In Darkness, Shadows Breathe

by Catherine Cavendish

  I turn back a few pages and find the poem I was working on yesterday. Was it only yesterday? It seems longer ago somehow, but I’ve only been here a short while. I never thought I would work in a place like this. An asylum for heaven’s sake!

  I am not supposed to be writing in this diary, I am supposed to be reckoning figures. Income and expenditure for the past month. All these receipts. Each one must be entered and tallied. Any shortfall will have to be accounted for.

  The doctor gets up and leaves without saying one word to me. He is like that. Most of the time he barely acknowledges my existence. It is a strange place, this building. So much whispering and I can never see who is speaking. Most of it is in the walls. I hear odd sounds. Like machinery, but none I can recognize. Sometimes I think I see shadowy people. Women dressed like men with thin trousers and matching shirts. Others are dressed like doctors. And the lights. They are so bright, sometimes they dazzle me with their brilliance.

  In a couple of months none of this will matter anyway, for I am to be married to the awful Roger Carmody. I can’t abide him, but Mama says I must. He wants to marry me and he has money. I should be grateful she says. I, Lydia Warren, am most fortunate he still wants to marry me after the disgrace my father brought to us. Married to Roger, I will never have to turn my hand to work ever again. Mama has secured herself a position, her needlework skills being put to use working for a high-class milliner. She used to buy her hats there before Papa gambled everything away and left us penniless. I know I should not think such a wicked thought, but I am almost glad he killed himself. The strychnine did what I wanted to do myself. I have these peculiar rushes of excitement when I think what I would have done to him. It is as if something triggers in my brain. An odd sort of pulse. I would have used a knife probably and plunged it into his worthless, feckless heart, but he settled for the strychnine. The ferocity of my thoughts frightens me sometimes. It is as if I am experiencing the passion of another who shares my body.

  Papa left Mama virtually destitute. I fear for her eyesight as she works so long into the night, producing tiny, perfect stitches for rich society women to ignore. Sometimes I want to kill them too.

  I have just looked back at what I wrote at the beginning of this entry and it makes no sense to me. It is as if someone else wrote it. Someone who would feel at home living deep within these walls in the company of the other strange people and things.

  I must finish my work for today now or he will be after me.

  Maybe I will write more tomorrow.’

  Paul Tremaine closed the battered diary and returned it to Joanna. She took it from him.

  “Where did you find it?” he asked.

  “In the apartment where Carol was living. I still had the spare keys, so I thought I would have a look for anything that might give us an inkling of where she may have gone or a clue as to what’s happened to Nessa. This was tucked away at the back of a drawer in the bedroom. I’m not even sure who it belongs to. I asked Adele – she and her husband are the owners of the flat – but she said it wasn’t theirs, so I suppose it must be Carol’s, but it doesn’t fit somehow and surely she would have mentioned it to me…. Ah well. Another mystery. I’d better get going.” She stood and Paul showed her to the door. Joanna put her hand on his shoulder. “Take care of yourself, Paul. Let me know if…when you get any news.”

  Paul nodded. His own welfare was the last thing on his mind and as for news….

  After he closed the door, he angrily wiped yet more tears from his eyes and moved over to the window. Outside, a stiff wind was whipping up the sea. White horses. Nessa loved watching this kind of weather. She had chosen this apartment for the view alone.

  “Where are you, Nessa?”

  The doorbell buzzed.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Oh my God, Nessa. It’s really you.” His wife half fell into his arms. He drew her inside and closed the door. She leaned on him until they were safely in the living room and he deposited her on the settee.

  “What happened to you? I’ve been going out of my mind.”

  Nessa’s clear eyes met his. Considering she had been missing, God knows where, for two days, she looked remarkably well. Almost youthful, and rejuvenated.

  She smiled at him. “I can’t tell you because it’s all hazy, but the important thing is that I’m back and I’m stronger than before.”

  “You don’t remember where you’ve been? Not any of it?” How could she have forgotten?

  Nessa shrugged. “I’m more settled now. Isn’t that the most important thing?”

  She certainly seemed calm, but there was something different about her. Paul tried to quash the uncertainty. He was looking at his wife. This was Nessa, who had been through so many life-changing ordeals recently. It was bound to have a lasting effect on her.

