When he kissed me goodbye I felt incredibly positive, incandescently happy. That night however I recalled the feeling of something deviant stirring in the undercurrents. I drifted into a half-sleep where a rough sea of slumber tossed me about all night long.
I couldn’t wait to tell my mum about Thom. It was the first time I would mention him. The moment I arrived at her house – she’d barely started making coffee – I was chewing off her ears about him. We were soon shopping in the West End. I was never into the latest trends, but during those few days I found enough to make me smile. I went extra feminine and bought a flowy dress (my first since junior school), and accessories. Unconsciously done I’m sure, to support that truth that most men don’t want a girlfriend who know the offside rule, who dress like their best mate. They want a girlfriend to be feminine in all her own delicate right. This is partly so they can rib you for it, and make as many chauvinistic remarks as they please. Certainly Thom was one of these men. Though I wouldn’t be less like myself for anyone. I found he just brought it out in me.
I returned home Thursday evening and spent most of the journey exchanging texts with Thom. As threatened, Adrian tooted up outside my house early the next morning. I rushed out with my hair dishevelled and slightly damp. My mind was elsewhere.
‘You look happy!’ he remarked as I climbed in the jeep. ‘Looking forward to some hard work?’
I suppose I did look cheerful, and I was, since the end of the week drew near – I would soon see Thom.
Adrian, I discovered, hadn’t started any packing. Not a thing. In fact, some of his gadgets weren’t disassembled or even unplugged.
‘I’ve just been so busy with work,’ he said defensively. ‘A friend said he’d pop round yesterday, but he’s gone down with something.’
‘Man-flu?’ I asked.
‘Probably.’ He laughed.
‘So where do you want me to start?’
He pointed to the kitchen. I knew I’d get assigned crockery detail. When he popped his head in he commented that I was in another world. This was his way of telling me I was working too slowly. I couldn’t help it, I wasn’t really there. I was in a car park reliving a first kiss.
Once we’d finished I found I had a missed call from Thom. He’d left me a voicemail and I listened to his deep zealous voice excitedly.
‘Alex…’ he said my name with the whisper of a thrill. ‘I hope you haven’t forgotten me while I count a week of days in this nut house, doomed to stare at your empty cell until your return. I can hardly wait to see you Sunday. Call me later if you can.’
I did, the moment Adrian dropped me home. It was after nine and we talked until midnight.
I met Beth on the train Saturday morning. Adrian drove to work early, promising to drop us home after the show. We arrived at the Barbican theatre in good time owing to Beth’s influence. The stalls were buzzing in anticipation for The Casting of the Black Arrows: a dark, Faustian style production.
It wasn’t a comedy, yet we found it difficult not to laugh excessively at the maniacal portrayal of one main character. For the interval we drank coffee and ate snacks in the lobby. Beth was quiet. I suspected why. We had such a close friendship. Sometimes I felt an almost telepathic connection with her.
‘I have some news,’ I announced slowly.
‘I’m surprised you could go the whole way here without telling me.’
‘You know?’
‘Hmm, let me guess!’ she said, pouring a sachet of brown sugar into her coffee. ‘Going by the near constant smile plastered on your face. The fact you’re wearing colours I didn’t know you knew existed. And the dreamlike state you keep falling into whenever there’s a spare microsecond. Could it be something to do with a tall, dark-eyed, mysterious curator?’
‘You forgot sarcastic,’ I said, grinning, ‘and irresistible,’ I added, blushing.
‘And probably conveniently rich or something too. So…’
‘So, we’re together now.’
Beth hugged me. ‘And when did this come about?’
I could see she was happy for me as I told her about our first date. But when I’d finished, I read in her eyes something she wanted to say, but couldn’t – at least not without encouragement.
‘Go on,’ I said. ‘You’re my best friend. It’s your job. Say it.’
‘You’re so happy. I don’t want to.’
‘Happiness can be temporary. If you’re not sure about something, anything, then just say. Tell me he’s too old, or something. Whatever it is, I can take it. But I warn you now, it won’t change my mind.’
‘It won’t? Right, so long as I don’t influence you, here goes. When he walked over to us that day at Costa Coffee–’ She paused.
‘Go on.’
‘I can’t explain why–’ She hesitated a moment. ‘Maybe it was something in his eyes, or the way he moved, but– but I got goose-bumps, Alex. I felt like I should run or something,’ she whispered. ‘I can’t explain it.’
‘What?’ I laughed nervously.
