The fuggy atmosphere clung to his nose. The bed was unmade with twisted sheets curled and hanging from the mattress. Clothes were strewn around the room. Dirty plates, with days old food, were scattered about the floor. No wonder they’d been running low on crockery in the kitchen. Dennis had even resorted to using paper plates recently. An ashtray overflowed on a desk littered with papers and more clothes. He’d been smoking in there. A clear infringement on house rules. Dennis detested the smell of cigarettes ever since he’d given them up five years ago. Besides they cost so much now, and with such little tobacco content, their appeal lacked.
He stepped into the room, careful not to stand on any of the plates or clothes and pulled the curtains open slightly. If he was really going to search the man’s room for the cash he was owed, he needed to be quick about it. Light would help.
The chest of drawers by the wardrobe held nothing of interest: a few pairs of socks, some pants. Hanging in the wardrobe, a few shirts and a single jumper. And then, just as he was about to close the wardrobe and check elsewhere, he saw something. A dark blue shirt scrumpled and left at the bottom of the wardrobe and as he reached for it, he knew it was his. He pulled it out and let the garment fall straight in his hands.
What the hell?
Alex had been pinching stuff from his room. Here he was, concerned about even taking a peek inside his lodger’s bedroom despite it being his house, and yet the bloody thief hadn’t thought twice about stealing from him.
His heart raced. What else had the man taken? Quickly, dispensing any attempt at subtlety, he searched the room, kicking aside the clothes strewn on the floor to see what lurked beneath. But, after a few minutes, he was tired and less angry. He sat on the bed, and looked up at the wall, wondering if he’d build up the courage for a confrontation.
No, he didn’t think he would. He’d talk to him, though. Explain that he needed the rent money and ask if there was any problem in getting hold of it. He didn’t even know where the man worked. He went out every day, but he was so private about his daily activities that it wouldn’t surprise Dennis if he were to discover the man spent all his hours in the bookies. That would explain why there was always a shortfall of rent.
And he would have left it at that if his foot hadn’t kicked against the bag poking out from under the bed. Hidden by a valance sheet, Dennis hadn’t noticed it, nor thought to look under the bed until then. But, as soon as he found it, he dropped to his knees and dragged the bag out. Heavy considering its size, and robust too. A thick black almost military-type material, tough and rugged.
He unzipped the bag and pulled the sides of the bag apart so he could see inside.
An object sat on top of a selection of tools and bits of electronic equipment that Dennis failed to identify. It looked like a weapon with two metal prongs protruding from the overly large muzzle. He didn’t need it explaining that this was some kind of stun gun. What kind of work did his lodger do? And underneath that, some kind of Halloween mask; a devil. Dennis wanted to get out of the room, his heart was beating away, making the blood rushing up around his head sound so loud. He knew one thing; he wanted Alex gone. No way was he having this kind of thing in his house.
But there was something else in the bag. Incongruous due to the material it had been made from. A small wooden box with intricate carvings covering its surface. He picked it up carefully, knowing that something that had been crafted with such care deserved respect.
He didn’t think he’d ever seen anything like this.
A small catch on the front was all that secured the lid. He thumbed it and lifted the lid.
And almost dropped it at the sight of two eyes staring back up at him.
The sight scared him so much that he hadn’t heard the footsteps coming up behind him.
“What are you doing in my room?”
Saturday, 4 May 2115
Lavina Wei Remnant
And standing in the doorway was the devil.
A man in black with a mask. I screamed. The shriek echoed along the corridor and the man stood there and glared at me across the empty space.
My heart pounded.Gasping for breath, I turned and ran, finding the will to make my legs move, but even that simple act seemed complicated, uncoordinated. I ran like a clumsy toddler, reaching for the walls to help keep me upright, and then the bannister was before me. I clutched it, my foot hit the first step and I could see the front door—an escape. But, my coordination betrayed me and I slipped.
