Free Dead Statues by Tim O'Rourke

covered in tiny little cracks. How long had it been since I had last drank any blood? It had been in the bathroom at the station, when I had drunk some of Potter’s. Without the red stuff, I knew my body would start to crack, turn grey, just like a statue.
    In my haste to get away from Potter and go in search of my father, I had forgotten to take any of the Lot 13 that Kayla carried with her in her rucksack. I’d been getting by on the blood I sucked from Potter. I had been reluctant to get hooked on Lot 13, but without either, I would surely end up like one of those statues in the grounds of Hallowed Manor.
    Realising that it wasn’t the cold which was making my body feel numb, I looked sideways at my wings. Just like my flesh, cracks had started to appear in them. Even those little claws at the tip of each of my wings had started to change from black to a dark chalky-grey. As I raced through the clouds, my wings began to feel heavier and more difficult to beat up and down.
    Slowly I started to drop towards the ground, not because I wanted to, but because I was becoming too heavy to stay in the air.
    I was still some way off from my father’s house and I knew I needed somewhere secluded to land for fear of being seen. Below me, I could see a desolate-looking graveyard. The church spire stood high in the air, and I aimed as best as I could towards it. Swooping around in the air like a kite that was being dragged back towards the ground, I fell out of the sky. With my wings now feeling like two dead weights, I clattered into the church spire. The air was forced from my lungs and I cried out. The tips of my wings scraped against the rough stone of the church, throwing up a thick spray of brick dust. Below, I could see a row of ancient-looking gravestones rushing up towards me.
    I bounced off one of them and screamed out in pain as my head made a sickening thudding sound against the ground. The spire seemed to spin around in the sky above me as I lay on my back, feeling dazed and bruised. The corners of my vision started to turn black, like an old TV set with a damaged tube. I tried to keep my eyes open. Slowly, I twisted my head to the right and found myself looking up into the cracked face of a statue. Then everything went black.

Chapter Twelve
    Potter
    With my back to the small cottage, I looked out across the fields in the direction Kiera had headed. I wanted to go after her. I knew now that I would never be able to talk her out of the idea of seeing her father, but I wanted to be with her when she did. Such a thing wouldn’t be easy for Kiera, and I wanted to be there to support her when it happened. Would she want me there? No.
    She had made that crystal clear.
    From behind me I could hear the sound of Kayla sobbing. I looked back over my shoulder and up at one of the bedroom windows where the sound of her crying came from. I had really fucked things up this time, but I couldn’t go and take any of it back. I placed a cigarette in the corner of my mouth and looked back across the fields. Kayla’s words seemed to float in the bitter wind that carried my cigarette smoke away. She had been right, I had taken the piss out of Isidor and I’d had no idea how much that had hurt him until the end. Didn’t Kayla think that if I could take back what I’d said to him I would? I’d never meant anything by it. I’d just been jerking around, that was all.
    Just like I could hear Kayla’s angry voice, I could see Isidor standing alone in that waiting room, the picture of him and Melody in his hand.
    He had the same look in his eyes that Sophie had had as she held tightly to the letters which had been pushed through her letterbox. It was a look of hope. A look that Isidor might see Melody again, and a look that Sophie and I could be lovers again. Both were now dead, along with their hope.
    I thought of the last few minutes Isidor and I had spent in that waiting room. I tried to warn him about that photograph. I could hear