The Reckless Afterlife of Harriet Stoker

by Lauren James

  I can show you the moment that Fabian disintegrated, when Leah lost all the loyalty Rufus and Vini had given her. It’s the biggest mistake I ever made.

  This is how I destroyed my father.

  Here’s what happened. Fabian was curious, power-hungry and insatiable. He and his brothers ruled the ghosts here with an iron fist. Everyone did what he asked, and he set Vini on them if they refused.

  He was convinced that he could do more with Leah’s power. It wasn’t enough that she was pushing herself to look into the future for him whenever he asked. He wanted to know when he would disintegrate.

  He couldn’t believe that he’d disappear one day. All his power, all his work – it wasn’t enough. He had to make sure he avoided the final death.

  One day, some time back when war rationing was still in operation, he told Leah she had to look five hundred years into the future. He wanted to see if he ever found a way to survive that long as a ghost, without becoming a Shell.

  Leah knew that it would drain her completely. It’s a dangerous thing to do anyway – looking that far through time is unstable. It could have damaged both the future and the past.

  When she refused him, Fabian cradled me in his arms and wrapped his hands around my neck. He threatened to tear off my head if she didn’t do it. His own daughter. The threat was enough to make Leah try.

  At first, it seemed like it might work, until she started to waver. She dimmed and went black and white, and her atoms started to separate.

  I panicked. My father had proven once and for all that he didn’t care about me, whereas my mother was willing to sacrifice herself to save me. The choice was simple. Cradled in his arms, with his hands around my neck, I took his energy and pushed it all into her.

  He was gone before he even noticed. Leah glowed with his energy, and re-formed. Then Rufus and Vini realized what had happened, and we had to run and hide. They’ve been haunting us ever since.

  The Tricksters have never forgiven me or my mother. If they weren’t locked in the basement by Qi, they would destroy us both in vengeance for Fabian. One day we will have to face them again. All we can do is delay the inevitable. As you’ve probably guessed, time is running out for all of us.

  RIMA

  An old lady in tweed was climbing the stairs to the fourth floor, looking carefully around Mulcture Hall. Her hair was white like the Tricksters’, tied back with a silk scarf.

  “Who is she?” Rima was whispering, even though the human couldn’t hear her.

  She seemed to just be looking around, taking in the rotting mattresses, ivy-covered glass windows, and rust-stained puddles.

  “Do you know her, Felix?” Kasper asked, frowning. “Could she be here because of Oscar?”

  Felix shook his head. “I’ve never seen her in my life. And the police have already taken him away.”

  Rima froze. “Wait. Is she – could she be Harriet’s grandmother?”

  Now she was looking more closely, the woman did look like Harriet. There was something familiar in the shape of the nose and the way it wrinkled as she flicked dirt off her coat cuff.

  Kasper frowned. “What would she be doing here?”

  Rima’s heart hurt. The lady must be mourning her granddaughter, on a pilgrimage to the place Harriet had died. Harriet had said she lived alone. She must be so sad and tired and lonely.

  “Can we use this?” Leah asked. “We needed a distraction. This might be the perfect opportunity to lure Harriet here while we use the eyelid.”

  Felix’s eyebrows rose. “That could work.”

  It might be a good way to make Harriet back down, too. Seeing her grandmother could snap her out of her chaos.

  “I’ll go and find her!” Rima was hopeful for the first time since Oscar’s death.

  “How are you going to do that?” Kasper asked. “She’s probably hiding out somewhere, invisible.”

  “Can you – I don’t know – get Cody to sniff her down?” Felix suggested.

  “Ghosts don’t have scents, Felix!” Rima replied.

  He ran a hand over the back of his neck. “OK, OK, I was just spitballing!”

  Leah said, “Try the fifth floor. She spent ages there hunting Shells, she might be hiding out. We’ll make sure the grandmother doesn’t leave.”

  Rima twisted into an owl and flew up to the fifth floor, turning back into her human form as she landed.

  “Harriet?” she called.

