by S. C. Ransom
“So, umm, you were partway through telling me about your life as a Dirge?” I prompted, keen to move her back to her original subject.
“Yes, true. I was.” Veronica sighed and sat back, taking a long sip of her cooling tea. “It’s not a happy tale, but then, I guess, none of them are. I don’t remember anything about drowning, I think I must have been unconscious when I took that last fatal breath of Fleet water, so I don’t know anything about exactly where I was, unlike the others. And as I wasn’t aware of drowning, I didn’t have the same level of despair that most of them do. What I had was a huge, vast amount of rage. I couldn’t believe that I had ended up in that situation, that I, Veronica, was stuck in that hideous place. I mean, it wasn’t possible; someone was going to have to save me.”
She described herself in a self-assured tone, and I wondered again who she had been before. She sounded like she felt that she was someone special back then, important even. Perhaps she had been a celebrity in her day. Everyone was equal as a Dirge though, even though some were different. She was different because she had anger, not despair, and Callum was different, too. He had hope: when he had died, when he had taken that last breath, he really, really expected to be saved. I wondered if the amulet automatically chose to connect to those who felt less creeping horror and depression than the others did.
“So what is the first thing you do remember?”
“Oh, that’s easy. Finding myself on the riverbank, soaking wet, with the mother of all hangovers.” She looked at me briefly. “You know, that bit never went away. My personal purgatory was to spend eternity with the worst hangover in the world. Anyway, I found myself lying on the little beach at the side of the river, near to where the new Waterloo Bridge now stands.”
“Now stands? That bridge has been there forever! When on earth did you die?”
“You must know that none of us know that. All I can tell you is what has changed in that time. When I arrived on that beach, London was very different to the city you see today. I think it must have been around the early nineteen hundreds. There was a different bridge across the river there then, with lots of arches, and on the southern bank were some small beaches at low tide. Just rough bits of scrubland really, full of rubble and discarded rubbish. It smelled terrible. I tried summoning help as soon as I could stand up, but the only people nearby, poor people picking through the rubbish that had been washed up, just ignored me completely. I remember getting pretty cross with them.” Veronica paused and gave me a weak smile. I half-heartedly smiled back, trying to encourage her.
“Callum told me that Catherine had done much the same thing, ranting and shouting at the people when she realised that they couldn’t see, hear or feel her.”
“I probably would have had a lot in common with Catherine. It’s a shame I never got to know her properly.”
“Actually, she’s really not very likeable, so you’ve not missed much,” I muttered. “So when did you realise that you were … different?”
“I dragged myself up to the street, and noticed that I was wearing a full-length cloak. For some reason that surprised me, but I didn’t know why. It was at that point that I realised that I had no other memories at all. It was most peculiar. I knew the names of things, like the Thames and Somerset House – and St Paul’s, of course, but I realised that I had no idea of who I was, or where I lived or who were my family. You have no idea of how frightening that can be.”
I made a non-committal grunting noise, not trusting myself to speak. That was exactly how Catherine left me when she took my memories to come over. And it was exactly how Veronica would have left the poor person she attacked too, I thought, but I kept silent. I didn’t want to bring up something that might upset her, not when there was so much to find out.
“I decided to keep the cloak because, well, I had nothing else. So I started to walk towards the bridge, hoping that I might see someone who I knew, or might know me, and then I stumbled across a crowd of people. There was some sort of disturbance going on and the police were there. I worked my way around the edge of the crowd to get closer to the policemen, trying hard not to draw too much attention to myself. I didn’t know who I was, but I was pretty sure that I didn’t belong there, among the thieves and villains living around Waterloo. No one took any notice of me at all, which I was initially grateful for. I thought that maybe the cloak made me blend in. Little did I know!” Her laugh was harsh. “Of course,” she continued, “once I found a policeman it was only a matter of minutes before I realised I was in a completely different type of trouble.
“I had approached one of the police officers, one who seemed to be issuing orders. I stood by him for a minute but he didn’t acknowledge me, so I tapped him on the arm. Or rather, I tried to tap him on the arm. My hand went straight through him. I couldn’t stop myself from screaming, and then realised that the noise had no effect on him either. I had no idea of what I had become…” Her voice faded out and I could see the tears working their way down her creased cheeks.
I reached out to take her hand, giving it a quick squeeze. “You don’t have to tell me, you know; I do understand.”
“No, it’s OK, I know; I’ll be fine. It’s just never being able to speak about any of this before makes it harder to do so now. But it will do me good, and there’s no point in being self-pitying.” She took a deep breath and wiped the tears from her face before carrying on. “I tried all day to get someone to register that I was there, to move things, to shout into people’s ears, but nothing; no response from anyone. I continued for hours and hours, working my way across London, chasing people. At some point I crossed the river, but I’m not sure when I did that. I was in the West End when all the theatres started to empty out, and I was worn out trying to capture anyone’s attention. It was dark, and I was sitting at the side of the road, hungover, angry and very sorry for myself when I noticed the lights.”
