The Crushing Dance

Randy looked on as Joe and Violet swirled around the dance floor at a hectic pace. A sugarpush followed by an underarm turn, a kick ball change and a Lindy whip lift and then . . . a throwout and Violet flew through the air . . . and before Randy knew it he could feel Violet's muscular thighs crushing his windpipe . . .
Randy grappled with Violet, aroused and choking at the same time, he somehow managed to loosen her grip. Violet fell backwards onto the floor. Randy struggled for his gun and had Joe in his sights. But Vi, as ever, was too quick for Randy and with a simple star jump that she'd learnt at aerobics, she jumped and kicked Randy hard on the side of the head.

"Of course what happened after was all a bit of a blur . . . but the gun landed at Bill's feet . . . " Said Kitten to Swotsy sometime later.

"I know what happened." Said Daisy confidently.

"Come on then, from where Bill picked up the gun."

Daisy looked at Swotsy, happy to be of service to her idol,

"Well it was like this . . .

Randy by name

Randy by nature. That was always the joke at school. Everyone knew about Randy. What is it they say? Those who protest too much? Always on at Swotsy because she was good at football. Always too keen to wrestle with Joe. Now, watching them take positions again, Randy's hand shook on the trigger.

Daisy stubbed out her cigar and flicked a coin over to Kitten. She slipped it into the Wurlitzer by the bar knowing just which song Vi and Joe would want. It was their tune.

A reverent hush fell on the bar as they began to move. Joe's graceful, unearthly strength, Vi's feline flexibility. They circled one another like panthers. As Vi performed a triple flip across the bar-room floor, Joe caught her easily in his arms, her smooth caramel thighs wrapped round his waist. Her head rested for a moment on his shoulder - cheek against collarbone, parting lips, darting tongue over aching canines. As Violet blinked it was like she could see the blood coursing in Joe's jugular only a couple of centimetres from her mouth. Ultra-violet that's what the women called her. If you ever needed to find a vein, Vi was your girl.

'I love you Violet,' Joe whispered hoarsely as he spun around and around. She knew this was the time for her to lean back into the twirl, fling her arms back away from him when every cell in her body hungered for him. Her thighs tensed. Something else - the woman, not the hunger in her, surfaced. She looked at him, her pupils fathomless and black. 'We can leave, just you, and me, and James, it's not too late ...'

'It is Joe.' As she straightened up, and the room revolved around and around them, blurring and spinning, she whispered, 'it's too late for me.'

'No,' Joe tightened his grip on her. 'My mission. Your father's mission ...'

'Jack?' Vi's eyes snapped open.

'He's not your real father Vi. I found out a couple of years ago. He was Special Ops, just like me, but he's been under cover right from the beginning. This goes back centuries Vi. This time we have a chance to catch the big man himself. Jack loved you like a daughter,' Joe whispered in her ear as they caught their breath before the big lift. 'But there was a switch. Bitsy and Gideon ...'

'Gideon Stone? He was my father?'

Joe glanced quickly at Randy to check he still stood at the other end of the bar. As he turned away from Vi, backing towards Randy, one leg swung lazily behind the other. 'Jazz hands!' he hissed. Vi, stumbling, began to shimmy.

'Only biological,' Joe whispered as they grapevined. 'He hoped, as a Dwarf Prince ...'

'Dwarf Prince?'

'You know, like the Romany's have princes?'

'I had no idea ...' Vi slipped her arm around Joe's muscular waist and they span together, his arm around her, his beautiful face smiling sadly down at her.

'He hoped with pure dwarf blood he'd put an end to this curse, this hunger that has plagued women for centuries ...'

'The hunger?' Vi bluffed.

'Eternal youth,' Joe's eyes narrowed. 'Women will spend anything on face creams, that's how the Monsieur came to hear about the Creme de Nain - the dark face mask, the extraordinary beauty of the women on this part of the coast. He had no idea what he had started. Women will do anything ...'

'You have no idea,' Vi licked her lips. As they danced, she could smell him, his warm tanned skin like a perfect crust, like creme brulee, and beneath the hot sweet blood.

'Vi, look at me.' Joe cupped her hand in his face. The routine was reaching its climax. 'I know.' She hissed, baring gleaming fangs. Part of him wanted her to bite him then. Then he would be with her, and she with him, and he would be just like his father Bill. Bill, who had brought all of this trouble here after he picked up a lone traveller one night on his run north from Suffolk to the Irish ferry. Monsieur he called himself. An Eastern European. Just passing through. Transyllvania, originally, he said. Bill picked up hitchhikers all the time in his lorries. A bit of conversation helped to pass the time, he said.

