Prologue

“Don’t hurt me,” the girl sobbed, mascara-stained tears striping her cheeks.

“Shhh,” he whispered in her ear, liking the sound of her heart beating against him. It had all been so easy. She had come with him just like that. Girls like her always did. The ones with the low self-esteem, the girls who sat alone in the corner of the nightclub while their friends danced in the centre of the dance floor. Men hovering around them like flies around shit. They were all shit. However, the girls in the corners were different.

They would giggle as he complimented them. They weren’t used to that – it embarrassed them – but boy did they enjoy hearing what he had to say. Of course they did – no one paid them compliments – no one noticed them, they were hidden in the corner. He noticed them though, he had noticed her.

She trembled before him, wishing now that she hadn’t had so much to drink. Her knees didn’t knock together because of the Smirnoff Ice the guy had plied her with. They knocked together out of fear. She had never been naked in front of anyone before – she’d never had reason to. No one had asked her to take off her clothes like he had. His voice had been soft – coaxing – as her dress fell to the floor. At first she had giggled and covered her flesh with her arms, but he had gently pulled them away. That gorgeous smile of his had told her that it was okay - he liked her - he really did.

Oh, yes.

He eyed her. So much flesh, he smiled to himself. Enough to go around.

“Please just let me call my mum,” the girl sobbed in his arms.

He held her gently and smelt the fear which leaked from her in waves. His heart quickened just like hers.

“My roommate will be back soon,” the girl whispered, squirming against his smooth chest. She secretly knew that her friend wouldn’t be home until morning, and by then, she would be dead. She knew that and she wanted her mum. Just to speak to her, to hear her voice one last time. “Please...” she whispered, looking up into his dark eyes.

His eyes hadn’t been so dark in the nightclub. Back there, they had twinkled as he had flirted with her as he had whispered all the things that she’d always longed a boy would whisper to her. His mouth had been different, too. In the unlit corner of the nightclub, his lips had felt soft like new-born skin as they had brushed over her cheek, making her skin tingle. Now, in the gloom of her room, his lips seemed to have stretched somehow, as if pulled up behind his ears, and all the girl could think of was Heath Ledger disguised as the Joker.

It wasn’t just the guy’s lips; it was what lay behind them that told the girl she would never hear her mum’s voice again. The two ivory-looking points jutted from his black gums like blades.

There was a noise and the girl glanced up. It was the sound of her bedroom door being pushed open. She was saved; her roommate was back already! She peered over his shoulder and looked towards the open doorway, her eyes brimming with hope.

“Who are you?” she breathed, she was now wanting her heart to stop and put an end to the suffering she knew was going to come.

The figures standing in the open doorway stepped into the room. Both were young, no older than twenty-five. One male, one female. They ignored her question and spoke to the other.

“You have done well,” the male said, his lips seeming to spread up and open across his face, revealing a set of razor-sharp teeth.

“I haven’t come to talk,” the female said. “I’m ravenous.”

With his arms still wrapped around the trembling girl, the man looked back at the others, and with a smile, he said, “Let’s eat then.”

The girl closed her eyes at the sight of the freaky-looking mouths which lunged at her. A warm sensation raced through her body, and with it came a numbness and total darkness.

The three of them fed. They gorged themselves until they could eat no more.

Chapter One

Thaddeus Blake sat with his back to the river and spied through the heavy traffic. He watched the young girl, who sat hunched on the steps of the Embankment Tube Station. The February evening was bitter, and Thaddeus Blake watched as she tucked her dirty hands into the sleeves of her worn sweater. This was the seventh night he had spent sitting across the road from her, looking on as she implored the passing commuters to part with some spare change. Most ignored her whilst looking straight through her skeletal frame. The odd few did toss her coins, but others, usually older men, would pause beside her as they shared a few discreet words. The girl would become angry and start to shout at them. Her words were drowned out by the sound of passing night buses and taxis.

Sometimes, when she collected enough for food or a drink, she would disappear. Thaddeus would continue to wait in the dark, neatly dressed in a near black suit, crisp white shirt, with a blood-red silk tie. Hands laced in lap, legs crossed at the ankles, he would wait for her to return. She always did, sometimes after only a few minutes where she would resume her position on the steps. On two occasions she had been accompanied by a younger girl - fourteen-years-old, perhaps? He couldn’t be sure. She was scruffy-looking too - but unlike the other, the younger girl would sometimes sway on her feet, toppling over and collapsing onto the ground, consumed by drugs or alcohol - probably both.

