by Phil Chard
She tiptoed inside, heartbeat gathering pace again. In the curtain-less window, a moonlit starry night stared back at her. There were two new objects in the room: a chair in the right hand corner and a small compact CD player in the opposite corner, the power cable snaking around to a plug socket nearby. Both objects were new to the room. Her eyes moved between chair and CD player, trying to forge a logical argument for how they had made their way in here. There were none; the spook had finally arrived and it was playing games.
Secret rainbow tap the vein…
The speakers struggled tinnily against the volume.
Secret rainbow cover me…
She jabbed down on the stop button on the CD player and then took in the silence, studying the room for movement, inch by inch. The only noise now came from the whistling wind, which was softly buffeting the window that she was sure had been closed tightly.
She repeated her mantra, “I’m here to help.”
There was nothing; no movement, no sound except the window in the wind.
“I’m here to help.” The words were uttered softly, as if she were a mother reassuring a child with a grazed knee.
The wind still toyed with the window; apart from that the room was silent. Seemingly resigned to failure, Juliet sighed, made her way over to the window and locked the catch tightly.
When she turned back from the window, the sight that greeted her was happening too quickly for her to react to it: a second after registering that the chair was hurtling towards her head, she found herself on the ground and her world soon turned to darkness.
Chapter XII
As soon as her eyes flickered open and registered daylight, the pain attacked her in savage waves. Juliet felt at the considerable bruise now attached to her forehead. She sat up in the room she’d lost consciousness in the night before and tried to marshal her mental faculties back to operational endeavours. Birdsong floated into the room from a fully opened window behind her. Her mouth felt tangy; she felt blood sliding down her throat and nearly choked before spitting it out and staining the floor.
*
Juliet stared at her bloodied face in the mirror, then grimaced and threw more of the sink water onto her face. She dried her face carefully, painfully aware that any rough treatment would aggravate the pain.
For the rest of the day frozen peas and cold compacts were adorned to her head. Fleetingly, she thought of leaving, but the idea was quickly dispatched; the incident had just made her more determined to get rid of it ― and as it was now in the mood to play, it was time for her to reveal her hand...
Chapter XIII
Day 6
The music started at 2:57 a.m. Juliet wasn’t asleep this time; she was still bug-eyed from cola drinks and cappuccinos.
Ancestral voices fill the air…
The song was getting boring now. She jumped up and headed for the staircase. The music stopped. Undaunted by this change of tactic, she walked up the stairs and stood arms crossed on the first floor.
“I’m running out of patience with you,” she bellowed. “I can help you if you want, I can stop this nightmare.”
One by one, doors to each of the rooms on this floor started slamming shut. Her eyes followed the theatre, more than a little uneasy. Door seven shut. Door eight shut. Door nine shut. Door ten… remained ajar.
“OK.” she said out loud with a confidence that belied her fears.
She made her way to the room, keeping close to the walls, keeping far from the guardrail, nervous but trying not to show it.
Upon entering the room she switched the light on, shut the door quickly and stood with her back firmly against it while her eyes roamed the room suspiciously. The chair had gone – Juliet had removed it earlier, but had left the CD player to give the spook a means of playing an opening gambit. Now she walked into the middle of the room.
“I take it you’re in this room?”
The room remained pin-drop quiet.
“If you are, then I want you to give me a sign ― a non-threatening sign.”
Juliet felt a shove and stumbled, but managed to retain her balance.
“I said a non-threatening sign!” Juliet’s tone was firm. Then in a softer voice: “I can help you. If you want to be helped, then give me a sign.”
An eerie silence followed, which was only broken when the front cover of the CD player opened.
Juliet nodded. “OK.”
She closed her eyes, concentrated on entering the condition and successfully stepped out of her physical body. The first thing her spirit-self saw was the incomprehensible face of It. It was, or had been, a man in his late twenties. He had dirty blonde hair and was good looking ― a fact Juliet ascertained despite his Oh My God expression.
“What the…?” he asked.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” It was a line that Juliet never tired of using.
“What the…?” he said again, looking at the dual images he now had of Juliet. One of the images had its eyes open and was looking in his direction. The other was rigid, eyes closed, motionless. It looked like the girl who was now staring directly at him had just walked out of that particular body and before him now stood a duplicate ― a duplicate that was staring right at him. This girl could see him!
“Neat trick, huh?” said Juliet, attempting to gate-crash the man’s racing thoughts.
“What the…?” he was still stuck on monosyllables and studied Juliet like she was in a glass case in a museum.
“You do realise that you’re dead, don’t you?” Juliet said. She’d realised long ago that there wasn’t a tactful way to pose that question.
He looked directly at image two, the one that had addressed him, “Yeah, I know I’m dead. That’s been apparent for some time.”
He looked at twin images of the girl and then said, “Who the Hell are you?”
Juliet gestured to the physical body that her spirit had just walked out from. “One is the physical body, one is the spirit. Being a ghost you should be able to understand the concept.”