  She was the best person to come up here – if Harriet threatened to manipulate her emotions, Rima could just fly away. But that didn’t stop her feeling nervous.

  At the far end of the hallway, a shadow shifted.

  “What’s good, Rima?” Harriet said, her face completely blank.

  Rima was shocked. There was barely a trace of Harriet left in the person before her. She was covered in cuts and wounds from the fight with Oscar, and skin was hanging loose across her eye. She looked like a zombie. She would never be mistaken for a living human again.

  “Harriet.” She swallowed. “I’m not here to fight you.”

  “I should hope not.”

  “I’m here to help. You’ve – you’ve lost your way. I think you need some … help.”

  “Have you come here to preach to me?” Harriet hissed, suddenly furious. “You’ve done nothing in all this time. It’s too late now. You should have killed me when you had the chance!”

  Only days earlier, Rima had said the same thing as a joke while play-fighting. She felt like she’d been punched in the heart.

  “Harriet, don’t – I didn’t mean…” She stopped. She was going to antagonize her even more. “There’s an old woman in the building with white hair and a silk scarf. We thought she might be your grandmother.”

  Harriet went completely still. “What?”

  Rima blew out a breath. “Do you want me to take you to her? She’s on the floor below.”

  Harriet’s face crumpled in on itself. Without another word, she ran for the stairs. Rima turned back into an owl and followed her.

  Chapter 20

  HARRIET

  Harriet raced down the stairs two at a time. She had been practising using her new transformation power when Rima arrived. Why was her gran here? Even though she wouldn’t be able to see her, Harriet was still nervous.

  Leah and Felix were standing in the corridor, while Kasper was watching from a distance, clearly trying to keep his power under control. Harriet strode past them, searching for her gran. Had this been a lie, to trick her into a trap? Her back prickled, as she prepared for a fight. Then she turned a corner, and saw her.

  Her grandmother, in her tweed jacket and second-best blouse.

  She looked smaller and older than Harriet remembered.

  Harriet realized that she was trembling.

  Rima landed on the banister in an undignified flapping of wings, morphing back into human form. “Stay calm. This is a good thing, isn’t it?”

  Her gran even smelt the same – part floral laundry powder and part cat hair. She must have called a taxi to get here. She couldn’t drive with her broken ankle.

  Rima was still talking. “She loves you so much, Harriet. Enough to visit here, because this is where you died. She would hate to see the way you’ve been behaving.”

  Her gran stopped walking to peel off her scarf. She folded it up, clasping her hands around it. Familiar paper-thin hands, with brown spots and lumps of bone from arthritis. They could move so quickly when she was knitting, jabbing the sharp needles back and forth. She used to prod Harriet with them when she wanted her attention, hard enough to make her wince.

  “You should stop this terrible behaviour. For your grandmother’s sake,” Rima pleaded.

  “Norma.” Harriet’s mouth was dry. “Her name is Norma.”

  For some reason, her feet were glued to the ground. She’d imagined this moment for so long. This was their reunion, at last. This was what she’d been working so hard for. Why, then, did she feel so numb?

  Norma
licked her lips. “Are you there, Harriet?”

  They all froze.

  “What?” Harriet asked.

  Harriet and her grandmother first visited the university on an open day last spring. Let’s take a look. They’re standing in that crowd by the tour guide. Doesn’t Harriet look young? With straightened hair and too much eyeliner?

  Her gran has a too-large handbag tucked under her arm; a visitor badge sticker peeling off her tweed jacket. They’re cutting through the car park on their way to view the library, so quickly that you’d almost miss them. But I sifted through the days, opening up moments until I found this. It’s the first time Harriet saw Mulcture Hall.

  She points it out to her grandmother, comments on the lack of car parking on campus, frowns into the sky as it starts to drizzle, and then she’s gone. Her grandmother is slower, old and stiff, and lingers in the shadow of Mulcture Hall to catch her breath. She looks up at the building for the length of a heartbeat, and then she’s gone, too, following her granddaughter to admire the library.

