Tamsyn Murray-Afterlife 01 My So-Called Afterlife

by Tamsyn Murray

  Kimberly’s attention was dragged away from Ryan. Frowning, she moved closer to the ring of candles. As her foot stepped over the line of the outer circle, everything changed. With a thin, high wail, Kimberly was dragged into the centre of the pentagram. Out of nowhere, a fierce wind sprang up and buffeted both us and the cameras. The volume of Dr Cristea’s monotonous voice increased.

  ‘It looks like we may have something.’ Finlay directed his wide eyes to the camera. ‘Hang on, things could get hairy.’

  In slow motion, I turned to look at Kimberly. She was screaming in terror and struggling to free herself, as though something had hold of her ankles and was pulling her into the ground. Hep watched, her face expressionless, but Ryan looked shocked. Jeremy was staring at a gloating Elvira in bewilderment.

  ‘Someone help me! Lucy, please, it’s dragging me in!’

  I stared wildly around. The trees were bending dangerously under the pressure of the wind, and leaves were being torn from their branches. Above the shriek of wind, I could hear the relentless voice of the exorcist. In the midst of the pentagram, Kimberly looked small and terrified, her shrill screams piercing the chaos around her. She seemed to be disintegrating before my eyes. I couldn’t stand it any longer.

  ‘No, Lucy!’ Hep shouted as I moved past her, realising my intentions a fraction too late.

  I stumbled forwards, ignoring her cry, and held out my hand to Kimberly.

  A faint glitter of triumph flickered in her eyes as she latched a vice-like grip on to my wrist. ‘That was really stupid, Lucy, even by your standards,’ she hissed, and pulled me into the pentagram.

  The instant I was inside, my legs turned to deadweights. I glanced down to see my beloved Uggs were stretching and distorting as the spell sucked me in.

  ‘Let go.’ I tugged backwards. ‘If I can reach the others maybe we can pull you free.’

  Her pretty face twisted into a sneer. ‘It’s too late for that, you idiot. I can’t get out. Still, every cloud has a silver lining.’

  Fear clutched at my stomach. ‘What do you mean?’

  The hand on my wrist tightened. ‘Can’t you even figure that out? What the hell does Ryan see in you?’ she spat. Around us, the howling wind intensified. ‘You planned this, didn’t you?’

  Stunned, I shook my head. ‘That’s not true!’

  ‘Don’t deny it. You wanted me out of the way so you can have him all to yourself. Well, it’s not going to happen like that.’ Her lip curled in scorn. ‘If I have to go, I’m taking you with me. Say goodbye to your precious Ryan!’

  Below her, a gaping red slit was opening up. It didn’t look inviting. In desperation, I tried to prise her fingers off me. It was no good – she wasn’t letting me go. Thrashing in helpless panic, I missed Jeremy bellowing my name, didn’t see him charging forward to grab hold of the plug chain around my neck. It was only when I felt the metal dig into me and the chain fall away that I realised what he was trying to do. With renewed urgency, I thrust my free hand into the pocket of my jeans and made a fist around the spare plug that nestled there. Praying to any god listening, I dragged my hand out. As Kimberly’s face began to dissolve in front of me, I looked deep into her eyes. ‘I don’t think I’ll come after all. Good luck, Kimberly.’

  The crimson chasm was widening. I could feel it sucking us in. My vision started to turn salt and pepper. I didn’t have long, seconds maybe. Summoning all of my strength, I hurled the plug as far away as I could. The second it left my fingers there was a terrible roaring in my ears. A nanosecond later I felt a bone-crunching lurch, as though my soul was being wrenched from my body. The world tilted and turned black. I let out a horror-filled, silent scream and collapsed into the pitch darkness.

  ‘Lucy?’

  I could hear the voice. It sounded very far away. Whoever it was should leave me alone. I couldn’t remember ever feeling more wrecked.

  ‘Lucy, wake up!’

  My eyes snapped open. ‘Go away, I’m tired.’

  Jeremy’s white face swam into view. ‘Oh, thank goodness you’re all right.’

  It took a lot of effort to stay focused on his still-worried eyes. ‘What happened?’ I mumbled. ‘Where’s Ryan?’

  Ryan appeared behind him. ‘I’m here. We were at the churchyard with Kimberly, remember?’

