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

by D. K. Manning

  Faith ran past Hope, grabbed hold of her sister’s hand and they found themselves standing on a floor of photographs – black, white and colour – castles, caverns and canyons. Faith touched the pictures and their pixels floated up and into her mind. The ghost’s thoughts, words, voices and echoes scattered into the vastness of the rooms.

  The floor became now an ocean of water.

  Hope and Faith floated down and came to stand upon the ocean’s bed.

  Charity stood on a giant seashell higher than all the sea creatures beneath her.

  The orb of light sprinkled stardust over Charity and her form became that of a starfish but the scene dramatically changed.

  A smack of jellyfish caught the starfish within their tentacles and she was cast into a giant network of spindly, thin tendrils that pulsated with a crimson and inky blue liquid. She became entangled within them but as quickly as they controlled her, she controlled them.

  Each vein began to pulsate with a deafening sound; the sounds were the voices of ghosts and they screamed and thrashed - not in the Realm of the Afterlife but inside the many rooms that were woven inside Faith’s mind.

  Faith tried to regain some order within the deafening beat that each vein produced. Louder and louder until it weakened her body and she dropped to her knees.

  Hope reached out to Faith but her viewpoint changed; she was looking down at a battle scene.

  Faith and a ghost of a young boy stood side-by-side.

  An army of human ghosts stood behind Faith and the giant army of empty ghosts faced her.

  Hope flew down and vanished.

  Chapter 7

  A noise coming from outside the room had woken Charity up at the exact moment that she was dreaming about Hope struggling within the sea of bodies and drowning within inner turmoil.

  A smile crept over her face at the thought of her sister, who was one of the greatest of power-forces (the pure state of hope), struggling. And now that Hope was confined to the vessel of the human body, she was weak… floundering.

  Charity laughed aloud but now frowned as another thought occurred to her – when Hope’s body dies, she would possibly live her second mortal lifetime within another human body… one who would never know the power-force that it held?

  She sat up; what a waste.

  Her thoughts turned unto the empty ghosts who resided inside her mind. “You reside in me because I killed you?” She waited for at least one of them to answer and when they continued to do what they always seemed to do; howl and scream at her – she yelled out. “Shut up!”

  But she had shouted so fiercely, it had caused her body to jump; a pain shot through her broken arm, reminding her how weak her own body was.

  The door opened and in walked Alastair.

  “I need some painkillers,” Charity demanded.”

  Alastair remained quiet and she watched as a nurse pushed a wheelchair into the room. “Alastair. Are you listening to me? I need some painkillers_.”

  “We haven’t the time!” He snapped back. “We need to move you to my clinic. The police arrived moments after your sisters had left_.”

  Charity interrupted him, “Never ever refer to those women as my sisters… never again do you hear me?”

  Alastair ignored her demands and focussed instead on his main concern, the police. “The police want to get a statement from you. I managed to hold them off… until this afternoon. The hospital is mobbed with well wishers, reporters and camera men. They will not leave until they know what your condition is.” He looked at his watch; 02.30.

  “Don’t these people have homes to go to?” He took a breath and continued. “We need to leave through the ambulance exit. I need you safe within my clinic and away from prying eyes.”

  Charity frowned. “Why don’t you just put them out of their misery and tell them what has happened?”

  “Tell them what exactly? That you are in a critical condition…” Alastair pointed to the empty wheelchair, “oh look there’s Charity. Isn’t she doing well considering that she is meant to be on the brink of death? No Charity, we stick to my plan.”

  She narrowed her eyes at his sarcastic tone.

  “But I am not on the brink of death am I? The plan is that I have suffered severe damage to my face.” Charity raised her voice in anger, “Not my goddamn body. So I cannot see why there would be any questions as to why you are moving me!”

