Blood by K. J. Wignall Read Free Book Online

no apparent curiosity as to what was inside it, but their mood was becoming ugly.
    â€œGive it back,” she said again.
    The one holding the bag sneered. “Or what?”
    Before she could answer, the tallest in the group, who was fat and red-cheeked, but without appearing jolly, said, “You should sit down.” He pushed her hard in the chest and she fell backwards into the doorway, landing on her larger bag.
    The boys laughed harder and seemed excited, as if they were just beginning to realize the entertainment they could have at her expense. The pole boy had the bag again and he started to unfasten it as he said, “Let’s see what’s in here, eh?”
    Will saw no more. He walked out of the building he was in and down the side of it, away from the river. After about ten paces, he turned and ran back towards the river, leaping from the stone wharf that made its bank.
    It was maybe ten meters, but he knew he could do it, not because he’d ever jumped it before, but because he instinctively knew what his body was capable of doing. As confidently as he’d jumped a brook as a child, so he landed on the opposite bank with such ease that they didn’t even hear him.
    As he approached, the pole boy took a paperback book out of the black bag, looked at it dismissively, and tossed it over his shoulder. It hit the still water with a satisfying dunk and the gang jeered.
    The ringleader was about to go back into the bag, when suddenly he spotted Will and stopped. He looked full of hate, but Will thought there was something ugly about these boys, too—their faces were pinched and spiteful, their hair short but greased flat to their heads, which in turn looked oddly shaped. They wore earrings and had tattoos on their necks and hands.
    The pole boy pointed and laughed, causing the others to turn and stare at Will as he said, “It’s Countess Dracula. Come to save the witch, have ya?”
    It was such a strange thing to say that Will didn’t know how to respond immediately. He thought of the witches burning all those years ago, knowing now that they had been nothing of the sort, merely women who had not belonged, victims of spite and greed and suspicion.
    More importantly, he wondered briefly if this boy knew who he was, but he dismissed the thought quickly enough. He’d addressed Will as a woman because of his long hair, as Dracula because of the black clothes, the pale skin. These boys were cowards, he could tell, and if they’d had even the vaguest idea of who he really was, they’d have run already.
    He came back to himself, remembering why he was here. He turned first to the tall, fat boy and said, “Never strike a lady again.” The fat boy looked incredulous, and was still struggling to find an appropriately abusive response when Will hit him across the face with the back of his hand.
    It was meant to insult rather than cause damage, but he felt something give inside the boy’s cheek, possibly a tooth being dislodged, and the side of his mouth split against Will’s knuckle. The blow knocked him over, and Will immediately caught the scent of blood on his own hand—he didn’t need blood, and wouldn’t now for some time, but the smell of it was tempting and disturbing.
    The other boys bristled, but they were looking nervously at their friend who lay groaning in pain on the floor. He noticed that they’d shuffled a step away from him. They kept throwing quick, nervous glances at the pole boy, too, and it was obvious that he was their leader even though he was far from being the tallest or most physically imposing.
    For his part, the pole boy appeared to be deciding what to do. He looked Will up and down and said, “So, hard man, think you can take all of us, do ya?”
    Before Will could answer, he flung the bag at him with some force. Will caught it and threw it lightly on to the step. The girl was still lying on her other bag and he