Past Darkness (7 page)

A
chill wind was howling outside the old house, like the lonely ghost of a trapped wolf. Dorothy felt she was drowning in her own shadow in the spreading dark.

The girls huddled under the thin blankets and filthy clothing, neither talking, both shivering. Dorothy was trying to stop her teeth from chattering, but was failing miserably. A couple of times, she tried huddling up beside Tara for some combined body heat, but her attempts were quickly shunned with an elbow directed to the ribs.

Five minutes had passed since Dorothy’s last overture to secure some body heat. This time she would be a bit craftier. She eased over stealthily towards Tara’s body. She could feel the heat, even though a couple of inches divided them. Then, disaster. Her leg touched Tara’s.

‘
Arghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
!
That’s sore. Why’d you nip me in the thigh, Tara? I was only trying to keep warm.’

Tara trained her eyes upward, not even deigning to glance in Dorothy’s direction.

‘Don’t
ever
touch me. I don’t like to be touched – by anyone. It creeps me out. Make the same mistake again, and you won’t get off so easy, with just a little nip.’

‘Can…I at least get the bear, and hold it?
Please
. Can I?’

Tara rolled her eyes. ‘As long as it stops you yakking for a few minutes, get it from the mattress.’

Dorothy scuttled up the mattress, found the hole, removed the bear, and scuttled quickly back in from the freezing air. Under the blanket, she kissed the bear and hugged it tightly.

‘I can’t believe you’re kissing that old thing. I saw a rat pissing on it, a couple of nights ago.’

‘You’re only saying that to be mean. Isn’t she, Mister Bear? You’ll keep us safe, won’t you, Mister Bear?’

‘You probably believe that, don’t you?’ Tara replied, sarcastically.

‘Things happen when you believe. That’s what my mum always says.’

‘Well, isn’t your ma the smart one? Bet she’s as thick as you.’

‘My mum isn’t thick. Why are you so mean? I’m not talking to you any more.’

‘Best news I’ve heard since you came here.’

Ten seconds went by.

‘Where did you find the bear?’

‘Thought you weren’t talking to me? If you must know, it was hid behind a hole in the wall.’

‘What’s its name?’

‘Name? You really are a kid, aren’t you? How the hell would I know? There’s something scribbled on its left paw, but the letters are faded. “King”, or something like that. I couldn’t make it out too well. Probably the name of the stupid kid who owned it a million years ago.’

Dorothy began scrutinising the paw. ‘I can see it, some sort of name. Not King. Kang…? Kinl? No. Ka…Karl! That’s his name: Karl…’

N
ight. Karl. Walking in slow motion. Fog everywhere. In the distance, a large Victorian house looms, penetrating the miasma like in an old Hammer horror movie. The house will devour him, swallow him in one gulp. His heart is beating so hard it hurts his ribcage. He tries to stop walking, but the house’s magnetic grip keeps pulling him in.

I don’t want to go there. Please…someone…help…

His shoes start tripping him. Too big. He kicks them off, and continues onwards like a zombie. The house is getting bigger and bigger, his fear more acute. Trousers start slipping from his waist. He almost stumbles over them as they slide down his legs. Wiggles out of them. Followed by his underwear. The coat he’s wearing feels like a large gorilla straddling him. It pulls away from him like a leaf in autumn. To his embarrassment, he is now completely naked, but bizarrely getting smaller, thinner.

A child.

Help
me…please…someone
. But it’s not his deep, baritone voice he hears pleading. It’s a squeaky, pubescent echo of anxiety and panic.

Closer. The house comes closer. Its shadow reaching out to him. Threatening to grab.

Please
…

His hand touches the door handle. He turns it. Involuntary. Door opens. A tidal wave of blood is unleashed like water into a sinking ship. Fills his mouth with the taste of iron and dry cotton. He’s gagging. Choking. Drowning.

The bloody tide pulls him inside. A body floats by. His mother. Naked. Dead. Her skin shredded. He reaches for the body. Pulls himself on to it. Like it’s a bloated surfboard. Holding on for dear life. Gripping her spongy breasts. His face rests in her face. The stench of her rot is nauseating. Her eyes are open. Overripe with horror.

