The Colour of Death

by Elizabeth Davies

  Fire licked, snake-tongued and glowing, up the wood of the bannister, but the quarry tiles underfoot wouldn’t heat up for a long time yet. Looking at the state of the staircase, though, Crow estimated that once he got up it, he wasn’t going to come back down it.

  It was now or never, he said to himself. Taking a deep breath, he plunged into the growing inferno, trying to dodge the greedy flames, slapping at any embers landing on his skin.

  Forced to take a breath, he inhaled a lungful of smoke, his head spinning as he fought for oxygen.

  The heat was incredible. Crow wondered how long before his skin began to blister and melt, and fear gave him added strength to dive for the bottom step and force his heavy legs up them.

  Three, he counted, five, taking them two at a time, the heat growing fiercer the higher he climbed. Like a hog on a spit, he thought cynically, his chest aching, his lungs and throat burning.

  But once he reached the landing and turned to shuffle blindly along it, one hand still clutching the useless T-shirt over his nose and mouth, the other outstretched in front of him feeling his way blindly, the inferno eased a little. He was out of the direct heat from the fire below, but the respite wouldn’t last long. Dear God, the speed at which it had taken hold was incredible, and the heat and noise were monstrous.

  ‘Help.’ Olivia’s voice was weak, hard to hear above the noise of the flames as they ate furiously through anything in their path.

  His fingers slid along the wall until they hit the doorframe, his eyes streaming, the smoke making it impossible to see even a foot ahead.

  ‘Olivia! Olivia?’ he called.

  ‘Crow?’ She sounded hoarse. He wondered if it was from the smoke or from shouting. ‘Crow?’ Her voice was closer, and he guessed she was moving nearer to the door.

  ‘Don’t open this door! I repeat, do not open this door until I tell you to. Understood?’ he yelled.

  ‘Yes, but—’

  ‘Have you got your bedroom window open?’

  ‘Yes—’

  ‘Shut it.’ He coughed heavily. ‘Then tell me when you’ve done it.’ He put his ear to the door; the wood was warm, but not yet hot, on his cheek.

  ‘But—’

  ‘Just do it, if you want to live.’ Another coughing fit followed as his beleaguered lungs attempted to clear the smoke out of them.

  A second or two later he heard a dull thud.

  ‘Done,’ she shouted.

  ‘Stand behind the door, so when I open it, it’ll shield you.’

  ‘What about you?’

  ‘I’ll be okay.’ He wasn’t so sure about that. His lungs ached so badly every breath was agony. ‘Are you in position?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Crow pressed down on the handle and pushed the door open, dropping to the floor, just in case. The anticipated flash of greedy flames seeking more air didn’t happen.

  He remained where he was.

  He’d get up in a minute; he just needed a little rest, to gather his strength, to get his breath back.

  ‘Oh, no, you don’t!’ Hands grabbed at his arms, as Olivia tried to drag him off the landing and into her room.

  Dully, he noted how harsh her breathing was, and how every breath was accompanied by coughing and spluttering. Crow struggled to his feet. He had to get her out. He had to. After that, he could have a short rest.

  Olivia put her arm around him, half supporting him with her shoulder, and together they staggered further into her bedroom. She lurched slightly and he heard the door slam behind them as she kicked it shut.

  Good girl.

  Another step, then another, until finally the pair of them reached the window. It was one of the old-fashioned sash ones, and it took both their combined strength to push it up. Crow felt so weak, but the sudden inrush of sweet, fresh air from the half-open window was a fast-acting drug, reviving him a little.

  ‘Lean out as far as you can,’ he instructed, in between deep, painful gasps, and they both stuck their heads and the upper part of their bodies out. He was aware of Olivia shuddering and sobbing next to him, but he didn’t have the time or the energy to comfort her.

  ‘I’m going to lower you down,’ he said, several breaths later. ‘I won’t drop you, I promise.’

  ‘It’s still a good six to ten feet to the ground,’ Olivia pointed out. ‘I can’t.’

  ‘You can and you will, even if I’ve got to throw you out. The fall won’t kill you,’ Crow said. ‘But the fire will.’

