by R. H. Dixon
‘Emily, stop this,’ John pleaded, buffeted about in the current while holding onto Seren tightly. Saltwater stung his eyes and throat, making him cough and splutter. He refused to let go, even when it felt like Emily might pull the little girl’s arm out of its socket. Once the wave had passed he swiped a clunky underwater kick at Emily’s legs. Not the most effective of moves, but enough to knock her off balance again.
‘Here, John.’ Turning, he saw Natasha sloshing towards him, her arms outstretched. ‘Pass her to me!’
Plunging forward, he handed Seren to Natasha just as cold, clawed fingers grabbed his hair from behind and yanked him backwards.
‘Give her back!’ Emily screamed, trying to force John’s head underwater.
‘Run, Tash,’ he cried, before water came rushing into his mouth. He lashed about frantically, cold, salty water pouring straight into his lungs and making him spew when he resurfaced. Emily let go of his hair and he managed to regain his footing. ‘Give me the brooch, Emily,’ he spluttered.
She looked at him, her eyes darker and full of malicious intent. Her hair was black, pasted to her head, and she seemed much older than her seventeen years. ‘Never,’ she growled.
‘Fight Her, Em!’ he pleaded. ‘Give me the fucking brooch.’
She sneered and lunged for him. But he was quicker. He grabbed a fistful of her cardigan and managed to spin her round so that her back was to him, he then wrestled her into a bear hug. Waves knocked him about as he manhandled her towards the beach. He was able to hold on, even when she dug her fingernails into his arms, worsening the wound on his wrist and making him feel dizzy with the pain. He managed to get to a place where he was only knee-deep in the water, but then she butted him in the face with the back of her head. A dirty blow he hadn’t expected. He didn’t hear the crackle of gristle in his nose above the noise of the sea, but he felt it. And he feared he might black out, such was the pain. He let go of Emily and managed to flounder his way back to the sand, where he dropped to all fours and spat a mouthful of blood onto the back of his hands. When he glanced up he saw Emily standing at the top of the shale bank, most likely looking in the direction of Seren and Natasha. He hoped they had managed to put enough distance between themselves and Emily to be safe.
Suddenly Otis came into view. The wiry-haired lurcher was growling and snarling at Emily. John felt weak and defeated but knew he couldn’t give in. He dragged himself to his feet. Otis was diverting Emily’s attention, creating the perfect opportunity, so he rushed up the shingle bank and knocked Emily to the ground. Pinning her arms to the sand, he said, ‘Where’s the brooch? I can help you, Em, just tell me where it is.’
His sister’s lips curled into a vindictive grin and she laughed, a raucous sound he’d never heard before. ‘Such optimism from a melancholic wreck, you can’t even help yourself. And don’t forget, I easily rule you.’
‘Shut up!’ he hissed, spraying her face with red spittle. ‘I’m not talking to you, I’m talking to Emily.’
‘She can’t hear you, I’m stronger than she is. And I’m stronger than you. I always was. You’ve been so receptive, letting me tap into your wants and desires. You’ve helped me to grow so strong.’ She licked his blood from her lips, a crude gesture meant to throw him, and chided, ‘You very much enjoyed my take on Pamela Tanner, didn’t you?’
‘Fuck you.’
‘No, you, I’m sure.’ She laughed. ‘Pamela Tanner wasn’t as good as Toni though was she, John? Oh you enjoyed your brother’s girlfriend. What a fun night that was.’
‘Hardly, it was your undoing as well as mine.’
‘Hardly.’ Her brow bunched angrily.
‘When I left Horden I left you behind.’ John’s tone was scathing and the tip of his nose almost touched hers. ‘You were stashed away in a box, forgotten about because you didn’t have my bad traits to feed off anymore and there were no children in the house for you to take.’
‘Nevertheless, I have all the time in the world to wait. And here you are now.’
‘Yes, exactly, here I am now. You’re nothing without me. I rule you.’
Emily’s initial response was one of stunned frustration, but then she quickly became furious. She drew her lips back to reveal straight, white teeth and thrashed about beneath his weight. ‘You could never rule me! I know you better than you know yourself.’
