The Ghosts of London

by Amy Cross

  "Just a friend come to visit," he replies, finishing his cigarette and stubbing it out in the sink. "Right," he adds, clapping his hands together, "I think we should make a plan, Katie. This is a day of action, and we need to work out what we're gonna do, and then we need to implement our chosen strategy. If we're gonna find your sister, then today needs to be the day when it happens, yeah? We're gonna strike while the iron's hot."

  "She has to be out there somewhere," I tell him.

  "Of course she is," he replies, "but London's a big place, and finding someone can be difficult, especially if they don't wanna be found."

  "Why wouldn't she want to be found?" I ask.

  "That's the other thing about London," he continues. "Sometimes, it makes people a little bit different, a little bit jumpy, and they prefer to kinda ease into the background. You might not want to believe it, Katie, but there's a possibility that your sister might be messed up in something. I'm not saying she's a bad person, mind. If she's anything like you, I'm sure she's lovely. Still... things happen in London, whether you want them to or not."

  "She wouldn't do anything illegal," I tell him.

  "I'm sure," he replies, "but it's better to be safe than sorry, yeah? If your sister's thinking like that, and if she's smart and she knows what she's doing, then it's gonna be a hell of a challenge to smoke her out." He pauses, before a broad grin spreads across his lips. "But we're gonna do our best," he adds. "That's all anyone can ask for, yeah?"

  I'm about to reply, but suddenly I hear furniture being moved around in the room above the kitchen. God knows what Izzy and her visitor are doing up there.

  "Come on," Simeon says, lighting another cigarette before heading to the door. "No rest for the wicked, eh? Time to get moving."

  After taking another sip of coffee, I follow him through to the hallway, but a few seconds later I realize that there's a new sound coming from upstairs, and it's pretty clear what Izzy and her visitor are doing up there.

  "Huh," Simeon says with an embarrassed smile as we head to the door. "Yeah, just ignore that. Best to give them some privacy."

  Smiling awkwardly, I can't help blushing as the sound of Izzy and her visitor having sex fills the house. They're gasping and moaning in the room upstairs, and my theory about her basically being a prostitute is clearly on the money. I slip my arms into my coat and find that, thankfully, it seems to have dried overnight.

  Hearing Izzy let out a particularly loud moan of pleasure, I look up at the ceiling.

  "Come on," Simeon says, steering me out through the door with a laugh. "I should've warned you about her. Let's go find your sister, yeah?"

  Chapter Six

  Rachel

  The first thing I hear is the sound of a distant siren, which stirs me from sleep, and then I realize I can hear a faint hissing sound all around me, like hundreds of tiny fingers tapping against metal. I open my eyes, but everything is gray and blurry for a moment until finally I blink a couple of times and realize that my face is leaning against a cold pane of glass, with rain falling heavily on both sides. That's the sound I can hear, I guess: rain falling from the gray sky.

  Rolling onto my back, I stare straight up at the clouds and realize that I'm outside. Rain is pouring down, running across my face and soaking into my clothes. It takes a moment longer before I realize that I'm freezing cold, and another moment before my body catches up and starts to shiver, and after a few more seconds my mind seems to start working again and I realize that I can't stay out here like this.

  I sit up.

  I'm on the balcony of Alexander Medion's apartment, high up above the city. It's not a big balcony, and it's surrounded on three sides by toughened glass. Rain is collecting beneath me and then running into a drain over in the far corner. I reach up and grab the handrail before getting onto my knees, and then I pause for a moment to stare out at the city. My vision is still a little hazy, and although I can see the usual skyscrapers, something seems to be wrong. My eyes scan the horizon, looking for the source of the incongruity, but finally I realize that I'm definitely not in the right frame of mind, so I get to my feet, take a moment to steady myself, and then I turn and slide the door open.