‘I think I would have been a completely different person around him that day, if Ellie hadn’t have been all cute with him. You know how she is with strangers. It was shocking how she took to him so well. It convinced me that what I’d felt wasn’t anything to do with him, but now I – I’m sorry. I just thought I should say. But I shouldn’t have said anything.’
‘No, not at all! I don’t know what to say to that though. He is a little fierce looking, I suppose. Stacey calls him all sorts of names all the time, because of his dark eyes. I just hope she didn’t manage to influence you, Bee.’
‘Do you know, maybe that’s it.’ She smiled uncomfortably. ‘Stacey’s said a million times that he looks like a ghost or a mannequin, or a–’ She stopped, seeing my face. My bottom lip came out.
‘Alex, if anyone was going to scare Eloise into a crying fit, it’d be Thom, right?’
I smiled. ‘Right.’
‘Then, like I said before, he must have the soul of an angel.’
‘But the eyes of the Devil.’ I couldn’t help saying with a giggle.
We were still laughing when retaking our seats.
Beth’s words hadn’t cut me, although they resounded in my head for the rest of the day. She was only looking out for me. Her approval was more important than most, but I saw Stacey’s influence being the foundation of her comments.
After the show, we met Adrian at Stage Door. He hadn’t seen Beth in about a year, so they caught up while we walked to the jeep.
‘So what did you think of the show, girls?’ he asked. ‘Good, wasn’t it?’
‘It was great,’ we said unanimously, looking at each other with a giggle.
‘Do you remember the first set change?’ he went on. ‘You must have seen the people in black, wheeling off the screens and bringing on the props? I was one of them. I flew the goose at the end as well.’
Beth sat up front with me in the back. She had to be home for Eloise, otherwise we might have made an evening of it in Moorgate. While Adrian and Beth chatted away, I checked my phone. I had a text:
Hope you enjoyed the show, Cassandra. I can’t wait to see you tomorrow. Thom X
And I couldn’t wait to see him. Once we got to Beth’s and she thanked us both for a great day, I waved her off and made a snap decision.
‘Adrian, will you drop me at the Cray? It’s roughly en route.’
‘What do you want to go there for at this time?’
‘It’s only half-seven. I have a friend who lives there. It’s okay. I’ll get a lift home.’
On the drive, I rolled my window down and stuck my head out of it like an excited dog on the way to a big park. I noticed the waning moon glowing with a red hue.
I didn’t want to speak in front of my stepbrother, so I sent Thom a text to say I was coming by. Adrian dropped me at the gates. The house’s main door was ajar and I saw the caretaker just about to lock up before going back inside. I went in this way, so I could see if Thom wa
s in his office, or go up to his apartment via it. Most of the lights were off inside, except for some in the Great Hall, where I could hear the caretaker whistling. I didn’t bother to say hello, it might raise questions and get passed back to Evans. Besides, I was hell-bent on seeing Thom. As I gained the Colman Smith Gallery, I heard the front door shut with a great thump and the stiff lock turn. It brought back memories of the blackout and Thom locking us in. There was so much more to find out about that, and now I was happy to let him tell me in his own time.
I saw a glow coming from under his office door. He was in there, probably still working. Relief steadied me – it had crossed my mind I might be stuck if he was out. I hadn’t received anything back from the message I’d sent. All the better to surprise him, I thought.
Twenty-three
MIRROR
‘The toughest reflection is that of truth, which is only visible to some.’
I was about to knock, but instinctively I raised myself up on tiptoes to peel back the sign and peer inside. My heart raced to see him in there, leaning over his desk with his hands flat down, his head tilted forward. He looked in deep thought and by his posture perhaps even troubled. He’d teased me once about talking to myself and now here he was doing it. I heard him repeat my name several times and I smiled. It was with longing in his tone.
Then his voice slammed, ‘What will she think of me?’ as he covered his face with his hand.
Confusion seized me. Did he think it was all a mistake? Was it all falling apart before it had even begun?
He paced the room, before going over to the window and closing the blinds. Returning to his desk, he switched off the lamp so that the darkness swallowed him whole. I might’ve then knocked if he was going upstairs. Before I made a decision, a warm light cut through the room, sharp and unending. It was a blinding shade of burnt orange that sliced the office in half. My eyes hurt to look at it, but after a few moments it darkened. It came from inside the wardrobe where Thom now stood having just opened its doors. I couldn’t see what produced the light; it was such a strange glow.