  Did you see it? The starting point for another story? Or, rather, the start of the next chapter. Maybe next time I tell it, I’ll begin here. With the grandmother.

  Chapter 21

  HARRIET

  “I assume by now that someone has fetched my granddaughter,” her gran said. “If not, can one of you please find her?”

  “Does she believe in ghosts?” Rima asked, out of the corner of her mouth.

  Harriet shrugged helplessly. She pinned her hand against her side to hide the way she was shaking. “I don’t know! She must do! Why is she here?”

  Nothing about this felt right. She couldn’t understand the thick sludge of foreboding in her belly, spreading cold through her bones. “I’m going to go. Keep an eye on her until she leaves, will you?”

  “Harriet?” Norma asked, tilting her head like she had heard her. She turned to look behind her, and then stumbled. Her bad ankle crumpled under her and she tripped forwards. Norma gasped, throwing her hands out to try to catch herself. The silk scarf drifted from her fingers.

  “No!” Harriet shouted, as they all lunged towards her gran, but their hands passed through her as she fell. It happened in slow motion. Norma let out a surprised cry, and her knees gave way. Her head knocked into the wall, ricocheting off the concrete. She lay there, blinking dopily. There was a trickle of bright-red blood dripping down her temple.

  Harriet sobbed. What could she do to help? There was nothing. If she still had her phone, she could call for help, but she was dead. All she could do was watch.

  Norma raised a hand to her forehead, touching the blood. Eyes closed, she winced deeply, rolling over onto her back.

  “Harriet,” she said, and then paused, taking a deep breath. Blood pulsed from the wound, leaking down to pool in the dust. “Harriet. I’m coming to you. I’m coming for you.”

  Rima moved forward to help, and Harriet pushed her back. “Don’t!” she said, shock making the words come out angry. “Don’t touch her!”

  She crouched at her gran’s side, desperately ignoring her instinct to take the energy seeping out of her grandmother.

  Norma let out a weak moan, eyes fluttering under her lids. She convulsed in pain. The blood might be clotting. Maybe she’d survive this. But she was old, and the wound was on her head. What if it had done some damage, deep in her brain?

  “It’s OK, Gran. I’m here. I’m here for you.” Harriet couldn’t watch. She closed her eyes, listening to the rough, weak noises of anguish coming from Norma until finally she went silent. A wave of golden energy flooded through Harriet, exploding out from Norma’s body.

  Harriet drew in a shaking, appalled gasp. Why did this keep happening? What had she done to deserve this – any of this? Her parents, her grandfather, herself – and now her grandmother? She’d never been as desperate to see her parents as she was at that moment.

  Harriet waited for what felt like an eternity, wishing that none of this was happening. She was cursed. She had to be.

  Finally, a cold hand pressed against the top of Harriet’s head.

  “Hello, Harriet,” Norma said.

  Harriet took a deep breath. She squeezed her eyes shut. “Hi, Gran.”

  Norma’s ghost shone bright with fresh energy. There was a loose curl of scalp hanging down her forehead, where she’d hit the wall. She tied her scarf neatly around her head, hiding the wound away from view.

  Patting her hair into place, Norma said, “Come away from the corpse. It’s uncouth.”

  Harriet climbed to her feet obediently, eyes averted from her gran’s body. “Are you – how are you?” she asked, forcing out the words between frozen lips.

  The others were watching them, completely still and alert.

  Norma twisted her mouth. “Making do. It’s been hard without you, these last few days.”

  Harriet winced. It must have been impossible for her, all alone and hobbling around on her cane. Though her gran hadn’t brought the cane with her to the hall. In fact, the plaster support around her broken ankle was gone, too.

  “Your cast is off,” Harriet said, surprised.

  Norma looked down at her feet, which were both covered in white tights and patent leather shoes. “The doctor took it off early,” she replied without missing a beat.

  “I thought it was going to be another four weeks!”

  “No, just one. You’re misremembering.”

  Harriet frowned.

