Jo had told him all about herself and about the gift she had. At the time, when they were full of food and wine and in the afterglow of sex, it seemed perfectly plausible. Jo was still Jo, she was just… plus, he supposed. She was more than the Jo he knew, she had a gift, or curse. But as time went on, Byrd was beginning to feel it was a curse. Yes, a curse. It was something he just couldn’t deal with.
As a result he’d starting avoiding her at work. Sometimes he caught sight of her sadness at what might have been. It was in her eyes. Her pain was almost the undoing of him, but he hardened his heart against her. Felt that life would be better without her.
But that decision had taken him into the coldness of a life without Jo in it.
He awoke with a start.
The bed clothes were in a heap by his feet. He was shivering. That must have been why he was cold. Why the plunging temperature had invaded his dream, then woken him up. He pulled the duvet back over him and burrowed down into its warmth. He was immediately asleep again.
He luxuriated in the heat. The sun was shining. He wasn’t alone. Jo was with him. She was smiling. They were sitting outside in the park, having a picnic. He basked in the warmth of the weather and the company.
Jo laughed at something he’d said, and he lent forward and kissed her. She kissed him back with an urgency that matched his own. Both agreeing to leave, they piled their stuff into the car and raced back to his flat. Jo had transformed his dull, dank space into a small, but welcoming apartment. Just her mere presence had done most of it. They ran through the door and collapsed on the bed, resuming their earlier intimacy.
He drifted off into a post coital, dreamless sleep.
But it was Judith who woke him, not Jo. Judith? He cast around for her but couldn’t find her. He noticed he was still in bed. Why was she in his flat? Where had she gone? ‘Judith?’ he asked.
‘Hey, Byrd,’ she said, making Byrd jump. She had appeared in the mirror opposite his bed. ‘So what do you think of my dream?’
‘Sorry?’
This was a surreal conversation. Judith was dead. Why could he see her in the mirror? How was that even possible? What the hell was going on? Byrd began to shiver. Only this time, it was from fear.
‘Which scenario do you prefer, Byrd?’
‘Eh?’
‘Without Jo. Or with Jo. A life of coldness, or a life of sunshine?’
He didn’t need to think about the answer to that question. ‘A life of sunshine, obviously,’ he chose.
‘So are you happy to accept her for what she is? Who she is? Are you going to celebrate her gift, or hate her for it? The choice is yours. Make sure it’s the right one.’
Byrd awoke, sweat pouring from him. Did Judith just appear to him in a dream? Whatever had just happened had frightened him. Made him feel like he’d just had a visit from Marley’s ghost. He could hear chains clanking in the distance as the apparition walked away. The way Judith had talked, it was an easy decision to make about his future. He didn’t want a life without Jo. He wanted the sunshine. The happiness. He wanted her. So he’d just have to accept her, warts and all. Wouldn’t he?
But was it necessary to frighten him into a decision? Really? Who would do such a thing?
He felt a breath on the back of his neck and a shiver down his spine. He looked at his arms and the hairs there were all standing on end.
‘It’s okay, Judith, I’ll make my peace with Jo.’
Then he wondered what the hell he was doing talking to an empty room. But it wasn’t empty was it? He could feel a change in the air, in the atmosphere, as though he wasn’t the only one in the flat. He got out of bed and dressed just in his boxers, walked to the bedroom door. He held his breath. Who was there? He couldn’t see any light under the door, but he eased it open just the same. His bedroom was at the end of a corridor that ran along the length of the flat. He had to walk along it to get to the lounge, so that’s what he did. He found himself inching along the wall, back and hands touching the plaster, anchoring him to the here and now. His emotions were skittering all over the place and he shivered. It was becoming harder and harder to put one foot in front of the other as the dread mounted in him and flowed through his veins like molten lead.
He turned right at the end of the hallway into the lounge. As he did, he caught sight of Judith, just out of the corner of his eye, reflected in the mirror over the fireplace. In an instant she was gone and he thought she’d fled into the hall and out through the front door. But that wasn’t possible. The front door was shut and locked. Had she walked through it? His legs buckled and he hit the floor.