“But you’re alive… right?”
“Yeah, I’m alive.”
“How did you―”
“How am I able to do this? You ever heard of a man named Jack DeGrisse?”
The man nodded. “Serial killer? The torturer... right?”
“That’s right. Killed four girls. I was to be number five, but I was the one that got away. I was held on a torture rack for five days. You see... Jack enjoyed torture in the same way that children enjoy sweets. Knives, whips, burning steel rods, he had a full repertoire of instruments of pain. But see, one time he was having his fun and I was in so much pain, I literally couldn’t cope anymore ― at that moment, I suddenly found I was floating above my physical body, looking down on myself; my physical body was still screaming in pain, but I felt nothing, I was detached. I mean I thought I was dead, which was a whole other thing, but I wasn’t, I found I could go back. I could leave my physical body and return to it. When he tortured me, that’s what I did, I left and when it was over, I returned. I’ve been able to do it ever since.”
“How does the body―”
“Carry on?” she interrupted. She was used to the questions they ask. “My body continues to breathe, my heart still beats. The machine rolls on, when I’m ready I walk back in.”
He seemed to register this remark with considerable interest. She understood why.
“Don’t even think about it.” Juliet said, firing him a warning look, then gestured at her physical body, “It knows its owner, it won’t let you in. Be my guest, go ahead and try.”
He walked up to Juliet’s physical body, put a hand on its shoulder, felt it, examined the head, pretty soon the man determined for himself that she was telling the truth and walked back. He then felt the arm of the Spirit-Juliet.
“You feel solid. To me, your spirit body feels solid too.”
“Well it’s not. Everything is an illusion. You don’t seem to know a lot about the condition you’
re in. What’s your name?”
“Simon ― Simon Fell”
“Juliet Spiers.”
“Juliet... I like that name.”
He threw her a smile that had no doubt won him admirers in the physical world he’d left behind. Juliet was a professional Necromancer, her expression remained icy.
“So tell me the story of your death, Simon, Simon Fell.”
“I was murdered, Juliet.”
Juliet remained silent at this revelation. This wasn’t something she had encountered before. It threw her. She regained her composure. “When was this?”
“I don’t know. I don’t understand time when I’m in this condition.”
“You’re not always here. I’ve been looking for you. I know that you’re not always here, so where are you?”
Simon seemed confused. A very human furrowed brow registered on his face. “I don’t know,” he said. “I thought maybe you could tell me.”
“There is a lot I now understand about this condition, but I don’t know it all.”
“I’d really love a cigarette.”
“You’re not in a physical body anymore Simon. You can’t smoke a real cigarette. In this condition, all you have left is thought. Why do you think we’re wearing clothes?”
Simon examined what he was wearing ― the same clothes he had died in ― he hadn’t thought about this before. He then looked to Juliet, who was wearing the same clothes that her physical body displayed.
Juliet said, “You really think spirits actually wear clothes? Why do you think you can walk through walls? This is a different state, it’s a condition; you have to learn how to master it. I’ve learnt some neat tricks.”
Juliet reached into her ethereal pocket and produced a cigarette packet and a lighter, which she threw in his direction. The ghost caught the offering after a comic fumble; he then used the lighter to light himself a cigarette. He inhaled with gusto.
“My God!” His smile was wondrous; a kid at the gates of a theme park. He started to blow smoke rings.
“Why didn’t you go through the Light?” Juliet asked.
“What Light?”
“The Light, it must have been there, when you died.”
“I don’t remember no Light. I remember having my head forced under the water of the pool. Then I remember watching my body floating on the surface. I remember hearing the murderers talk about where they were going to put the body.”
“So you didn’t see the Light?” Juliet seemed surprised but nodded. “OK, I can bring you the Light. I’ve learned to do it. I’ve learned to do a lot in this condition. ”
Simon stared at her with a look of suspicion. Twin jets of ethereal cigarette smoke blew from each nostril. Suddenly a ‘eureka’ expression took centre stage on his face. He reached into his ghostly pocket and pulled out a bottle of vodka. He looked at Juliet and smiled.
“Will you look at that!?”
“You're learning.”
After a large sip he recoiled, coughed, then laughed. When his laugh ran out of fuel, he took another swig. He then offered the bottle to Juliet, who shook her head in response to the gesture.
The Spirit-Juliet closed her eyes and put her hand out in the direction of the wall behind Simon. Obediently, the Light tore through the wall and entered the physical world.
Simon immediately took a step away, alarm etched on his face. “What... what are you doing?”
“It’s the Light. You need to go through, you can’t stay here. You can’t just terrorise people; what happened to you is not their fault.”
“Hey, I’m sorry about the chair, you must have caught me in a bad mood.”
“And what about the couple before me? What about Emily? Remember her? I’ve seen some pictures of her face. Seems you mastered certain bits of this condition very well; you know how to hurt people, don’t you Simon?”
Her words seemed to affect him greatly; he looked away, avoiding eye contact like a scolded child.