Reflected in her pupils is a scene, like an old-time movie projector, flipping instantaneous movements of reel. Blurs slowing down towards an understanding of time and object.

He looks deeper and deeper into the eyes. Directly behind his mother, a man stands, naked, bloody knife in hand, laughing. He resembles a centaur but in pig form, draped in a butcher’s bloody apron. He mounts her, his corkscrew cock excited and rigid, ready for entry into her vortex.

Nooooooooooooooo!
Karl is screaming, but no ears are listening.

Behind the man, lurking in shadows, two young girls point their fingers accusingly at Karl. Blood is dripping from the tops of the tiny fingers. The drops parachute towards the ground, hitting it in slow motion, forming the words,
You let him murder us, you did nothing to stop him…

Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!

‘Karl! Karl, wake up!’

‘Huh…? What…?’ Karl blinked a few times. His mouth tasted like dusty glue. Brow damp with sweat. Chest heaving.

‘You were having a nightmare,’ Naomi said, her worried face hovering over his. ‘You screamed out a few times. You okay?’

‘Yes…’ He forced a grin. ‘No more cheese sandwiches before bed, ever again.’

‘What was it about?’

‘Nothing…just the usual crap, being chased through a forest by a strange-looking woman with a bloody axe in her hands. I think it was Lynne, looking more money from me.’ He eased out of bed. ‘Need to take a leak.’

In the bathroom, he looked in the mirror. Barely recognised the man staring back. Threw cold water on face, before checking hands. They were trembling.

Sneaking a peek out the bathroom door, he tiptoed across the landing to where his coat dangled from a coatstand. Shoved his hand in the inside pocket. Rummaged. Found the pills. Removed two from their enclosure, and tried popping them
into his mouth. Missed. Watched in horror as they bounced onto and into the carpet.

‘Damn it!’ He fell to his knees, fingers fine-combing the plush carpeting.

‘Karl? You okay?’ Naomi called from the bedroom.

‘Yes…just a second.’ His fingers frantically searched. Bingo! One recovered.
Where’s the other bastard?

‘Karl…?’

‘Coming…’ He swallowed the sole survivor and headed back to the bedroom.

‘You sure you’re okay?’ Naomi said, concern traced across her brow as he eased back into bed.

‘Nothing a hug won’t cure.’

Naomi patted her side of the bed. ‘Come here, big lad.’

Karl slid over, curving into her, loving her womanly smells, the warmth of her breasts, the beat of her heart against his ear. But more than all these things combined, he loved her protection. He needed that more than anything else at this moment.

Silently, he prayed to a god he did not believe in, not to let him fall asleep.

Not to let the bogeyman get him…

F
riday lunchtime, Karl was just leaving the office to place a quick bet on a sure-thing, impossible-to-lose horse, when a car pulled up alongside. The driver beeped the horn before getting out. He was youngish-looking, hair combed back in a fashion long gone. Despite his youthful appearance, there was something world-weary in his demeanour, something sad and secretive in his eyes.

‘What the hell are you doing, blasting your horn? Didn’t you see the sign at the corner?’ Karl said, eyeing the young man. ‘This is a no-noise zone. I should call the cops. Oh, sorry, I forgot. You
are
a cop, Chambers. So, how’s the form, Detective?’

‘I need to talk to you, Mister Kane. Urgently.’

‘Karl or Kane. Quit the “mister” shit. You sound like a schoolboy talking to a teacher.’

‘Okay. Kane it is. Now, can we have that talk?’

‘It’ll have to wait. I only have a minute to get this bet down.’
Karl pointed at the William Hill bookie’s shop across the street.

‘That’s okay. I can wait here till you return.’

‘I bet you a tenner you can’t.’ Karl smiled.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

Just then, a female traffic warden appeared.

‘Which of you two gentlemen owns this vehicle?’ she said, pointing at Chambers’ car.

‘It’s mine,’ Chambers said.