The first step cost me dearly. My foot twisted sideways and a muscle screamed in pain. Balance gone, gravity tore at my body and pulled me forwards. My forehead smacked against the wall, and my arms instinctively reached out to grab anything that would stop my momentum. For a moment, my fingertips brushed the bannister but my speed was such, that it wasn’t enough to prevent my falling.
I might have passed out.
Disorientated, I glanced around at my surroundings. Every limb ached. As I put my arms out to take my weight, I realised something was wrong with my right arm. Nerves shot warning blasts and I howled with pain and frustration. How could this be happening? Everything was fine a few minutes ago and now I was running for my life away from an intruder.
Expecting the man to be upon me in seconds, I struggled to my feet, being careful not to put any weight on my damaged limb. My face wet with tears now. It hurt to see; my vision blurred.
The front door was close. I could make this. A few metres and I’d be outside and safe. I tried to move. Pain fired across my chest and I winced at every breath I took. A cracked rib.
Gripping my side, I hurried for the front door. Several times I checked behind me, expecting to see the intruder bearing down on me, but either I was lucky or he had other plans.
The door wouldn’t open. I rattled the handle and yanked, yelping at the pain from my chest as I exerted.
“Butler, open the door,” I said. But, the door remained steadfastly shut. “Butler, please just open the door.”
Turning, I swiped across my HALO and made a call.
“Nikoli, there’s someone in the house. He wants to kill me. I need—”
Darkness fell inside the house as the lights extinguished. I hung up the call.
Listening intently for any sign that I was no longer alone downstairs, I started to cross the hallway. The back patio doors were on the other side of the dining area. Not far at all. I could make this. But every step I took, came at the cost of another stab of pain from my chest and a reminder I was defenceless.
Footsteps behind me, coming down the stairs. Slow and steady. The footsteps of a man with all the time in the world. Afraid of nothing and no one, those footsteps struck like a hammer against my nerves.
Spurred on, I reached the dining room table and gasped as I twisted my body a little too far to check behind me. It wasn’t just the pain now, there was a lack of breath and a dizziness to add to my woes. I didn’t think I would get as far as the patio doors, but even if I did, and against all odds make it outside, what next? Injured and gasping for breath with every step, I was in no state to make it over the wall. The neighbours weren’t going to hear my attempts to scream—hell, I didn’t think I had enough breath left in me to get a half-decent scream out.
Footsteps downstairs now. The shadows blurred and changed position; objects I thought I knew weren’t where they should be. The house wasn’t my house. Stress and adrenaline were confusing my perspectives. I closed my eyes, refusing to trust what they told me and concentrated. Panic was costing me precious air and clouding my senses. I needed to lift that fog by giving myself a second of calm.
I heard the man’s breathing behind the mask. He was closer than I’d realised. The noise ripped shivers from my skin and I almost gave up then. Oh god, did I ever want to give up. But, I didn’t stop. I wanted to live. I reached the kitchen counter and edged my way around until I got to the drawer I needed. My hand gripped a knife, and I slid it out, holding it in front of me, wielding it like an Amazonian war
rior. Six inches of sharpened steel in my possession and my whole attitude changed to one of defiance.
A noise from behind and I spun, knife out, slicing through the air.
The devil grinned. Its mask stretched over the wearer’s features in a sickening grimace. I slashed, senses on fire as I drove forward my attack, determined to force him back. But he was fast and always one step away from my blade.
My heart’s crashing against my ribs. Oh God, help me. This is punishment for not acting on Nikoli’s infidelity. With perfect irony he was out there now with his little strumpet not having a clue that I’m in trouble.
The footsteps came from behind and I spun to face the man who’d broken into my house. What did he want? He’d been upstairs in Nikoli’s office, not in my room hunting for jewellery. As far as burglars went, he was proving himself inept.
