by Lily Morton
I stroke one finger down the blue stain on the pillowcase and smile softly before reaching for the pile of books I bought from Tom’s shop. I might as well do some research if I’m not good for anything else. Then I’ll make some dinner and maybe Blue will be home by then. His mood might have improved after doing his tour. I look at the rain. Or maybe not.
I reach for the book about the house’s history and try to sink into it, but the dry details make my eyes cross, and instead, I grab the murder book that Blue was reading in the shop. It’s much more lively with lots of gratuitous detail, and I read happily for a while, but eventually my yawns get bigger and my eyes get heavier and I close them. Just for a second, I think sleepily.
The unmistakeable slam of the front door wakes me up with a jerk. “Fuck.” I wipe at the drool on my chin and inadvertently clock myself in the face with the book as I do it. “Shit.” I rub my face and then memory returns. Blue’s back.
I jump up as I hear him call, “Levi,” up the stairs.
“Coming,” I shout, racing to the door. I’ve still got the book in my hand. I step onto the landing and immediately go still.
It’s very dark and cold and I can hardly see in front of my face. “Blue?” I say hesitantly.
“Levi,” comes the fainter call from downstairs.
“I’m coming.” My shout is swallowed by darkness.
I move towards the stairs. A chuckle sounds from behind me, and I jump like a startled horse. I turn around slowly, certain there’s someone here with me in the dark hallway.
Even knowing that, the sight that faces me makes my heart pound like it’s trying to explode out of my chest.
A man stands by the back bedroom door, his stance calm and steady, as if, like the console table beside him, he has every right to be there.
I’d sensed his presence, had been prepared to see something. But as his tall, broad-shouldered form looms, stark lines limned with an eerie light, my veins fill with ice. My breath, my heartbeat, my skin—they’ve all gone numb.
Lightning flares from the bedroom window. His eyes glow blue-white, and his outline flickers. And, fuck, even as the lightning passes, he still flickers.
He’s a spirit. A ghost. The parts of my brain that are trying to convince me that he’s a burglar or a neighbour who’s got very lost—they can shut right the fuck up. I am looking at a ghost for the first time in my life.
And those eyes. They can see me too. I take a slow step back, blinking.
He’s suddenly in front of me. So close I could touch him. The chunk of ice in my throat melts and bubbles up in a garbled shout.
I stumble backwards, and a smile plays on his thin lips. My left foot hits air, and I flail. The banister’s gone. The stairs are gone too.
I don’t reach for him, don’t even cry out for help. He wants this, wants me to tumble to the floor below.
My senses twist into a jumble of red-hot pain. There’s a bang. The darkness that descends after is welcome.
Blue
Will enters the pub, stooping a little under the low ceiling. Sitting up slightly from my slumped position, I wave to him and catch his quick grin as he weaves around the people towards me.
“Nice hair,” he says eyeing my head with a funny sort of smile. I shrug, unable to think of any light conversation, and he reaches down and hugs me tight. “You okay? This is a bit of a surprise.”
“Why?”
“Well, I thought you’d be tucked up tight with your sugar daddy on a night like this.”
“He’s not my sugar daddy,” I say automatically. “Seeing as he was a toddler when I was born. And what do you mean on a night like this?”
“It’s raining cats and dogs out there. Has been for an hour.” He stares at me. “Didn’t you notice?”
I shrug, avoiding his clever eyes. “I’ve been here for the last hour and a half.”
There’s a long pause before he sits down on the stool opposite me. “Okay, what’s going on?”
“Nothing,” I say immediately. “Just killing some time before the ghost walk.”
“In here?” He looks at the table of empties. “Jesus, how many have you had?”
“They’re not all mine,” I say sharply. “Even I can’t put that amount away. The owners are shorthanded at the moment.” I shoot him a look. “They could do with some good bar staff.”
Will shakes his head. “Bloody hell, you’re like fucking Jiminy Cricket.”
