by Cross, Amy
And the pain in my waist is starting to really sting now.
“Where are you?” Wallace asks after a moment.
“I'm in a phonebox.”
“Where?”
“It doesn't matter.”
“Give me a street name.”
“No.”
“Are you nearby?”
Yes.
“That doesn't matter.”
“I can trace the call.”
“I'll be gone before you have a chance.”
“You sound upset, Maddie,” he continues, as I hear his footsteps again. From the tone of his voice, he seems to have given up looking for any sign of the woman. “Tell me where you are, and I'll come pick you up. I can take you somewhere for breakfast and we can talk. How does that sound? I won't try to pressure you into going to a shelter, I'll just get you some food and we can talk about what you think you saw.”
“You have to look again!” I say firmly. “There was a woman, she was hurt and bleeding and she -”
“You've told me this already,” he replies, interrupting me. “About ten times.”
“You're not looking properly!” I continue. “Obviously she's wandered off somewhere, but I swear she's real! She's out there and she needs help!”
“With her guts all hollowed out?”
“I know how it sounds, but it's the only explanation!”
I blink, and in that brief dark moment I see her again. Right now, I feel as if she's going to haunt my thoughts forever.
“And she's talking about a baby?” Wallace continues. “That's what you said, isn't it?”
“She asked where her baby was,” I reply. “I think it had been taken from her, like somebody had literally cut it from her belly. Please, you have to keep looking. She has to be there. And if you can't find her, you have to check the hospitals, and the reports about people who've gone missing.”
“You said yourself that she vanished in front of your eyes.”
“She did, but...”
Again my voice trails off, as I try to make sense of it all. A moment later I hear a beeping sound on the line, and I realize I'm running low on credit. Fishing some coins out of my pocket, I slip a few into the slot and the beeping stops. Still, my mind is racing and I can't stop replaying that moment in the alley over and over again. It's not just the sight of the woman's torn body that's staying with me. It's also the sound of her fingernails scraping against her own ribs, and the pungent stench of her bloodied wounds. In every possible way, she seemed so real.
“Maddie,” Wallace says after a moment, “I'm going to level with you here, okay? I'm finding parts of your story very difficult to believe. Have you been reading up on the Jack the Ripper story? The historical one, I mean.”
“No,” I reply, closing my eyes as I feel a throbbing pain in my head. Immediately seeing the woman's face, I open my eyes again. “Why would I do that? How would I even do it?”
“This is Gregson Way,” he continues. “This alley, I mean. Its name is Gregson Way. I knew it sounded familiar when you called me, so I looked it up on my phone.” He pauses for a moment. “Maddie, over a hundred years ago there was a dead body found in this alley, but it was back in 1888. A woman was found here with injuries that are very much like the ones you described.”
“That's impossible,” I reply. “Or it's a coincidence.”
“I checked the files, Maddie. She'd even had a baby taken from her belly, which fits what you told me. The similarities are too striking for it to possibly be a coincidence. I understand it can be difficult to separate fact from fiction sometimes, but maybe you overheard a conversation on the street and somehow it got stuck in your head. Maybe -”
“I'm not crazy!” I yell, sounding crazier than ever. “I'm not,” I add, trying to sound moderate. “I swear! I'm just... I'm not crazy.”
“I didn't say that you're crazy.”
“But you don't believe me.”
I wait, but he doesn't say anything.
“You don't, do you?” I continue, feeling tears in my eyes. “You think I'm out of my mind.”
Again I wait, and again there's only silence on the other end of the line. I don't know what I expected, really. I knew even before I dialed Wallace's number that I was going to sound like I'm off my rocker, but I guess I thought I'd find some way to persuade him. He immediately agreed to go and check out the alley, but now it's clear that he's lost faith in me. I don't blame him at all, and I'm starting to think that calling him was a huge mistake.
“I saw what I saw,” I stammer, mumbling slightly. “She was real. She was right there in front of me.”
“You're not giving me very much to go on. Why don't we meet up somewhere? We can talk face to face. It's too late for me to go to sleep anyway before my next shift, so we can grab a coffee. Several coffees. Really, really strong coffees, and a proper breakfast with eggs and bacon and sausages and hash browns. Seriously, it's on me. And then maybe you can tell me what this is really about.”
“I told you everything,” I reply, but now I can hear my voice trembling. My hands are sweaty, too, as I clutch the phone's dirty receiver. “I don't know what's happening, but I told you what I saw. Every single word of it is true.”
“You saw a dead woman with her belly torn open?”
