Wolf Whistle

Claudia thrust the burning bitumen towards her attacker, but as though it was a cake she was offering, he twisted the torch from her grasp and tossed it into the gutter, where the flames fizzled out in the rivulets of the drain. There was no point yelling. Save your strength for the fight. In the murky dawn light, Claudia could make out skid marks left by her heels. She saw sweat stains on his tunic, and clots of stale food.

‘Let go of me, you bastard!’ Her nails dug into the wood of the door jamb.

His breath reeked, and his lice-ridden hair stank of fish. Almost as though he was oblivious to her frantic struggle, her attacker continued to talk. ‘They tried,’ he said, his arm locking fast round her waist from behind. ‘But I knew they couldn’t succeed.’

A filthy black hand began to prise her fingers away, one by one. Squirming, kicking, writhing, Claudia was dragged along the pitch-painted wall. Whatever he was on-magic mushrooms, hemp seed, Sumerian poppy dope-she prayed the effects would quickly wear off. This man not only believed himself Adonis, he had the strength of a god, too.

‘Such soft skin,’ he said, sliding a calloused hand inside her tunic. ‘Such firm tits. Just like you told me.’

He pinched her nipple and when she screamed, she could feel his sharp intake of breath. ‘Look! Flour sacks,’ he breathed, wrestling his frenzied victim across the cleanly swept flags. ‘Over there, Claudia. Do you see? Soft, white sacks for our bedding.’

The hairs on her neck bristled. The way he said ‘Claudia’… As though he knew her…

‘I don’t know how they thought they could keep us apart,’ he was saying, and she doubted whether he’d noticed her heel hammering against his shinbone. ‘True love will always conquer.’

‘Get your filthy hands off me,’ she spat, gouging her fingernails deep in his flesh.

True love will always conquer. Where had she heard that before?

‘You’re on fire for it.’ He thrust his tongue inside her ear.

She sank her teeth deep in his forearm. Tasted blood.

‘Oh, how you long for it.’

She bit harder.

‘Feel me, Claudia. Feel me against you.’ He tore off her cloak in one wrench. ‘Say you want it. Say how you want me.’

Her heart was pounding. She felt faint. Sick. About to pass out.

‘Go to hell!’ Was that mouse squeak really hers?

The hand in her tunic squeezed hard on her breast. ‘Don’t lie to me, Claudia. Never lie to me. Not to me, understand?’

‘Please,’ she begged, tears clouding her eyes both from pain and from fear. ‘Please let me go.’

‘Don’t be shy.’ The hand round her waist slid past her stomach. ‘Let me feel you. Oh, yes. Oh, that’s nice.’

‘Please! You’re hurting me-’

Her flailing arms could find no target, and tears coursed down her cheeks. Tears of shame, tears of fear, tears of guilt. How stupid could she be, sending Junius ahead? Talk about arrogance! Even if he had set off now to look, he’d never find her. Please, she prayed. Someone help me…

‘That’s really nice, Claudia.’ His breath was fast and ragged.

Her frantic kicks and her struggles only spurred him on. ‘Bitch on heat,’ he rasped. ‘You’re a fucking bitch on heat.’ The obscenities increased. Vulgar. Repetitive. An ugly, unstoppable chant. Just like Magic wrote in his tirades of filth.

Oh no! Sweet Jupiter, no! Claudia’s blood turned to ice and her head swam. Please, no. Not that unstable lunatic! Not here!

‘Magic?’ she squeaked.

Now she could see the ink blots on his clothing, his hands stained black from it. It was all that he did, writing. It was obvious. He ate only to stop himself from starving. Cared nothing for personal hygiene. And now it was no longer a question of rape. This man was a monster, his fantasies warped…

‘I knew you’d replied to my letters.’ He wrenched her skirts up. ‘Only someone was stealing them, did you know that? I’ll find him, this thief. I’ll bring you his balls as a present. Or maybe his heart? Would you like that? You could eat it.’

As his hand slithered across her naked thigh, his stinking breath threw out another tirade of cruelty. Claudia clawed at thin air. He was strong. Demented. She couldn’t break free, she couldn’t fight back. Or now could she?

Silly bitch, why didn’t you think of it before! If only she could reach that knife she’d strapped to her ankle…

Magic threw her headlong into the sacking and lifted his tunic to expose himself fully. ‘Want it?’ he breathed.

Claudia screwed up her courage. ‘Yes,’ she croaked.

As he launched himself upon her, she spun sideways. Felt the blade in her hand.

‘Whore,’ he yelled, then total surprise washed over his face. ‘But… But…’

As Claudia struggled free of the slippery sacks, he knelt staring at the knife in his side. ‘Why?’ he asked. ‘Claudia, why?’ His eyes were those of a whipped puppydog, a portrait of utter betrayal.

‘Why did you kill me?’ he asked. ‘Magic loves you! Magic’d never hurt you. Not ever.’