  Norma waved her hand. “Never mind that. It’s hardly important now, is it?”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Rima and Felix shake their heads at each other. Heat trickled through Harriet. She hated that there was an audience to see this. She wasn’t ashamed of her gran. She loved her. But Norma was a little … unusual.

  “Gran, you know that you’ve died, don’t you?” Harriet asked. She was taking this all very calmly.

  “Of course I know that! Do give me some credit.”

  “Oh. And are you … all right with that?” Harriet wasn’t expecting her gran to cry, exactly, but some emotional reaction would have been appropriate – if only for their audience.

  Norma tilted her head. “Well, it’s a lot to process. I’m sure it will all hit me at some point. What I don’t understand is how you could let this happen?”

  “I was taking photographs of the building and tripped. It was an accident.” That day was a lifetime ago now. Harriet could barely remember being that person, concerned with nothing more than getting a good grade on her Photography coursework.

  Norma shook her head dismissively. “I don’t mean your death. I mean this.”

  She ran a finger over the torn skin of Harriet’s eyelid, reaching down to adjust her collar. “You look … well, the white hair suits you. I’m not sure about the open wounds, though.”

  Harriet winced, turning to the side and cupping a hand over her eye. She’d forgotten about her battle scars.

  “Sorry,” she muttered.

  “That was our fault, Ma’am,” Rima said, stepping forwards. “I’m afraid that Harriet has had a bit of trouble settling in. But maybe now you’re here, that will all stay in the past. Don’t you think, Harriet?”

  Norma turned to inspect Rima, looking her up and down. Her eyes skimmed over Felix and Kasper, landing on Leah and Claudia. She sniffed. “Oh, hello. And who might you be?”

  Leah answered, since Norma was still looking at her. “I’m Leah, and this is Rima, Felix and Kasper,” she said, pointing each of them out.

  Norma took a step closer and pulled Claudia out of her arms. “And who is this little angel?” she asked sweetly.

  “Claudia.” Leah looked like she wanted to take the baby back off her. Claudia’s face scrunched up. She went red, like she was about to cry.

  “What a darling.” Norma tucked Claudia against her hip, and turned back to Harriet. “Well, I’m sorry that you’ve been making a fool of yourself in front of all these nice people. Have you apologized yet?”

&
nbsp; Harriet was abruptly mortified as she saw the last few days through the lens of her grandmother’s judgement. Harriet had come up short, failing to follow her gran’s advice in every respect. Her torn eyelid was proof of that.

  “Oh.” Harriet forced herself to look at Rima. “Sorry. But, Gran – I’ve been trying to come home to you. I didn’t mean to abandon you when you’ve done so much for me.”

  “I suppose it can’t be helped. It’s not like you meant to die. And we’re both here now.”

  Harriet felt nothing but numbness.

  Claudia twisted in Norma’s arms, reaching back towards Leah.

  “Be still now, that’s a good girl.” Norma’s voice was firm.

  A memory flashed through Harriet’s mind, before she could stop it. Once, as a child, when her parents had still been alive, her gran had taken her for a long, silent walk in the park. She’d tripped and scraped her knee. Her gran had helped her to her feet, and then knelt, pressing a thumb to the bleeding wound, which was full of gravel.

  “Does it hurt?” she had asked, watching her carefully.

  Harriet had bitten her lip, nodding, trying to hold back tears.

  “I’ve got to get the gravel out,” she’d said, and scraped into the wound with her nail, tearing skin out alongside the grit. When Harriet had cried out, pulling away from her, she had calmly taken out a handkerchief and wiped the blood off her thumb. “Much better.”

  Harriet suddenly wanted to grab Claudia from Norma’s arms. She swallowed. “Can I hold Claudia for a moment?”

  Norma shook her head. “I’m not done with her quite yet.”

  Harriet looked at Rima, wishing that anyone here was on her side. If this had happened a few days earlier, they would have been defending her right now. Protecting her. But after everything she’d done, she was on her own.

  She didn’t even know what she wanted them to do. Take her away from Norma? Or did she want Rima to embrace Harriet, to show Norma that her granddaughter had finally collected some followers?