by Amy Cross
The Ghosts of London
by Amy Cross
Kindle Edition
Copyright Amy Cross, All Rights Reserved
Published by Dark Season Books
This edition first published: June 2014
With thanks to Linda Hare
http://amycrossbooks.wordpress.com
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment. If you enjoy it and wish to share it with others, please consider buying them their own copy. Feedback is always welcome. The author reserves all rights in respect of this work.
ALSO BY AMY CROSS
Horror
Asylum
American Coven
The Night Girl
Devil's Briar
Ward Z
The Devil's Photographer
The House We Haunted
Darper Danver series 1
Fantasy / Horror
Dark Season series 1, 2 & 3
The Hollow Church (Abby Hart book 1)
Vampire Asylum (Abby Hart book 2)
Lupine Howl series 1, 2, 3 & 4
The Ghosts of London
Grave Girl
Ghosts
The Library (The Library book 1)
Journey to the Library (The Library book 2)
The Vampire's Grave
Thriller
Ophelia
The Girl Who Never Came Back
The Dead and the Dying (Joanna Mason book 1)
The House of Broken Backs (Joanna Mason book 2)
Other People's Bodies
Dystopia / Science Fiction
The Shades
Finality series 1
Mass Extinction Event series 1 & 2
Erotica
Broken Blue
Broken White
Table of Contents
Part One
Ripples
Part Two
Live Girls
Part Three
Echoes of You
Part Four
Storm Warning
Part Five
The Empty River
Part Six
Innocence Bleeds
Part Seven
The Watcher
Part Eight
The Flood
The Ghosts of London
Part One
Ripples
Prologue One
She can hear him calling her name, but the last thing she wants is another argument. Ducking down the side of the bridge, she makes her way through the shadows, hoping to remain hidden while he stumbles past. In the distance, the lights of London are just about visible through the fog, and a little further upriver the ominous dark shape of the new dam can just about be made out.
"Come on!" her boyfriend shouts, sounding drunk and frustrated. "This is stupid! Where are you? You're gonna freeze your fucking arse off out here!"
In the distance, the dam hums.
She wraps her arms around herself, shivering as the icy late-night wind hits her bare shoulders. She's dressed for a party, not for being down by the river, but the whole night has gone to hell: she has mascara running down her cheeks, and she lost both her shoes while she was running from the car. It's a few minutes past midnight, and all she wants is for him to give up and leave her alone, so that she can find a bus or a taxi and go home alone. Wiping her eyes, she figures she probably looks like a complete mess by now, and she definitely doesn't want him to see that she's crying.
She just wants him to go away.
"Fuck off," she whispers as she hears him staggering past the top of the bridge. "Fuck off, fuck off, fuck off."
In the distance, a bell sounds. A buoy tossed by the current of the river, perhaps, or maybe even a landsman's warning.
"Jane!" her boyfriend shouts, stopping just a few meters away. "Jane, where are you? At least let me know you're okay!"
She stays quiet. Glancing down toward the river, she stares for a moment at its cold, rippling blackness, and she finds herself momentarily calmed by the soothing sound of water lapping against the shingle beach. Nearby, the lights of London still shine bright through the night, but they seem so high up, they might as well be on the moon. It's almost as if the whole city has been twisted in the darkness, left disorientating and uncompassable.
"You're not serious," he continues, sounding as if he's finally given up. "You fucked off home, didn't you?"
She holds her breath.
"Bitch!" he shouts, before stumbling along the road, getting further and further away. A moment later, she hears him kicking a can.
She waits, knowing that if she moves too soon, he'll hear her and double back. His silhouette is easy enough to make out, but eventually she cranes her neck to watch as he makes his way drunkenly toward the car park; he's still calling her name, still hoping to make things okay, but she knows deep in her heart that this time it's over. This time, she won't let him forgive her.
If not this time, then when?
Although she's shivering and her teeth are chattering, she waits a few more minutes, determined to ensure that he's out of earshot. She can just about hear him still, calling her name in the distance, but finally he seems to be far enough away. Getting to her feet, she glances around one more time to make absolutely certain that he hasn't doubled back, and finally she realizes that there's no sign of him; hell, there's no sign of anyone, so she walks as quietly as possible up the side of the bridge, trying to ignore the pain of her bare feet against the shingle.
In the distance, the bell sounds again.
And that's when she hears the splashing sound.
Glancing back down at the river, she's shocked to see a dark figure in the water, about three or four meters out, wading slowly and unsteadily toward the shore.
Opening her mouth to say something, Jane pauses for a moment, wondering if the silhouette is just a trick of the light. For a few seconds, she simply stares as the figure gets closer to the shore before it finally stops, still waist-deep in the river.
"Hello?" Jane whispers, peering at the figure. The outline looks female, but she can't make out any more details. "Are you okay?"
The figure seems to be staring straight at her.
