I scrub at my face with a hand, trying to remove the tears. I know that I’m probably making my face dirty, but I don’t care. I don’t care about my appearance, I don’t care about the others. I don’t know what is happening to my humanity.

“If they are monsters, what does that make us?” I ask, but Colin just looks away.

“We are more,” he says but he says it quietly.

I look at him and see the stain from the gunshot wound. I can’t help but reach out a hand to touch it, as if reassuring myself that he is whole again. He winces at my touch but doesn’t move.

“What happened?” I ask.

“We were chasing him and we came around the corner…” he stops and looks back, toward the place I found him. “The shot came out of nowhere. One minute I’m next to Max…

I finally make it to the alley and, as I turn into it, I see that Colin has slumped slightly to one side and his chin is resting on his chest. At least it is until he looks up. The creature in my arms seems to sense that it is in a dire situation as it goes from silence to mewling and panting little screams. I suppose that if the creature had sounded human I wouldn’t be able to do this, but a small voice in my head suggests that I would. That I would do it for Colin or Max. I ignore it. There are too many issues there and I need to get Colin on his feet so we can find Max.

Colin’s eyes have gone pure black and he is trying to move.

“Stay there, I’ll bring it over.”

He blinks at me, but it is as…

The picture book I’m creating is about the moon, which means I’m using a fair amount of black. I tried watercolour but it wasn’t ‘black’ enough. So I moved to acrylic.

The covering was there – the black was deep, but the areas where I wanted the colour to be lighter I used the acrylic like you would watercolour. The result is a muddy brown.

Just nasty.

Then I moved to a little colour called Payne’s Grey. Now I know I could have mixed my own blue based black, but really I would be mixing for ages. Most of the backgrounds are black.

Now, as I allow the paint brush strokes to be seen, there is a pleasing blue-grey-black. Very nice.

I’d advise anyone to have a tube of Payne’s Grey in their art box, whether acrylic, watercolour or oil. 🙂

It’s odd that they have left me and I can’t help but feel a pang of worry. I’ve got used to them and as far as I know they are the only two of my kind in the world. Wending my way through the streets I keep Max’s unique smell with me. He has this scent that reminds me of musk and maleness but at the same time I get something a bit like sandalwood. I can’t help smiling. I sound like one of those wine tasters, he has a wonderful bouquet.

Except that now I can smell something else. It is a sour cloying smell that worries me. Stopping, I scent the air as if I were a dog. The animalistic feeling worries me, but as I close my eyes I try to filter through the different smells. The sour smell is linked with…

My eyes snap open and…

Well, I’m Rachel but I’m also Kate…

Rachel is my pseudonym for my children’s writing.

Why have a pseudonym?

I have a problem with books for adults being put into the children’s section of the library. No matter how much the authors distinguish the covers and other aspects of the book, it always happens. And as Kate Murray I write horror… So the pseudonym keeps them completely separate.

If you are looking for me as Kate and were expecting to see horror then please follow the link above and you will find my adult writing. If you are looking for picture books and kids writing then you are in the right place. 🙂

Slowly I become aware of people talking behind me. The girl is limp and although I can hear that she isn’t dead she will not be able to move. I wonder if I can kill her by draining her. Except that as her blood has become thicker and more sluggish there is a bitter aftertaste. I release her neck and look at the knife. I hold out my hand and look at the weapon. He doesn’t argue, just walks over and places the butcher’s knife in my hand. With a quick movement I cut her throat. I hand back the knife. Then I lay the girl down, listening until her heart stops beating.

Turning I find that all four men are watching me.  I smile and feel a little self-conscious. Max is watching me with a lazy satisfied smile. Colin looks jealous and the other two look sick.

“Sorry,” I…

I think I hear something. It could be my imagination. I’m running so very fast, just feeling the movement of my muscles and the wind flying past me, that I wonder if it is anything. I consider telling the guys, but a glance to the right sees that Max and Colin are running next to me and have a blank serene look on their faces. At some point they have changed position. Max is still next to me, but more than an arm length away.

I hear it again. Shrill and frantic. A scream.

I don’t slow. Instead I simply stop. Max and Colin carry on going, but I ignore them. I want to know what I heard. I find it odd that the others haven’t stopped. I am not worried about the scream, if anything I’m curious. I want to know who made it. It sounds like a woman…