‘Can’t you see the double-yellow line?’

‘You don’t understand. I’m a–’

‘No,
you’re
the one who doesn’t understand. You can’t park here. That’s not too complicated to understand, is it?’

Chambers’ hand went to his inside pocket, and produced a small brown wallet, containing his police ID. He flourished it to the woman. ‘I’m a policeman.’

‘Then you should know better than to break the law. Move the car immediately; otherwise I’ll have it towed.’

Karl let out a large, loud laugh. ‘Belfast doesn’t know the meaning of the word “protocol” when it comes to making money.’

A chastised and chastened Chambers got back inside and started the car.

‘That’s a tenner you owe me, Chambers,’ Karl said, making his way quickly to the bookie’s.

Ten minutes later, Karl reappeared, tearing up a docket.

‘No luck?’ Chambers said, standing at the doorway.

‘The nag fell at the first hurdle. A hundred quid gone like coal in Hell. And talking of Hell, what sort of little harassment operation has my devious devil of an ex-brother-in-law sent you on?’

‘Inspector Wilson has nothing to do with this. He’s over in Edinburgh at the moment, on assignment.’

‘Good. Hopefully the bastard stays there. Where’s that maniacal thug of a side-kick of yours – ‘The Priest’, the one who gets so much pleasure from confession?’

‘Detective McCormack?’

‘The very one.’

‘He’s back in the station. This is an off-the-record meeting.’

‘The last time I saw you two together, you were beating the crap out of him with that kung-fu shit of yours, after he assaulted me.’

‘Yes, well…that was in the heat of the moment. I shouldn’t have done it.’

‘I was grateful you did. You saved my neck, while giving his a good chopping. So, what is it you want?’

‘Can we go back to your office and talk?’

‘So you can eye Naomi? I don’t think so.’

Chambers’ face flushed slightly. ‘This is a friendly visit, Kane. We got a complaint from the Europa. A guest by the name of Graham Butler received a vicious beating, a few nights
ago. Apparently, Butler didn’t want it disclosed, because of his reputation as a hard man, but when the regular manager returned from some days off, he immediately reported it to us, as required by hotel policy.’

‘Long story short?’

‘What?’

‘Get to the point. I’ve a hundred quid to get back from Hill Billy.’

‘I checked the hotel’s CCTV. You were seen clearly on it; you and Miss Sharon McKeever – or Lipstick, as she refers to herself.’

‘Is there a crime in that?’

‘I suspect Miss McKeever was there for a sexual encounter, as she has–’

‘She’s an adult. She can do whatever she damn well–’

‘Something bad happened in Butler’s room, and you were called in to help her. I know the history between you and Miss McKeever.’

‘History? What the hell’s that supposed to mean?’ Karl bristled.

‘She saved you from being killed by Peter Bartlett, the assassin. She shot him. That’s more than enough for you to be indebted to her.’

Karl looked at his watch. ‘Unless you’re going to arrest me for assault and battery, I’m going to go back inside and–’

‘Graham Butler is a very dangerous individual. He’s a
well-known criminal from London’s East End. In one of his prettier moments, he killed a rival drug dealer, cutting him up and disposing of the body parts all over London. At the moment, he’s suspected of arranging meetings with drug dealers over here, hoping to extend his franchise.’

‘A nice chap, then? Look, I appreciate your telling me, and sticking your neck out. I really do. Though I have to admit, I think you’re more concerned about Naomi being dragged into it, than you are about my health.’

‘Just make sure you avoid him. We’re hoping to send Butler back to London, first chance we get.’

‘Butler won’t come anywhere near me. He didn’t look like a stupid man.’

‘One other thing. A journalist from the
Sunday Exposé
has been talking to some of the staff at the hotel. Don’t be surprised if the newspaper contacts you.’

‘I doubt very much they’ll contact me. They only like people who’ll tell them what readers of their rag want to hear.’

Chambers turned to leave.

‘Aren’t you forgetting something?’ Karl said, holding out his hand.

Chambers looked puzzled. ‘What?’

‘The tenner you owe me.’