Marina and Sandro walked towards the house, the mist parting with their footsteps. Whatever front door had once been there had fallen off and was rotting away. Marina stepped over the threshold, stopped. Listened. Heard creaking, groaning. Heard the river water sloshing round the foundations of the house, lapping away at it.
And something else. Faint and muffled. Small screams. Small hands hitting something.
Marina gasped. ‘Josie … ’
She made to run inside the house. Sandro stopped her. Marina glared at him, tried to shake off his grip.
‘Wait,’ he said, voice a hissed whisper. ‘The cars outside, remember? We don’t know who’s here. Let’s go carefully.’
The words didn’t penetrate. All she could hear was her daughter’s screams. She shook Sandro off and ran into the house.
She found herself in a central hall, huge, tall, a rotting staircase in the centre. She looked round, tried to get her eyes accustomed to the change in darkness. Saw movement, a light coming from a room off to her left. Ran towards it.
And found herself in what must have once been the living room. There was a woman lying on the floor, unmoving. Standing over her was one of the biggest men she had ever seen. And standing opposite, a naked, bald woman holding a gun.
The woman looked up from the body on the floor, stared at her. Marina took her in. She was like a female version of Frankenstein’s monster. A patchwork person. Marina flinched at the sight of her, but didn’t stop moving forward.
‘Where’s my daughter, bitch?’ She moved right up to the ruined woman.
The woman looked at her. Smiled. ‘Dr Esposito, I presume?’
Marina stopped. Looked at her. ‘You’re the one, aren’t you? You took my daughter … ’
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.