  She got out of bed, walked up to Alastair until she was a hair’s breadth away from his face. “Speak to me like that again and I will turn your dreams into a living hell. Understand?” Charity tilted her head down, looked directly into his eyes and when she saw the flicker of fear, she smiled. “Good.” She patted the side of his face - walked past him and sat herself down into the wheelchair.

  Alastair adjusted his tie. “Wheel her out!” He ordered the nurse and followed them into the lift that went directly down to the waiting bay for the ambulances.

  ∞

  The lift seemed to take an age.

  The silence was unbearable.

  Nurse Katherine Adams gripped tight the handles of the wheelchair as her thoughts focussed on the people that she had left in the relatives’ room.

  Their expressions of grief and loss were still etched deep into her mind and she frowned down at Charity - five people were dead and this vain and selfish woman has not once asked about any other person involved in that car accident… not even the young girl Alice. All this woman cares about is her reputation… her face!

  Katherine “tutted” aloud to show how disgusted she was by Charity’s behaviour and mentally dared her; go on, she thought, you try speaking to somebody who doesn’t adore you. See what you get back?

  She steeled herself in readiness but Charity remained quiet.

  Katherine frowned and looked at the top of Charity’s head. She noticed now the colour of the hairs that were poking through the bandages, grey?

  Her thoughts went back to yesterday afternoon when Charity had been wheeled into A&E.

  Mr Herringbone had immediately demanded for the ‘highest of security’ and ‘confidentiality’. One nurse – herself – was assigned to Charity.

  Mr Herringbone had already bandaged Charity’s face and claimed ‘extensive trauma’? The woman could still hold a conversation for goodness sake! She glanced at Mr Herringbone; somebody else who cares only for his reputation.

  The lift shuddered to a halt.

  The doors opened and when the fresh air drifted into the lift, it was a welcoming relief to her because the air was beginning to smell… rotten?

  Katherine wheeled Charity over to where the ambulances were and left her there; she can damn well do the rest herself.

  By the time she had walked back toward the lift, the tail lights of the ambulance that Mr Herringbone had decided to drive had already disappeared out of the hospital’s emergency area.

  She made her way back to the office to finish the paper work before heading off home but as she passed the nurses’ station, Nurse Low called her over.

  “Nurse Adams I’ve had a woman called Mrs Crewmonger on the phone…” Nurse Low paused.

  “Go on.” Katherine instructed.

  “She is the mother of poor Alice. I escorted her to identify her daughter’s body… Alice. The young girl who was driving Charity’s car…” she paused again.

  Katherine nodded her head impatiently.

  Nurse Low continued. “I explained that her daughter’s body cannot be released until the police have determined why it was that Alice had lost control of the car. That was awful – the poor woman was in such a state and then to be told_.”

  “Nurse Low. You are deviating.”

  “Sorry,” she said, “Well… Mrs Crewmonger told me that something had happened to Charity’s face long before the car accident.”

  Katherine frowned and asked, “Her face?”

  “Yes.” Nurse Low nodded, “She says that her daughter Alice had rung her and told her that something had happened to Ch
arity’s face long before Alice had even set foot inside the car. Mrs Crewmonger keeps asking for Alice’s mobile phone…” Nurse Low shrugged, “she insists that Charity’s creams have been sabotaged. What do I do?”

  “Where are Alice’s personal effects?”

  “With her body…” Nurse Low paused, “I think.” And looking to her watch added, “Or the police have taken them. I don’t know. Anyway what do I do about Mrs Crewmonger?”

  “Give her my number.” Katherine instructed but as she walked away, she added. “Give Mrs Crewmonger my personal mobile number.”

  “Gladly,” Nurse Low said.

  Katherine walked in the direction of her office but then changed her mind and headed back toward the lift that she had just come out of. She wanted to check if Alice’s personal effects were still in the hospital.

  NEWSPAPER HEADLINES

  Charity ‘The Face of Beauty’ in Horrific Car Crash

  Yesterday, the 1st of April 2014, at midday, Charity’s car collided into a London bus, which in turn caused a multi-car collision that resulted in five fatalities.