Like the stars in the heavens falling into alignment, the hunger of Bill's passenger, and his mother's fabled beauty recipes using Irish bog mud (some called them spells, but not to Bill's face) met in a coastal seaside town of circus folk famed for its warm radioactive waters.

'I know what you are Vi. I know what my father has done to all the women in this town ...'

'Go!' she hissed. Her eyes were like pinpricks now, the irises glowing emerald green. 'He's just a pawn. It's the Monsieur you have to stop. He knows what women will do to preserve their beauty. If the secret Creme de Nain goes into worldwide production, mankind is doomed and vampires will rule the earth, just as the books have warned. Save mankind, Joe.' For a moment, he saw the girl he had never stopped loving, heard their laughter in the backyard, felt the warm summer air embrace them as they danced together one last time. 'Save yourself, save our son. There's a boat coming at midnight to take the next boatload of dwarves to safety.'

'Why? Why do you still save them?'

'It was a promise to Gideon, just before the dwarf catcher ... Randy,' Vi glanced over Joe's shoulder, 'killed him. It's too late for us. The women of this town are doomed to eternal beauty, but in exchange we take only what we need to survive - dwarf cats, hamsters ... Bill still thinks the nuns are catching people ...'

'No,' Joe shook his head. 'He's a monster.'

'We all are,' Violet tossed her hair. To Joe as he began to back away from her for their final lift, she had never been more beautiful.

'I love you Joe,' she whispered. 'Swotsy will help you. Take our son, you must get away tonight. James is the real key, don't you see? Second generation. He is the end to the hunger.'

Joe shook his head. 'I can't leave you.'

Violet tilted her head, a sad smile playing across her lips, her arms outstretched to him as he backed away. Joe stopped a couple of paces in front of Randy. It was like he could feel the barrel of the gun between his shoulder blades. 'Go,' she mouthed, as she ran towards him. Joe braced himself, ready to take her in his arms one last time, to lift her free. But the moment his strong hands touched her stomach, felt the muscles flex beneath his fingertips he knew she had something else in mind.

Vi used Joe's arms like a vaulting horse, flipped over and kicked Randy hard on the side of the head just as he pulled the trigger. Vi took a bullet for Joe. But it wasn't a silver bullet, unfortunately for Randy. As she crumpled to the floor, she shook her head, touched her wounded heart, licked her fingertips. At the scent of fresh blood, every woman in the bar turned towards him. Randy's eyes widened in horror as the gun fell to the floor, spun towards the door and landed at Bill's feet ...

He didn't know why he did it. It was a nonsensical choice, the opposite of everything he had ever learned in the Special Forces. It was almost as if he was possessed by the spirit of his mother. He could hear her voice in her head, as she led him through the routine, just like she had when he was little. Oh, those days were the best days, his mom, in her sober moments, in the yard of the house, teaching Joe and Violet the routine that they would perform every year for the Christmas pageant.

He remembered how their little circus number had made Randy feel uncomfortable. They had always laughed at him for it, but he could see the deep unease in his eyes when they did it. Right now, Randy thought he was in control, covered in blood, holding Bill's old gun steady on the pair of them. Gloating.

He whispered into Violet's ear, "remember the lift."

A flash of understanding entered into her tear stained, shocked eyes, and all she had to do was blink to tell him she knew what he wanted. And then, with a tensing of his muscles and an effortless grace on her part, they started the routine.

Randy

It was up to Violet. That was the one thing she knew, when the Council introduced her to the black mask and told her all the secrets that hid in Little Hampton Point Valley. That summer, her beauty, which had been considerable to start with, suddenly seemed to entrap every male who looked at her, she knew she had the power to free Joe.

And that night, behind the bar, with their few, brief stolen moments, her heart was breaking, even as she lay twisted in his arms in the shadows, with a brawl going on just outside.

"Joe," she said, and she knew she could do this. "I don't love you." The words were cold and strong, although she was weeping inside. She thought maybe it was the powers of the black mask that allowed her to be not quite human. She looked at his face, flushed from sex and love, and all of a sudden she wanted to bite that throbbing vein in his neck. Her cool evaporated. She leaned in to him to smell the blood pulsing through his body.

"I don't love you, Joe," the words were a vicious hiss as she tried to control the bloodlust. They had warned her, the council, but this was the first time she had felt it. "I won't ever marry you."

"What?" He said, dazed, confused. This did not make sense. What about the summer that seemed to last forever and fill with with joy? "That's not true Vi." He said. He saw her clench her hands together and grit her teeth.