But tonight, the older girl who had fascinated him so much was alone and having a rougher time than usual as she sat curled up, rocking back and forth in the cold. The commuters passed her by in busy streams, seeking the warmth of pubs, clubs, or the warmth of their lover’s bed. Thaddeus pulled up the sleeve of his suit and read the time. It was just past eight. He would give it another two hours or so, and then he would approach the girl.

Thaddeus spent the next two hours dining at a restaurant just off Trafalgar Square. For a man of medium build, he could be known to eat a hearty meal, and tonight he had put away two very rare sirloin steaks with a side order of ham, a large plate of fried potatoes and sweet peas, finished off with a giant serving of blueberry pie. As a rule, he drank very little, wanting - always needing - to keep his wits about him. But tonight he had consumed three glasses of red wine. After his meal, he sat for a short time, smoking a cigarette in the dimly-lit restaurant with the smell and taste of fresh tobacco curling up from his full lips and lingering around his slender fingers.

He arrived back on the opposite side of the road from the Embankment Tube Station at just past ten. A chill wind had picked up and it ran its icy fingers through his messy-looking hair. He spied the young girl, who was still there, now standing faint and tired-looking against the white stone of the building. Thaddeus lingered for several minutes more, then gracefully crossed the road at the traffic lights and approached the girl.

She stood facing away from him, her long, matted hair whispering about her shoulders and hiding most of her face. Thaddeus came alongside her and stopped. Feeling his presence, she turned, and through her long fringe, looked up into his face. She figured on first sight that he couldn't be more than twenty-five years in age, but he could have been older. It was his eyes, she thought. They were two dark brown spheres, set deeply into his face. They were alive and sparkling in the light from passing traffic. They generated such life, they made the rest of his face look worn and tired somehow. The pallor of his skin was so very pale, she wondered if he were not ill. His lips were full in colour though, so very dark. A wave of untidy hair framed his face. It didn’t look a mess by accident; he had styled it that way. The lower half of his face was covered in a few days’ stubble, which had been neatly trimmed.

After what seemed like time unknown, she broke her study of the stranger’s face and moved slightly away from him. She wasn't scared, but she knew these city types would rather not be seen with a tart, even if they did try and buy sex from her. That was a secret they kept hidden away in the backs of cabs, cheap hotel rooms, down infested alleyways, where if they could, they would leave her with their dirty secrets and return home to clean sheets and their even cleaner wives. She knew a lot of girls - and some boys - who did such things. Not her though - not ever. She would rather have starved.

Looking away from him, she said, "What do you want, mister?"

Still looking at her, Thaddeus replied, "Just a few hours of your time."

No one had ever asked her for a few hours before, and she became a little nervous. She hid it well and said, "Get lost, mister. I’m not for sale.”

"Money isn't a problem, whatever you ask," he said back, his eyes still fixed on her, and even in the bitterly cold wind he could smell her. It was a musty, sweaty, unclean smell, and he wanted to cover his nose with his hand.

She felt nervous; something wasn’t right. The girl couldn’t help but wonder why this well-to-do type was offering her money like this, when all he had to do was call up an agency and get himself a proper tart.

"No, sorry, mister, that sorta thing isn’t my bag."

Thaddeus smiled and said, "Why? Have you got yourself a better offer?" He laughed softly into the evening but not mockingly.

"Look, why don’t you fuck-off? I said I ain't interested, didn’t I?” she snapped at him.

She had her back to him, but he could sense the fear in her voice. Thaddeus felt ashamed; he hadn't meant to scare her. So he spoke to her again, but this time soothingly, his voice like a song against the steady hiss of traffic. "Look, I'm sorry if I have upset you, no harm was meant. I would just like to pay you for the privilege of your company for the next few hours."

The young girl listened to the sound of his voice, rather than what he was saying. She was caught by it. For a moment she was entranced by the sound of it. After mere seconds, she pulled herself together and wheeled around to face him. "How many ways have I got to tell you? I ain't gonna screw you, however posh you talk with all your fancy words!"

Thaddeus never broke his gaze, eyes locked onto hers as if they couldn’t, or wouldn't let go. He spoke softly to her again.

"I never said I wanted to bed you. Quite the opposite, in fact. All I want to do is buy you dinner and talk.” Then showing her the palms of his hands, as if to prove she had no reason to fear him, he smiled again and said, “Just talk."