“In what way?” I frown. “That had better not have been a crack about my size compared to you, the man mountain. Although you could definitely have been Pinocchio with the length of your nose that’s always poking into my business.”
“Oh, chill out,” he says lazily. “I meant that you’ve gone straight and want everyone else to do the same.”
I shudder. “I can assure you that the last thing I’ll ever do is go straight.”
He laughs. “I meant now that you’re respectable with a man, a job, a house and everything, I’ve just been waiting for you to start nagging me to do the same.”
“It’s not my house,” I say sharply. “It never will be. It’s Levi’s.” I draw in a slightly too shaky breath. “And Levi isn’t my man. I’m not too sure how long I’ll be there for anyway. Is there any space in the squat?”
There’s a very loud silence, before he sighs noisily and heavily. “Okay, what the fuck is going on?”
I open my mouth to deny everything, but I catch his intractable expression and close my mouth carefully.
“Good idea,” he says coldly. “What happened, Blue? Why are you sitting in a pub on your own when you have a very pretty man at home?”
“I made a pass at him.” Unable to hold his gaze, I trace my finger through a puddle of beer on the wooden table.
“Well, I can’t say that’s surprising. I saw that coming from a mile off.”
“Oh, did you also spot the bit where he said he couldn’t sleep with a retired prostitute, and his ex-boyfriend turned up?”
“He said that?” His voice is deadly.
I think back and frown. “Not exactly.”
He shakes his head.
I burst into speech. “But he mentioned my past, and I know that’s what he was thinking, and then his ex turned up, and he was so gorgeous and expensively dressed and they went so well together.”
“How did he mention your past? Did he say ‘Blue, you’re a filthy little whore’?”
I blink. “Have you been listening at my bedroom door again?” He glares, and I relent. “Okay, he didn’t say that exactly. He said he knew what I’d been through and he didn’t want me to feel like I was doing anything out of obligation.”
There’s a stunned silence, and then he reaches over and flicks my forehead.
“Ouch! Why did you do that?”
“Because you are a complete and utter twat. What the fuck is wrong with him saying that?”
“Well, he just sees me as shop-soiled. I fucking hate that. I don’t want pitying.”
“It doesn’t sound like he pities you. It sounds like he really likes you.”
“What?” I jerk and spill my pint onto the table.
We both leap back and after a few futile glances around for a member of staff, he uses his sleeve to mop the spillage.
“How did you work that out?” I hiss.
“Using my eyes,” Will hisses back. He sits back, tapping his fingers lightly on the table.
I sigh. I’m probably not going to like what he says next as this is his brutal honesty pose.
“Blue, sex is an obligation for you.”
“What?”
He shrugs helplessly. “It is. It used to be about money and survival. Now, it’s just because it’s expected of you, and you’re too fair-minded to disappoint people.”
“Oh my God,” I say faintly. “Please make it stop.”
“I wish I could,” he says miserably. “I hate heart-to-hearts. They make me itchy.” He braces himself and carries on talking quickly. “I se
e that about you, so why shouldn’t he? Difference with this one is that he isn’t willing to say yes just to get his balls emptied. This one wants to make you feel happy too.”
I stare at him, feeling the revelation wash over me. I remember Levi’s earnest expression and the fumbling way he tried to explain himself, and I remember how he held me so hard against him when I was in his arms and the way he looked at me. I’d heard his words but not taken the whole picture into consideration.
“Shit,” I say, sighing and scrubbing my fingers down my face.
“Well, that about sums it up,” he says gloomily.
I rally slightly. “Well, okay then, but did you happen to hear the bit about the ex-boyfriend turning up?”
“The ex who has been an ex for a whole year? That’s the one he looked like he went so well with?”
“Hmm,” I say somewhat sulkily.
He sighs. “Blue, this bloke is a good one. I think he’s maybe like a unicorn to us which is why we can’t quite believe that he’s real. We’re waiting for the other shoe to drop all the time. What if it never does? What if this is the real deal?” He grabs my hand and squeezes it. “What if this is the one for you?”