  “Have you eaten, or slept?”

  Nessa nodded. “I think so. I’m not hungry and I don’t feel tired, but I would like a shower.” She stood and Paul watched her walk steadily out of the living room, with no trace of the stumbling gait of a few minutes earlier.

  He heard the noise of the shower running and called the police.

  * * *

  Nessa combed her hair and examined herself in the mirror. She blinked and a flash of vermilion reflected back at her. She smiled and part of her enjoyed the sensation of seeing the world through new eyes. The eyes of the One and the Many. The eyes of Agnes, daughter of Lydia and Roger Carmody, who was daughter too of the spirit that chose them. Agnes, who lived in every generation and every century and who could take the form of another. At once the innocent child, holding out the hand of friendship, only to transform into Hester, the handmaiden to her real devil mother.

  Reflected in the mirror, the eyes of all who had gone before and all who would come in the future looked out, as time – never linear – looped and curled over itself in sinuous waves. Together they formed the One and the Many as she – and they – raised their silent voices in unison.

  How strong we are. Together we shall continue to grow, for all eternity.

  * * *

  On the beach, the woman stopped in her tracks. The wind whistled off the sea bringing salty grittiness that coated her dry lips. She stared across at the apartment block, a slight smile on her face. Her life, and that of the devil who had shared her body for a time, passed through her mind. A series of snapshots and short movies. Of murder, suicide, retribution. Jonah, the Sinclairs’ rapist son. She had killed him all right. He lay, where she left him, for fifty years. Maybe more. Until the site was cleared and his chained-up skeleton found. One more unsolved murder.

  She knew the real Carol Shaughnessy didn’t exist. Hadn’t existed for over a century. Not since Oliver Franklyn and Arabella Marsden had killed her, in the name of the One and the Many. Carol should have been the perfect host – an empty vessel for the spirit to fill with hatred, lust for vengeance and sheer evil, but Franklyn and Marsden had said her brain was too damaged. It was because nothing real existed within her anymore. They had seen to that. Their incessant quest to find the source of the soul had been successful, but they had gone too far and destroyed it.

  So the spirit had moved on to Nessa’s body and now Carol could no longer exist in any form in this time and space. As she looked down at her hands, she could see them fading, taking on a semi-transparent, granular appearance.

  In this time, she only lived in some small memories possessed by other people. For now, they had recollections of her touching them briefly before passing through their lives. Soon those memories would fade until they wouldn’t even remember her name. In that way time healed itself.

  Someone was looking down at her through the window of Nessa’s apartment. Paul Tremaine. He wouldn’t see her of course. There was no longer any need for anyone to see her. She wished she could help him, but no one could. He alone would have to fight the devil in his home.


  A shape moved into her line of vision. An elderly woman. There was something familiar about her…. A flash of memory. In this time, in a supermarket. The woman dropping her money all over the floor. Carol had helped her. The woman had been grateful…tried to give her cash…and then another piece of her life’s jigsaw slotted into place and she recognized the entity that had been with her all her life. Her familiar. Not powerful enough to ward off the One and the Many but here for her now.

  The familiar shimmered and nodded, raised a hand and beckoned to Carol. “It’s time….”

  Carol turned into the wind, felt it whip across her face one last time. She smiled and gave herself up to it, becoming one with the grains of sand on the beach and the salt in the air.

  Acknowledgments

  It is fair to say this book would not even exist without the inspiration of friend and fellow Flame Tree author Hunter Shea. His incredible novel, Creature, gave me the courage to confront some of my own demons, which I then handed to poor old Nessa to deal with.

  My eternal thanks and admiration go to the (British) National Health Service (NHS), without whom this book would not exist, because neither would I. I am forever indebted to the amazing skill, expertise and care of the team of oncologists, specialist nursing and support staff at Liverpool Women’s Hospital, the radiographers and everyone at Clatterbridge Cancer Centre – and everyone at Broad Green Hospital who successfully operated and steered me through a further battle (one which Nessa escaped. I thought she’d suffered enough!).

  I also want to say a huge ‘thank you’ to the Macmillan Cancer Nurses (macmillan.org.uk) who provided me with such vital support. They are too often the unsung heroes, work so hard and see us at our worst.