‘Bullshit!’ John pressed down on her a little harder, her arms thin in his grip. ‘Sissy Dawson invoked you all those years ago, a woman not long into adulthood, not so different to my sister.’
‘So?’
‘So you only prey on the young. You aren’t as powerful as you’d like me to think you are. If you were then I’d be your host, not Emily. As it is you have absolutely no power over me because I’m neither young nor weak.’
‘Of course you’re weak,’ she crooned. ‘You’re a man. You couldn’t resist me, even if you wanted to.’
‘You’re so wrong, I see what you are now. You’re pathetic. And this body you’ve chosen to steal is my sister’s, you sick fuck, you have no control over me!’
Emily grinned nonchalantly, although her eyes betrayed her irritation at the fact that he was right. ‘On the contrary, you’ve already given me everything I need. I’m done with you now John Gimmerick. Your child is mine to take and your sister is my new chosen host. You’re as good as dead already. Want to know why? You’ll drink yourself into oblivion. It was always going to happen. You’ll carry on this guilt-infested existence in which you’ll push everyone even further away and go madder than you already are. Oh yes, I know you. I created all of that in you. I. RULE. YOU.’
‘No, that’ll never happen,’ he hissed through gritted teeth. ‘None of it.’
Writhing underneath him she tried to butt him in face with her head, but he was quick to draw back. At the same time her cardigan draped open and he saw the cameo pinned to her t-shirt. He instantly released his grip on her left arm and tore the brooch free. At this, Emily cried out in rage: a guttural sound that John felt in his bones. She flipped him onto his back and landed a weighty punch on his cheekbone, then tried to tackle the brooch from his hand. John cast it away, watching as it sailed through the air and landed some distance away amongst sand and stones at the shore’s lip. Emily screamed again and punched him in the mouth. The taste of new blood was strong and when he touched the back of his front teeth with his tongue they felt slack. Before he could retaliate, Emily had straddled his chest and grabbed him by the hair. She then proceeded to whack his head against the ground. Furious and barbaric, she meant to kill him.
‘Why don’t you show yourself to me?’ he cried. White snow danced before his eyes in a flurry of semi-consciousness. ‘Why hide in a seventeen-year-old kid? Are you scared of me?’
She let go of his hair and slapped his face. Laughing, her eyes dark with malice, she said, ‘If you thought me to be some red-bodied demon, right-hand to Satan, sent from the fiery depths of hell then you’re very much mistaken. I’m much, much worse than that. I’m all of the dark aspects of the human psyche. I’m all that is wrong with the world. Your worst nightmares, your grimmest of fairy tales. But I have no physical form, you fool. The hell I come from lies right here.’ She jabbed a finger at his forehead and tapped it hard.
John’s vision was blurred and his skull ached. He rolled his head to the side to escape the pressure of her fingernail, which was now screwing into his flesh, breaking the skin, and it was then that he noticed a pocket of sea fret drifting towards them. At first he thought his eyes were deceiving him, because the fret was rolling the wrong way, heading towards the sea instead of inland, but after blinking several times he decided that he could definitely make out a white mist, floating about five feet above the ground, heading in their direction.
The sea crashed nearby, but other than that John was aware of an eerie silence. There were no gull, crow or pheasant calls and no wind noise. He continued to watch the band of sea fret with interest and soon he realised there
were figures inside the mist. The figures were the mist. Swirling faces and limbs that grew closer and closer. Emily looked up to see what had got his attention and when she saw the fog bank she frowned in troubled bewilderment.
And then John was laughing. He felt delirious.
‘What’s so funny?’ Emily spat, her fingers tightening in his hair once again.
‘If I can’t beat you, they will.’
‘Who?’
‘Them. All the innocent lives you took.’
Emily tore at his hair till strands pulled out at the roots. ‘Impossible, they’re mine!’
‘They were never yours, certainly not to keep. Now they’re free. Look. And in forgiveness they have an ally.’ The mist was almost upon them. It smelt of clean air and was so cold it prickled John’s skin. ‘Sissy Dawson has led them to you.’
‘No. I’m more powerful than any of them.’
‘You’re wrong. For every bad deed there’s compassion and empathy. They forgave her, which enabled her to forgive herself. That’s more powerful than anything you ever stood for. Forgiveness. It’s what we all seek at some time or other. It’s what you don’t understand.’