"I was USING you," she spit out, "to make my father jealous. Obviously it worked. I am done with you."

"No, Vi..."

"Yes, I don't ever want to see you again. No one does. Even your mother can't stand to be around you. Why do you think she drinks so much. She tells everyone at the bar what a waste you are when she's on one of her benders and you're not around." Violet had gotten control of herself finally and was spilling all that hunger and heat into her words, watching the reactions on Joe's face. The hunger was feeding off of his pain, but inside, Violet thought that she would never have happiness again. She was not good enough to be happy. She was not good enough to have Joe in her life.

"Face it," she said as she rearranged her clothes and pulled bottle caps out of her mussed hair. "There's no reason for you to even be alive." With that, she stormed off. She ran home and threw herself on the bed to cry and cry and cry.

But he didn't know that. All he knew was that he had to get out of this town. He snuck out the kitchen door (everyone was still watching Bill and Jack brawl, so there were no witnesses) and disappeared into the night. No one ever saw him again...

Until 7 years later.

And here he was, with Violet's arms wrapped around him, watching her sob. And he knew. He knew without knowing how he knew that she really did love him and always had. What he didn't know was why she had lied all those years ago and why she had chased him away.

"What are we going to do?" she asked him, their hearts beating as one as their chests pressed together. "My father has kidnapped our son."

The fury rose in him and his hands itched for his gun. That was when the door burst open.

Randy stood there, covered in blood, holding a gun.

He should have been shocked, he should have reached for that gun in his waist holster, but oddly, what came out of his mouth was, "That's my father's gun."

Randy smiled, cold and hard. "I know. I took it off your brother Clive when I shot him."

"You!" Violet gasped.

"That's right. I'm the Dwarf Catcher. You thought I was too stupid to be a danger. You thought I was so stupid you wouldn't even look at me, not the way you're looking at him," he waved the gun at Joe. "Or the way you look at that freak Swotsy. She's a lesbian, you know, Joe. She's never going give it up to you again."

"You don't know what you're getting into, Randy. Don't listen to the Monsieur. He's using you."

"Oh, no more than I'm using him," Randy said and smiled. "And I do know what I'm getting in to. You bitches on the freak side of town always thought you were better than anyone else, and now I know why. Oh yes. CJ told me all about it, thinking he was saving me. Then I shot him. One more dead dwarf to send to the Monsieur."

While Randy bragged about murder, Joe was getting into position

Follow the Keys

bring them in with us on our little secret. No pun intended."

Swotsy pointed at a spot where the snow was particularly disturbed. "I'm not so sure about that, Vi. Look here. What's that you see?"

Violet leaned closer. She couldn't quite see... As she reached out to brush some of the loose snow aside, Swotsy batted her hand away. "But I was just trying t0---"

"I know what you were trying to do. But this is a crime scene now. Look, sweetheart. Look. You don't need to see anymore than that little bit sticking up there... the two crossed hands..."

Violet clapped a hand to her forehead. "Sister Margaret's key! And is that...?"

"Yes. Blood all right."

"Randy's or CJ's?"

Swotsy leveled a squirrely gaze at Violet. "Might as well ask is it yours or mine or Sister Margaret's for that matter. How the hell should I know whose it is? Red, isn't it?" She sat back on her heels, and sighed deeply. (Violet loved Swotsy's sighs. The deeper the better.) "Now I'll have to get hold of Manders and that lot, and we'll have the bulls traipsing all over the garden here. It appears, love, that we shall have to seek out a new trysting spot."

A crash from around the side of the B&B brought the conversation to a close.

"Listen," CJ said as he jumped up from the ground underneath the window, "they're coming. Get that great footballer lump you call an ass up and going. We've got to get out of here."

"What?" Randy said. Confused. He was always confused. He needed to talk to Violet. She would straighten everything out, he was sure.

"Don't question me!" CJ said. "We've got to go to my mother's, and we've got to go now! Move."

Randy was used to taking orders. He followed the little man, who was surprisingly fast and fleet on his feet.

They disappeared into the copse behind the Neptune.

Violet and Swotsy tumbled out into the garden behind the B&B.

"He's gone!" Violet said under her breath.

"They're gone, Vi." Swotsy-- it was so easy to forget she was a detective, what with her big feet and insecurities stemming from High School-- was examining tracks in the snow. "Randy, and a dwarf."