“She can't have been dead. She stood up.”
“And then she vanished?”
“I can't explain it, but it happened!”
There are more and more tears in my eyes now. I sniff them back, but more are already coming. I feel so helpless, as if the whole world around me is no longer making sense. Maybe I am crazy.
And the pain in my waist is getting a little stronger, and a little more persistent.
“And you're sure you've never heard anything about the woman whose body was found here in 1888?” Wallace continues. He sounds like he's forcing himself to be patient with me. “You've never heard about the murder of Delilah Culpepper? For a while, she was considered to have maybe been a victim of the real Jack the Ripper, but the police at the time eventually decided it was an unrelated killing. There were a lot of those back in the day, these were very violent streets. But you're honestly telling me that you've never heard of her?”
“I have to go,” I tell him, feeling as if my head is about to explode. “I don't know what's happening, but I need to go somewhere and think.”
“Maddie, I'd rather you -”
“I'm sorry.”
“Maddie, wait! I'm worried about -”
“I shouldn't have called you.”
Putting the phone down, I step back and use my shoulder to push the phonebox's door open, and then I stumble out onto the pavement. There are people all around, but I feel strangely disorientated and after a moment I bump against someone. Muttering an apology, I hurry to the street corner, but I quickly bump into someone else and finally I have no choice but to stop and lean against the wall. Someone asks if I'm okay, and I tell them that I am, but somehow my own voice seems to be echoing in my head as I speak. Deep down, I'm starting to feel really queasy.
And all around me, the whole world seems to be spinning slightly.
Touching my forehead, I feel a kind of cold sweat, and I'm genuinely not sure whether I might throw up at any moment. Another voice asks if I'm okay, then another, and I mumble something about being fine as I start walking again. I'm sure I look awful, but I know I'll be good so long as I can get away from people and just hunker down. I need to get over whatever's making me sick, so I slip into another alley and stop again. I need to calm down and gather my thoughts, and then everything will be okay.
I'm fine.
I'm going to be fine.
I can manage.
Feeling another sharp pain in my waist, I reach down and pull my shirt aside. I let out a gasp of shock as soon as I touch the black stitches in my wound. I struggle for a moment with blurred vision, but finally I manage to see properly. The stitches are still in place, but to my horror I realize that the wound it
self is inflamed and swollen, seeping yellowy-red pus that's begun to dribble down to the top of my trousers. I try to wipe the pus away, smearing it against my bare skin, but as I do so I see even more starting to seep out between the stitches. There's some kind of infection and now I feel like my forehead is burning up.
“It's nothing,” I whisper, mainly in an attempt to persuade myself. “It'll go away. It'll all -”
Suddenly my knees buckle and I fall, landing hard on the concrete and letting out a faint groan. I topple over and slam down against my shoulder, and then I close my eyes.
Immediately, I see the haggard, bloodied face of the woman from the alley, but this time she isn't screaming at me. This time, as I slip into unconsciousness, she's laughing.
Coming Soon
CRADLE TO GRAVE
(THE HOUSE OF JACK THE RIPPER BOOK 3)
No longer able to trust what she sees, Maddie wanders London in a daze. The Jack the Ripper copycat is said to have been captured by police, but if that's the case, why does Maddie keep spotting a shadowy figure trailing her every move? Finally, she realizes she has only one option if she ever wants to feel safe again. Meanwhile, in the late nineteenth century, a frustrated Doctor Charles Grazier finds that his latest experiments aren't working. When he makes a horrific discovery, however, he realizes that he might truly be able to bring his wife back from the dead.
Also by Amy Cross
THE ASH HOUSE
Why would anyone ever return to a haunted house?
For Diane Mercer the answer is simple. She's dying of cancer, and she wants to know once and for all whether ghosts are real.
Heading home with her young son, Diane is determined to find out whether the stories are real. After all, everyone else claimed to see and hear strange things in the house over the years. Everyone except Diane had some kind of experience in the house, or in the little ash house in the yard.
As Diane explores the house where she grew up, however, her son is exploring the yard and the forest. And while his mother might be struggling to come to terms with her own impending death, Daniel Mercer is puzzled by fleeting appearances of a strange little girl who seems drawn to the ash house, and by strange, rasping coughs that he keeps hearing at night.
The Ash House is a horror novel about a woman who desperately wants to know what will happen to her when she dies, and about a boy who uncovers the shocking truth about a young girl's murder.
Also by Amy Cross
HAUNTED
Twenty years ago, the ghost of a dead little girl drove Sheriff Michael Blaine to his death.
