by Raven Taylor
“Horses, how glamorous.”
“Yes, white horses with rhinestones on their nose bands and ostrich plumes on their brows. You should have seen how they sparkled in the lights as they cantered around the ring.”
“It sounds as though you miss it,” she observed, “Why don’t you ride horses in the circus anymore?”
“That’s a very sad story,” I told her, “Maybe too sad for a pretty girl to hear. You might get upset.”
“Tell me,” she begged, “Tell me why you don’t ride horses in the circus anymore.”
“Well, ok, but be warned I might get a little emotional.”
We were done with our starters now and the waiter returned to take our dishes and top up our wine glasses.
“We had four horses in the circus,” I began, “Two stallions and two mares. White Arabians. We loved them, that is Hilda and myself. Hilda was my riding partner. I suppose I loved her too in a way, when you have to spend that much time with someone training and stuff you’re bound to have a bond of some kind. But Hilda loved me a little more than I loved her. While I loved her like a sister she loved me in a different way. I knew I could never see her the way she wanted me too and I told her so. She took one of the stallions one night out into the storm and rode him right over a cliff into the sea. I left the circus after that and I have never ridden a horse since.”
“What a tragic story,” for a moment she looked genuinely upset then she shook herself, “And what an imagination you have on you mister maybe you where a writer or something.”
"Perhaps."
“Well I guess I can be anything I want now too, it doesn’t matter anymore, nothing I do does,” she sounded sad and slightly wistful, “I could be the adopted daughter of a poor Japanese family who went on to be become the worlds first non Asian Geisha. Yeah, I quite like that. That's who I will be.”
She bowed her head and rubbed her temples, screwing up her face for a moment.
“Are you ok?”
“Yeah,” she said, “Headache, I get them sometimes, I have pills.”
“I’m sorry.” why did I feel the need to apologise? Why was there was a creeping sense of guilt like a cold ball in the pit of my stomach?
We continued our meal, talking light hearted non sense for most of the time. She was good at keeping a conversation going and her company was like an intoxicating drug.
“I have an idea,” she said as we finished our desert, “I have a friend, now don’t laugh, she’s a practicing medium, she does readings and such for people, she’s pretty good, why don’t we go and see her? Who knows, maybe she could help you.”
I considered this for a moment. It seemed a bit like Denise’s suggestion of hypnosis but it meant I would get to see Lilly again and that was worth any price.
“Yes,” I agreed, “I’d be willing to try that.”
“Great, well I’ll get in touch with her and maybe schedule something for, say, tomorrow?”
“Don’t you work days?” I had no idea what made me think that.
“I used to,” she confirmed, “Not anymore, I don’t work, I quit.”
I wondered how she could afford that flat and dinner in fancy places but I didn’t like to pry. It was none of my business after all. I wondered if she had had a lottery win or something, given what she had said about money earlier.
She insisted on settling the bill without any help from me and I was sad that the night was over. I was feeling more human than I had in days. All the sorrow, the tragedy of Ransley's suicide, the careering escape from Greenleaf, the police on my trail seemed distant and detached as though it had happened in another life time. My soul felt at peace and I had the comforting sense that I was exactly where I was meant to be.
As we were leaving I spotted the young blonde waiter again. He was loitering in the doorway and he watched me intently as we crossed the room. I stared back, certain I knew him. We were almost at the door when he leaned in and spoke to me.
“Cane sends his regards.” he said in a low voice.
I stopped dead, Lilly, who was holding my arm looked at me questioningly.
“What?” I looked at the young boy, I felt angry and I did not know why.
“Cane, he sends you his regards.”
“Who’s Cane?”
The boy looked afraid and he backed away from me. I caught a glance of his name tag. It said ‘Dylan’.
“Dylan, if you know me or know something about me it’s very important that you tell me.”
“Winter, what’s going on? Do you know this kid?”
“I don’t know Lilly, but he knows me.” I gave him a threatening glare.
“It’s not safe to talk, I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“Well you did and you have to talk now.”
“No.” he shook his head and his mop of hair flew about his face, his blue eyes were scared.
I noticed one of the senior staff, a tall man with a black moustache had realised that something was going on and was coming towards us. This wasn’t the time to make a scene.
“Is everything ok?” called the man with the moustache.
“Yes,” I answered, “Everything’s fine, we’re just leaving.”
I took Lily’s arm again.
“Don’t think this is the end of it,” I hissed at Dylan, “Because I know you know something and I going to find out what it is.”
Outside Lilly’s face looked exited, her cheeks where glowing red.
“Wow, that was interesting!” she said, clutching at my arm and staring up at me with shinning eyes.
I couldn’t quite share her enthusiasm, “Irritating more like. Why wouldn’t he talk? It was as though he was scared! And who’s Cane? Is he the dark figure with the top hat?”
