An Absence of Natural Light by F. G. Cottam Page A

surplus of that. It’s not before time, sweetheart. And I’m quite a ride.’
    Fingernails were drawn down the other side of the door in a slow, reluctant squeal of lust and anticipation. The voice was closer now, lips almost kissing the wood, on the brink, on the very threshold as the dweller’s voice descended to an intimate whisper. ‘You really haven’t lived at all, Tom. You’ll live like you’ve never imagined you would with me. You’ll revel in sensations you’ve never dreamt about. I’ll be your guide and mentor, your lover and companion. I’ll take you in hand. You’ll be emptied and dazed by me. And I don’t make idle boasts.’
    On her side of the door, all Rebecca could hear was Tom’s breathing, shallow through arousal or terror or both. He might be as thrilled as he was fearful; she couldn’t tell, all judgment dulled by her own consuming dread.
    â€˜I can make you well again, Tom. Think about that. You’ll be whole with me, complete. You’ll play,’ a chuckle, seductive with promise, ‘then you’ll come home and we’ll play together, just you and me, games we’ll improvise intimately.’
    Tom said nothing in reply.
    â€˜Explore me, Tom, discover my deep mysteries.’
    Tom closed his eyes.
    â€˜I’m wearing my blue dress. I want you to tear it off me. More than anything, I long for that. I know you do, too. I’m impatient for it. I’m ripe for you.’
    Still Tom said nothing. Rebecca wondered was he succumbing to the potent spell of Rachel’s enchantment, to the lubricious allure of what she was offering him? He was only flesh and blood and had already confessed to having felt desire for her and she might yet prove irresistible.
    There was a new scent, a fresh secretion to complement the sound of her. It was partly her perfume still but corrupted by something deep and sweetish that made the senses reel with longing and that Rebecca knew was the moist, abundant budding of her sex.
    â€˜Come, Tom,’ Rachel purred.
    Rebecca saw Tom open his eyes and look at her, then, and the look was strong and unflinching with resolve. He took something from his pocket and it shone in the light and it was a ring. It was a fat circle of gold studded with precious stones. Bloodshot rubies alternated with the glittering green of emeralds. He held it in front of her eyes and in a voice she thought impossibly clear and calm said, ‘Will you wear my ring, Rebecca?’
    â€˜I will,’ she said. She held out her left hand to accept it.
    On the other side of the door, the thing at the top of the basement steps grunted out a feral snarl.
    He slipped the ring onto her finger. It was slightly loose, a size too big and then it tightened, white hot, and the flesh beneath it began to burn.
    Rachel laughed.
    Rebecca could smell the stench of her own searing flesh and her hand clawed up in agony, but she would not remove the ring. She stared through the black swoon of pain trying to claim her and her teeth ground and her knees buckled under her and she thought she might vomit, and then the metal cooled and the pain receded and was gone. It had provoked tears. She blinked through them, smiling now at Tom. He reached for her and she clenched his palm in hers.
    There was a moan from the other side of the door, low and abject. The thing that had once been Rachel Gaunt scrabbled and gnarled at the wood. She groaned and beat at it and the door shuddered in its frame and the lock strained but she remained uninvited and the obstacle held and eventually the noises faded and stopped and there was silence. They waited with breath paused above the space she’d occupied. They waited while the silence held and then eventually a sort of stillness descended. She’d been rudely dragged back to whatever darkness she came from. Rebecca was sure she had gone.
    â€˜We need to be certain,’ Tom said.
    But when they