  My mind struggled over the words. We’d gone to watch the filming at Kimberly’s grave. I’d been trying to warn her about something. I moved my head to look around. How did I get back to the toilet? A stab of fear clutched at my heart. What in the name of all that was holy had gone on?

  ‘I remember it got very windy,’ I said, my voice thick and slurred. ‘And there were words, horrible words which didn’t mean anything, except that they did. I don’t understand. What happened?’

  Ryan smiled down at me gently. ‘It’s not important right now. All that matters is that you’re here and you’re OK.’

  Jeremy raised his head. ‘She’s confused. I don’t think she should be alone. Ryan, I know you must be here. You and Hep can come back to the flat for a while. We can take it in turns to watch her.’

  I tried to move my head to see Hep, but it was heavy and darkness was closing in. The last thing I felt before slipping into unconsciousness was Ryan’s comforting arms sliding beneath me.

  It was almost a week before I was back to full strength. Getting to and from the toilets was exhausting, but it had to be done. No one had seen anything of Kimberly. It didn’t surprise me. I’d seen more than enough of the hell-hole she was headed for and it didn’t look like the kind of place anyone came back from. Jeremy had recorded The Ghost’s the Host for me. I plucked up the courage to watch it one afternoon with Ryan. It didn’t look anything like as terrifying as it had been and there was no sign of either Kimberly or me on screen. Anyone watching at home would have had no idea that one ghost had been banished and another had barely escaped.

  Jeremy reported that Elvira had been thrilled with how the exorcism had gone. Obviously, she’d had a better idea than anyone from the show about what had gone on. I was only grateful she hadn’t heard Jeremy call my name as he’d dived forwards to save me. She thought he’d been trying to rescue Kimberly.

  The incident made me even more apprehensive about passing across. What would it be like? Who even knew where you’d end up? But it did make me realise I didn’t want to head to the next plane with any unfinished business on Earth. That probably meant finding my killer. I didn’t share this revelation with Jeremy, although I did start to chip in during our frequent progress updates. Not that he needed my encouragement – he was a man on a mission.

  If I thought the trauma of my narrow escape would earn me much down-time, I was wrong. He arrived at the toilet one afternoon armed with an appointment card, a determined expression and more bling than a gold-loving gangsta.

  ‘Fancy a trip to Walthamstow? I’ve got a lead.’

  ‘Shame you haven’t got a dog as well then.’ I looked him up and down before demanding, ‘Did you mug a Christmas cracker salesman on the way over here?’

  His face was blank. ‘What?’

  Waving an arm, I gestured at the chains around his neck. ‘What’s with the metal-wear?’

  He waggled the card. ‘You’ll understand in a minute.’

  I squinted at it, trying to make out what it was for. ‘Don’t tell me. You’re meeting a builder called Dave for drinks and want me to chaperone.’

  He threw me a level look. ‘I’m glad you’re feeling better.’

  I responded with a sunny smile. ‘What’s in Walthamstow?’

  ‘Micky Snake, the best tattooist in London.’

  ‘I bet that’s not his real name.’

  ‘Probably not,’ Jeremy agreed. ‘But he is the best. He doesn’t let you into his studio unless he thinks you’re serious about getting a tattoo.’

  He sounded like a bundle of fun. ‘How are we going to get in, then?’

  Waggling the rectangle of card, Jeremy said, ‘By pretending I’m
a homie who wants a tattoo.’ My mouth dropped into a horrified ‘O’, but Jeremy was oblivious. ‘Come on, the appointment is at two o’clock.’ He adopted what I guessed he thought was a brooding face. He looked like he was constipated. ‘I don’t think he’ll be happy if we’re late.’

  Micky Snake’s studio was about five minutes from the tube station, tucked away off the main road. Once we’d got past the complicated entry system and climbed the stairs to the first-floor studio, he showed us into his lair. We were the only customers there.

  I gazed around in wonder. I’d never seen so many tattoos. Every bit of wall space was covered in drawings and photographs of body art. Micky himself was a walking advert for his job. His muscular arms and neck were thick with pictures, right up to his shaved head. He had none on his face. He’d gone for a thin moustache and goatee beard instead.

  ‘I’m Micky,’ he introduced himself, unnecessarily. ‘Do you know what you’re looking for, or did you want to have a look around the gallery?’