  ‘Wait, do you hear that? Sirens.’ She was hiccupping now, almost hysterical.

  ‘No, no waiting. The floor could collapse at any second. Get out now, while you still can.’

  ‘Nooo...’ she wailed.

  He pulled her back inside, turned her to face him, and gripped the tops of her arms. ‘Do you trust me?’

  Her nod was hesitant, but at least she didn’t say no.

  ‘Then do as I say and let me get you out.’

  She took a deep, shuddering breath. ‘Okay,’ she said, and he lowered her to safety.

  Chapter 44

  Olivia

  I stood and watched my house burn, dry-eyed and shocked, my heart filled with terrible despair.

  What I mourned for most was my camera and my trusty old jacket. My camera was my life, my jacket an old and dear friend. I felt the loss of both keenly.

  Paramedics insisted on checking us out. I was fine, nothing that a bit of oxygen and some rest wouldn’t cure. Crow had fared a little worse. They wanted to take him to hospital for tests, but he refused.

  ‘Any nausea, confusion?’ one of the medics asked.

  ‘Yeah, I’m confused as to how the fire started in the first place,’ Crow said, looking at me and giving a tiny shake of his head.

  Deny all knowledge, the gesture seemed to say. He wanted me to stay quiet.

  I bit my lip and didn’t say a word. I had nothing to say anyway, nothing that would add to what we already knew.

  After a while, the paramedics left. The police remained, their flashing blue lights joining in with those of the two fire engines.

  Crow took hold of my arm as soon as the medics left and guided me over to his car.

  ‘The police will question us in a minute,’ he warned. ‘Say nothing about Rochdale.’

  ‘Why would I mention him?’ I asked, then said, incredulously, ‘You think he did this?’

  ‘Two fires, one at the front door, one at the back,’ Crow informed me. ‘They didn’t start themselves.’

  ‘But... Rochdale?’

  ‘Have you any other enemies you haven’t told me about?’

  I shook my head.

  ‘Here they come.’ Crow straightened, his shoulders back, his head up, ready to do battle.

  Two officers, three if you counted another one sitting in his car, all of them male, all of them wearing serious expressions, all wanting answers.

  ‘I’m told you refused to go to hospital, sir?’ the older of the two said to Crow.

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘And why is that?’

  ‘I’ll be fine. It’s just a bit of smoke.’

  ‘A bit of smoke can be deadly serious, sir.’

  ‘So I’ve been told. I’ll be fine,’ Crow repeated.

  The officer’s stare was long and deliberate. ‘Have you any idea how the fire might have started?’

  Crow shook his head, and I shook mine when the officer turned his beady eyes on me. He studied me carefully for a moment before focusing on Crow once more.

  ‘It’s early days, and there’ll be an investigation, but the sub-officer informs me it might be arson,’ the officer said.

  Crow said nothing. Neither did I.

  The man blinked. ‘Do you know of anyone who might wish you harm?’

  ‘No.’ Crow shrugged.

  The officer blinked again, then turned his attention back to me. ‘Would you agree with that, Miss Parr?’

  I tried to look him in the eye and ignore the colour around him. ‘Yes,
that’s right.’

  ‘This is your property?’ He asked the question, but I could tell he already knew the answer.

  ‘It is.’ Tears welled and it was my turn to blink. I didn’t want to break down in front of all these people. I’d do my grieving in private.

  ‘How do you think the fire started?’ he asked.

  ‘I wish I knew!’ My reply sounded heartfelt and sincere.

  ‘Do you have insurance?’

  I thought for a moment – did I? Of course I did. ‘Yes.’

  ‘You’d better contact them, the sooner the better,’ the officer advised. ‘And you’re absolutely sure you can’t think of anyone who might want to harm you?’

  I shook my head, mutely. How was I going to explain Rochdale to these people?

  ‘If you think of anything, anything at all, please get in touch. You, too, Mr Robinson.’

  After they left, I asked Crow, ‘Am I a suspect?’