“You don’t believe in shit like that,” I scoff.
He shakes his head. “Not for me, but I’ve always believed in it for you.”
“Why?”
“Because there’s something different about you, Blue. There always has been. Stands to reason that someone like you would have someone special waiting for him.”
I stroke his hand. “And what if I’ve just fucked that up?” I say softly. Then I catch the time on his watch. “Shit, I’m going to be late to meet the group if I’m not careful.”
“I’ll come with you. We can walk and talk.”
“Oh joy,” I say acerbically, hearing his laughter follow me out.
It’s raining heavily by the time we get to the meeting point.
He pulls his hood up and looks around curiously. “Don’t you normally finish with the Devil?”
“Not this week,” I mutter. I try to fasten my long overcoat and ignore the woman with no eyes who is drifting closer to me. “Hugh and I did a swap.”
“Where is everyone, then?”
“It’s raining. I’ll be lucky if anyone turns up.” I watch the ghost of the devil victim.
“What are you seeing?” he asks.
“Emily, the last victim. She’s a bit agitated tonight.”
“Maybe she didn’t win on the lottery.”
I shake my head. “Your sense of humour is actually a fault in your character.”
I keep my gaze on Emily. Normally, she just stands there looking sad and displaying the tears in her flesh. Sometimes they’re bleeding. Other times they’re just rents in her skin showing a darkness within. Tonight, though, she looks almost agitated, pacing up and down the dimly lit road.
Making sure there’s nobody around apart from Will—he doesn’t count as he’s seen me do this more times than normal—I approach her and smile.
“You okay, Emily?” I finally settle for saying inanely.
Will snorts. “What the hell? You’re not chatting her up in the pub.”
I shake my head, my concern growing. “You can’t see her. She looks really worried.”
“What would a ghost have to be worried about? Ghost bills, ghost laundry, not winning on the ghost horses?”
“Ssh, don’t be rude.” I leave him thinking about that one while I edge closer. “Emily?” I say softly.
She looks at me, and I blanch as blood seeps redly from her empty eye sockets. She makes an imploring gesture and inky shadows spill from the hole in her chest where her heart once was. Remembering Tom’s words from the other day, I close my eyes, focusing on drawing in my breath slowly through my nostrils and then sending my worries out with an exhale.
When I open my eyes, she’s all I can see. The rest of the world has faded away. For a wild moment I want to ring Tom and tell him it worked, but I focus on her. She’s stopped pacing and is standing quite still. There’s an almost inaudible pop, and I suddenly know she can see and hear me.
“What is it?” I say in my head. “Tell me, Emily.”
As clear as a bell I hear a light voice with a Yorkshire accent speak. “Help him.”
“Help who?”
“Powerful again. Help him. Too late.”
The last is said on a wail. I jerk, breaking the bubble surrounding us.
“What?” I say out loud.
She gestures at me, but I can’t hear her anymore. It’s like watching the TV with the sound off as she opens and shuts her mouth.
“What is it?” Will asks, coming to my side and grabbing my arm.
“She says I have to help him.”
“Help who?”
I stare at Emily, and the answer comes immediately. “Levi. I have to help Levi.”
A raging panic floods my senses. “What?” I shout at the spectre. “What’s happened to Levi?”
But it’s no use. She fades slowly and within a second she’s gone.
“No,” I say, darting forward.
Will grabs me. “Your ghost-tour people are coming,” he says.
I shoot a panicked look down the road at the two men approaching. I grab my hat and stuff it into Will’s hands. “You do it.”
“What?” he says, and it’s so loud it echoes around the small close.
“I have to go. Something’s happened to Levi.”
“And you know that because a ghostly woman round the back of Tesco’s told you so?”
“Don’t take the piss.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” He sounds slightly panicked now, his voice gone high. “I thought that’s what we were doing. Joking.”
“I need you to do the tour. Please, Will, you’ve been round with me loads of times. I have to go.” The last is frantic.