  Going through cancer is a team effort and my husband, Colin, was there with me every step of the way. Thank you so much for your love and support, Colin. In some ways, it is harder for those who have to watch their loved ones suffer. For them, there’s such a feeling of helplessness, which the patient doesn’t experience in the same way. We have our medical team keeping us busy.

  Julie Bridson and Flora Macdonald – friends and former colleagues from the University of Liverpool’s School of Health Sciences – supported me with their friendship and their own medical expertise for which I am ever grateful.

  This was not an easy book to write – for a number of reasons – and, thankfully, Julia Kavan was there, as always, homing in on the impossible, the inconsistent, the farfetched and the incongruent. As I always say, every writer needs a Julia!

  Massive thanks to Don D’Auria for his faith in me, his knowledge, expertise and legendary editorial skills. Where would the horror genre be without you, Don? I dread to think.

  To everyone at Flame Tree – you are brilliant to work with, so supportive and professional. It is a privilege and an honor to be included on your roster.

  And to you, reading this book, thank you for spending time with me. I hope you’ll come back and join me on another adventure into the darkness….

  About this book

  This is a FLAME TREE PRESS BOOK

  Text copyright © 2020 Catherine Cavendish

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  FLAME TREE PRESS, 6 Melbray Mews, London, SW6 3NS, UK, flametreepress.com

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Thanks to the Flame Tree Press team, including: Taylor Bentley, Frances Bodiam, Federica Ciaravella, Don D’Auria, Chris Herbert, Josie Karani, Molly Rosevear, Mike Spender, Cat Taylor, Maria Tissot, Nick Wells, Gillian Whitaker. The cover is created by Flame Tree Studio with thanks to Nik Keevil and Shutterstock.com.

  FLAME TREE PRESS is an imprint of Flame Tree Publishing Ltd. flametreepublishing.com. A copy of the CIP data for this book is available from the British Library and the Library of Congress.

  HB ISBN: 978-1-78758-553-9 • US PB ISBN: 978-1-78758-551-5

  UK PB ISBN: 978-1-78758-552-2 • ebook ISBN: 978-1-78758-554-6

  Created in London and New York

  FLAME TREE PRESS

  FICTION WITHOUT FRONTIERS

  Award-Winning Authors & Original Voices

  Flame Tree Press is the trade fiction imprint of Flame Tree Publishing, focusing on excellent writing in horror and the supernatural, crime and mystery, science fiction and fantasy. Our aim is to explore beyond the boundaries of the everyday, with tales from both award-winning authors and original voices.

  New bestselling titles: The Wise Friend by Ramsey Campbell and Mondo Crimson by Andrew Post.

  Other titles available include:

  Snowball by Gregory Bastianelli, Thirteen Days by Sunset Beach by Ramsey Campbell, Think Yourself Lucky by Ramsey Campbell, The Hungry Moon by Ramsey Campbell, The Influence by Ramsey Campbell, The House by the Cemetery by John Everson, The Devil’s Equinox by John Everson, Hellrider by JG Faherty, The Toy Thief by D.W. Gillespie, One By One by D.W. Gillespie, Black Wings by Megan Hart, The Playing Card Killer by Russell James, The Siren and the Specter by Jonathan Janz, The Sorrows by Jonathan Janz, Castle of Sorrows by Jonathan Janz, The Dark Game by Jonathan Janz, House of Skin by Jonathan Janz, Will Haunt You by Brian Kirk, We Are Monsters by Brian Kirk, Hearthstone Cottage by Frazer Lee, Those Who Came Before by J.H. Moncrieff, Stoker’s Wilde by Steven Hopstaken & Melissa Prusi, Creature by Hunter Shea, Ghost Mine by Hunter Shea, Slash by Hunter Shea, The Mouth of the Dark by Tim Waggoner, They Kill by Tim Waggoner

  Join our mailing list for free short stories, new release details, news about our authors and special promotions:

  flametreepress.com

  Further Information

  If you liked this book please leave a review on Amazon, Goodreads or anywhere you normally purchase your ebooks. It’s a big help to our authors and their fantastic work.

  Thank you