Page 29 of Box of Frogs
‘You took the news so well last night,’ she said, ‘that I didn’t think you’d mind if I partook of a little of the red stuff.’
I watched her take a sip. The blood stained her lips but, oddly, I didn’t feel nauseated. I congratulated myself for having a stomach of steel. Decapitated corpses, witnessing the drinking of blood and even copious amounts of alcohol – it appeared nothing could make me vomit. ‘Do you heat it up first?’ I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.
‘It’s much tastier when it’s warm.’ She smacked her lips then arched an eyebrow as if daring me to retch.
I shrugged in response. ‘Whatever floats your boat.’
‘Would you like some?’
I smirked. ‘I’ll pass, thanks.’
She took another sip and smiled. ‘So, I promised you some help with the amnesia problem.’
‘I’m not sure youcanhelp,’ I said honestly. ‘Not unless you have a magic memory potion tucked away along with all that blood.’
‘I could try bopping you over the head to knock those brain cells back into action.’
We shared a grin. ‘If I thought that would work, I’d hand you the mallet.’
Julie chewed her lip thoughtfully. ‘Is there anything you’ve come across that’s been familiar in any way?’
‘I feel like Manchester is familiar. I know my way around even if I don’t remember specific streets or buildings,’ I admitted. ‘So I must have lived here before.’ Morgan’s face flashed into my mind. ‘And there are people I’ve met who know me. Or knew me,’ I amended.
‘You know, darling, your face just took on the strangest expression. Are we talking about someone special?’
‘There’s a man.’
Julie laughed. ‘There’s always a man. Is he good looking? Upright? The sort you want to wrap his arms around you and always keep you safe?’
I sighed. ‘Yes, yes and yes. But he won’t do any of those things. He hates me.’
‘Why on earth is that?’
‘Something to do with a guy called Rubus. As far as I can work out,’ I said, carefully avoiding any mention of the weird Fey shit, ‘I betrayed Mr Sex On Legs by running to Mr Evil.’
Intrigued, Julie leaned forward. ‘Mr Evil?’
‘Not his real name, obviously.’ I winced in frustration. ‘Some guy called Rubus who I’ve not yet met but who doesn’t appear to be the nicest man in the world.’ I laughed bitterly. ‘That’s an understatement. Everyone seems to think he’s the devil incarnate. Because I supposedly work for him – or maybe even sleep with him – I’m the same by default.’
‘Do you think this Rubus is the devil?’
‘All the evidence seems to point in that direction,’ I said glumly. ‘I’ve not heard a single good word about him.’
Her eyes held mine. ‘It’s my experience that there’s rarely smoke without fire. You might do best to avoid this Rubus fellow altogether.’
‘I’m certainly not trying to seek him out,’ I told her. ‘I have enough complications in my life without adding an alleged super-villain to the mix. I gather I’m pretty villainous too, but there has to be a line somewhere. The reaction that people have to Rubus whenever his name is mentioned is bloody scary.’
‘Then avoiding him is definitely the best course of action. Normally I’d say you should make up your own mind rather than listening to gossip, but it sounds as if you don’t need any more problems.’
I nodded, feeling better for the conversation. ‘What time are we leaving for the studio?’
Julie glanced up at an old-fashioned clock hanging on the wall. ‘Now would be good.’ Draining the last of the blood, she stood up. ‘Are you ready?’
I nodded and followed her into the hallway. She checked her reflection in a large hallway mirror and patted her hair before smiling at me and pointing at her reflection. ‘Another thing the books got wrong,’ she murmured.
‘I’ll never believe anything I read again,’ I told her. Then I caught a glimpse of my own face in the mirror. Truth be told, if anyone were a shoo-in for the living dead it would be me. My complexion was pale, my freckles stood out in sharp relief and my hair looked matted and unkempt. I made a vague attempt at smoothing the frizz down; if anything, I made it worse. It was lucky I wasn’t trying to impress anyone.
‘I’ll drive,’ Julie announced as we reached her car, which was parked in the small garage attached to her house. ‘I need you to go through my lines as we travel.’ She tossed me a dog-eared script. ‘That’s the trouble when you’re on television three nights a week,’ she muttered. ‘Too many damn words to learn. I acted before, you know. In the twenties. Just stage stuff, of course. There weren’t many films being made back then. At least with the theatre, you only have one script to learn.’ She tutted irritably to herself.