  As soon as I enter Alexander's penthouse apartment, I feel a rush of warm air from the heater above the door. Opening my shirt, I slip it off and examine the huge bloodstain for a moment, before reaching out and dropping it onto the balcony. I do the same with my bra, and then I strip completely naked in order to get out of these soaking clothes. Still wet, I slide the door shut before making my way across the quiet room and going into the bathroom, where I find a dressing gown and slip it over my shoulders. Heading over to the mirror, I take a moment to examine my chest and stomach, and as expected, I see that there's no sign of any injury.

  It happened again.

  The last thing I remember is being on Alexander's bed and feeling my own warm blood flow out over my belly and down onto the sheets. He was standing in the doorway, watching me, and then everything went dark and... I lean closer to the mirror, staring deep into my eyes, but all I see is a kind of tired expression. I spend the next few minutes washing my hands and arms, at first just to get the dried blood off my skin but, eventually, I find myself in a kind of trance: I use a sponge from a nearby dish and scrub until finally I start to feel sore, but somehow I can't bring myself to believe that I'm clean. I keep scrubbing and scrubbing, and after a few minutes I spot a hint of red in the water. Wiping the last of the soap away, I find that I've rubbed through the skin on my left wrist.

  "You're awake," Alexander says suddenly.

  Turning, I see him standing in the doorway.

  "What happened?" I ask. "Did you see?"

  He nods.

  "Tell me."

  He indicates for me to join him in the main room. After wiping my arm, I follow him and find him standing by the window, staring out at the rain.

  "I woke up on the balcony," I say as I walk over to join him.

  "I know." He pauses. "After you died on the bed, I watched you for a couple of hours. Your body didn't move at all, and I started to wonder if maybe this time..." He turns to me. "I considered it possible that maybe the changed circumstances might have meant that you wouldn't come back, but then just before dawn I realized that there was a different kind of light around you, as if it was coming from your body."

  "What kind of light?" I ask.

  "Just a very soft, warm glow. Barely perceptible, really, but more obvious when I turned all the other lights off. I watched for a while, figuring that something was going to happen, and eventually I touched your hand. You were very cold, and when I checked for a pulse, there was nothing." He pauses again, as if recounting last night's events is a little difficult for him. "And then," he continues eventually, "just as I was starting to wonder what would happen next, you sat up on the bed and stared straight at me. Don't you remember?"

  I shake my head.

  "You pulled the knife from your chest and put it next to you, on the bed, and then you got to your feet. You were sweating, and you told me you needed to cool down. I suggested a shower, but you said you wanted to be outside. You came through here and looked out the window for a moment, and then you opened the door and stepped out into the rain. I told you it was too cold, but you said you'd be okay and then you just sat down and curled up. I wasn't sure if you were properly back yet, but there was a kind of distance in your voice that made me feel you wouldn't remember what you were saying. I think you were muttering something under your breath, but I couldn't make it out."

  "I don't remember any of this," I reply, shocked by the idea that I was walking and talking. I'd kind of assumed that somehow my body would just disappear and then I'd wake up somewhere else, and a chill passes through me as I realize that, instead, I was apparently moving around normally.

  "Eventually I decided to just let you sleep," he continues. "It was cold, but you insisted that you had to be out there, and I felt you were a better judge of your own ne
eds. I came inside and waited, and eventually I decided to go and clean the bedsheets. It was while I was in there that I heard you just now, heading to the bathroom."

  "How long was I gone?" I ask. "I mean, between the moment I died and the moment you heard me just now, how much time passed?"

  "About four hours," he replies.

  "I don't remember any of it," I tell him, trying not to panic. "I don't remember sitting up or taking the knife out or..." I close my eyes, but I feel as if there's some kind of block in my mind, pushing back at me every time I try to remember. Opening my eyes again, I watch as rain lashes the other side of the window. "I want to understand more," I add. "I want to know why it happens. Other people don't get back up again after they die, so why do I seem to be able to do this?"

  "I have no idea," he says. "I don't even know who you can go to for help. You should be careful, though. I'm not sure this is the kind of thing that you should talk about to everyone."

  I shake my head.