“What lights?”
“The little dancing lights above the theatre crowd’s heads. Almost all of them had these faint little bouncing glows, like fireflies or something.”
I nodded in agreement. “That’s what I thought they were too, when I first saw them.”
“You can see auras? How have you managed that?”
“It’s part of the long story. Essentially, Callum copied all my memories into his amulet as Catherine was stealing them, then later, when the amulet was put back on my wrist, he was able to download them all back into me. Ever since then I’ve been able to see the happy auras.”
“I didn’t realise that you could see them too. Is it just the happy ones, or can you see the others as well?”
“Mostly the yellow ones, but I can sometimes see the red and purple if someone is feeling it really strongly. They all seem to be much clearer in St Paul’s than anywhere else.”
“Hmm, interesting. So you know that I’m happy to have found you at last.” She smiled warmly at me, the little yellow light confirming her words.
“I’ve got quite good at filtering them out, really. Unless I’m thinking about it, I don’t take much notice of them. It can be useful when I’m talking to my mum though; I know when it’s a good or bad time to ask for a favour.”
“I can see how that would work.” She smiled again briefly, then her gaze wandered off to the distance and the yellow glow faded as she started to talk again. “So, I realised that I could see these strange lights over everyone’s head, and I was puzzling over that when I felt the strangest sensation.” She paused so I raised my eyebrows at her. “There’s absolutely nothing I can compare it with in real life. It was like I had been summoned by something I didn’t understand. I was being pulled through the streets of Soho, across the darkened spaces of Lincoln’s Inn Fields, towards the east. Stopping wasn’t an option; I couldn’t even think about not following the urge, which was getting stronger all the time. And all the while I was getting angrier about the fact that any of this was happening at all. I didn’t want to believe it. I was pushing through the
oblivious crowds when I stepped through a child. I must have picked up her aura by mistake, because at that point I still hadn’t realised that I had an amulet, but as I picked up that little yellow flicker I felt a wave of relief. No, relief isn’t the right word, because I was still desperate afterwards. I imagine it is closest to someone who is dying of thirst being given a thimbleful of water. It was welcome, but I needed more, and it wasn’t until that point that I knew I was missing something. But I hadn’t realised what I had done, so I carried on following the urge to move eastwards.
“Eventually I ended up at the front of St Paul’s. It was dark, and most of the people had gone from the streets. The urge to move towards the building was positively painful, so I started walking up the steps. I was looking at the front, at the huge doors, when I realised that a dark shape had just appeared through those closed doors. Someone dressed in a long dark cloak. Someone like me.”
“Matthew?” I guessed.
“Yes. He had been nominated by the leader to gather the newcomer into the fold.”
“The leader? That wasn’t Matthew then?”
“No, when I became a Dirge the leader was a man called Arthur.”
“Really? The only Arthur I heard Callum mention was a guy who stalked weddings, but that’s all. Would that be him? What happened to him?”
“I’ve no idea. He was leader until I left.”
“Callum did tell me that they sometimes vote for a new leader. They must have voted him out, I guess. Had he been the leader for a long time?”
“A fair while, I think. Time is difficult to gauge over there, so I’m not sure. Maybe they voted him out because of his behaviour. He and another Dirge had a – well, it wasn’t a fight exactly, but they were battling to take control of something.”
“What was that?”
“My human.”
“What? Your human?”
“Yes, the man who had found the amulet and had made a connection with me. Traditionally that made him mine. It was my chance to get away, to escape the life, to die, or so I expected. But Arthur and Lucas both decided that they ought to be allowed to go; Arthur because he reckoned he had been there the longest, and Lucas because he was the nastiest.”
“I know Lucas or, rather, I did. He found a way of escaping.”
She raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Well, if anyone could, he would.” She paused for a second before continuing. “Well, they explained what had happened. Of course, I didn’t believe them; it all seemed so preposterous. But there I was, with the amulet fused to my wrist, waiting to make me its slave. The next few decades have begun to blur a bit really. My life became an endless round of seeking and capturing memories, trying to keep the amulet full enough to stay sane. As I said, I found that I had a preference for memories gathered from people who had been out drinking, who really didn’t seem to notice or care that their thoughts had gone missing. I would wait on the streets outside the pubs and bars, and catch them as they were leaving. I guess in the mornings they just couldn’t remember the night before. I got very good at it, and because I was the only one who really liked the drunken thoughts, I didn’t have much competition.
“And then, one day, everything changed. I was walking down the Strand late one afternoon to go to the King’s College University bar, as the students always started drinking early, when I suddenly had this peculiar vision. A middle-aged man’s face, looking intently at something I couldn’t see.” She hesitated and then sighed. “Poor Daniel, he didn’t deserve it.”
“So he was the guy you … you … killed.”
“Killed. Yes, ultimately I did. And I regret it every day of this life.” She looked away, unable to hold my gaze.
“So where in the Thames did he find the amulet?”