Violet swore. "The dwarves! Now we're going to have to

Swotsy and Violet

"Sister Margaret never changed, she never aged, she never looked anything less than perfect. And she still ran St. Mary's Of The Majestic Holy Lamb to this day...."
Randy could hear Violet and Swotsy talking loudly inside the house. He crept up to the window and could just make out Violet doing up the buttons on her blouse.
"...we've got to do this for Sister Margaret, we promised." Finished Violet.
"But... it would mean killing another dwarf...did, did you kill Clive Violet?"
"Oh for pity's sake, why does everyone keep asking me that. No. I didn't."
At this moment Randy slipped, he was shocked that Violet was so intimate with Swotsy. His whole world was blurring. Had Violet told Swotsy about him? Did Swotsy know his secrets?
"What was that? There's someone spying on us... again."
Violet peered out the window.
"Swots... it's Randy, he's hiding in a bush by the window. Have you got your gun?"
"Yes... but... I can't kill him Vi."
"Give the gun to me... he's got an ingredient that we need. Stop crying... remember this is for Sister Margaret."
Randy tried to get up, but he tripped over a dwarf... it was...

Randy

. . . Randy held the torn recipe in his hand, the open security box at his feet. He trembled as he read the words. As he reached the bottom of the page he swore under his breath.
"Why can't things ever be simple." he muttered.
Angrily he threw his pick-axe onto the ground and slumped on his knees.
"Randy!" Yelled Joe
Randy lept to his feet knocking he torch over and losing his light. Joe was fast and was quckly behind him his arm tightening around Randy's throat.
"Remember how good I am at this Randy." Hissed Joe in his ear.
Randy fought for breath; as he felt his last moments of life being squeezed out of him, Joe snatched the recipe from Randy's hand.
"Is this it Randy? Is this what all the fighting has been about? Can't breathe can you? You bastard. Violet doesn't love you, she's using you, like she's used us all. Do you know what Randy babes, I'm going to let you go. Violet's with Swotsy. You go and see for youself. She's making a fool out of you."
Joe released his grip on Randy and the two men faced each other.
"Why are you letting me go Joe?"
"Because it's going to be worth it." Laughed Joe.
"Go on get out of here, go and see what that bitch is up to."
Randy stumbled through the trees, still trying to catch his breath, Joe remained, found the torch and lit up the scene... there was something else in the box... it looked like a....

7 is the magic number

done anything to be the perfect aunt. On the day he was due back from Holland with Alice, May tidied the house, imagining all the wonderful adventures that lay ahead of them. She just had time to wash the last of the facepacks off before she heard Alice's key in the door. She ran downstairs followed by a liquid stream of cats, rushing down the steps like mercury in her wake, yowling a greeting, relieved not to be alone in the house any longer with this maniac who blended their mother.

Joe rushed into the lamplit hall, glanced up as his aunt ran to greet him and froze in horror. As Alice pulled the key from the lock, he began to scream.

May left soon after that. Small town Suffolk was no place for her. She married an octogenarian billionaire with a feline obsession. Alone at home with a small child, Alice's high spirits didn't last long.
'Go play,' she would push Joe out of the kitchen door as one of her gentlemen arrived to do odd jobs around the house. 'Go find some friends your own age.'

And he did. When Randy and Violet were busy with their own families, Joe would wander out to the trailer park to play with Clive's kids. CJ became like the kid brother he never had. It was the only place he felt accepted, the only place where people didn't joke about his crazy cat aunt and Alice's drinking. The only place in the world he felt like the normal one. There were eight of them in one trailer - Rowena, Clive, their five children and her mother, poor Wilma's best friend .........

... in Randy's pocket he just knew it. Randy who had always had such a chip on his shoulder because of his name - Randolphf with an illiterate f (named after his American grandfather who emigrated to Suffolk, England, UK).

This was home. No matter how many people challenged him, no matter how hard it was, no matter how many supercilious idiots with their own agenda appeared to challenge him and say he wasn't good enough for Violet or their baby, Joe had to stand his ground. He was back. This was home ...

Everyone in town knew about Alice's drinking, but because they knew Joe's father Bill had walked out on her, they looked the other way. Bill had just got in one of his trucks one day, driven out of town on a long distance run and never come back. No explanation, no letter, no goodbye. No one knows where he went. All they saw was the damage he left behind - a lonely, heartbroken woman and a boy who had to grow up too quickly.

All Alice and Joe had was the big old house overlooking the shingle beach. Alice had been a showgirl - after a few cocktails she would put an old 78 on the record player in her room and disappear into the comfort of her memories. Joe would find her sometimes, still wearing her sequins and feathers, half asleep in front of the dressing table mirror, red lipstick smudged where she had lain her head on her arm. Alice knew nothing about business - Bill's haulage company went under, and they lost everything. From being one of the town's most respected families, Alice had to endure the pitying stares of her neighbours. If it wasn't for some money left to Alice by her godmother, the boy would have been on the streets. Alice clung to Joe like driftwood. 'You're the man of the house now,' she told him, face blotched with tears and booze.