Emily’s hands wound their way around his throat and she squeezed tight till his face purpled. ‘If that’s so then you’ll never have yours.’
‘Stop!’ A small transparent figure emerged from the mist and regarded Emily with stern, unafraid, eyes. ‘I inflicted you upon all of these lives and now I will remove you. You belong to me, not the other way round. This ends right now.’
Emily’s eyes became wide, uncertain. Her hands loosened around John’s neck and she began to back away. But the fog of spirits gathered round, forming a circle so that she couldn’t escape.
John coughed, rubbing at his throat, and watched as the spirits’ white vapours began to pour into Emily’s mouth and nostrils. Her body convulsed and her eyes rolled back, so the blue of both irises was no longer visible. John reached out to her, but the ghost of Sissy Dawson laid a quick, cold hand on his arm to stop him. She shook her head and said, ‘Let them do what they need to, they won’t harm your sister, I promise. They need release from Her just as much as she does. They need to take back all that She stole from them.’
Falteringly John retracted his arm, his eyes never leaving Emily. ‘What about you?’
‘I’ll answer for all I’m answerable for. That is all I can do.’
Soon grey vapours started to seep from Emily’s nose and mouth, like dirty cigarette smoke, and her flaccid body flopped to the damp ground with a slap.
‘I must go now.’ Sissy Dawson’s face was pained as she spoke to John. ‘Please accept my heartfelt apology for the hurt and suffering I’ve caused you and your family. You’re a good man, John. Stick to the path you’ve chosen, you’ll find your way.’
John merely nodded in acknowledgement.
Her form then condensed into a mist and merged easily with the rest. As a whole, the entire mass of spirits began to spin, an opaque whirlwind, faster and faster, whipping up sand round about. John covered his face, but couldn’t not watch. Eventually a blackened cloud, like a puff of coal smoke, rose from the top of the vortex then shot down into the brooch that lay on the ground some five metres away. Next to the brooch John saw the fleeting image of a small red-haired boy wearing shorts and a cheeky grin. He’d wavered away to nothing by the time John had blinked once.
Petey Moon?
The remaining mist was now brilliant white and had slowed to a calming swirl. John lay and watched it dissipate, drifting skyward like water evaporating in the heat. Once it had disappeared, John rested his head and closed his eyes.
Rest in peace.
The next thing he was aware of was someone running towards him, shouting.
‘John? John, are you okay?’ It was Natasha.
‘Seren?’ He tried to sit up, but he did so too fast. His brain created a painful flash of strobe lighting behind his eyes, making him crash back down onto his back. ‘Where’s Seren?’
‘She’s fine. She’s safe.’ Natasha dropped to her knees beside him. Holding his arm and supporting his shoulders, she helped to ease him up into a sitting position.
‘But where? Where’s…?’
‘Shhh. She’s with the paramedics. She’s okay, I promise. Help will be here soon, look.’ Natasha pointed off into the distance. ‘You’ll be with her shortly.’
John could see two figures in green overalls approaching at a jogging pace.
‘Is it over?’ Natasha asked, her eyes searching his. ‘Is it finally over?’
‘Yeah. Sissy Dawson came. She ended what she started.’ Using Natasha as a support John managed to stand. When he saw Emily lying nearby, her body limp and lifeless, he groaned. Rushing to her, he ignored the blinding pain in his head and stooped to pick her up.
‘John, no. Put her down.’ Natasha was by his side again, prising his hands away. ‘Help’s here.’
Before leaving the beach with Natasha and Emily and the two paramedics, some ten minutes later, John hobbled down to where the cameo brooch was and kicked it with the toe of his shoe. When no black smoke emitted from it, he picked it up. It felt normal against his skin. Not wanting to maintain direct contact with it for any longer than was necessary, he pulled back his arm and hurled it into the frothing abyss of the North Sea.
Let that be the last of it, you evil bitch.
_
42
_
John was sitting at Seren’s bedside, stroking her hand, when a nurse popped her head into the room. ‘You have a visitor, Mr Gimmerick.’
He sighed. ‘Police again?’
‘No, a Miss Graham.’