"Are you okay?" Jane asks again, making her way down to the edge of the water. Even just a meter or so from the figure, however, she can't make out any details, although she imagines that there must be a pair of eyes peering at her from the darkness. "Isn't it cold in there? Do you need help?" She waits for an answer, but none is forthcoming; with a sigh, Jane realizes that whoever this girl is, she must be so drunk, or so high, that she can't even feel herself freezing to death out here. "Come on," she says with shivering smile as she reaches a hand out to the girl. "You shouldn't be in there. Haven't you heard all the warnings? It's not down safe by the river at night."
No reply.
In the distance, the dam continues to hum.
Reaching down, Jane dips her hand into the water, but instantly recoils.
"Fuck, that's cold," she mutters. "Listen, I can't leave you here, you'll... Well, you're gonna get pneumonia or something. Aren't you cold?" She waits again for an answer. "Aren't your legs cold?" she adds, starting to wonder if there might be something more seriously wrong with this girl, like some kind of brain damage. "Look," she continues, "please, for my sake, just come out of the water, yeah? It's really not good for you to be in there. I'm a first-year nursing student, so, like, I know what I'm talking about. You can get really sick doing this, and that's not even counting all the crap in the water. You're probably walking through, like, piss and shit and stuff."
Silence.
The figure just stands in the water.
Glancing over her shoulder to make sure that there's no-one about, Jane pauses for a moment before
turning back to look at the figure -
It's gone.
She looks around, but suddenly she feels a presence close to her face. She turns back to the water and almost jumps out of her skin as she finds that the figure is now just a few inches from her, right at the water's edge.
"Jesus!" Jane shouts, her heart racing so fast, it feels as it might burst out of her chest. "You nearly scared me half to death! You move fast, don't you?"
The figure takes a step forward, and finally her features can just about be made out in the orange midnight haze: she looks pale, and her hair is straggly and wet, but the most striking part of her face is her eyes, which are dark and hollowed, and which appear to have begun to sink deep into her skull. After a moment, she starts to open her mouth, and dirty water dribbles down her chin and onto her chest, until finally the water seems to be flowing freely, and all the while she keeps her sunken eyes firmly fixed on Jane.
"You...." Jane says, taking another step back. "What you... You're not alright, are you?"
The figure takes another step forward, with water still flowing from her mouth, and this time she tilts her head slightly to reveal that part of her neck appears to have been eaten away, exposing thick, knotted muscle and torn strands of flesh.
"No way," Jane says, turning to run before the figure grabs her by the arm and hauls her down onto the ground, quickly dragging her into the river with a heavy splash. Although she tries to fight back, Jane's body is instantly shocked by the sub-zero temperature of the water, and as she feels a pair of stiff hands holding her under the surface, she realizes she can barely even move her arms and legs. She cries out for help, but all that comes out is a cloud of bubbles, and finally she tries to breathe in, feeling dirty, particle-filled water rushing into her mouth and down into her lungs.
The last thing her eyes see is the surface of the water high above, and the last thing she hears is the hum of the dam as a pair of cold dead arms grips her tight and drag her deeper into the darkness, where the ghosts are waiting.
Prologue Two
"As you'll see," John shouts, trying to be heard above the sound of the turbines, "we're making good progress. We're ahead of schedule by about four days, and I'm confident we can make more efficiency savings over the next couple of weeks. It's been a model program so far!"
He opens the door to the power room and steps aside, letting his boss enter first before following him inside. These unannounced visits have been happening with increasing frequency lately, and they always make John sweat; then again, given the amount of money that has been poured into the creation of London's latest and most sophisticated water management and damming system, he understands the need for caution. A ten-year project costing hundreds of millions of pounds, the dam's creation is designed to change the way the Thames is managed forever.
Once it's up and running properly, at least.
"Is all the dredging complete?" Mr. Nicholls asks, making his way over to the console where a series of screens are showing readouts from the pumping system. He's not a technical man, but he likes to pretend that he understands the mechanics.
"The dredging was completed last night," John replies. "We had to extend the main channel by two meters on either side, just to be safe, but there was no negative impact on productivity. It was just a precautionary measure designed to ensure there are no more delays further down the line. As you know, we got a lot of rainfall over the past twenty-four hours."
"I had no idea," Mr. Nicholls replies. "I flew in from Hong Kong this evening."
"The rainfall was a useful test, actually," John continues. "It allowed us to check that all the systems could cope with unusual weather patterns. And they did, of course. With flying colors, apart from one or two minor issues."
"Minor issues?"
"Nothing to be concerned about. Just some odd traces in some of the subroutines, but I think they were caused by problems with the sensors."
"Huh," Mr. Nicholls mutters, walking to the window and peering out at the main wall running across the top of the dam. "I don't mind telling you," he continues after a moment, "that I'm very worried. I've been working in civil engineering my whole life, and I've never come across a project that runs completely smoothly. And yet this dam..." He turns to look at John. "What's your secret? Eight-figure schemes never run ahead of schedule, yet you're bang on time and you're also projecting a budget surplus. It's like you've tamed the river completely."