  ‘We both are.’ He slipped a hand into mine and squeezed gently, his touch giving me strength.

  I said, ‘But no one is hurt and it’s my house.’ Mine. Gone for good. Mine no longer. I squeezed his hand back.

  ‘They probably would have been less interested if you’d told them you aren’t insured,’ he said, dryly. I could hear the remnants of the fire in his voice, dry and cracking.

  ‘They think I set fire to my own house?’ I was incredulous and rather insulted. ‘Who would do such a thing?’

  Crow raised his eyebrows. ‘You’d be surprised.’ He clearly thought I was being naïve, and perhaps I was.

  One of the fire-fighters came over. ‘It’s out, but we’ll stay here a while to make sure it’s tamped down.’

  ‘Can I go inside?’ I was desperate to see the damage.

  ‘Why?’ Crow grunted. ‘There’s nothing left.’

  ‘Too dangerous, I’m afraid,’ the officer said. ‘A structural engineer will have to declare the building safe before anyone can enter.’ He sent me a sympathetic look. ‘I don’t think you’ll find a great deal that’s salvageable.’

  ‘What do I do now?’ I was at a loss; I didn’t even have my bank card and I was wearing pyjamas, for goodness’ sake! What was I supposed to do? Where was I supposed to go?

  ‘Do you have any family? Friends?’ The fire officer looked from me to Crow and back again.

  I shrugged. Friends, no, family, yes. I was reluctant to involve them, but it appeared I’d no choice.

  It was another half an hour or so before the police allowed us to leave. When I attempted to get into my car and realised the keys were in the house, the whole thing became too much, and I burst into ugly, noisy tears.

  Crow put his arms around me, drew me into his embrace, and I turned my face into his chest and sobbed.

  When my crying-jag had subsided a little, he said, ‘I’ve got my car. Get in.’

  I got in, sitting stiffly in the passenger seat, tears still trickling down my cheeks, and caught sight of myself in the wing-mirror. It wasn’t pleasant.

  ‘Did you call them?’ I jerked my head towards the assortment of emergency service vehicles.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  He grimaced. ‘I wish I’d woken sooner.’

  ‘I’m thankful you woke at all.’ I stared meaningfully at him, and he turned his head to look at me.

  ‘You’re coming back to my house,’ he said. ‘I can protect you there.’

  ‘I don’t need protection.’

  Crow let out a ragged breath. ‘Look at your house, Olivia. Look at it! You only just made it out alive. I can’t let anything happen to you; I just can’t.’

  I considered what he’d said.

  He was right. I had to stay with him. If Rochdale discovered his murder attempt hadn’t worked, I’d no doubt he’d come after me again, and I couldn’t put my family in danger.

  I expected Crow to start the engine, but he sat there for a moment, then said, ‘Now we’re on our own, I want to check something.’

  He held his phone in front of us both and I zeroed in on the screen, which showed a view of my hall and the front door. Nothing, nothing, nothing, followed by more nothing, then – there! It was difficult to tell, but it looked like liquid was coming from the letterbox, pooling on the mat. Then something dropped onto the floor. It appeared to be crumpled up paper. Then another piece, and another. A pause, followed by— Oh, God, that was a burning piece of paper being pushed through the letterbox, wasn’t it? The small pile suddenly caught alight. The mic on the camera picked up the soft whoosh and crackle as the papers began to burn, but not much happened for a while and it looked like the fire might go out.

  Suddenly, it gathered strength and the little flames grew, reaching upwards, and I realised my old jacket was hanging on a peg just by the door, where I always left it. The flames sought it out, as if they knew it was there, ready to feed their voracious appetites, and once their flickering orange fingers touched it, all was lost.

  The soft crackle of burning paper turned into a muted roar as my jacket caught fire.

  After that, it was only a matter of time.

  We sat in silence for a while watching the flames grow and spread. After a few minutes, maybe less, the camera was only able to show a murky orange glow through thick smoke. Then the screen went black.

  Arson.

  No question about it.

  Someone wanted me dead. Or out of the house.

  ‘Rochdale,’ I muttered. ‘It can only be him.’