There was talk, of course. A woman like Alice, alone in a small town. Everyone wondered how she got by, and there were plenty of gentlemen called by in the afternoons doing odd jobs for her. Still the house seemed to fall into decay. The paintwork peeled, leaves went unswept, snow settled deeply around it every winter. But Joe adored his mother, and he was a tough kid who wouldn't hear a word said about her. All the children knew not to tease him about his parents. When Frankie - a skinny ginger kid with sly eyes - had once dropped a remark about how he had seen Alice asleep on the lawn in her nightdress within earshot of Violet, she had laid into him, tiny fists pummelling him until he cried like a girl. Randy stood by, just watching. When Joe heard what Violet had done, he gave her his most treasured possession ....

Randy?

. . . he felt for the comfort of the key inside his coat pocket, but it was gone. His heart began to race. How could he have been so stupid? Randy! Of course it had been Randy who had caused this chain of events. Not nice guy Randy after all!
It had all begun on a hot Summer's afternoon in Suffolk . . .

He couldn't help himself. Forgetting Randy, he pushed through the doors, and the warmth, the music engulfed him. The conversations stilled for a moment as he walked through the doors, but Elvis sang on, and Violet turned to him. His breath caught in his throat as he saw she recognised him. Without looking, Joe sensed the bar door open. Some small part of him woke up. He still knew every creak and motion of this place as well as the home he grew up in. Randy was at his wing again - just like old times.

She folded her arms. He noticed she was wearing an apron. She was obviously working in the bar these days. He thought she might have moved away years ago.

'So, look who's blown into town.' Her voice had an edge to it, a harshness he didn't remember. As he moved closer he saw she was just as beautiful as he remembered - her eyes had dark smudges now at the corners, fine lines, but his heart still leapt. After all these years of thinking of her everyday, then every few days, every once in a while, here he was again ...

The Way Home, Part 5

"No, I'm sorry man -- don't have any spare change on me now, left my purse inside. Maybe on my way out, 'kay?" She did a little finger-wave at him then turned and went back into McGilligan's, Joe's humiliation hanging in the air behind her.

He slumped against the wall. Why in the hell had he thought she'd even remember him, let alone that she'd care if she did? Cripes. If she'd been here with that lout Frankie, then clearly she'd moved on.

He cupped his hands around his face and looked through the plate glass. McGilligan's looked the same -- the jukebox at the far end, the little electric train running on the track elevated all around the walls, up by the ceiling, the jars of unnameable pickled food on the bar. Violet was already at the dartboard on the back wall, pulling darts from the target and laughing like crazy.

Ah, he loved her laughter. The way she'd throw back her head, as she was doing now, and the way the full-throated guffaw would push listeners backwards just a half-step or so -- as they were doing now, on the other side of the window. She could bottle that laughter, sell it to television sitcom producers.

And God help him, he even remembered the last time he'd heard her laugh like that at something he'd said...

The Way Home

Beyond the glass, snow fell on the silent platform as his train pulled in. As he dozed through the hours, he had charted the journey he never expected to take again - every familiar station, every tunnel, every checkpoint. Now as the brakes hissed, he stretched, easing his aching limbs and he gazed along the lamplit empty carriage as the train shuddered to a halt. This wasn't quite the end of the line, but it may as well have been.

He paused in the doorway of the train, halfway between the warm stale fug of the carriage and the crisp bite of the December night air. He remembered other homecomings when the sunlit platform had been packed with people, when he had leapt from the still moving train, running to her, swinging her round and round in his arms. This time, he stepped alone from the train, everything he possessed in the canvas holdall on his shoulder. As the train pulled away, he slipped his hand into the warmth of his trouser pocket, and traced the outline of the key in the manila envelope. He turned his face to the sky and closed his eyes. Snow fell softly on his cheeks, cool on his parted lips, catching on his eyelashes.

'Hey man, don't I know you?' the station guard ambled over.

He opened his eyes as if waking from a dream. 'Maybe.'

'Yeah, sure I do! Joe, you're Joe aren't you?' he cocked his head, smiling. 'We went to school together. Where you been man?'

Where had he been, he wondered? Nothing had changed, and yet everything had. Would the house be the same as he remembered? What about her? Even if she hadn't moved away he wondered if she ...