“You have to go back,” she said, “Catch him when he’s not in work when no one’s watching, threaten him or something, make him talk.”
“Hmmm…”
“We’ll see my friend tomorrow hopefully anyway,” she reminded me, “Perhaps she can shed some light on all of this.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
"There’s great pain surrounding you, great emotional pain and death, such a strong sense of death like I’ve never felt before, it’s quite remarkable.”
I was sat in comfortable chair in a small, dimly lit room that smelled strongly of jasmine from the incense burning in the far corner. Candles flickered in various holders from every surface, the walls were draped in purple velvet and Lilly was sitting on a small bean bag in the corner watching intently as the old woman, whose she had introduced as Gwen, in the flowing robes stood behind me with her hands hovering just above my head.
“Such a tortured soul, your energies are not like any I’ve ever encountered you have amazing strength of spirit but when I look at your aura all I see is black, darkness, closed doors.”
“Can you help him?” asked Lilly.
Lilly had told her nothing of my story or who I was and had simply introduced me as a friend who needed help. So far the old woman’s reading of me had been quite accurate.
“There’s something that’s concerning me,” she said, “And this might sound a little strange. Maybe It’s me. Maybe I’m just not reading you right, but usually when I’m reading for a person I get strong images of events from their past, with you, no, all I get is blackness. It’s most strange.”
When she walked around in front of me she looked troubled and agitated. Lilly had rose to her feet and they were both standing looking at me like I was some kind of interesting specimen in a biology lab. I felt quite uncomfortable under their scrutiny.
"Winter suffers from amnesia," Lilly confirmed.
“It is very curious,” the psychic spoke in a hushed tone to Lilly as if I was not there at all, “I have worked with people trying to recapture memories, all be it nothing as severe as your friends condition, but usually when someone is suffering memory loss those things they cannot recall are still there only they appear like they are trapped behind a thick fog. Wi
th Winter here it is as if I just ran into a brick wall, a dead end. And there’s something else.”
Lilly seemed to lean in closer and I struggled to hear.
“Have you looked at his hands?”
“What about them?”
“There are no lines on his palms. He has no finger prints. If I didn’t know better I’d say that he did not exist at all before that night in the woods.”
Lilly stifled a nervous laugh and tugged on the string of beads at her throat.
“But that’s impossible, isn’t it…”
Lilly bent down and took my hands, turning them over in hers. She let out a small gasp.
“How could anyone have missed this?” she traced her fingers across my palm and looked at me with concern, “Winter, she's right, there are no lines on your hands.”
“For God’s sake!” I snatched my hands away, “This is such nonsense. Of course I existed before, do you think I just appeared out of thin air? That’s just not possible.”
In truth though, I was quite unnerved. I sat on my hands as if trying to hide some kind of guilty evidence.
“Of course it’s not possible,“ the psychic shrugged, “I did pick up on one other thing though, You might not know it but you have a very strong sixth sense. You’re strongly linked with the spirit world.”
“The Mckenzie poltergeist.” I muttered to myself.
I had hardly noticed that a change had passed across the psychics face. She suddenly looked afraid.
“In fact there’s one here right now,” she said, pulling her red shawl tight around her shoulders as if she were suddenly cold, “There’s somebody standing behind you. I can’t see him clearly but he’s tall, I think he’s wearing a hat, he’s very dark, shadowy.”
I looked over my shoulder. I couldn’t help it. Of course there was nothing there but something was frightening this woman.
“Who is he? What is he doing?” I asked, glancing at Lilly who was still crouched in front of me, she looked confused and concerned.
“He’s just standing behind you with his hands on your shoulders. I don’t like the feeling that goes along with him. I get the impression he’s with you a lot, he can be controlling and harsh, it’s a very unbalanced energy I’m getting from him, he almost seems possessive of you.”
My heart was hammering now. The stillness of the room was unsettling, the psychics blank gaze unnerving, the fear on Lilly’s face just made her more beautiful.
“I’m trying to reach him, to see him more clearly and speak to him but I can’t. He is very distant, not like normal spirits, unreachable. He doesn’t want to communicate with us, nor do I think he can.”
“What does it mean?” I asked, the atmosphere she was building up was starting to get to me.
“It may be that he is not a spirit at all, but is someone who still lives,” she guessed, “Someone who is so close to you that have a spiritual link to him. Cane. His name is Cane.”
She shivered and then her eyes came back into focus as she pulled herself out of the trance. It seemed the air around us lightened somehow and the ominous feeling lifted.
“Is it possible you were seeing one of the people who caused my memory loss? I have brief memories of a dark figure in a hat.”
“Yes, it is possible,” she agreed, “I’m worried for you. I think this person is looking for you ,trying to reach you.”
I glanced again at Lilly, she coaxed my hands out from under me so she could hold them.
