The Protector of Memories (The Veil of Death Book 1) (9 page)

Hope opened the door to Sam’s book shop and laughed gently at the sound of the little bell that tinkled incessantly into the room.

Sam was still busy talking with a couple of customers so she made her way over toward the small area of armchairs and sat down in the battered leather chair she knew to be the most comfortable.

Her damaged eye continued to burn and when she tried to open the eyelid it stung too much. She leant back into the chair and watched Sam trawl the book shelving before returning back to the counter with a stack of books.

The teenage girl and her father leant over the books they were being offered and Hope laughed at the sight before her; the energies of excitement, imagination, delight and gentleness surrounded all three of them. “If you could see what you each give to the other it is a sight to behold” But they were distracted by the books to have heard her words.

Hope stood up and walked over to the large window.

She peered out onto the street and watched the raindrops splashing onto the paving slabs. She sighed heavily as her memories took her back to the woman who had behaved so angrily toward her.

“Hey,” Sam said. “What’s wrong?” She could always tell when something was troubling Hope by the way that her shoulders slumped down.

Hope turned at the sound of Sam’s voice.

“What on earth_” Sam exclaimed at the sight of Hope’s left eye. She rushed over and tried to get her to open up the eyelid. “Try and keep it open.” She insisted, “It’s bleeding… inside. You need to get to a hospital.”

Hope took Sam’s hand. “There are greater worries than that of my eye.” She accepted the tissue from Sam and wiped the tears that were streaming down her face.

“That may be,” Sam said, “But let me worry about your eye.” She walked over to the counter, retrieved the first-aid box and coaxed Hope to sit down. Sam proceeded to clean the eye with antiseptic and then covered it up with cotton wadding and stuck that down with surgical tape.

“It’s not perfect but it’ll stop the eye from getting infected.”

“Thank you Sam.” Hope said.

“What happened to you? Your eye… your clothes. You’re covered in dust and…” Sam picked out some of the wooden splinters stuck within the strands of Hope’s hair. “What on earth have you been doing?”

“My home collapsed…” Hope held onto Sam’s hand. “I but managed to get out.”

“Hope!” Sam raised her voice in frustration. “What were you thinking? Why did you have to sleep there? You know you can sleep with me…” she flushed in embarrassment and quickly added, “On the sofa… of course.”

“Sam. I was with Faith last night. In fact that is who I need to be with. She needs me.”

Sam stepped away as if she had been stung. “Oh… I_”

“Yesterday Charity asked that Faith and I lie. She asked that we deceive the mortals about her image. We will not do that. This is the consequence of what jealousy can do.” Hope stood up, raised her voice and added. “Me. I am the consequence. But I am not the only one. Many of my own kind have been bound to your Earth. Jealousy is not but an emotion… it is a life-force. One that is capable of consuming Compassion herself!” Hope took hold of Sam’s shoulders. “Sam. Our sister has killed. The ghosts showed Faith how she had killed them before entering into Charity’s mind to take possession of her body.” Hope stopped talking and frowned at the memory of the network of tendrils and quickly added. “This species of ghost are empty. But what I sensed was not empty_.”

A cough sounded out in the book shop.

Hope looked across at Sam’s customers but paying them no attention she continued to explain. “It is Faith who can see all beings within existence. Your ghosts are communicating with my sister.”

Sam laughed nervously. “How you doing?” she asked the teenage girl and her father.

“We’ll take this one thank you.” The father said as he held up a book.

The teenage girl, Sam noticed, had her phone held up;
great,
she thought;
that’ll be all over the social sites of the teenage world.

Sam turned and looked at Hope. “You’ll not leave yet will you?” she whispered

“No Sam. I will not leave. I need to talk with you.” Hope sat back down and watched as Sam walked toward the counter.

She then glanced around the book shop before looking down at the coffee table with a few magazines and newspapers scattered upon its surface.

Her attentions fell upon a very thin book; The Claiming of the Children and picking it up, Hope read the back cover and gasped aloud at the words of warning. She opened the book and as she read each word, their echoes filtering into her mind.

Seventeen minutes later and Sam was finally free from customers needing her attention. She sat down in an armchair opposite Hope, rubbed her hands through her hair. “Hope you do realise that as we speak, you are now the talk of a teenager’s social network. They are gonna love you?”

Hope held the book up to Sam. “This is a sign from my mother.”

“I read it yesterday,” Sam said and frowned at the recollection of the story. “I found it odd that it mentioned a character that so happens to be very similar to yourself. In fact Faith is also a character who can see ghosts.” She waited for Hope to say something and when she did not she asked. “So Faith is your sister? Not just a good friend… a very good friend?”

But Hope continued to read the book and Sam stood up as another thought filtered through her mind. “Please don’t tell me that you and Faith wrote that book?” She stared at Hope. “Charity could sue you. I mean… you actually mention her creams and lotions_.”

“Sam,” Hope interrupted her. “We are the characters within this story because the story is our life… our history.”

“Hope. Please. Stop with the joke. You and Faith…” she sighed, “… I doubt that’s even her real name. Is it?”

“No.” Hope replied and said. “We were at that party Sam.” But realising that Sam had asked her another question said, “Sorry… what did you say?”

“Is Hope your real name?” Sam whispered.

Hope shook her head ‘no’ and placing the book onto the coffee table she put her head into her hands. “What have you done,” she whispered to her parents and realised that their mother must have protected them with stardust for something that was yet to come.

Looked up at Sam she asked. “Have you another book. Faith must read the story.”

“Take the one you’ve just read.” Sam said and asked again. “So Hope isn’t your real name?”

“No.” Hope smiled softly at Sam. “I have had many names given to me but it is Hope that best describes me. It is indeed the essence of who I am…” Hope’s words trailed away at the sight of Sam’s tears.

