That’s the local biker gang. I thinkthey call themselves The Pirates. When I’m out with the riding school wesometimes see them at the campsite.”
Lord Percy watched with interest asthe bikes turned off the road some distance ahead. Beauty trotted on until theygot close to this turn-off. Percy notice a yellow light flickered through thetrees – someone had built a fire. He could hear voices, laughter and a strangeform of string instrument music.
He saw a sign that said ‘Wych Elm CampSite’. There was a wooden hut with nobody inside and a gate that had been leftopen.
“Are these ‘Pirates’ young?” said LordPercy, pulling Beauty to a halt.
“Teenage thugs, a bunch of troublemakers.”
“You go and introduce yourself. I wantto see the cut of these Pirate chaps.”
“You mean you want me to go into abikers’ campsite, at night, on my own? Dad would kill me if he knew.”
“You are perfectly safe, my child.They have more to fear from you, now you’re with Og.”
Grace was about to laugh at thisstrange statement but somehow knew Percy was right. She jumped off Beauty andset off up the side road and into the trees, towards the flickering fire. Shecounted thirteen motorbikes, parked up in a row and saw a number of tentspitched in a field. The fire was in a clearing, at the centre of a wide shallowhollow. There were wooden benches all around and Grace could see a number ofpeople sitting, drinking cans of beer and smoking what she could see were longwhite cigarettes. They wore jeans and boots and some had on black leatherjackets. One man in a brown suede waistcoat seemed to be the leader. He was atthe centre of the group and everyone was listening with amusement to somethinghe had to say.
Grace marched straight over and stoodin the centre of them all. She knew she should have been terrified, but forsome reason felt very calm and relaxed.
The leader stopped talking when henoticed Grace and turned to give her a bemused stare. His face was very paleand peppered with spots. He had sideburns and cropped hair.
“What have we got here? Little girllost?”
“I want to join your gang,” saidGrace.
She could hear a voice deep inside herhead, which she assumed was Percy’s. It said it was absolutely ravenous. So wasshe! The voice wanted to know how old these bikers were, if they were suitablefor games and merriment.
“You need to introduce me toeveryone,” she added. “I want to see what they look like. Are they old?”
The leader looked very surprised whenhe heard this and laughed loudly.
“What’s all this, eh?” he said to allthe other bikers. “Maybe we should have a bit o’ fun with her.”
He pulled out a flick knife from hispocket and showed the blade to Grace. The voice in her head directed her tothink hard, to make him do what she wanted. She imagined him dropping theknife.
The leader dropped the knife onto thefloor. His face fell and he looked quite subdued, a little shocked. “My name’sBulldog. They call me that ‘cos a bulldog once bit me on the bum and I couldn’tride for a month.”
“It was a poodle – but you didn’t likethat nick name,” said another biker.
“That’s Joker,” said Bulldog pointingat a young lad with a fresh-faced grin. “He thinks he’s funny.”
He indicated two other young longhaired lads and someone a little older. “That’s Davy, Jimmy and Mick. They’rethe Underwood yokels who look after our bikes.”
Grace heard someone play a riff on anacoustic guitar. “That racket’s Hippy,” said Bulldog, “who thinks he Jimmybleedin’ Hendrix. And here are Spud, Dave and Biffa, the mischief makers.”
Grace noticed that four of the bikerswere actually girls, not much older than herself. Three of them were blondehaired and quite brazen looking, but the other had short hair, jug ears and apug nose.
“That’s Abbey, Sandy and Lucy, thelove interest, and Ratchet, who can fix anything.”
“You do all look very young,”said Grace, looking pleased.
She felt a strange, burningcompulsion. Every time she looked at Bulldog she thought of gushing blood andher pulse quickened. It was a very peculiar feeling.
What do you wait for, girl? The comingof winter-tide? Bring him to me!
“Sorry but I have to do this,”she said with an apologetic shrug, then leapt forward and sunk her teeth deepinto Bulldog’s neck, taking him completely by surprise.
“What the hell... get off!” criedBulldog in a gurgling voice.
Grace’s eyes were fluttering as shemumbled a curse at Bulldog.
Claude bounded out of nowhere and witha huge leap landed on the four girls. They screamed helplessly as his teethlashed