“What do you think I should do?” I questioned.
“It’s too early to say. I don’t think you’re in any immediate danger. Try not to worry too much. There’s something about you Winter, something different, you’re a very special person, strong too. Always remember that no matter what happens to you: you’re stronger than you think.”
As we got ourselves together to leave, I caught the psychic giving Lilly a strangely sad look before asking, “Are things going ok with you Lilly?”
It was a perfectly reasonable question but there something about the way she asked it. Her tone seemed loaded with a perceptible hidden meaning, like the question had more depth to it than it first appeared.
“Things are going good.” Lilly gave her a reassuring smile.
“I’ll say a special prayer for you dear.”
When we left the psychic we took a walk up to the ramparts of the castle. I was very quiet as I gazed over the wall and out across the city. The light was just starting to bleed from the day as the red winter sun set and the sky was a wounded pink and awash with the tattered gashes of bloody clouds above the old buildings. A slight breeze was ghosting its way through the trees in the gardens below and the ground was beginning to sparkle with the first signs of the evenings frost. It was a magical city full of history and power. As I breathed in it felt as though I was filling with life and inspiration, being cleansed of my troubles.
“I’m sorry about this afternoon.” came Lilly’s voice from behind me.
“Sorry for what?”
“For all the things my psychic said.”
“Don’t worry.”
I jumped up onto the wall and sat facing her on the cold stone. True some of the things the psychic had said had been unnerving and curious but interesting all the same. Still, I had not really learned anything new. The dark shadow was a concern to me though. Cane. Who was he and why was he so set on hurting me? Was he indeed the one who had caused all of my pain and suffering? I had a feeling the young waiter from the witchery might be withholding valuable information about this individual.
“My God you’re beautiful.”
“What?” that comment was completely unexpected.
Startled from my thoughts I looked at her. She stood a few feet away bathed in the shadowy twilight a few loose strands of hair falling from the heavy hood of her jacket, my pretty little lady just looking at me with huge green eyes.
“Did I say that out loud?” she put her hands to her mouth and looked embarrassed, “It just sort of slipped out.”
“Well thank you anyway.” I laughed, a little embarrassed myself.
“I suppose there’s no harm. I’ve started so I might as well continue,” she said, “I’ve never seen anybody quite like you. I was stunned when I first saw you. Then I was concerned by all the crazy things you said. Now I know your story I like you even more.”
“I’m flattered, really,” I said, “I think you’re beautiful too. But then I guess you already know that.”
She grinned, some of her embarrassment fading.
“I’ve got an idea,” I jumped down from the wall, “I want to go back to Grey friar’s. Not to the Covenanter’s Jail, just to the cemetery itself.”
“You like graveyards huh?”
“I don’t know, it just pulls me to it, I can’t pretend to know why.”
“Ok, come on then.”
She stepped forward and I followed close behind as we made our way down the mound to Caldlemaker Row and the little walled Kirk yard with its ancient monuments to the dead.
It was dark as it had been on the night of the poltergeist but instead of taking a right round to the grand tombs and the jail I took a left around the other side of the church. It was quiet as we wandered among the graves and the skeletal trees, we ourselves were silent for a time, I lost in contemplation as I drank in the feeling of the place. There was something comforting about being in that place, I felt peaceful and protected, just me and Lilly and the restful dead. I was not afraid at all. The Kirk yard by night appealed to my dark and melancholy nature, my soul was soothed by the closeness of death. How strange.
At last I paused and sat down on the grass against a wide stone slab. Lilly was not far off, walking slowly with her arms wrapped around herself, kicking the grass in an absent, childlike way. I watched her for a few moments before she came towards me.
“Doesn’t it make you shiver?” she asked, glancing about.
“No, I like it,” I patted the grass next to me and she sat down, �
�I think this may have been a special place to me at one time.”
“I’m not so sure. It’s a sad place.”
“Sad yes, but lovely all the same. Graveyards are places of love, places were people get one last chance to show the world how much they cared for someone, to have that love preserved forever.”
“Yes, a thing like that really should last forever…”
All of a sudden an uneasy feeling began to creep through me. It started in my toes and slowly coursed its way up my body until my flesh was covered in goose bumps and I broke out in a cold sweat. Sensing my unrest Lilly grabbed my arm and looked at me questioningly.
“I feel like someone’s watching us,” I said quietly, “I can feel eyes on me, looking right through me.”
Lilly stood up quickly and her eyes scanned the Kirk, her head moving rapidly from side to side. I had spooked her but I still had the peculiar sensation that someone was observing but not merely watching; it was as though something were trying to penetrate my thoughts. I was on my feet too now but I could see no one.
“Is someone there?” Lilly called in a shaky voice.
Only the faint whisper of the breeze in the trees for a reply.