  Jeremy took a seat on the black leather sofa and lifted one of the hefty ring-binders from the coffee table. ‘I’ve got no idea. I’m hoping it’ll leap out at us.’

  Micky frowned. ‘Us?’

  ‘Me,’ Jeremy amended quickly. ‘I meant me.’

  ‘I’ll leave you to it.’ Micky eyed Jeremy suspiciously. ‘You’d better not be messing me about. I don’t like time-wasters.’

  With one final forbidding look, he stalked into another room and shut the door behind him. I pulled a face at his back. Tattoos weren’t my thing, and anyone who had as many as Micky made me deeply uneasy. In fact, something about the whole set up was making me uncomfortable. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was trying to get my attention, but every time I tried to work out what it was, it skittered away.

  A shiver crawled along my spine. ‘I don’t like it here.’

  ‘Let’s get on with it then. Have a look over my shoulder while I turn the pages. With a bit of luck we’ll hit the jackpot, and when he comes back I’ll tell him I can’t find anything I like.’

  My sense of unease increased with each page I saw, but I forced myself to keep looking, stomach tight with anxiety. As I stared down at the pages, an image started to flash in my mind’s eye. I tried to blink it away, but it was persistent, and each time it stayed in my imagination for longer.

  The scene was gloomy. A muffled figure stood in front of me. I couldn’t make out his features. He raised an arm and a shiny blade flashed in the dim lights. It streaked towards me. As it did, the sleeve of his coat fell back, revealing a black tattoo. My eyes widened and I stumbled to my feet, backing away from Jeremy in horror.

  ‘That one,’ I whispered, pointing a shaking finger at an image on the page in front of us. ‘The ace of spades.’

  Jeremy didn’t ask if I was sure. The look on my face must have said it all. His own expression tense, he dipped his head towards me once.

  ‘Micky?’ he called over one shoulder. ‘Have you got a minute?’

  The tattooist came through from the other room, rubbing his hands on an ink-stained cloth. ‘You’ve decided, then?’

  ‘Not exactly,’ Jeremy said and pointed at the book. ‘What can you tell me about this one?’

  Micky glanced downwards at the image of the playing card. ‘A very popular choice. The ace is considered lucky, and the ace of spades is the luckiest card of them all. Some people combine it with the number thirteen.’

  The room swam before my eyes. I jammed them shut, forcing down a tidal wave of fear. With sick realisation, I knew why the number on Jeremy’s front door had bothered me so much. It had been my subconscious brain trying to warn me. As clearly as if it was painted on Micky’s hairy forearm, I saw the tattoo on my killer’s skin. It was the ace of spades, and snaked around the central spade was an inky thirteen.

  Chapter 18

  ‘On a scale of one to ten, how much does it hurt?’

  Jeremy rubbed his right shoulder. ‘I’ve had worse.’

  Maybe he had, but I bet that didn’t ease the pain. Micky Snake hadn’t taken the news of Jeremy’s change of heart very well. He’d called him ‘rubber-necking tourist scum’, following that with a string of swear words, some of which were new to me. I stored them away for future use. After he’d let rip with a few more curses, Micky had twisted Jeremy’s arm up his back and marched him down the stairs to the street.

  We made our way back to the Underground. ‘At one point, I thought he was going to pin you down and brand you for life. Still, at least he didn’t nick your bling.’

  Jeremy threw me a dark look and said nothing. I shrugged. Still shaken by the flashback to my death, I wasn’t in the mood for chit-chat anyway.

  By the time we reached the loo, the shops were closing and Jeremy was late for work.

  ‘Are you sure you’ll be all right?’ he asked, catching my troubled glance down the shadowy steps. ‘You can come to the theatre if you promise not to try any Lucifer-baiting.’

  I shook my head. The last thing I needed was to get anyone suspicious again. ‘Nah, go ahead. I’ll be fine.’

  He took some persuading, but eventually he went. I waited until I was sure he’d gone before I took myself off to Regent’s Street. Window-shopping wasn’t the most fun I could imagine having, but it beat hanging around on my own. Maybe by the time I’d finished lapping up the gadgets in the window of Hamleys, Ryan would have finished up at the Dearly D.