The man in the devil mask stood immobile, a couple of metres away. I hid the knife I’d taken from the block in the folds of my dress by my side and edged backwards several more paces. If I could get to the back door, I might open it before he did whatever it was he wanted to do to me. Something crawled in my stomach, and I had the urge to be sick. If he lay a hand on me, I was going to stab him. I didn’t doubt that I could do it.
“What do you want?” I asked.
He spoke with a monotone. Emotion lost. “You’re his wife.”
“Get out of my house. He’s on his way home. The police are coming.”
“Your Butler system is down. Your HALO blanketed. No one’s coming.”
I gripped the knife handle tight, running my index finger over the edge of the blade, wondering when the last time had been that I’d sharpened the thing. “You’ve gone to a lot of trouble.” My voice trembled and I hated myself for it.
His was almost inhuman. “Get me into his safe and I’ll let you live.”
“I don’t know how.”
“Then you’re no good to me.”
A hand gripped my knife arm. Fingers like talons curled around my flesh and I howled in pain at the burning touch. Tears ran down my cheeks as I tried to pull away but the strength in that arm was unlike anything I’d known. I twisted and yanked at my limb but it would never be enough against this man.
He pulled me close then spoke two words. Two words that confused me and made me hesitate.
I stared in terror. The intruder twisted me around so the kitchen counter was against my back, pulled at my arm to ensure I complied. Now trapped, I could do nothing as the man brought a hand up to my throat and gripped it tight, squeezing.
But, I still had the knife. I swung it through the air and it caught the intruder’s arm. He howled in surprise and struck me across the face with his fist. I fell to the floor and looked up at the man, his mask now dislodged.
“Please,” I whimpered. “I don’t want to die.”
I looked up at his cold merciless eyes and knew I was tasting my last breath.
2:15 AM
A scream ripped through his dream and Jack woke to find himself in his bed in Anna’s apartment, the images from the recall already fading. The room was dark but quickly a light appeared under the crack of his door and he heard someone shuffling about on the mezzanine layer of the apartment.
As ever, the sudden switch in perspectives made Jack want to throw up, so he lay there a moment, listening to the noises around him and focusing on his breathing. He felt light-headed like someone had shuffled things around in his head. Knowing it would be a bad idea to fall back asleep, he sat up and placed his bare feet on the floor.
Lavinia Wei’s murderer was the same man who’d killed Keeley. There was no mistaking that face.
Cautiously, he stepped out of his bedroom and onto the mezzanine. The apartment was lit with a subtle glow from panels buried in the walls and ceiling. He heard movement in the kitchen and headed downstairs. A momentary flash of Lavinia’s memory hit him and he stumbled and almost missed the next step. Anna’s face appeared, looking up at him. “You OK?”
“No. Not really.”
“Come down, I’m making coffee. Tell me what’s up.”
He went downstairs and sat on an armchair looking out through the windows across the Mersey.
“I’m sorry for waking you,” Anna said as she placed a mug of coffee on the table in front of him. “Is everything OK? You look…”
“I had another recall. An unplanned one.”
“Ah.”
“What do you mean—’ah’?” he asked. Anna, who’d been Jack’s mentor during training, knew pretty much everything there was to know about memory retrieval. “You’re not meant to still have that eye in. Especially not go to sleep with it in. I’m not surprised that you saw something.”
“It was the rest of Lavinia Wei’s memory. Picked up from where I’d been interrupted yesterday.”
Anna shook her head. “That’s not very likely.”
“And that’s not the half of it. The man who killed Keeley also killed Lavinia Wei.”
At this she hesitated. Eventually, she said, “Are you sure?”
Jack nodded. “It was him.” He didn’t think the man’s face would ever be gone from his memory. “I only wanted to sleep, but her memories came anyway. I could have stayed in there longer, almost like the memory…” Jack trailed off, realising how stupid the words sounded.
“Like the memory was guiding you?”
Jack nodded and looked at her properly. Middle-of-the-night Anna looked nothing like her usual professional persona. Her hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, and her lack of make-up gave her a softer edge that he preferred. Thin laughter lines, usually so well hidden, tickled the edges of her eyes.