“Enough okay enough,” Sam whispered. “You pretending to be a character from that…” she pointed to the book, “it isn’t funny. The 1
st
of April was yesterday. The joke’s over.”

Hope frowned and tried to explain. “This book is now empty. Faith needs to read the story.”

Sam gawped at the empty pages in amazement.

She took the book from Hope, flicked through its pages. “Strueth…” but she paused at the thought of invisible ink. “Very clever,” she said. “You’ve used ink that vanishes over time.”

“Have you any more of these books?”

“Hang on…” Sam went behind the counter and returned with four books. “Take them all.” She said and regretted now having put the rest on the counter for people to help themselves… because they had. “Fifteen copies are out there…” Sam nodded to indicate the world. “Let’s just pray that the ink vanishes before Charity gets to hear about it. What on earth were the two of you thinking_?”

The door bell tinkled and sounded out into the shop.

“Sarah.” Sam said. “What’s wrong?” and frowning at the uniformed police officer asked again. “What’s wrong?”

“Stay out of this.” Sarah snapped and pointing over toward the woman who had touched her on the shoulder said. “That’s her. That’s the drunk who assaulted me.”

“What!” Sam exclaimed and looked between Sarah and Hope and settled her gaze onto Sarah. “Hope would never do something like that.”

“That isn’t Hope,” Sarah stated. “Hope is young… that woman is old. But it is the woman who hit me with an iron bar…” she pulled her jumper down and revealed the bruise on her shoulder. “She would have hit my head had I not ducked.”

The police officer walked up to Hope and asked her, “What is your name?”

“Hope.” Hope said.

“That is not Hope.” Sarah said.

“I am Hope.” Hope said.

The police officer blew out his cheeks. “Ladies.” he said, not bothering to hide his frustration. “Can we please start again? Is this the woman you claim to have assaulted you?”

“Yes.” Sarah said.

The police officer turned toward Hope. “What is your name please?”

“Hope.”

“And what is your surname?”

“Hope.”

He wrote down: Hope Hope and asked, “address?”

“Don’t you listen,” Sarah raised her voice in frustration. “She squatted in the building that’s gonna get demolished.”

“Okay. Ms…”

Sarah ‘tutted’ at him “I’ve already told you my name. It’s Mrs Sarah Arnolds.”

The police officer ignored Sarah’s rudeness. “Mrs Arnolds. Were there any witnesses who saw the assault upon your person take place?”

Sarah nodded. “There was Nigel... my husband.” she stopped and stared angrily at the police officer. “He was arrested yesterday for causing a public disturbance but you didn’t arrest this lot…” she pointed toward the woman claiming to be Hope.

The police officer frowned, “Mrs Arnolds were there any other witnesses?”

Sarah crossed her arms, flinched – rubbed at her bruised shoulder. ”There was Paul,” she said and pointed toward the wall over toward the left, “he has the record shop next to our jewellery shop.”

“Anyone else?”

“Isn’t that enough?” She snapped with impatience.

“I am just collecting the facts Mrs Arnolds.”

“No. Nobody else.”

Sam looked at Sarah, “Nigel and Paul. That’s very convenient.” She said as she lit up a cigarette to try and calm her nerves down and worried about speaking out of turn to Hope;
I’ve hurt her?

“Can you put that cigarette out please?” The police officer said.

“She’s always smoking ain’t you Sam?” Sarah added accusingly.

Hope took a step toward Sarah.

Sarah took a step back. “Don’t let her come near me!”

Hope held her hands up to indicate that she meant the woman no harm. “I did not hit you with an iron bar. I offered to you some wine. I shared how your mortality is no different to our immortality. I squeezed your shoulder to share with you the joy that I hold within me. But your energies are filled with violence and hatred because you loath yourself more than you do anybody else.”

Hope turned and looked at the police officer and said. “Violence is not an energy that I choose to use despite the fact that I have absorbed a lot of it since arriving on your Earth_.”

“Are you going to arrest her?” Sarah interrupted. “That woman is drunk. Drunk and violent. She hit me with an iron bar and caused this…” She revealed her shoulder again and shouted at Hope. “If that ain’t violence then what is!”

“Ms Hope,” the police officer said, “I am arresting you on the charge of causing grievous bodily harm.
You do not have to say anything but it may harm your defence if you do not mention now, anything you later rely on in court. Anything you do say will be given in evidence.”

Hope shook her head ‘no’ to indicate that she had nothing to say. She took the carrier bag that Sam was offering her. “Thank you,” she whispered.

The police officer told Sarah that she and the two other witnesses would need to come down to the police station to make formal written statements. He then led Hope out of the shop and into the back of the police car.

Sam rushed out behind them. “I’m going to close the shop and come to the station…” she paused, looked toward the police officer, “Camden?”

The police officer nodded, got in the car and drove off.

Sam flicked her cigarette out into the gutter and marched back into her shop. “Hope would not do that.” Sam demanded. “You are lying. Hope would not harm anyone!”

“That…”Sarah pointed, “… was not Hope. But getting any squatter arrested is one less off of our streets. I am sick and tired of you Sam!” Sarah shouted. “You always defend that woman…” she pointed out of the window, toward the local park where she assumed Hope to be, “… that bloody woman and her offerings of free wine and god knows what else!” Sarah sneered at Sam and looked her up and down.

“What does that mean?!” Sam shouted back.

“Oh you know very well what that means. You and I have been friends for well over six years but you side with somebody that you’ve only just met. You back the squatters only because you fancy the pants off of one of them.”

Sarah walked toward the door, opened it, “traitor.” She said and slammed the door shut.

Sam’s vision blurred with tears and her ears rang with the echoes of the shop’s bell long after it had stopped ringing.