Dead Push (Kiera Hudson Series Two#7) (20 page)

But instead of turning violent, Isi-bore said with a knowing smile, “I get it, I get it! So who’s scared of their daddy then?”

“Shut your fucking mouth!” the thief groaned. Again I couldn’t help but notice that the boy looked like he had been punched by Isi-bore. It was like Isi-bore was beating the thief but without having to use violence.

“So daddy doesn’t love you? Is that it?” Isi-bore said.

“
Shut-up!
” the thief cried out as if in pain.

“Or is it that daddy loves you
too
much? The bad kinda love that he says is perfectly okay, but just don’t tell your momma about it!” It was like Isi-bore had the bigger kid against the ropes but hadn’t thrown a single punch.

“
Shut-up! Shut-up! Shut-up!
” the boy wailed, placing his hands over his ears.

“I’ll shut-up if you promise you’ll leave Melody alone, and that goes for your friends,” Isi-bore said. He was now in charge and he knew it. His voice was different – stronger and firmer – but not angry and full of hate.

“I promise,” the thief whispered.

“I can’t hear you!” Isi-bore said.

“
I promise!”
the boy cried.

“I think at last we’ve come to an understanding, and we got there without the use of any violence. A first for you, I suspect,” Isi-bore said, staring at the boy. “Now get out of here!”

The thief turned and fled up the shore with his friends following him. I waited for them to disappear from view, then peered through the bushes at Isi-bore and wondered if he was the dumb-arse I’d first believed him to be. He had truly beaten the thief who had stolen his coat, without killing him or having
fun
with his family.

I watched Isi-bore release his wings from beneath his arms. He
swooped up into the sky, holding Melody in his arms.

Way to go, Isidor, I thought.

Potter

I wandered around with my thumb up my arse for the rest of the day. There was little point hiding out in the alleyway, Kiera would only see me. If the photographer was going to come, it would be after Kiera was killed tonight. I knew Kiera would be leaving her apartment to join Sparky on the stakeout sometime after ten. I would come back then.

However hard I tried to
push
thoughts of Kiera’s death from my mind, I couldn’t. I mooched about the desolate town of Havensfield, collar turned up against the rain and the cold. I was so lost to my thoughts that I took no notice of those who passed me by on the streets. I struggled with the fact that I had walked away from her again. Again? I hadn’t run out on her. That had been the other Potter. It should be that Potter who was wandering around the tiny cobbled streets of Havensfield, feeling guilty and ashamed. Why should I carry his burden? I hadn’t done anything wrong – not this time around at least. Perhaps if he only knew what was going to happen tonight, then he might come and save her. I was told not to change anything here, but if he saved her, then technically it wouldn’t be me who stopped her from being killed. Did that stack up? Did it work? But if I somehow let him know, it would still be me who put in motion a chain of events which would change what happened to Kiera. But if I told him, he could do what he wanted with that information. That would be down to him and not me.

But where was this Potter? Where would I find him in this world?

“Lilly told you that you couldn’t come in contact with your own self in this world,” a voice said from behind me.

I spun around in the wind and rain to find the little girl sitting on a wooden bench next to a red public phone box.

“What did you say?” I asked, rubbing rain from my face with my hand.

“You can’t see yourself in this place, Potter,” the little girl smiled at me. She seemed immune to the fact that the rain ran through her hair and soaked her bright red dress. She was short enough for her feet not to touch the pavement, and she swung them slowly back and forth like pendulums in a grandfather clock. 

“Who are you?” I asked, sitting next to her on the bench. “Do I know you?”

“I know you,” she smiled. Then jumping from the bench, both her feet splashing into a puddle, she waved and said, “See you later…”

“Alligator,” I whispered as she blew away to nothing on a gust of wind. I continued to sit on the bench in the wind and rain. Cars crawled slowly by, the sound of the cars tyres hissing on the wet tarmac. Soaked through with the rain and feeling cold, I got up, yanked open the door of the phone box, and stepped inside. It would offer me some protection until the rain stopped. The phone box smelt of stale urine. Even in a sleepy little town like Havensfield, there were obviously people who still felt the urge to take a piss in the phone box. Fucking animals, I thought, then looked at the phone. I had an idea. Lilly had said that seeing my other self would be really bad – whatever the fuck that meant. How bad was bad? Were we talking about opening or closing a few more of those cracks? How bad could that be? Noah was opening cracks like they were going out of fashion. Or did Lilly mean completely screwing up the whole space-time continuum thing? What did she know anyhow – it wasn’t like she was Doc Brown or anything. They had the same colour hair and style, but that was about it.

I looked at the phone. Speaking to the other Potter wouldn’t be like seeing him – would it? I picked up the receiver. I searched my pockets with me free hand. I had no money. I wanted to speak to a cop after all, so why shouldn’t I dial 999? I knew the number was for emergencies – but this was one. A woman was going to get killed tonight.

I dialled three nines and the phone was answered almost immediately.

“What is your emergency?” the operator asked. Her voice sounded nasally and far off.

Where did I start? “I’d like to speak to a cop…”

“So you want the police?” the woman asked.

“Not all of them, just one would do, his name is…” I started.

“This line is for emergency calls only…” she cut in.

“And this is an emergency…” I tried again.

“What is your emergency?” she asked again.