“You’re anthropomorphising a set of chemical responses. It’ll be nothing more than a combination of your high stress level and keeping the eye in your head for so long. It’s not normal.”
Not normal no, but sometimes necessary. Every recall was unique, some memories needed more coaxing than others and it might take a keeper hours, or even days before a stable connection was made. The longer and more practised the keeper was, though, the less time it took. It had been months since Jack had needed anything longer than a couple of hours.
“I really think we should get that taken out,” she said.
“No. There’s more here. Don’t you understand? This proves the man who killed Keeley was behind the Wei’s murders. That’s why he came for me. He was trying to destroy evidence.”
“There might be another explanation. You’ve gone through a massive trauma, still grieving. Your memories could be getting tangled with the recall.”
“Does that happen?”
“Your case is unique, as far as I know, but OsMiTech has seen that where remnant keepers attempt to recall over prolonged periods, elements of noise like this can creep in.”
Jack watched her, wondering what else she’d chosen not to tell him.
“It didn’t feel like that, though. What I saw felt genuine.”
“And why wouldn’t it? Your brain is interpreting all the signals it’s receiving. Piecing them together in whatever way makes sense.”
“But this makes sense doesn’t it?” Jack urged. “I’m not talking about some random events. There’s a valid pattern of cause and effect. This makes sense.” He sipped his coffee but it was still far too hot. “I want access to the Wei’s case file.”
Anna shook her head. “And that’s not going to happen. You’ve got one job to do and you’ve done it. Don’t even attempt to interfere with a police investigation.”
Jack stared at her and wondered why she was being so unsympathetic. Couldn’t she see he needed to do more to catch Keeley’s killer. This was a lead. It connected the murders. The police would want to know.
“File the report, Jack, then move on. Let OsMiTech take the eye and get on with your life.”
“My life? What have I got left?” It needed no more consideration. Jack shook his head. “I’m keeping this in here until they’ve caught the killer.”
; Anna stared out of the window. “Whatever, Jack. But, for what it’s worth, I think you’re making a mistake.”
That was when Jack realised that her eyes were puffy. “Are you OK?” he asked.
“Of course.”
Jack didn’t need to read her mind to know that she was lying.
Then a stray thought came back to him. The scream that had pulled him out of the recall; the reason that Anna was up and about in the middle of the night.
“Did I wake you?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Honestly, I’m fine.”
“Did you have the dream?”
Anna’s expression tightened. The edges of her mouth dipped and her shoulders stiffened. Time seemed to freeze them for a moment. “No,” she replied finally, “I often have trouble sleeping. It’s the coffee substitute.”
“You saw the tree.”
“No.”
“How many times?”
“You’re wrong Jack, so back off. Jesus.” She played with the end of her ponytail that rested on her shoulder and refused to meet his gaze. “Christ, you’ve been through plenty. I’m here for you, I’m glad that I can help you in some small way, but don’t ever presume to know me.”
She took her mug and got off the couch, taking it with her upstairs before slamming her bedroom door closed.
10:05 AM
Jack woke on the couch; a blanket had been placed loosely on top of him. His muscles ached in so many places. Bruising from the attack at his house, and now muscles resting in ways they weren’t designed to. When he looked around, he got a sharp stabbing pain in the back of his neck. He was too old for this. Too old for sleeping on sofas. He’d caught sight of his face last night as he’d cleaned himself up. It was a face he barely recognised. Older, harder.
The apartment was deserted. He called up to Anna’s bedroom, but she didn’t answer, then he noticed that her briefcase and coat were missing and presumed she’d gone out. A note on the kitchen counter confirmed it and suggested he rest up, make breakfast and try not to worry. He showered, enjoying the hot water hitting his body, then got dressed.
The Remnant Keeper (Tombs Rising Book 1) Page 7