  Eventually, I couldn’t put off going home and turned my reluctant feet in that direction. Ryan had texted to say he was going to be busy for another hour or so. Hep hadn’t replied to my message at all. Immediately after the Kimberly incident, she’d been great, spending a lot of her time making sure I was OK. Over the last few days, though, I’d noticed her slipping more and more into her own emotional world, and I got the impression it wasn’t a particularly nice place to be. Whatever was going on in her head, she couldn’t help the rage from spilling out into violent gestures, and she often sent traffic cones soaring with a well-aimed boot. How was she keeping a lid on things at home if she was this angry all the time?

  I wasn’t on my own long. Jeremy popped back after his shift had finished. The rush of happiness I got at seeing him appear in the doorway caught me by surprise. When had I become so attached to him?

  ‘Have you noticed anyone hanging around here lately?’ he said, after making me laugh with a description of that night’s performance.

  ‘Other than the usual assortment of weirdos and nutters, you mean?’

  ‘I assume you’re not lumping me in with that lot but, yes, other than them?’

  I thought about it before shaking my head. ‘Nope. Now that movie star has stopped stalking me I haven’t seen anyone hanging around. Why?’

  An unreadable expression flitted over his face. ‘I got chatting to Gonzo, the homeless guy upstairs. He told me to be careful. Apparently, he’s seen someone watching the comings and goings here.’

  I stared at him. ‘Who would be interested in a public toilet? You don’t think Elvira’s got ants in her pants again, do you?’

  He shook his head. ‘Gonzo says it was a man. He only really noticed him because the guy was standing in the doorway of the Tommy Hilfiger shop when he was ready to settle down for the night. Ripper didn’t like the smell of him.’

  Ripper was Gonzo’s dog, a greyhound who’d been abandoned when he couldn’t race any more. His deep brown eyes were intelligent and he certainly seemed to see me. Anyone he didn’t like sounded suspicious in my book. Except for Jeremy, what kind of saddo loitered around public toilets, anyway?

  ‘It might be the police doing surveillance,’ I suggested doubtfully. ‘I haven’t noticed any drug deals going on, but they aren’t to know that.’

  Jeremy sniffed. ‘It’d be easier if you had. They definitely weren’t interested in my serial killer theory.’ He paused in thought. ‘It’s probably nothing. Why don’t you have a scout around later? If Gonzo’s right, we need to kn
ow about it.’

  ‘OK,’ I said, thinking that I wasn’t at all sure I needed to know anything of the sort. ‘Before you go, I have a favour to ask.’

  He raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Actually, I have two favours to ask,’ I amended. ‘First, can you teach me how to do that eyebrow thing?’

  A wry smile quirked Jeremy’s lips. ‘I’ll try.’

  ‘Second, if Hep agrees, would you be willing to talk to her parents?’

  Understandably, he looked surprised at this last request. I’d never asked him to do anything like it before, mostly because I thought it would put him in an unbearable position. Imagine visiting a bereaved family and telling them you had a message from their dead loved one. I knew the psychics from the Dearly D did it sometimes, but Jeremy wasn’t a hardened spiritualist. If Hep hadn’t been worrying me so much I would never have put him on the spot.

  ‘To say what?’ Jeremy’s voice was gentle. ‘Do you think they’re ready to hear what she wants to tell them?’

  ‘They will if they value what’s left of their ornament collection. I think Hep plans on breaking one a day for the next month.’

  ‘Do you know why she’s so angry?’

  I sighed. There was a strong possibility I’d got it completely wrong, but I couldn’t help feeling the reason Hep was still on earth was somehow connected to her parents. I knew she’d killed herself to find peace and wanted to pass across, but while she still blamed them for her death, she would always be angry and none of them could rest. As much as I’d miss her when she went, things couldn’t go on as they were.

  ‘I’m not sure. She told me once they never understood how bad the bullying was.’

  Compassion flickered in his eyes. ‘Check with Hep first. If it’s what she wants, I’ll do it.’

  Several days went by before I got the chance to ask Hep about it. She wasn’t answering texts, and no one had seen her at the Dearly D. Finally, I tracked her down in the park bandstand near her parents’ house. It was a good thing I did. The local hoodie gang might have been permanently traumatised from the treatment she was about to dish out to them.