"What can I say?" John replies with a smile. "We know what we're doing. Besides, she seems to be cooperating."
"She?"
"The river."
"I guess," Mr. Nicholls replies, glancing out the window and suddenly falling silent for a moment. "Then again, maybe not," he adds. "There appears to be a young lady standing on the dam."
"A what?" John asks, hurrying over to take a look. Sure enough, above a hundred meters away, framed in silhouette against the fuzzy orange sky, there's what appears to be a young woman, standing still while the breeze ruffles her dress. "Jesus Christ," John mutters, turning and racing out of the power room. He runs up the connecting ladder three rungs at a time before emerging on the beam and coming to a halt at the railing that leads out onto the gantry.
Nothing.
He turns and looks in all directions, but there's no sign of anyone at all. Trying not to panic, he hurries back down the ladder.
"Where did she go?" he shouts as he gets back into the power room.
"I have no idea," Mr. Nicholls replies, still staring out the window. "One moment she was there, and then..." He turns to John, and for a moment he seems to be completely lost for words. "She didn't jump. She didn't walk away. She didn't do anything. She just... vanished."
"That's not possible," John replies, looking out the window again. "Crap, we're going to have to shut everything down and do a full check. If there's even a slight chance that someone went over the edge -"
"No-one went over the edge."
"But if there's a chance -"
"No," Mr. Nicholls says firmly. "There's not. You don't even have security cameras set up yet, so I really don't see that anyone would benefit from shutting the place down for a few days while a bunch of health and safety freaks swarm all over the place, looking for a girl who wasn't even there in the first place."
"But we saw her," John replies. "You can't seriously be suggesting that we're going to just ignore the whole thing?"
"It was a trick of the light," Mr. Nicholls continues. "You saw it and I saw it, but it was just a shadow, or a cloud, or a reflection or... something. It most certainly wasn't a girl, because if it was, we'd have seen her leaving." He waits for a reply. "I was staring at her as she disappeared," he adds, "or as the shadow or whatever it was vanished. I can tell you with absolute certainty that no girl went tumbling down the side of the dam. We're ahead of schedule and under-budget, and I'd like to keep things that way. Please, John, don't make me reconsider my trust in your abilities."
Pausing for a moment, John stares at the spot where he thought he saw the girl.
"I suppose it could have been a trick of the light," he says after a moment. "Maybe..."
"Can you imagine," Mr. Nicholls replies as he heads to the door, "if a full-scale search was launched every time someone might have got too close to the water's edge? Why the hell would a girl be up on the dam anyway? It's not exactly an easy suicide spot, and the view's not much to write home about. Face it, there was no-one there. For God's sake, don't shut things down just so you can soothe your conscience." He steps outside. "I'll be in touch in a few days' time. We need to think about accelerating the main testing phase."
Once he's been left alone, John continues to stare out the window. He keeps replaying the whole thing over and over in his mind, and he's convinced that what he saw was no illusion. Still, he knows that there's no way an unauthorized person could ever have got onto the dam, and finally he decides to just accept that he was mistaken. After checking the consoles one final time, he heads to t
he door and turns the lights off before going out onto the gantry. He climbs up the ladder and takes one more look around, just in case there's any sign of an intruder, and then finally he heads down and starts making his way to the car park.
A few minutes later, with no-one around, a cold wind blows through the area, rattling the gantry. The dam hums, and a few blinking lights can be seen along the dam's main wall. High up on the dam itself, a figure flickers into sight for a moment, staring down at the dark, freezing water. Her skin is icy blue and her eyes are dark and ringed. All around her, the lights of London blaze through a thick fog that has begun to settle across the city.
Nearby, in the system control room of the new dam, a lone red light starts flashing.
Chapter One
Katie
So this is it.
This is a city.
No, this is the city.
This is London.
I need to not panic.
It's only been a couple of minutes since I stepped off the coach, and already I feel as if I'm wildly lost. There are so many people, swarming around me in a kind of mad rush; the crowd seems to have its own logic and rhythm, like a heartbeat pulsing through the streets, as if everyone knows how and when to move, but to me it just seems like chaos. People are pushing and shoving, keeping their faces down as if they're desperate to avoid eye contact, and above the rumble of voices there's the sound of buses and other traffic nearby. Reaching across it all, the darkening sky glows blue and orange from the city's lights, and a kind of damp fog hangs in the air.
London.
Finally.
I look back the way I came, but I don't recognize anything. Even if I wanted to go back to the coach station, I don't think I could find it again. I guess I'm just overwhelmed by everything, but I truly feel as if I've fallen down a rabbit hole and ended up in some distant, faraway land with its own rules. Of course, everyone around me seems to know how those rules work, and the only reason I'm so lost is that I've never been to a city before. After growing up in the back-end of nowhere, I've become sheltered and timid. To me, London was always just a place that I saw on TV, but now I'm here.