Scattering Like Light

by S. C. Ransom

  I wrapped my arms around my head, trying to block out the images that were swirling around in there, but one more awful fact surfaced: not only had I tortured and killed Lucas, I’d made him old. Old! Would I do the same to Callum?

  Finally there was a familiar tingle in my arm, and Callum’s shocked voice in my head. “Alex? Keep still, will you?” The voice faded in and out and I realised that I was rocking violently backwards and forwards. I tried to stop but it was almost impossible. In the end I sat on my hands, but still couldn’t stop my head and shoulders.

  I tried to speak but nothing came out, my mouth was so dry. I tried to swallow a couple of times and tried again. “I made him old, Callum, then I killed him. We can’t do it; I can’t do that to you. What if our experiment this afternoon had worked? We’d be fishing your tortured body out of the river there. We can’t do it!”

  “Shhh.” I could feel his hand on my hair, stroking it rhythmically. “But we didn’t do it. We stopped and I’m still here.”

  Another wave of despair washed over me. “But this means that I can’t – we can’t – try again. I’ll never be able to rescue you.” My voice rose to a wail as the tears started to stream down my face. All the consequences of what it meant were piling up: I couldn’t save him after all and every plan I had was crumbling. “I can’t bear it!”

  “I know.” His voice was hollow, beaten. “I almost wish it had worked earlier. At least that way I would have gone into it thinking it was going to work and by now it would all be over.”

  “You can’t want that, not really. You can’t honestly want to die.”

  The silence answered my question.

  “We don’t need to do anything, not yet,” he said eventually. “But you have to remember that none of us is here out of choice. All of us would take the chance of oblivion even if it meant another painful death.” There was another pause. “We have all died already, remember,” he added softly, “and if I can’t have you…”

  I couldn’t believe that we had gone from the excitement of planning being together to him effectively asking me to kill him.

  “This can’t be happening, it just can’t! It’s so unfair!” Without thinking about it I was rocking again, holding myself tight, trying to will the whole thing to go away, when Callum’s voice cut across my thoughts.

  “Alex!” he hissed. “It’s the vicar. Look, she’s running this way!”

  Spinning round I saw Reverend Waters staggering towards us. She saw me leap up and tried to increase her pace, but was obviously exhausted. “Alex, please, don’t go,” she gasped. “We need to talk about…”

  But the last thing I needed now was a telling-off. Clutching my tattered newspaper, and with panic threatening to tear my insides apart, I turned and ran.

  This time I didn’t stop until I got to Waterloo, and there I only paused briefly to talk to Callum. The running had helped clear my mind; I was exhausted but able to think straight.

  “Callum?” I called as I stood on the concourse waiting for my train’s platform to be announced. “Callum, do you think you can find out what that vicar wants? I can’t believe she’d go to so much trouble just to tell me to stop jumping barriers in St Paul’s.”

  He obviously started talking before the tingle reached my wrist, so I missed half of what he was saying. “…how she came to be under the bridge, can you? I mean, she can’t be that fast, she’s ancient. What do—”

  “Wait!” I interrupted him. “Back up – I didn’t get half of that. Didn’t you see where she came from?”

  “Nope, no idea. It’s almost as if she knew that’s where you were going.”

  “She can’t possibly have known that. I didn’t know myself until I was almost at Ludgate Circus. I don’t like her. She’s freaky.” I had a quick scan around of the crowd. “Are we safe here? Did she follow us again?”

  “No, I watched her. She followed you along to the Embankment and I thought that she might get a cab but then she turned around and went back. Once I was sure she wasn’t following I came to find you.”

  “OK, well, my train is going in a few minutes, so why don’t you have a look round at the cathedral and see if she’s gone back there. We need to know more about her, and what she wants.”

  “OK. I’ll come to your place later. Call me if you need me before then.”

  “All right.” I felt the featherlight touch of his lips on my cheek and the tingle was gone. The noise and bustle of the station reinvaded my consciousness and I couldn’t help dropping my head and letting my long blonde hair obscure my face, just in case. There was no point in making it any easier for her or whoever else she might have told. I walked towards the barriers, shoved my ticket into the little slot and made my way as calmly as I could on to the platform.

  On the train I wedged myself into the furthest seat in the carriage where no one could see me, and looked again at the crumpled paper in my hand. Half the newsprint was smudged where my sweaty palms had been clasping it, but I could still read the item. It was so awful I didn’t know which bit was worse: not only had I killed Lucas, but it had been a hideous, painful death. And somehow in the process I had made him old. Was that because he had become the age he should have been?

  The wave of panic I had been controlling threatened to break through yet again as I thought of how close I had come to doing that to Callum. He could easily have been dead by now, or writhing in pain and ageing before my eyes. We were so lucky that it hadn’t worked.

  London started to slide past my unseeing eyes as the train began its long, slow journey to Shepperton. I smoothed the paper out across my knee again, looking for the date. The story had come out two days after my fight with Lucas, so it was nearly a month old. For a moment I wondered at the coincidence that had led me to it. Before I had gone on holiday I had been scouring the Web for anything like that, but had missed it completely. Why had the killing got such little press coverage?

