Doctor Who_ Cat's Cradle_ Warhead - Andrew Cartmel [81]
Vincent knew her from school. She had dirty eyes and a nice laugh and she read weird European horror novels. Her full name was Rebecca Cox. ‘Excuse me a second –’ said Calvin, stepping back out of the room as soon as Vincent was inside.
‘Hey,’ said the girl. Vincent turned to look at her and she smiled at him. Her dark eyes were wide open and luminous, deeply stoned. She had her hand on Vincent’s shoulder. Just one hand on his shoulder, touching him lightly. She moved forward and put her mouth on his. As she kissed him she put one arm around him and pushed him back. Vincent felt something against the back of his legs. She pushed him further back and he fell on to the bed. It was the first time Vincent had kissed a girl. She had her tongue in his mouth now and he could taste something she’d been drinking. Something strong and aromatic. Some kind of foreign liqueur, maybe. A taste of bitter crushed herbs.
Rebecca Cox broke the kiss and smiled at him. She drew back from him, still smiling. Vincent wanted to reach up and touch her. Pull her towards him and kiss her again. But he felt a wonderful drowsy lethargy. Reaching up would be too much effort. The girl patted his shoulder and got up from the bed. He could hear her in the bathroom as he lay there on the bed, savouring the drowsy feeling. He heard water running, then the sound of Rebecca rinsing her mouth and spitting into the sink. The bed seemed to be moving a tiny bit under Vincent, undulating, riding smoothly on big soft waves. He licked his lips. They felt numb. He tried smiling and it felt funny, which made him smile even more. Now Calvin was standing, looking down at him. Calvin had come back into the room. When had Calvin come back in?
‘I’m glad you invited me over,’ said Vincent. When he’d first arrived he’d felt tense. His mom didn’t have the kind of money that Calvin’s parents had. He’d felt out of place here. But not now. Now he just felt relaxed. He could explain things to Calvin. He could talk to Calvin about anything at all.
‘It wasn’t me last Friday,’ said Vincent. Calvin was staring down into his face. Looking serious, like he was concentrating. Like he was listening hard.
‘It wasn’t me who did those things. I didn’t do that stuff to Bobby Prescott’s friends.’ Vincent frowned, trying to explain it. The frown felt funny. The muscles in his face felt tight and warm. ‘Something like that happened once before, when I was a kid. My old man was hitting my mom. And he grabbed me and I did something to him. I did it with my mind. At least, that’s what I always thought.’
Vincent licked his lips. He could still taste Rebecca’s kiss. The bitter herbal taste. ‘Last Friday at McCray’s I tried to do the thing again. To fight back with my mind. I gave it everything I had. But nothing seemed to happen. I thought I’d got it wrong. Maybe I didn’t have the power after all. But then you touched me.’ His mouth felt very dry now, and that herbal flavour was part of the dryness. ‘Then the power came through. And it took your bicycle and it made that thing out of it. And the thing went after that woman.’ Vincent winced. ‘She was going to kill us and everything, so I guess it was okay. And then it went after those guys. The power made all that happen.’ He looked up at Calvin, looking for any sign of disgust on the boy’s face. But Calvin’s expression hadn’t changed. ‘You see, I do have this power. But I’m not actually the source.’
Vincent licked his lips again. He was licking them raw. His mouth was so dry he’d have to ask for a glass of water in a minute. ‘It’s more like I’m a kind of amplifier, Calvin,’ he said.
Rebecca Cox was coming out of the bathroom now. She walked through the bedroom and out of Vincent’s line of vision. ‘Like when I was a kid. Nothing