  "Last night," he continues, "you said that after we'd done this -"

  "I meant it," I say quickly, turning to him. "The deal you talked about yesterday... I still want it. I'll work for you. Just you. I can even be with you twenty-four hours a day if that's what you want."

  "Is it what you want?" he asks.

  I nod.

  "Why?"

  I open my mouth to reply, but at the last moment I realize that I'm not sure I can tell him. The truth is, Alexander Medion is the only person in the world who knows what's happening to me, and I feel as if it's a secret that only the two of us can keep. There's also, deep down, a fear in my heart that this whole thing is somehow linked to Alexander, and that if I push him away, I might die permanently. As the rain continues to pour down outside, I realize that in some ways I'm trapped, but in other ways I feel more free than ever.

  "Am I really alive?" I ask after a moment.

  "It seems that way."

  I turn to him. "Prove it."

  Chapter Seven

  Katie

  "I'm sorry," Simeon says as he unlocks the door. "I really thought someone might have heard something."

  It's the middle of the day, and after spending several hours trudging through the streets while Simeon made a few inquiries, I'm starting to feel as if I might never be able to find Rachel. Thanks to his contacts, Simeon was able to pull up some of Rachel's records, but they didn't reveal anything new. As far as anyone can tell, it seems as if my sister just vanished from the face of the planet about a month before Christmas, and since early December there's no record of her having been employed, or having rented a flat, or even having owned a phone... I haven't admitted it to Simeon yet, but I'm really starting to worry that something bad might have happened to her.

  "There's still a few other things to try," he says, stepping aside so that I can go through first. "In fact, why don't you put your feet up while I go and ask around, yeah?"

  "Where are you going to try?" I ask.

  "Let me worry about that. I've found some really tricky bastards in the past, if you'll pardon my French, and unless your sister is some kind of international criminal mastermind, I reckon I should be able to track her down. In fact, I'm starting to see it as a personal challenge, so just chill for an hour or two and let me work my magic."

  "Is there any point?" I ask wearily.

  "You can't give up yet," he replies with a smile. "Just take a pause, have a gander in the fridge and help yourself to anything you fancy, and I'll be back in an hour or two. There's still hope, Katie, and even if you don't find your sister, you're gonna be okay. I can tell you're smart enough to get by."

  As he swings the door shut, I find myself standing alone in the hallway. Ever since I arrived in London and realized Rachel wasn't at her old address, I've been telling myself that everything's going to be okay. Rachel's not the kind of person to disappear, so in the back of my mind I've been constantly assuming that she'll turn up and have an explanation for everything that's happened. Taking my coat off and then heading through to the kitchen, I suddenly start to feel strangely numb inside, as if all my hope has suddenly evaporated.

  I'm not going to find her.

  Glancing up at the ceiling, I realize Izzy and her 'visitor' are still going at it, with occasional grunts of pleasure accompanied by the pounding of the mattress as it rubs against the wall. There's a part of me that wants to shout at them to keep it down, but as I head to the fridge I realize that the last thing I need is to start pissing people off. Like it or not, I need Simeon's help for now, because I can't handle the thought of going home, or of sleeping in another underpass. Until I can sort myself out, I need to keep on Simeon and Izzy's good sides and just hope that I'm right about them. They seem like good people so far.

  "Yo," Izzy says, walking quickly into the room and heading straight to the sink, where she pours herself a glass of brown water and takes a long drink before turning to me. "What's up with you?" she asks. "No luck finding your sister?"

  "No, I..." Pausing, I realize that I can still hear a man and a woman groaning with pleasure upstairs. "What..." I pause again. "Who..."

  "Something wrong?" she replies with a smile. "Don't worry about your sister. People come and go in this world, and you can't hitch your wagon to something that's headed to a dead-end. There's always a -" Before she can finish, there's a knock at the front door. "Hang on," she says, hurrying through to the hallway. I listen to her talking to someone, and moments later there's the sound of footsteps heading upstairs before Izzy comes back through. "Sorry about that," she says nonchalantly as she joins me at the fridge and takes a look inside. "I'm starving."