  I guessed that they were not having much luck with their murder investigation, as there was absolutely no evidence that would point them towards me, and nothing else that they could suggest was a cause of death. But the fact that they wouldn’t be able to prove it was me didn’t alter the fact that I had done it; I had tortured Lucas to death.

  I shut my eyes and pressed my knuckles into the sockets, trying to get the image of his face out of my head. But it just made it worse. I remembered in graphic detail watching the rush of glittering sparks envelop his body, sweeping across his face and into his bellowing mouth, covering him completely until there was just a momentary outline showing where he had been. The mass of sparks had then cascaded on the floor into a puddle that had disappeared very quickly down a nearby drain.

  At the time I had just been relieved that he had gone, and only later started to piece together the possibilities; that I had been responsible for stopping him, and therefore that I could do it again and save Callum. And I had been particularly happy over the last month or so knowing that I could do it without the help of Catherine. I hadn’t cared that she had run away; in fact, I had been delighted to see the back of her. She had taunted me as she had left and I bet she knew that any attempt I made to save him would result in his death.

  I was back to square one again, with a boyfriend trapped in another dimension who was suffering horribly every day, no useful plan to rescue him myself, and with a guilty conscience to boot. It was all so unfair! I wrapped my arms across my head, trying to make myself as small as possible in my seat, and unsuccessfully trying not to think. But the dramas of the day wouldn’t go away, circling my head until I was ready to scream.

  I was relieved when the train finally stopped at the station and I could start to walk home; sitting still wasn’t doing me any good at all. As soon as I was away from other people I called for Callum and he was at my side within minutes.

  “Hi,” I asked as brightly as I could manage. “Did you have any luck in finding her?”

  “No, no sign of her at all. But now I know what
she looks like, and that she’s in the cathedral a lot, it shouldn’t take me long to track her down.” He was keeping pace with me easily as we walked up the narrow residential road. I flicked open my little mirror so that I could see him.

  “This is all so weird. It’s like she’s stalking me.”

  “I know.” Callum sounded rattled. “Your trespassing theory does seem a bit lame, and if she’s trying to convert you she’s got a strange way of going about it. What the hell can she want?”

  “The first time I met her she thought I was going to jump off the dome. Perhaps she still thinks I’m suicidal?”

  “Well, maybe, but it still seems pretty unlikely.”

  “I’ve had enough of this. I’ve got to find out what is going on, with her, and with this.” I waved the newspaper at him. “I need to get on the Internet and start getting answers to some questions.”

  I could see him frowning in the little mirror, obviously deep in thought, his soft lips pressed together in a hard line. “Yes, you’re right,” he said eventually. “How about you go and check out what happened to Lucas, and I’ll go and see if I can find out about the mysterious Reverend Waters?” He peered across at my watch. “I’ll be back later to find out how you’re getting on, if I can do enough gathering in time.”

  I was instantly contrite. “Leave her until tomorrow; you need to make sure that you have what you need. It’s been a pretty traumatic day, and doesn’t that mean that you have to do more gathering?”

  He shrugged. “Some, I guess. I’ll do what I need to do. I promise I’ll be back later though, and with as many answers as I can find.”

  I marched up the road as quickly as I could, desperate to get back home where I might be able to find some solutions to my problems. The smell of someone’s barbecue drifted across the path, and I glanced through the open gate as I passed. A group of teenagers were standing there, cans in their hands, laughing over some shared joke, and for a second I had a momentary pang of longing; longing to be normal. The thought of being able to go to a party with Callum tore at my heart. Earlier I had been so sure that I could help, that it was just a matter of time before I brought him over, but now … now I knew I was deluding myself. It made me realise that Catherine had been telling the truth: the only way I could do it was with her involvement, and she would never, ever agree to help us.

  I wished that Grace was home so that I could talk to her about it, but she was still on her family holiday and would be for another few days. For now Callum and I were going to have to sort out this problem on our own.

  When I finally got back to the house I could see that Dad’s car was missing. Hopefully that meant that both Mum and Dad would be out and I could slope off up to my room and my laptop without being sidetracked. I slipped the key in the lock and crept inside. It was immediately obvious that I wasn’t in luck. I could hear the washing machine churning and Mum giving Josh a hard time about something. I glanced longingly at the stairs and wondered if I could get away with just sneaking up there, not telling anyone I was home. I had just decided to go for it when the kitchen door burst open and Mum appeared with a basket of washing under one arm.

  “Oh, hello, Alex, you’re back. You’ve been gone for hours; I was beginning to wonder when you might turn up. Right, you take these, fold them up and put them all away where they belong, then bring me back the basket.” She barely drew breath as she thrust the overflowing laundry basket at me. She was obviously having one of her rare “being efficient with the household chores” sort of day, so I was relieved that I’d missed most of it.

