Even Stranger

by Marilyn Messik

  “And what the hell do you think you’re doing?” David, once he’d started moving and talking again, couldn’t seem to stop. Sam had his hands a few inches away from and over my wound. In his mind’s eye was a rotating 3D image of my insides, which would show him with absolute certainty, where and how I was injured, but David was roughly trying to pull him away. Rachael turned from Kitty,

  “Idiot. Stop that. Leave him!” She hadn’t raised her voice, she never needed to, it lashed and David swung to face her,

  “Are you crazy?” he snapped back, “He’s just a kid, he can’t…”

  “Don’t be more of a fool than you have to.” She said. I was interested to see, they’d reached a stage of mutual antipathy, far faster than I’d have anticipated. “Haven’t you just seen, what he can do?” David reluctantly took his hands from Sam’s shoulders, but didn’t step back far. He had any number of questions, none of which were putting themselves in any sort of sensible order, nor doing much for his thumping headache.

  “Stella,” said Sam, “When he stabbed you, he punctured one of your lungs. The pain was because air collected in your chest cavity – which is not at all where it’s supposed to be!”

  “That’s not a joke is it?” I asked, “I hope not, it’s going to hurt too much to laugh.” He grinned briefly and for a moment, looked like any other teenager. I took an experimental and trepidatious breath,

  “Feeling a lot better.” I said. “What’d you do?”

  “Fixed the puncture.”

  “Makes me sound like a tyre.” I grumbled.

  “You’ll need to go to hospital, just to make sure it’s OK. I haven’t got anything here to dress the wound, it’s pretty deep, but if you like, I can anaesthetize it a bit.

  “Why didn’t you say that in the first place?” I protested. He again held his hand over my side.

  “Needed to track down the cause and make sure nothing else was damaged. Shut up a minute and watch, it’ll work better, if you keep it up yourself.” And he flashed what he was going to do, so I could do it too – he was visualising a sort of cooling, cotton-wool construction, which he mentally laid gently over the pain. I copied him with my own construct and the relief was instant.

  “Bloody hell, Sam,” I exclaimed, “Why didn’t I know how to do that, it’s brilliant. Thanks.”

  “I hope,” said Sam “You won’t have too much cause to use it in the future.” He paused, “Although, you do seem to get yourself into some situations, don’t you?”

  “Don’t you start,” I said.” He winked at me, a brief movement, and I winked back – I couldn’t believe he’d remembered. I’d taught him to do that, when we’d last said goodbye.

  “I’m assuming,” said David, from behind Sam, “That sooner or later, somebody, anybody, is going to tell me what the hell’s going on here? And…” he said to Rachel, “Why are you always around when there’s trouble?”

  “I might,” she said, “Ask the same of you, but we haven’t time now, Boris is nearly here.”

  “Who’s Boris?” said David.

  “Where’s he been?” I asked at the same time, cautiously lowering my jumper in anticipation of losing the pain patch we’d just applied, but I found, with just a little mental effort, it was holding perfectly.

  “Leading the police on a wild goose chase, to give us a bit more time.” Said Rachael.

  “For what?” David was still struggling.

  “To get things sorted here.” Ruth spoke up, for the first time since they’d got here. She was as concerned about David, as she was about everything else, it was a good thing someone was looking out for him. It was my first chance to take a good look at her, and I didn’t like what I saw. She seemed to have lost even more weight and her face was dreadfully pale.

  “My dear,” she said to David, “I know nothing about this makes any sense, but I promise, you’ll have it all explained – just not now. At this point, we have to get some stories straight.” Poor David, he couldn’t work out whether he’d actually seen what he thought he’d seen us do, or whether he was simply suffering from concussion, but he acceded politely, if reluctantly to Ruth – as most people usually did.

  “OK, OK,” he said, holding his hands up and outwards, an ‘I’m out of it’, sort of a gesture. “Do what you need to do. Questions and answers afterwards.”