Her tone softened. “It’s not their fault don’t you see?”
“But it’s someone’s fault. Doesn’t that matter? You think my murderers are in jail? No. I watched them bury the body in these very grounds. I haven’t seen anyone dig it up, so I guess it’s still there and that they are still free. Hey, who the Hell would miss me, right?”
“What happened?”
“I was the gardener. Marilyn Stone, the former lady of this manor, married her husband for money, but she looked to others for her pleasure. I thought―stupidly―that… it doesn’t matter what I thought. I really should have looked into his associations before I did what I did. One day when we thought he was out, he walked into the bedroom... I don’t need to tell you what he saw. He kicked the Hell out of me, when I woke up I was in the pool; you see this guy could have thrown me in while I was unconscious, but not Tony Stone. He wanted me to wake up first, so that he could have the pleasure of killing me. While I was there, tied up in the pool, he’d have the odd stab with his knife. Marilyn Stone watched on; she didn’t say a word, too scared at the prospect of losing Tony’s money. She helped him bury me. I stood and watched that. They buried the knife with the body. They put the house up for sale and moved away. Marilyn liked her fun, but she liked money more than anything, and Tony Stone had money.”
Juliet ordered the Light away. “Your body is buried in the grounds? And you can tell me where?”
He cottoned on quickly to her meaning and smiled. “Oh yeah. I can pinpoint the exact spot.”
“And if we get them... if I get you justice, you will leave?”
He paused, considered her words, then, “You get me justice Juliet, and then… yes, I’ll leave.”
Chapter XIV
Juliet led Joe past the stables and onto a part of the grounds where maintenance was slipping. Rain hammered down from the heavens. The ground was wet and soaking through Juliet’s thin training shoes. Joe’s mood this morning was funereal and the rain was not making it any better. Juliet stopped, pointed out the spot Simon Fell had told her about. Joe edged closer, a forensic eye feasted on the scene: an outdoor bench sitting between two trees. Juliet’s finger had pointed not to the bench, but the ground below. It was a good spot to hide a body, Joe decided clinically. Shadows from the trees and the bench disguised the uneven ground below it. The ground that had been dug up and reset with a corpse.
Joe nodded to a question he must have been asking himself, then turned to Juliet. “Definitely here right?”
Juliet nodded affirmation.
An acknowledged nod from Joe.
Silence. More moody staring at the grave from Joe.
Juliet was getting wet and bored. “So how we going to play this?”
Joe looked up at her; a plan was forming, still vague and nebulous.
*
On the way back to London, Joe was thoughtful and muted. His plan, whatever it was, was still being constructed behind calculating eyes. Even when you served him a murder on a silver plate, he had to construct schemes and duplicity around it. It was simply habit by now; English was a second language to lies and subterfuge.
Juliet was looking forward to getting home. She’d rediscovered a passion for reading while she was away and planned to pick up some second hand books and spend a lazy weekend surrounded by cushions on her sofa. No need to compromise, no need to consider someone else’s view… she sighed. It was glorious freedom and miserable isolation. She was an acolyte of Joe. He started work early and finished late, perhaps anxious to spend as little time as possible in a four-bedroomed house which housed only one. She had her hang-ups about her scars, but Joe was another barrier to her meeting someone. He would get angry if his possession showed someone else any interest at all.
“You want to go for a drink when we get back?” Joe asked.
“No.” Juliet replied with no preamble. No – she didn’t want to join Joe in a toast to lost souls.
“We need to co-ordinate.” declared Joe.
“What?”
; “Stone. I did some digging. He lives in America now. We could find a body and make a move for extradition, but that could be long and drawn out.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“We just wait.”
“For what?”
“Stone is still of interest to a lot of people. Nothing on him, but there have been operations monitoring his activity. Naturally his movements are tracked.”
“OK.” Juliet said, taking her cue from Joe’s pause rather than understanding what his plan was.
Joe continued, “He comes in and out of the country for meetings, naturally.”
Another pause, Juliet filled the void with an “A-ha.”
“But his mother is still in this country. And last year he and his lovely wife Marilyn came back for her birthday, which is in 21 days time.”
Juliet nodded, picking up the thread. “So you wait while they are both inside the country―”
“If we coordinate and time it just right… we have an anonymous tip-off about a body in a grand estate. This tip-off relates to a drunken confession from a woman named Marilyn Stone, confessing to a killing she was involved in some years ago. The tip-off mentions the name that Marilyn mentions - Simon Fell. I’ll look into it. I will find out that Simon Fell is on the missing person’s list. I’ll also find out that he worked for the Stones before appearing on the missing person’s list. The tip-off even gives an indication that the body was buried between two trees in the grounds. We bring in forensics. A body is found just as Marilyn and Tony step off the plane. They are arrested. Marilyn Stone confesses pretty much immediately, she isn’t very strong according to Intel. As for Tony Stone, well he tries to turn it around and blames the wife. They both blame each other.”