Now, that same ghost is coming for his daughter.
Returning to the small town where she grew up, Alex Roberts is determined to live a normal, quiet life. For the residents of Railham, however, she's an unwelcome reminder of the town's darkest hour.
Twenty years ago, nine-year-old Mo Garvey was found brutally murdered in a nearby forest. Everyone thinks that Alex's father was responsible, but if the killer was brought to justice, why is the ghost of Mo Garvey still after revenge?
And how far will the real killer go to protect his secret, when Alex starts getting closer to the truth?
Haunted is a horror novel about a woman who has to face her past, about a town that would rather forget, and about a little girl who refuses to let death stand in her way.
Also by Amy Cross
THE BRIDE OF ASHBYRN HOUSE
“I have waited so long for your return.”
In the English countryside, miles from the nearest town, there stands an old stone house. Nobody has set foot in the house for years. Nobody has dared. For it is said that even though the lady of the house is long dead, a face can sometimes be seen at one of the windows. A pale, dead face that waits patiently behind a silk wedding veil.
Seeking an escape from his life in London, Owen Stone purchases Ashbyrn House without waiting to find out about its history. As far as Owen is concerned, ghosts aren't real and his only company in the house will be the thin-legged spiders that lurk on the walls. Even after he moves in, and after he starts hearing strange noises in the night, Owen insists that Ashbyrn House can't possibly be haunted.
But Owen knows nothing about the ghostly figure that is said to haunt the house. Or about the mysterious church bells that ring out across the lawn at night. Or about the terrible fate that befell the house's previous inhabitants when they dared defy the bride. Even as Owen starts to understand the horrific truth about Ashbyrn House's past, he might be too late to escape the clutches of the presence that watches his every move.
The Bride of Ashbyrn House is a ghost story about a man who believes the past can't hurt him, and about a woman whose search for a husband has survived even her own tragic death.
Also by Amy Cross
THE BODY AT AUERCLIFF
“We'll bury her so deep, even her ghost will have a mouth full of dirt!”
When Rebecca Wallace arrives at Auercliff to check on her aged aunt, she's in for a shock. Her aunt's mind is crumbling, and the old woman refuses to let Rebecca stay overnight. And just as she thinks she's starting to understand the truth, Rebecca makes a horrifying discovery in one of the house's many spare rooms.
A dead body. A woman. Old and rotten. And her aunt insists she has no idea where it came from.
The truth lies buried in the past. For generations, the occupants of Auercliff have been tormented by the repercussions of a horrific secret. And somehow everything seems to be centered upon the mausoleum in the house's ground, where every member of the family is entombed once they die.
Whose body was left to rot in one of the house's rooms? Why have successive generations of the family been plagued by a persistent scratching sound? And what really happened to Rebecca many years ago, when she found herself locked inside the Auercliff mausoleum?
The Body at Auercliff is a horror story about a family and a house, and about the refusal of the past to stay buried.
OTHER BOOKS
BY AMY CROSS INCLUDE
Horror
The Soul Auction
The Ash House
The Camera Man
The Bride of Ashbyrn House
The Body at Auercliff
Haunted
B&B
Laura
Asylum
Meds (Asylum 2)
Annie's Room
The Farm
The Ghost of Molly Holt
The Curse of Wetherley House
The Ghosts of Lakeforth Hotel
The Haunting of Blackwych Grange
The Ghosts of Hexley Airport
The Devil, the Witch and the Whore (The Deal book 1)
Darper Danver: The Complete First Series
The Disappearance of Katie Wren
The Horror of Devil's Root Lake
The Printer From Hell
The Nurse
American Coven
Eli's Town
The Night Girl
Devil's Briar
The Cabin
After the Cabin
Last Wrong Turn
The Ghost of Shapley Hall
A House in London
The Blood House
The Priest Hole (Nykolas Freeman book 1)
Battlefield (Nykolas Freeman book 2)
The Border
Short Story Collections
Perfect Little Monsters and Other Stories
Twisted Little Things and Other Stories
The Ghost of Longthorn Manor and Other Stories
The Vampire of Downing Street and Other Stories
Thrillers
The Murder at Skellin Cottage (Jo Mason book 1)
The Return of Rachel Stone (Jo Mason book 2)
The Girl Who Never Came Back
Other People's Bodies
Dystopian / Science Fiction
The Dog
The Island (The Island book 1)
Persona (The Island book 2)
The Abyss (The Island book 3)
Cross, Amy, In Darkness Dwell