  Ruth and Rachael had covered Kitty with a blanket someone must have brought from a bedroom, and Glory had wrapped a now-shivering, still shocked and wordless Isabelle, in her own coat which she’d slipped off. It was a multi-coloured, studded and fringed leather item which, I hoped wouldn’t make Isabelle feel any more alarmed than she already was. Ed was swiftly checking Kat over and in answer to my unvoiced question, nodded his head, gave me a thumbs-up and flashed that she was fine and physically uninjured, although I didn’t hold out the same hope for her psychological stability.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  With my pain eased off, I felt more able to cope, although how we were going to explain all this, when the police pitched up, I had no idea. I turned to Rachael.

  “What’ll happen to Jamie?”

  “I think,” said Rachael, “You’ll find it’s already happened.” She was right. I went into Jamie’s head and it was hollow, completely empty, reminiscent of Devlin’s. But I’d got Devlin back. Glory shook her head,

  “This is different. Right Sam?” she looked over at him and he nodded,

  “He’s completely brain dead, burnt out. Whatever had hold of him, forced him way beyond what his brain or body could take, he didn’t stand a chance.”

  “There is nothing at all we can do for him now, poor boy.” Ruth, when she chose, was as pragmatic as her sister, although we could all feel her pain for the life lost in such a way. “Ed, dear,” she turned to him, “It’s freezing in here, can we get some heat going?” She was right, the stove had long ago burnt out, it was bitterly cold and I was shivering, as was Kat, still pressed close to my leg, whilst Isabelle on the armchair was juddering like a bus on standby. It wasn’t surprising, David had decimated one of the windows and Ed had done the same to the door. Ed, who was next to the stove, opened it and put in some logs from the pile in the alcove. They caught quickly and gave off a welcome warmth of light, although whether they made a great deal of difference to the temperature, I’m not sure.

  “Ed,” said Glory, “The door?” Ed looked, nodded, glanced quickly at David and then obviously deciding time, not discretion, was of the essence, right now, floated it and its hinges back into place, sending the screws from where they were scattered on the floor, back to where they should be and they screwed themselves swiftly in, one after the other.

  “Won’t hold up brilliantly,” he said, “But the police will probably break it down again anyway, so nobody’s likely to notice.”

  “Hang on a minute,” I said aloud, there was something else I couldn’t keep to myself, although they probably knew anyway. What I’d glimpsed, what had so horrified me, because I couldn’t work out the connection – didn’t know whether it was in Jamie’s mind or the mind of the other – was an unmistakeable image of Ruth. I showed them what I’d seen and Rachael’s lips tightened,

  “We know. No time to go into it now, but what did this to Jamie is like…” she flashed a vampire image to me. I looked at her blankly then, in one appalled instant, understood. Glory added,

  “The mind that did this, flourishes and feeds off others.”

  “Others?” I said, “You mean others like us, don’t you?” and things clicked into place, “Ruth, you?” She nodded grimly,

  “Indeed and isn’t it a nuisance? It did damage, before we understood, now we do, we can stop it.” Her statement was firm, her conviction less so and I caught the concern of the others.

  “No time to discuss now, anyway.” said Rachael. I nodded and put it away to think abo
ut later. “Right,” she said to David, “We’re leaving, you need to come too.” He shook his head.

  “I’m staying with Stella.” He said firmly. She tutted.

  “Well, I must say, you’re a good match, you’re as awkward as she is. Have it your own way.” She turned back to me. I was thinking of what I should or could have done better to help Jamie, Rachael said silently,

  “Nothing you could have done differently Stella, too late, he’d been too infiltrated and damaged. Ruth?” She turned to her sister for confirmation of her assessment. Ruth nodded,

  “You know she’s right my dear, you were here, saw what happened, how he was. He had to be stopped, but by the time we did that, it wasn’t him anymore, it was purely the ‘other’.” Her mouth tightened,

  “But, he was so clever, so talented, look at this.” I waved my hand and despite the awfulness of every single subject, there was no doubting the consummate artistry behind them.