  Charity stood for 48 hours, with two other women, on the 1st January2014 in Park Lane. But it was Charity’s claim that turned her into the high profile celebrity that she is today: ‘I can offer to you Youth & Beauty’. She then revealed that she had been working on a ‘miracle’ cream. Volunteers ‘tested’ her brand of creams & lotions called - ‘YoungSkin’ and within a short period – just over two weeks - the women (10,000) stated that Charity’s brand of creams actually worked. It was publically announced on the 31st March 2014 (a day before Charity’s accident) that her invention of creams & lotions were indeed a ‘miracle’. ‘YoungSkin’ does not give the appearance of Youth & Beauty - it actually stops the skin from ageing.

  Bizarrely however, Charity went public all but a few days ago and said that it was Mr Alastair Herringbone (the plastic surgeon and facial reconstruction specialist) who was the creator of her ‘youth & beauty’. I quote from Charity: ‘Mother Nature should not take credit for what man alone can do.’

  Yesterday morning (1st April) was when Charity was to give her very first interview since she has shot from ‘unknown’ to ‘celebrity’. She was to answer the universal question that is being asked of her: “Why create a cream but use a plastic surgeon?”

  The Police have issued a ‘no further comment’ stance until their investigations have been exhaustively carried out.

  Chapter 8

  2nd day of April within her time of morning

  Hope opened her eyes and for a moment she was confused as to where she was. Recollection arrived into her awareness and she rubbed her hands over her face and through her hair. Her mouth was dry and it was hard to swallow because of the soreness in her throat.

  She struggled off of the sofa, moaned aloud at the pain in her head and the stiffness of her muscles and joints. She stretched, walked over toward the window and looked over the park to sight the hospital that Charity was in. She blew a breath of air onto the window pane and stared at the mist that she had created.

  “Good morning.” Faith called from the kitchen.

  She had woken earlier than her sister and was already showered and dressed in pale-grey trousers and a peach silk blouse. She poured Hope and herself a mug of filter coffee, added a couple of spoonfuls of sugar and passed one over to her sister. She then pushed a plate of buttered toast across the breakfast bar.

  “You need to eat something.” Faith said.

  Hope chewed the toast and washed it down with the sweet, hot coffee. “Is our mother now a Dream Walker?”

  Faith nodded and replied. “It is one of the ways to be on Earth but not a part of her.”

  Hope looked at Faith’s auras and energies that shone around her sister’s mortal body. “I cannot see any particles of stardust within you.” She said and then asked. “Why would our mother give us our stardust, knowing that it would turn to…” she faltered, “Earth dust?”

  Faith shook her head in disagreement. “But it hasn’t has it. Yours shines brightly within your auras and mine is within my mind…” she stopped talking and became distracted by the vast amount of ghosts that were flickering in and out of her apartment. She wished that they would cease with their chattering. “If only my mind was that of castles, caverns and canyons as those in our dream. For then I would have the rooms to contain all that you say to me.”

  She scratched at her scalp, watched the ghosts for a couple of moments longer before turning her attentions onto Hope.

  Her sister’s clothing, stained and worn, hung on her body in the same way that her skin hung on its skeletal frame. Her face was pale, gaunt and etched deep with lines and Faith saw them for what they really were – the signs of a body tormented with pain. But what was the point of discussing what she could not offer her sister? Faith spoke of what she could offer her. “You need a hot shower. And I have some new clothing that you can wear.”

  Hope burst into a gentle laughter. “You sound like the mortal called Sam…” she thought now to her friends… her home. “Today, I must go home.” But she shook her head as another thought occurred to her. “I have not the abilities to manipulate the energies of Earth. I cannot lighten the load that Earth weighs her mortals down with.”