He nods immediately. “Okay, but if he’s just sitting on the sofa with indigestion you have to promise to come back and rescue me.”
“I will.” I grab him and hug him.
“Be careful,” he whispers. “Please be careful in that house.”
I nod and without wasting another second dash off, peeling around the two men approaching me and splashing through a puddle. “Sorry,” I shout and leave them behind.
It’s very busy for a Friday night in October, and I race up High Petergate, dodging around groups of people standing looking at the menus in the restaurant windows. I take the Snickelway to the left of the Hole in the Wall pub and race up the close, slipping and sliding on the slick cobbles. The Minster bells chime the hour, the sweet notes a sharp contrast to the dread in my heart.
I shouldn’t have left him. I knew the sage was too good to be true and the trouble was going to start again. I should have been there, rather than wallowing in a fit of the sulks because he wouldn’t fuck me and his perfect ex-boyfriend turned up. I think of the house’s previous owner and the way he died, and I pick up speed, pounding down the lane until I hit the front door with a crash, panting and sweating.
The house is dark. Dark and foreboding-looking with no signs of life. Normally, when I come back from a ghost walk there are lights on and music playing. Now, it’s as still as the grave. I shake my head. Don’t use those words.
Fumbling for my key I twist it in the lock. I push but nothing happens, and my nose bangs painfully on the wood.
“What the hell?” I whisper. I turn the key again. It’s unlocked, but it won’t open.
For a wild second I wonder whether Levi’s locked the deadbolt so that he and Mason can have an uninterrupted shag. Pain coils in my stomach.
I shake my head. “No,” I say out loud. “He wouldn’t do that. Levi is not like everyone else. He isn’t.”
I push the door again, and to my amazement, it opens as smoothly and easily as a knife sinking through butter.
I hesitate briefly, but then step into the hallway and stand stock-still, paralysed with a sudden overriding and desperat
e fear. The hallway is as black as night, and I can’t see anything at all. It’s like I’ve suddenly gone blind.
Apparently, I’ve gone deaf too, because I can’t hear a single sound. The door is open behind me so there should be noises from the street, but there’s nothing. It’s like I’ve stepped into a black hole.
One of my mum’s boyfriends hit me on the head with a saucepan when I was a kid. I stood there for a second feeling nothing, but then suddenly became aware of something cold running down my skull and face. It was blood, but it was icy cold.
That’s what my fear feels like now—cold streams of terror flowing down my body seizing me with the certain knowledge that something waits for me in the dark. If I go any further, I won’t ever be able to get out again.
Tom spoke of the fear he felt in this house as a child. The same entity waits for me.
A cold chuckle sounds from the blackness. I shudder at the evil in that noise. The evil of something that died bad to the bones. It’s waited out the years here, growing steadily worse in the cold and dark. Waiting for life and blood to reanimate this house and give it strength.
I can’t go in. I can’t make my feet move. I’ll be grabbed as soon as I move a muscle.
There’s a shuffling noise in the shadows. That low chuckle sounds again, and I’m suddenly so angry I could spit.
“How dare you?” I say in a low voice. “How fucking dare you. Where is Levi? You can’t frighten me away.”
The darkness seems stunned into silence. A shaft of moonlight pierces the gloom. Shadows swirl and boil. Then I see him.
“Levi,” I cry out. “Levi.”
He’s lying at the foot of the stairs crumpled and still. Any fear I had is long gone as I dash though the dark, feeling it lighten and fall away.
“Oh fuck, sweetheart,” I choke out, falling to my knees and sending a shaking hand out to feel his skin. He’s cold and pain hits me. He’s dead. But then my fingers trace his neck and feel his pulse beating thinly.
“Levi?” I call out.
I’m afraid to move him in case he hurt his back or neck. I fumble for my phone and I’m amazed to see bars, a part of me so sure that we’ve been trapped away from the outside world, no reception, the doors slamming shut to close us off forever.