John brightened. ‘Could you send her in please?’
‘Of course, she’s right here.’
Natasha was wearing fresh clothes: a floor-length red floral maxi dress and black cotton shrug. Her hair was tied back now and her makeup was newly applied. She carried a holdall into the room with her and gave John a tired smile when their eyes met. ‘Hey.’
‘Hey.’
‘How is she?’
‘Out for the count. She has a high temperature and possible chest infection. Owing to the circumstances they’re gonna keep her in for a short while. Maybe overnight.’
Natasha went to the bed and touched Seren’s forehead with the backs of her fingers. ‘Poor little thing.’
‘Yeah. And on top of everything, she lost her favourite glasses in the sea. She’s not gonna be happy about that.’
‘Oh dear. Well, let me know if there’s anything I can do.’ Natasha looked down at the holdall and held it out to him. ‘Actually, when I checked in on the dogs I sorted some stuff out for Seren. I hope you don’t mind, I mean, I didn’t nose about or rummage or anything, I just thought that if she needed some pyjamas and toiletries it might help if I…’
‘Yes, of course. Wow, thanks, Tash. That was really thoughtful.’ John took the holdall and unzipped it. When he peered inside he took a sharp intake of air. ‘Where did you find that?’
Natasha’s mouth became pinched and she looked at him worriedly. ‘Find what?’
He pulled out a plush triceratops. ‘Geller. Where did you find him?’
‘Oh sorry, is it not Seren’s? It was on top of the bed, I thought…’
‘No, no, it is hers and it’s great that you brought him, she’ll be over the moon. It’s just, he went missing for a while.’
Natasha shrugged. ‘He was just sitting there looking all cute when I found him.’
John laughed. ‘I don’t believe it. Petey-bloody-Moon.’
‘Sorry?’
‘Never mind.’
Natasha pulled up a chair and sat down next to him. ‘How’s Emily?’
‘Stable. Also sleeping. I’ll go along in a while and check on her, I just thought I’d be better off staying here with Seren for the time being. You know, till they decide what they’re going to do with her.’
‘Of course. I’m sure the nurses wil
l let you know when Emily wakes up.’ Natasha studied his face. He looked dreadful. A swelling on his cheek was beginning to blacken the area beneath his eye, a split in his top lip made it look like it was painful for him to talk and a large scab on the bridge of his nose was angry red around its base. And that was just what she could see, she was sure he must have obtained more injuries. ‘So, how are you feeling?’
‘Ah, who cares?’
‘Don’t push it, Gimmerick, I wouldn’t have asked.’
‘You’re being polite.’
‘To you? No chance.’
John inhaled deeply, his whole body tensing with the strain of pent up emotion. ‘God, I made such a fuck up of everything, didn’t I Tash? Then I had to go and involve my daughter and kid sister as well.’
‘Involving Seren and Emily wasn’t your fault. You weren’t to know.’ Natasha reached over and touched his hand. ‘But it’s over now. For all of us.’
He looked into her eyes, unsure what to make of the burning intensity he saw there. ‘Hey, thanks for everything,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t have done this without you.’
Smiling, she looked away, her cheeks colouring. ‘Listen, do you want a cuppa?’
‘Don’t you need to get home? Won’t your fiancé be wondering where you’ve got to?’
‘I wouldn’t dream of leaving right now. Not like this.’
‘You’re a better person than me.’
‘I know.’ She stood up. ‘Still one and a half sugars?’
‘Yeah.’ He didn’t bother correcting her. He smiled because she’d remembered, happy to have his tea sweet.
Once she’d left the room, John turned to Seren. She was still sleeping. He leant forward, placing Geller beneath her arm, and said in a low voice, ‘Hey, kidda, I’m not sure Petey Moon will be back to see you anymore. I think he’s gone to a happier place. Not that he wasn’t happy with you, you understand, he just didn’t belong here. Remember when you told me some people get trapped? Well he’s not trapped anymore. And your mam, your mam was never trapped. She got to where she needed to be and she’s happy. That’s why she’s never been to visit. But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t care. She still loves you just as much as she ever did, and she knows that someday in the future, a long, long time from now, you’ll go to that same happy place and you’ll meet again.’