Staying where he sat with his back to the wall, he tried to examine himself. Could he feel his limbs, fingers and toes? Yes. Could he straighten his legs? Yes. Could he see and hear okay? Yes.
Then what the hell had he just seen. It must have been a figment of his imagination. Because he’d been dreaming of Judith. Nothing more than that. His eyes and brain playing tricks on him. Taking deep breaths, he noticed it was 6.30 am. There was no need to go back to bed where he’d just play what had happened over and over in his mind. He’d turn on the TV for company and make a pot of strong coffee. That should banish all thoughts of ghosts and visitations. But his legs still trembled, and his hands shook as he stood and walked to the kitchen.
Chapter 12
3 months ago…
The following day Abbey pushed through the door of her favourite charity shop and saw that Edith, who helped her buy the sewing machine all those months ago, was behind the counter. Pleased to see a friendly face, Abbey told Edith that she desperately needed help, but didn’t have anyone to turn to. She was on the hunt for a talented seamstress, but had had no luck finding anyone so far, at least no one who would work for the little money Abbey was able to pay. Did Edith know of anyone?
‘What sort of thing would you want someone to do?’ Edith asked and Abbey noticed the woman’s eyes seemed to be dancing with interest.
‘Well it could be either altering clothes or making new ones from scratch. Just following my designs really. I would do all the creative work while the baby is little, if someone else could then take over and produce the clothes.’
All the while Edith’s smile had been getting wider. ‘I could help you,’ she offered.
‘Really?’ Jo said looking at Edith, who to her looked about a 100 years old.
‘Oh yes, I’d be glad to. I’ve always made my own clothes. Mother was a seamstress and I followed her into the profession. I only volunteer at the shop because I’m retired, and it gives me something to do. But I’d be glad to help. I can pop backwards and forward to you and work on the garments at home.’
Abbey was still doubtful. ‘I can’t ask that of you, Edith. You should be enjoying your retirement, not slaving away over a hot sewing machine!’
Edith laughed. ‘I’m not as old as I look and I’m pretty robust you know. If it makes you feel better, I’ll stop volunteering in the shop, so I’m not overreaching myself. Go on, Abbey, help me feel wanted and useful again. It’s so exciting to see you doing so well and I’d love to be a part of that.’
Put like that how could Abbey refuse? The suggestion seemed ideal. But there was still a small nagging doubt that perhaps Edith’s offer was too good to be true. Aware that Edith was still looking at her, waiting for her answer, and frankly as she had no other options, Abbey nodded. ‘Thank you, Edith. It sounds ideal. Shall we have a coffee to celebrate?’
Edith clasped her hands together and clapped her fingers. ‘Oh, goody, that’s perfect. Thank you so much, Abbey. I won’t let you down I promise. Now, just let me get my coat, it’s time for my break anyway, but this is my treat, my way of saying thank you.’
As Edith toddled off to the private area where the donations were sorted and priced, Abbey hoped to God she’d made the right choice. She didn’t want to be responsible for Edith as well as the baby, should things go pear shaped. There was that glass half full thing again, Abbey admonished herself. N
othing was going to go wrong she hoped, rubbing her stomach, as she felt the baby kick.
Edith hurried into the back of the shop, eager to get her things, before Abbey changed her mind. So much was riding on this birth, she knew, and she’d done everything she could so far to encourage Abbey to keep the baby. Edith had played her part well and was sure the Watcher would reward her handsomely for it. Although perhaps next time she could be a beautiful young woman, instead of the old crone he’d insisted she become this time. Well, perhaps old crone was a bit harsh, she decided. She felt she looked more like a fairy godmother in a Disney movie, or at least that’s how she needed to come across to Abbey. Intent on becoming the parent that the poor girl had lost, she’d ensured Abbey had everything she needed to make a success of her new business, enabling her to build a solid future for her and the baby.
As she emerged from behind the curtain, her eyes narrowed as she watched Abbey, who was standing by the door. Yes, with Edith’s help and the backing of a guardian angel (albeit a fallen one Edith thought, one side of her mouth rising in an ironic smile), what could possibly go wrong?