  “Hope,” Faith stated. “The currency of their money will keep them going in wine and food. As to joy, laughter and merriment that they will have to create for themselves…” she held up her hands to stop her sister from interrupting. “The mortals have been doing that long before you descended upon them. Furthermore, not all mortals are weighed down with the heaviness of life.”

  Hope smiled albeit a weak one. “Yes. You are right,” and she thought now to the money that she had stashed away in her home in Camden. “At least I can continue to supply my friends with the Rich Banquets of wine, food, shelter and music. For that fills the mortals with joy, laughter and merriment.”

  “Do you not spend the money that Charity gave us on anything else?” Faith asked.

  “What else is there to spend it on but the mortals themselves?”

  Faith shook her head and held her arms out to indicate shelter, safety and comfort.

  “I have that within the building that has been my home these past few months.” And changing the subject, Hope asked. “Do we lie to the mortals? Do we deceive them as we were deceived by one of our own kind?”

  “No we do not.” Faith said. “And today we tell Charity just that.” But she frowned.

  “What is it?” Hope asked when she saw the look of concern upon her sister’s face.

  “The talk of money has reminded me of what Charity said to us at the hospital yesterday.” Faith repeated Charity’s words. “’The money that you both so willingly accepted from me came from the very fact that I represent youth and beauty. You were not so picky…’.”

  “Yes I remember but what worries you?” Hope asked.

  Faith shook her head. “We have all used our abilities whilst we still possessed them. But Charity sold them… sold something that is akin to selling the mortals’ their own air.”

  “Faith, our Unity is now severed. So whatever Charity did weave into those inventions of hers it would have evaporated. Her creams will equal those of the mortals’ own inventions.” Hope smiled gently. “She gave to the mortals what they wanted; Youth and Beauty. In return they gave unto Charity what she wanted; Fame & Fortune.”

  Faith scratched her head. “Yes…” she paused and asked, “no harm has been done has there?”

  Hope shook her head. “I doubt it. Charity shared her wealth so that our lives would be made the more comfortable…” she faltered, “maybe that is what Charity meant. By taking her money we have to a degree colluded with her illusion.” Hope shrugged her shoulders. “But the exchange was fair. Now it is not.”

  “It does not make it right?” Faith said and looked around the comfort of her home. “All that I own was purchased with that money.”

  Hope stepped
closer to Faith, squeezed her sister’s shoulder. “If Charity intends to continue in her illusion - lie and deceive the mortals, then that is our sister’s choice. But you and I…” she smiled gently at Faith before adding, “You said it yourself only moments ago. Today we tell our sister that we will not be joining her within that deceit.”

  Faith scratched her head and gave some thought to Hope’s words. “You are right,” she said and taking her sister’s hand into her own added. “I have missed you. The company of ghosts have been a great comfort to me but they are somewhat… limited.”

  Hope laughed gently, hugged her sister, stepped away, “now then,” she asked. “Where is this promise of hot water and clean clothing?”

  “Follow me.” Faith said and led her through the archway and into the spare bedroom that was situated next to her own bedroom.

  ∞

  While Hope took a shower, Faith cleared away the crockery.

  When she had done that, she refilled her sister’s hip-flask before going into the bedroom to sort out an assortment of new clothing.

  She laid a selection out for Hope and put the rest into a black rucksack (with white lettering; West End Library on the front pouch.)

  Faith then collected up Hope’s dirty clothing, made her way back out into the kitchen and binned them. She made some sandwiches, packed them and a bottle of wine into the rucksack and made her way over toward the front door. She placed the rucksack on the floor, put her sister’s replenished hip-flask back into her denim jacket and sat down in one of the leather armchairs.

  Leaning back into the comfort of the chair, she listened to the mass of voices and began to scratch incessantly at her scalp. “Why do you insist on talking all at once? Settle yourselves…” she flinched as a fingernail sunk into her scalp deeper than it should have. She patted her head while imagining the possibilities of her mind creating a memory palace within it. “Why did I not do that with my abilities whilst I had them?”