  "Who's upstairs?" I ask.

  "Just some customers," she replies, taking a moldy old carrot and biting the end off. "And the girls," she adds.

  "The girls?"

  She smiles. "Simeon didn't tell you about the girls, did he?"

  "What girls?" I ask, starting to feel as I've somehow ended up in some kind of sex club. In the back of my mind, I've been worried all morning that Simeon's running a weird set-up here, and now my worst fears seem to be coming true.

  She stares at me for a moment, as if she's trying to work something out.

  "I guess I don't want to tread on any toes," she says eventually, "but at the same time, I suppose we're probably past that point. I mean, Katie, girl, honey... I get that you're from the sticks and all, and that where you grew up it might have been nice and cheery and everyone was happy and all that shit, but you're in London now, and things that might have shocked you in the past are kinda going on all around you. Don't take this the wrong way or nothing, but I think a tiny bit of growing up might be in order, at least in terms of how easily shocked you seem to be."

  "Is this a brothel?" I ask, starting to panic as I realize that this might be why Simeon's been so nice to me. Glancing across the kitchen, I'm struck by the thought that his plan all along was probably to lure me here, spend a day or two pretending to help, and then try to get me into this kind of business. "I think I should leave," I say, turning to walk to the hallway before Izzy grabs my arm.

  "It's not a brothel," she says firmly, with a hint of a smile. "Not technically, anyway. It's more of a..." She pauses. "Simeon's going to be gone for hours," she continues after a moment, "so there's no need to hurry. By the time he gets back, you can be long gone. If that's still what you wanna do, mind. Trust me, you've got a few minutes to take a look around properly. It's really not as bad as you think."

  "I don't want to look around properly," I say quickly, "I just want to -"

  "Sure you do," she replies, interrupting me. "No-one's gonna force you to do nothing, Katie. This is a very friendly place, and I swear, no-one's gonna hurt you. I just think you'll understand better if I show you something first before you leave. Think of it as a little education." She waits for me to reply, while keeping her hand on my arm. "You can walk out the door in a few minutes," she adds, "but the condition is that I want you to see what's really h
appening here, so you understand that it's nothing dodgy or illegal. It's not even immoral. Well, maybe just a tad."

  "I don't need to see," I tell her.

  "Come on," she replies, pulling me across the kitchen and then leading me up the stairs. "It'll be a hoot, I promise. You've probably got all these horrible ideas in your head about what's going on, but the truth is we're running a reputable business that caters for a very specific niche part of the market. There's really no need to get your knickers in a twist. It's all cool, Katie. Everyone's cool and chill here."

  Although I'm desperate to get loose from her grip and run, the last thing I want is any kind of confrontation. So long as Simeon's not coming back too soon, I guess I can at least humor Izzy for a few minutes before I leave. I should have known that this place was too good to be true, and that there was no way Simeon would have been so kind to me without wanting something in return. He probably thinks I'll let him put me to work, since I'm so desperate for somewhere to stay. At least I learned the truth before it was too late to leave. I don't know where I'll go, but there's no way I'm staying another day in a place like this.

  I might be dumb and a little naive, but I'm not suicidally stupid.

  "Don't make too much noise," Izzy says as we get to the landing and she leads me to a half-open door. "As you can imagine, the customers don't really appreciate being watched. Well, some of 'em do. Hell, some of 'em pay extra for the privilege, but let's just keep a little quiet, yeah?" She carefully pushes the door open to reveal a naked couple locked in a passionate tryst on a squeaky old bed. "Quite something, huh?" she adds. "All that grunting and poking. When you're in the middle of it, you don't really get the right perspective, but from different angles it can be quite hypnotic."

  I stare at the couple for a moment, before turning away in embarrassment.

  "You're such a prude," Izzy continues, pulling the door shut. "It's just people shagging, Katie. If God didn't want people to shag, he wouldn't have given 'em the right equipment, would he? I mean, hell, some people spend more time trying to cover other people up than actually getting down and dirty themselves. It's totally pathetic."