With Edith’s help Abbey would keep the money coming in and she’d have time to look after the baby, both objectives that would keep the Watcher happy. It was important to keep the baby with the mother for as long as possible. But no more than absolutely necessary, at least before some of the changes in its development were noticed. And then once the time was right, Edith would take the baby and disappear. No one would ever find the child, because no one would ever find Edith. She wouldn’t be found as she wouldn’t exist anymore. She’d already have changed form and become someone else. And even if the unthinkable should happen and the baby found and re-united with Abbey, well then Edith (or rather her new persona) would appear in Abbey’s life and befriend her.
As usual, the Watcher had thought of everything.
Waiting for Edith, Abbey mooched around the shop fingering fabrics, checking out styles, smiling and nodding to other customers. She’d always loved this shop, especially since meeting Edith. It was one of those places where she felt welcome, accepted, and not judged. Wandering towards the door, she felt a cold breath on the back of her neck. Whirling around, expecting to see another browser, there was no one there, only Edith at the opening to the back room of the shop. Perhaps it was a draft from the shop door, so she turned back to the door. But no, it was firmly closed. Frowning, she shivered and a saying her grandmother was fond of crossed her mind: someone just walked over my grave.
Chapter 13
Present day…
It wasn’t just Byrd having a restless night, Jo was also. She could not settle. She dozed off, then woke again. Read a bit, fell asleep, then woke again. And the dreams! She kept reliving the explosion in the Italian restaurant. Then the taking down of Odin. It was like the worst cases of PTSD, but she was asleep. Nightmares on a loop that she couldn’t shake free from.
Everywhere she turned in her dream world, Judith was there.
And she was there when Jo woke and went to the bathroom.
Once more, Jo saw Judith in the bathroom mirror. But this time, Jo refused to be frightened. In fact, she was beginning to be resigned to seeing Judith every time she looked in the mirror. Not your normal feature of an apartment. They’d have a hard time explaining that to an estate agent should they ever try and sell the house. Vacant possession, that would be a laugh. No humans, just a resident ghost.
Grabbing hold of the sink, she said, ‘Okay, let’s have it. What do you want, Judith?’
‘Hey, how are you?’
‘Oh, you know…’ Jo’s eyes watered at the thought of what her life had become without Byrd. Cold. Empty. Full of grey clouds. But still, she pulled herself together, life must go on.
‘Yes, I know,’ Judith said.
Her friend’s expression of tenderness was almost the undoing of Jo. She sniffed loudly and pulled some toilet paper off the roll, blowing her nose and then throwing the tissue into the toilet.
‘I thought an explanation of how things are evolving, might help you,’ continued Judith. ‘It appears that it was my fate to die that terrible night of the bomb. But it’s not all bad, because I’ve becomes your spirit guide and I’m good with that.’
‘You are? But what does ‘my spirit guide’ even mean?’ Jo couldn’t get her head around these developments. It had all started with a gift enabling her to ‘read’ objects, but it was now spiralling out of her control. Taking down evil spirits and now needing a spirit guide! Jo wished this was all a dream and she could go back to bed and wake up again to a life without ghostly figures in it.
‘Spirit guides are beings that come to humans to assist them in their life's journey. They are spirits of those who were once human and have attained a higher level of spiritual mastery. They retain an awareness of human beings living on Earth and volunteer to help individuals in all facets of life.’
‘Volunteer?’
Judith smiled. ‘Alright, not volunteer exactly, but that’s neither here nor there. In moments of sorrow and desperation, your spirit guide can lightly touch you. If you are in danger of getting hurt, you may feel a push or tug.’
‘Or even see an apparition in a mirror?’
‘Exactly. Look, you know what we can achieve together. We defeated Odin, didn’t we?’
‘Well, yes, not that I can talk to anyone about it. Only my dad and Byrd. But I don’t want to talk about Byrd. He’s not in my life anymore. We tried, but it didn’t work out. We’re just colleagues.’
‘Well, things might be looking up there.’
‘What? Look, Judith, don’t give me false hope. I couldn’t bear it.’