This was getting to be fucking pointless. We were just going around in circles. “Look, lady, I desperately need to get hold of a police officer named Potter. Sean Potter. I wouldn’t be calling this number if it wasn’t real important. Please help me.”

There was a silence at the other end of the line, and I half expected the line to go dead. The woman suddenly spoke again. “Where is Officer Potter based?”

“All I know is that he works out of ‘C’ Division in the county of Havenshire,” I said, grateful that she was helping me.

“One moment, caller, I’ll put you through, but please remember that this line is for emergency calls only,” she reminded me.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

I could hear several clicking sounds on the line then a ringing tone. The phone was answered at the other end.

“C – Division – special ops department, how can I help you?” A male and sullen-sounding voice came down the line.

“Can I speak to Police Constable Potter please?” I said.

There was a long pause.

“And you are?” the voice eventually asked.

I’m him, I felt like saying, but instead I said, “I’m his brother.”

“Brother?” the voice came back. Was that a note of suspicion I could detect – or was I being paranoid?

“What is your name?” the man asked.

“Funnily enough it’s Potter, but then again it would be seeing as we’re brothers,” I sighed impenitently.

Another long silence, the only sound was the rain lashing against the telephone box.

“When was the last time you saw your brother?” the male asked.

“Not for a long time,” I said, sensing that something wasn’t quite right. 

“And your family?” he said.

“What has my family got to do with this?” I breathed. “I haven’t seen them in years either.” This wasn’t a lie. “We’re not very close.”

“That would explain it then…” he started.

“Explain what?” I cut in.

“Why you haven’t heard the news.”

“What news?” he was starting to piss me off.

Another long silence.

I heard the guy on the other end of the line draw in a deep breath then say, “I’m sorry to inform you, Mr. Potter, but your brother is dead.”

Now it was my turn to be silent. I was dead. The other
me was dead in this world. “How?” I stammered. “How did I… how did my brother die?”

“He was murdered,” the man said, still sounding sullen.

“By who?” I shot back.

“That we don’t know…” he said.

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” I asked, feeling confused.

“The investigation is still on-going…”

“Who is the investigating officer?” I snapped. “I want to speak to them.”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” the voice said. “The investigating officer is out of the office at the moment.”

“Give me their name and I’ll call back,” I said.

“Detective John Miles,” the man said. “Do you want his number?”

“I’ve already got that officer’s number,” I said, placing the receiver back into its cradle. “No wonder Sparky sounded so fucking shocked when I answered Kiera’s phone. He thinks I’m dead.”

I pushed open the phone box and stepped back out into the rain. It was getting dark now, as the night drew in and Kiera’s death got closer.  I wandered up the street in the direction of Kiera’s apartment. What did I do? I knew what I should do and that was to forget about what I had learnt, go back to the alleyway, wait for the photographer to show up, unmask him, then head back to Lilly Blu at the station and to my Kiera. But I couldn’t forget. Sparky believed me to be dead. He was investigating my murder. He had sounded surprised when he spoke to me, but not surprised enough. As far as he was concerned, he was speaking to a freaking ghost.

I thought you had left
, he had said down the phone to me. Shouldn’t that have been,
I thought you were dead…
?

There was something seriously fucking wrong here, and just like in the world before it got
pushed
, Sparky was at the centre of it. The wolf was fucking with me and probably with the Kiera of this world, too. It was Sparky who had invited her to the place where she would lose her life. That was more than just a coincidence. Unbeknown to Kiera, Sparky was pushing her towards her inevitable death and I was gonna
push
right back.

Jack

The next time I saw Isidor, he was crawling once again from beneath The Hollows. And just like he had before, he made his way alone through the woods and towards the town of Lake Lure. At first I thought perhaps he was heading for Melody’s home again. But he did a detour to the local swimming pool. The car park in front of the building was full of school buses and parked cars. Flags had been hung around the eaves of the building like there was some kind of celebration about to take place. From a small grassy knoll, I stood back and watched as Isi-bore blended in with the humans filing into the building. Liking his idea, I came down from my vantage point, joined the end of the line, and went into the pool with the others.

A woman in front of me turned, and with a look of excitement on her face, she said, “What swimming team is your child in?”

“How should I know, lady?” I shrugged.

“You do have a child at this school, don’t you?” she said with a look of growing concern.

“Of course I do,” fixing her with a stare so she could look into my eyes and see the fun we could have together.

With her cheeks blushing, she tried to break my stare but couldn’t. “So how come you don’t know what swimming team your child is in?” she said, her voice wavering, as she continued to look into my blazing eyes.

“Haven’t seen the kid since it was just a baby,” I told her.
“Only just got out of jail.”

“Out of jail,” she gasped. I couldn’t figure out if she was shocked by what she saw me doing to her in my eyes, or the fact that I’d just gotten out of jail.

“What were you in jail for?” she almost panted.

“I killed twelve women,” I grinned down into her eyes.

“Really?” she gasped, putting a hand to her throat.

“No, I’m just kidding,” I smiled, leaning in close to her. “I killed sixty-three. How about we even up the number and make it sixty-four.” I then snaked my hand around her waist and squeezed her arse.

“What are you doing?” she breathed, still looking into my eyes.

“Just having fun with your buns,” I whispered into her ear. I felt her shudder against me.

“Hey what’s going on?” I heard a bewildered and concerned voice say.

I looked over the lady’s shoulder to see a dumpy-looking bald man.

“Say what?” I said, looking at him.