“He was walking on the riverbank near Kew when he saw it washed up on a little beach. He climbed down to get it. His first thought was to take it to the police to see if it had been reported missing, but then he looked closer and realised that it had been in the water for many years. He knew that it was valuable, and he realised that he could sell it for his fund.
“Daniel was a vicar, and his parish church was falling down. Congregations had drifted away and some people had stolen the lead from the church roof. He urgently needed to raise cash to help repair the building. He had started the fund but it hadn’t been going well. Poor Daniel, he wasn’t much of a salesman and he had terrible trouble convincing any of his flock to contribute. He thought that finding the amulet was the answer to his prayers.
“He walked home with the amulet, cleaning it as he went, and that was when I got my first glimpse of him. I was in St Paul’s at the time and couldn’t help exclaiming at the vision. Everyone became really excited; it had been a long time since the amulet had been seen. But there was an immediate fight. Some of the others thought it was wrong that I should be the one chosen, as I hadn’t been a Dirge for as long as some of the rest. But no one was going to get anywhere unless Daniel actually put the amulet on. When he was holding it I got the visions, but to use him to escape I needed him to be wearing the amulet, to give it some power. And I knew from what some of the others were saying that I needed him to be wearing it, not someone else, not his wife, or someone who would buy it from the jeweller’s. My connection was always going to be the best with him.
“Luckily from the visions I could see roughly where he was, and the fact that he was wearing a dog collar made it easier to track him down. I finally found him in the vestry of his church, considering the bracelet. That night it was fairly simple to invade his dreams and plant the idea that the bracelet would only be safe if he was wearing it, that no one would be able to steal it from him. Once he put it on the process was simple…”
“Did you manage to work out how to talk to him?”
“No, I never learned that particular trick. You must ask Callum sometime how he worked it out. No, I just appeared behind him in the mirror and the windows. Scared the poor man nearly half to death too.”
“I can imagine,” I murmured, remembering just how frightened I had been when Callum started lurking behind my shoulder.
“So I just stalked him, waiting until he had started wearing the amulet for a while and then ramped up the sudden appearances. He really thought he was going mad. I was trying to be with him all the time, to make sure that I was there when he took it off, that I would be the one with the chance to go, but it was hard. I had to keep gathering, obviously, and he didn’t spend a lot of time with happy people. Every time I left his side either Arthur or Lucas were at his heels, hoping to snatch the opportunity. It got to the point that I knew something had to be done, or I was going to miss my chance to go. I couldn’t face the rest of eternity in that miserable existence, but I couldn’t be sure what to do. Then the decision was taken out of my hands…” She paused again, looking at the floor.
“What happened?” I prompted gently after the silence continued for a few minutes. She looked at me with eyes that were full of pain and remorse.
“Daniel had worked out that the amulet was the cause of all his problems, and he wanted to be rid of it. He was no longer concerned about making money out of it; in fact, he considered it downright evil and as something sent by the Devil to tempt him. So he wound a wire around a large rock and attached the amulet to it. As soon as he did that I was able to strike. He was so relieved to be dropping it over the side of the bridge that he didn’t notice that I was taking away every memory of it. By the time he realised something was wrong it was too late: he couldn’t stop me.”
I couldn’t watch her as she described the process; it was all too familiar, too hideous. I didn’t want her to see the accusing look that I was sure would be in my eyes.
“And as I sucked away the last memories, I was conscious of Arthur and Lucas fighting to get close to me, to get a share in the spoils. That was the last memory I had as a Dirge. The next thing I remember was being hauled into a boat in the middle of the Thames, miles downstream. It all goes a b
it fuzzy for me then.”
“Why? Did you start drinking again?”
“Certainly not! I’ve not touched a drop since I came back over. It was having all Daniel’s memories, that was what made things difficult. For a long time I couldn’t really get to grips with the fact that I, Veronica, had the memories of a middle-aged vicar, at the same time as remembering my time as a Dirge. As soon as the doctors realised that I had no past, and that they didn’t believe what I was saying, they immediately locked me up in a psychiatric hospital. I was there until I could work out what I was supposed to be telling to whom. That took a while, I can tell you.”
“So how long were you locked up for?” I asked, appalled.
“About fifteen years. I was nearly institutionalised when finally they decided I wasn’t a danger to myself or others and let me out. I had a diagnosis as a schizophrenic as I had two clear sets of memories, but no one believed that both were real. For a time I doubted it myself.”
Veronica paused, stopping to pick up her coffee spoon and stir the dregs of her cup. I realised that I was holding my breath, waiting to hear the next details of how she actually managed to integrate with society after life as a Dirge. That’s what Catherine was dealing with.
“So there I was, on the streets with nothing, nothing but hazy memories of life as a parasite and very clear memories of Daniel’s calling to be a vicar. So I went to the church. They looked after me and gave me a home, gainful employment and, eventually, education.” She smiled at me briefly. “That bit wasn’t too hard as I already had all of Daniel’s memories of being in the seminary, so I sailed through.”
“But did you believe it? I mean, did his memories bring faith into your life, or did they change you?”