  “What a wicked waste!” I said aloud. David was looking from one to the other of us. He instinctively understood what he was seeing and hearing as well as all the things he wasn’t, he just wasn’t ready to accept it yet. Rachael continued speaking,

  “Right, Stella and you too, um… David? Listen, this is what the police will know and what will be borne out by Isabelle and her mother; Jamie was working at Isabelle’s house; wanted to spend time with her; knew he couldn’t possibly under normal circumstances; so he abducted her. He was obviously mentally disturbed and cherishing deeply worrying fantasies,” she indicated the painted walls, which not so much spoke as screamed for themselves. “He was a highly unstable young man; immature, isolated and obsessed and then he turned violent. We have to work you into this though Stella, there has to be an understandable reason he took you. When did he first see you?”

  “He didn’t, he’d never seen me before he took me.” For the sake of speed, I flashed the rest through to them, “I told you, I must have just somehow picked up on him – when I was doing what Ruth asked, you know, ‘listening’.” I grimaced at Ruth, who pretended not to notice. “Isabelle saw me outside her house but Jamie didn’t, he just sensed me there, recognised me for what I was and tracked me back.” I started to tell them about the birds, but Rachael waved that away as irrelevant.

  “No, not good enough.” She muttered aloud. “This needs to make sense to the police, he had to have seen you and known who you were. Why on earth, otherwise, would he have kidnapped you alongside the girl?”

  “How about,” said David mildly, picking up on the fraction of conversation he’d heard. “Stella interviewed him at the agency? A client wanted a painting, someone passed along his details and she needed to meet him before recommending him on.” We all turned to look at him, he shrugged, “I’m a journalist, stories are my business.” Ruth nodded, absent-mindedly patting him on the arm.

  “Yes, good, that makes enough sense.” She said, “After all it isn’t for us to explain his motives or the way his mind was working – they’ll have to fill in their own gaps. Stella, all you know is how you left it with him, after you’d met him. You told him you’d get back to him in due course, but then he turned up again out of the blue, and took you and Kitty.”

  “OK. And then?” I asked.

  “Stick to the truth as far as you can, always best.” Instructed Rachael, “He brought you here. His mood was already swinging dangerously from normal to not and then everything escalated out of control, he suddenly turned violent, attacked all of you with the knife. You defended yourself as best you could. Kitty and you were both injured, there was a struggle you may have hit him with the vase, you really can’t remember. You were very frightened – shocked and confused is always a good bet when you don’t have a straight answer. And then this young man arrived.” She turned abruptly to David, “If you insist on staying, you’re going to have to explain how you found out where they were being held.”

  “Well, unlike anyone else here it seems,” David grinned briefly, “I can simply tell the truth. Brenda at the office, got the van’s registration number, I used an under the counter contact (can’t reveal sources, journalist privilege) who got me a name and address. But that was just a rented single room, not ideal for keeping prisoners. I did a quick bit of microfiching – old newspaper files, to find out anything I could about his past. There was a lot of stuff on this place, his father’s business going down, ongoing legal disputes and unresolved ownership etc. Reckoned, if I was going to kidnap someone, this is the sort of spot I’d want to hide out – it just felt right.” He stopped, but he was in the right place for people sympathetic to hunch-followers. Rachael, Ruth and Glory had a swift silent exchange but couldn’t find any holes.

  “It’ll do.” Glory said aloud and then listening, “They’re nearly here, we have to go. Sam?” Sam looked up, he’d been sitting with Kitty, constantly checking her. Glory nodded over at Isabelle.

  “Right,” he said and then he looked over at David and flashed to me “Him too?” I hesitated, it was tempting, but,

  “No,” I said. “Not him, he’s my problem.” Sam nodded and he and Glory went and sat, one on either side, of the armchair in which Isabelle was huddled. Glory spoke to her softly, while Sam smoothed away some of her memories.