‘No false hope, Jo, I promise. Anyway, back to spirit guides. You can always talk to Keith Thomas about the concept.’
‘Or Google it.’
Judith smiled. ‘Or Google it,’ she agreed. ‘Anyway, there’s something happening, but I’m not sure what. There are bad vibes going round. Something is stirring, something evil and powerful. Keep a look out, Jo. We might be needed sooner than you think.’
Jo was just about to ask her to explain, but she’d gone. What Judith had just said didn’t make any sense to her at all. Bad vibes? Honestly. Spirit guides? Please. Byrd? Oh God she hoped so.
Jo went back to bed with a glimmer of hope that maybe her life wouldn’t be so empty and cold for very much longer.
Chapter 14
The man who would become known as the Pumpkin Man was, as his name suggested, messing about with pumpkins. How he’d ever got the gig he’d no idea and frankly spending his time carving faces in pumpkins wasn’t the best use of his talents. What talents, he had no idea, but he was sure he had some somewhere. It was just that he’d lost them along life’s highway.
He’d ended up as a security guard, someone who felt important in a uniform, but was really ridiculed, lazy and underpaid. Security my arse. If the shop he worked for thought he was going to run after shoplifters, then they could think again. In a large chain store, catering to the young, cheap fashion buyers, the wear one season and then throw away brigade, trying to stop them shoplifting was a ridiculous notion. It went with the territory as far as he was concerned.
The kids shoplifted, skills learned from their parents no doubt, and he wasn’t about to start strip searching young women who were wearing several outfits at once. Bloody hell he wasn’t some sort of pervert. He was seriously considering giving up the bloody stupid job, but Christmas was coming. He’d a couple of kiddies to buy for, not that they lived with him. As soon as his wife realised her mistake by marrying him, understood that he’d amount to nothing, she threw him out of their Housing Association home and gaily embarked on relationships with a string of men, each one larger than the previous, all frightening the shit out of her ex-husband.
So there he was in a crummy bedsit, carving out pumpkins for another bloke who frightened the shit out of him. At least he was getting paid for his efforts. He’d also have the opportunity to h
ave sex with three women that night. And that was nothing to be sniffed at he had to admit. The only sex he got these days was the kind you paid for. So to get three free chances to dip his wick, well he was in.
He’d lobbed the top off three pumpkins and was scooping out the innards as best he could. Once most of the seeds and flesh were out, he cut triangles in the body of the first pumpkin. Two for eyes and one for a nose. The jagged mouth grinned, but not in a nice way. There was nothing friendly about it. He’d also been given three cards and had been told to pin them on the pumpkins, leaving them in the girls’ rooms, not forgetting to light the tea lights inside them before he left.
Barely able to contain his excitement, Pumpkin Man attacked the next one, determined to make the best pumpkin lanterns he could. Who knows, if he did well, he could get another gig out of this.
Chapter 15
As Halloween celebrations ratcheted up around Chichester, the Watcher sat atop the cathedral watching the comings and goings. The pubs and restaurants were opening and soon would be filled with excited customers drinking and eating too much but determined to have a good time. It was this lack of self-control that the Watcher was tapping into. It was going to be a busy night and he flicked out a forked tongue and licked his lips in anticipation.
His history went back to ancient times, before God sent his divine deluge to cleanse the earth. Once a guardian of the human race, he had lusted over their beautiful women. They were wonderous in form, delightful to be with and were as skilled as Eve at weaving their silken webs over men and keeping them forever in their thrall. And the Watcher and his fellow angels were certainly in their thrall.
And so, against their instructions, a few of them descended to earth, moved among men and coupled with their women. The fairer sex did not disappoint and the fallen enthusiastically imbued the human race with powers and knowledge far beyond their capabilities, by way of gifts for the welcome humans had given them. They taught their charges arts and technologies such as weaponry, cosmetics, mirrors, sorcery, and other techniques that would otherwise be discovered gradually over time by men, not foisted upon them all at once. In time their children were born, a race that was part human and part God, who were feared and respected and became the protectors of the angels and their women. However, others saw the offspring as savage giants who pillaged the earth and endangered humanity.
Watching the Dead Page 4