  “Hi, Mum, good to see you too,” I mumbled under my breath as I staggered up the stairs, trying not to drop too many of the socks balanced on the top. I worked as quickly as I could and dumped a pile of clean holiday clothes in everyone else’s bedrooms. Sneaking into my room I quickly opened up my laptop and switched it on, intending only to get some basic information from Google before I had to go back downstairs. But as ever I was sucked in and within minutes I was lost. Most of the reports had come out in the last two weeks while I had been away, but even so I couldn’t believe that I hadn’t seen one of the early ones.

  Lucas Pointer had been identified by his dental records, and one account I read suggested that his body had been burned beyond recognition. Finally I came across a picture. Taken about fifty years earlier, it was black and white and very grainy, but the familiar cruel eyes stared out at me. I couldn’t help shivering. From that picture it looked as if he had always had a nasty side, and hadn’t just been turned by being a Dirge. And you killed him, I reminded myself. Even though I knew that death was what he’d wanted, I still felt a huge pit opening in my stomach every time I thought about the pain I had inflicted with it.

  I was just searching for other articles on his death when I heard Mum calling from downstairs. I quickly shut down the computer and picked up the laundry basket. She wasn’t in the mood to be kept waiting.

  Downstairs I could see through the kitchen and out into the garden. Josh was mowing the lawn, his face a picture of gloom.

  “Right,” she announced in her best no-nonsense voice. “You have a choice. You can finish doing the washing or you can come with me to the supermarket. Which is it going to be?”

  That wasn’t a hard decision. The washing would take minutes. “Washing, I guess.”

  “Fine. There’s a load to take out of the machine and hang on the dryer, there’s another load of beach towels in the bathroom, and there’s a small pile of hand washing on top of the machine.” I groaned inwardly. Maybe not such a smart choice after all, and she hadn’t even finished. “And when you’ve done that, can you please sort through all the rubbish which I’ve taken out of all your pockets and is currently on the window sill in there. I’m sure most of it can go in the bin.”

  “Yes, Mum.” I quickly picked up the basket and got out of earshot before she could add anything else to the list. I busied myself noisily for a few minutes until I heard her call goodbye, and the door slammed behind her. Once the car was safely out of the drive I nipped out into the garden.

  “Hey, having fun?” I tapped Josh on the shoulder as he walked the mower down the grass, leaving a slightly wobbly stripe. He jumped.

  “Oh, hi, Alex.” He pulled his earphones out and I could hear the heavy thump of the bass even over the noise of the mower. “I didn’t know you were back. Did you see Mum?”

  “Uh-huh, and I’ve got a list of chores as long as my arm. Has she been like this all day?”

  “Yup. It was a good call being out when she got back. Unfortunately I was still in bed, and she took that as a bit of a personal affront.”

  “Well, I’m going to do a bit of mine then have a coffee. Want one?”

  “Nah, you’re OK, thanks. I’m roasting. I’ll get this done and grab a beer.” He plugged the earphones back in and restarted the mower. I walked slowly back into the house. I didn’t want to do any of it, but Mum was going to expect it done by the time she got back, so I reckoned it was as well to get on with it. I rolled up my sleeves and got to work.

  An hour later I was roasting too, and looking forward to a long cold drink when everything was done. I grabbed a plastic bag and started gathering all the junk that had come from the pockets. I debated checking every piece, but if it hadn’t been missed so far, what was the point? Finally I dropped the lot in the bin outside.

  I had only just got myself a drink when Mum reappeared, and I hoped that by offering to bring in the shopping I might be able to slip away afterwards and get back to my laptop. We quickly got everything put away and I made her a cup of coffee. I could see Josh mouthing the word “creep” at me with a grin as he finally came in, covered in grass clippings. I raised an eyebrow at him.

  “I’ve got some e-mails I need to answer, so I’ll be upstairs if you need me,” I said as casually as I could manage.

  “OK, sweetie,” said Mum absently, looking at her BlackBerry. “Oh, did you go through all that stuff from everyone’s poc
kets?”

  “Yup. Well, I put it all in the bin.”

  “What was the stuff from St Paul’s?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “There was a card, from St Paul’s. Some vicar called Veronica Waters. Why on earth did you have that?”

  I stared at her, my mind racing. Veronica Waters? The creepy vicar was called Veronica?

  “Alex? Are you OK?”

  “Oh, yes, sorry. I was thinking about something else. Umm, I don’t know. Someone fundraising the last time I went there I expect. I guess I should probably have kept that one.” I smiled and made for the door. “I’ll just fish it out,” I said over my shoulder as I made for the door. My heart was pounding as I threw open the bin. She was called Veronica. She had given me the little card after I had been helped down from the top of the dome when Catherine had the amulet. I hadn’t read it but had stuffed it in the back pocket of my jeans where it had stayed until Mum had taken it out when they were washed.

  If she was the same Veronica a whole new list of questions needed to be answered.

  I had first heard of her from Callum, when he had been telling me a bit about his life. Veronica was a Dirge who had apparently been a bit wild, always taking memories from late-night party-goers. Then she had managed to get away: someone had found the amulet and it had given her the chance to escape. She, like Catherine, had obviously become real again, and somehow Catherine had known all about her. If Veronica was the same person as Reverend Waters there were things which I had to ask her.