  “What’re they doing?” David looked at me.

  “Making sure she won’t remember having seen them.”

  “Well, of course they are,” he said dryly. “Why wouldn’t I have known that?”

  Part Five

  LOOSE ENDS

  This isn’t magic, it’s science, it’s simply science for which they don’t yet have an explanation.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

  “So,” said David, as he drove us home, taking things nice and slow – neither of us felt we needed any more excitement at this point. “Probably just a couple of things we need to chat about?” He raised an interrogative eyebrow, and instantly regretted it. At some stage in the proceedings, he’d sustained a nasty gash, from his hairline downwards. It had been dressed and taped, giving him a bit of a pirate look – although I wasn’t sure this was the best time for any parrot jokes.

  Both of us had been kept in hospital overnight, for observation. David didn’t appear to be suffering too many ill effects from the blow to his head, apart from a stonking headache, which they said was only to be expected. My knife-punctured lung, seemed to have healed itself, which according to the young, fraught but very thorough A&E doctor, sometimes happens in these cases. I was lucky, he said, that no more damage was done. I didn’t feel that lucky, every time I shut my eyes, I could feel the knife going all the way in and pulling all the way out again. Most unpleasant. I was however pleased, that being out of the area, we hadn’t wound up at the Royal Free again, I didn’t want a reputation for being habitually battered and bruised – not good for business.

  “I expected that you might have some questions.” I said.

  “Just the odd one or two.” He acceded.

  “OK,” I said. “We’ll talk.”

  The others had departed the chalet, almost as swiftly, albeit a little less hectically than they’d arrived. They left us with a still unconscious Kitty, a shell-shocked Isabelle and a traumatised Kat, although she perked up considerably, once she’d seen the back of Hamlet.

  They also left us with a lifeless kidnapper. He wasn’t dead because he still had a pulse, David had gingerly felt for and found it. On the other hand, Jamie had very definitely left the building. What was on the floor was an empty shell that just happened to still be breathing. I have to admit to a certain amount of selfish concern as to where that left me, in regard to how he’d got that way. But there wasn’t too much contemplation time because, in a highly dramatic surge of sirens, sweeping headlights and a megaphone, the police and Boris arrived. I decided, best to follow Rachael’s rules, stick to the truth as far as possible and hope it carried me through �
�� it certainly wasn’t going to be a stretch to do frightened, shocked and confused.

  Ed had been correct about the front door, it got knocked right down again. Presumably, the police contingent had taken one look through the window, seen the state of us and wasted no time with the megaphone. What with them and the ambulances, which started to arrive shortly after, disgorging lots of paramedics, it got pretty crowded again. I’m not sure, back in the ‘70s, that they were that hot on keeping crime scenes untainted, we weren’t blessed then with regular episodes of CSI, so none of us were as well versed as we are now, in the finer points of forensic technology. Certainly, at that point, the world and its brother seemed to be tramping every which way, in big boots. I still had no real grasp of Boris’s exact status here, but as no-one batted an eyelid at him, and at his height, he was pretty hard to miss, I presumed he had official clearance.

  I was more surprised to see my old friend DI Cornwall, who was looking, although I wouldn’t have thought it possible, even more fed up than last time we’d met. He didn’t seem thrilled to see me either, but his immediate attention, like everyone else’s who came in, was riveted by the wall décor and I could hear him effing and blinding softly to himself, as he stood in the middle of the room and slowly turned a full circle. You’d have thought, with a roomful of people, the effect of the paintings would be diminished, but in fact the power of them was such, they became even more overpowering. Cornwall had seen a thing or two in his time, but this little lot was shaking even his years of experience. He pulled himself together with an effort, looked at me and shook his head,

  “Thought you were just supposed to be keeping an ear open, not jumping into the bleeding middle of everything.” He said. “What happened?”

  “Don’t talk to her like that, she needs a doctor, not a telling off.” David said.