  ‘Yes.’ Crow appeared as stunned as I, although his eyes were narrow and hard in his soot-grimed face.

  ‘Rochdale did it because I see auras and because he hasn’t got one,’ I added. ‘I can see vampires. He knows it. I know it. He can’t afford to let me live.’

  Crow started the car and pulled into the lane. I sat wooden and silent; heartache and disbelief numbed by shock.

  Without warning, Crow jerked the wheel and the car swerved into the side of the road, screeched to a halt and threw me forward against the seat belt.

  ‘What?’ I glanced behind, thinking we were being followed or an ambulance needed to get past.

  The road was empty.

  ‘What?’ I repeated.

  Crow had his phone in his hand. ‘I’ve got a confession.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘I planted more than one camera. I placed one outside the back door, too.’

  Oh...

  With no letterbox to push things through, we watched the arsonist pile things up against the base of the door. The fire was lit with a match. Whoever wished me harm had certainly come prepared.

  Crow turned to me, his face pale under the layer of soot.

  The paper, the wood, and the cardboard had piled themselves up against my door. The match had lit itself and then thrown itself on the pyre. The lighter fluid had poured itself over the infant flames before the can hurled itself into the growing fire.

  There had been no one there.

  Chapter 45

  Olivia

  ‘Fuck,’ Crow muttered. He slumped back in his seat, gazing through the windscreen with a thousand-yard stare.

  ‘Yeah...’

  He checked the time. ‘I’m going to try Dr Rashid.’

  There wasn’t much point, we both knew that now, but I also understood that Crow was trying to hang on to the reality he’d always taken for granted. He needed a few more nails in the proverbial coffin before he finally laid his disbelief to rest.

  I leant back, my head resting against the top of my seat, exhausted in mind, body, and spirit. If Rochdale wanted to break me, he’d almost succeeded. If he wanted to kill me, he’d almost succeeded. And if he’d wanted to seduce me and drink my blood (because that’s what vampires did, didn’t they?) he’d almost succeeded there, too.

  But “almost” isn’t the same as “had”. I was still alive, still me, and still unbroken. I might have lost everything, but I hadn’t lost my life or my soul.

  Assuming I had a sou
l, that was, because up to a couple of days ago I would have sworn on my mother’s life that I didn’t. Once upon a time, and not very long ago, I’d believed that souls, eternal life, Heaven, and God were all just part of a coping mechanism to explain life and get people through it.

  Not anymore. I’d seen for myself. I didn’t need blind faith, not when I’d experienced the reality of evil. And, as Father Andrew had said, if you believed in God then you had to believe in the devil. And vice versa.

  ‘Nothing,’ Crow said, ending the call. ‘Your blood is clear of everything they tested it for.’

  I nodded.

  ‘That’s it then,’ he said. ‘Who was it who said, “When you have eliminated the possible, then whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth?”

  ‘Sherlock Holmes. I think he said something like that.’

  ‘I suppose the question we have to ask ourselves is, has an invisibility cloak been invented or do the undead really walk the earth? Do you believe in the afterlife and following on from that, the supernatural and the spiritual? Or have millions of people got it wrong?’

  The journey to Crow’s house took less than an hour. Enough time for shock to set in. I seemed to be a bit prone to it lately...

  Crow had to help me out of the car, my legs wobblier than a newborn calf, and lead me to his door. Once inside, he guided me upstairs and into the bathroom, handed me a couple of clean, fresh towels, turned the shower on, and stripped me naked.

  I didn’t even flinch when he eased my panties down my thighs and persuaded me to step out of them. I was beyond caring about what happened to me – all I could think about was that I was homeless. I had nothing. Except for my life. I did, at least, have that.

  Naked, I was pushed gently into the shower by a fully clothed Crow, who squashed in next to me. Water cascaded over my head, mingling with my tears. I didn’t howl, I didn’t sob, I just let them come, standing silently as wave after wave of despair washed over me.

  The water in the shower tray was black to begin with, turning clear only gradually as Crow, taking a sponge and lathering it up, washed me from top to toe.