Thom opened the doors fully. Inside were shelves and on them piles of paperwork, like a huge filing cabinet and not a closet at all. A full-length mirror covered the inside of one of the doors, which I could just make out. The light appeared to be coming from that. Thom seemed to be examining his reflection, which I couldn’t see at this angle, and therefore he couldn’t see me in it. He stroked his cheek like a man contemplating a shave. His face contorted and he mouthed something like ‘Disgusting!’ as he took a step forward to study himself closer.
The light reddened as he stepped up to the looking glass. – I saw his reflection. I shuddered! I stood poleaxed! I wanted to run, but that part of my brain – the reptilian hindbrain – sent a desperate message that I understood loud and clear.
‘Be still! Do not move, breathe, or blink, or you will be seen and attacked!’
I obeyed. I was still. My feet locked to that spot. Whatever it was in the mirror, it was not Thom. It was ghastly! The reflection stared back at him. Eyes like discs of black flame. So fiercely wide in deep jagged sockets beneath a crumpled forehead. Its skin was more translucent than white, like thick ice. Deep blue veins ran in branches under the gaunt cheekbones. Ivory eyeteeth protruded the grey bottom lip. Hardly any cartilage sat at its nose and ears, just sharp edges of thin waxy skin.
My eyes darted between Thom and that Thing in the mirror. They were hardly alike. It was as though he was looking on to another world bathed in flame-light. Though their black eyes were similar, and something about the mouth perhaps. To Thom’s black mop it sprouted wiry almost transparent hair. My blood crept cold in my veins. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. My heart pumped so loudly I thought he would hear, as it raced into a dissonant rhythm of hard thumps. Thom just stared at it. I dared to study them both; so different, and yet it moved as Thom did and wore the same clothes. Its wrinkled neck seemed longer. The fingers of the Thing were gaunt. Its skin stretched and sliding over the bone; spread like the legs of a spider, only pale and hairless.
Involuntarily, I gasped! The Thing in the mirror, but not the man, shot its head my way. Its eyes stabbed at mine, and Thom followed its stare. The Thing gave off a bestial cry. I fell flat on my feet. I turned to sprint, fast as I could out of the room. Down the hallway. It felt like wading through mud. Thom suddenly appeared before me – I ran into him. He cuffed my wrists in his hands and began pinning them together.
I shouted inwardly ‘NO! GET OFF!’ but no words emerged as I struggled.
‘Shhh!’ he cooed softly. Rapidly. Pulling me nearer to him with force. ‘Don’t– don’t be afraid!’ His eyes were blazing as he said this.
Those black discs of fire were there in his sockets. All else on his face said he was more alarmed than I was.
Before I knew it, he’d scooped me up while I tussled. He was carrying me back into that room! My mouth still wouldn’t comply with my brain. Completely inarticulate, I wanted to scream ‘NOT IN THERE!’ but it was too late; we were now inside. My hands shook uncontrollably. I could no longer feel my legs. The lamp came on and as we neared the wardrobe, the door of it closed under the shadow of his hand, despite both his hands on me.
‘It won’t harm you,’ he whispered. ‘I won’t let it!’
I must have lost consciousness. When I opened my eyes, I was in his apartment, laid out on his sofa, covered with a blanket. He was sitting near my feet, nearest the door, and seemed to be guarding the exit. I knew I hadn’t been dreaming. I started up.
‘Take it easy, Alex! No, don’t struggle! You’re wild with fright and excitement! Be still a moment, there’s nothing to fear! You said so yourself, remember, people only fear what they don’t understand!’
I took a breath as if I’d been without air for too long. Once I gained some control over myself, I sat up and kept still. I say kept still, but in truth, I had no choice. A trance-like weakness came over me. Though my heart still raced, my muscles broke down. I saw white spots. My skin was clammy and I felt lightheaded and sick. I fell into some paralysis with shock. He turned away putting on a lamp. Quickly he got up and came to my side.
‘Alex? Alex, can you hear me?’ His exacting voice was a distant echo. He waved a hand before my eyes.
I moved my head a little in answer.
‘What can I do?’ he said, more to himself. ‘Are you hot? You have gooseflesh but feel feverish. Your eyes are glazing over. Are you anaemic? Diabetic? Or just horrified!’
‘Sugar,’ I whispered, which took some effort to say. My breath was short and left me feeling deprived of energy. ‘I need something… sweet.’
I don’t know where he got it from, or even if he left my side, but a glass was put to my lips. I recognised the black syrupy drink, the bubbles fizzing under my nose. I wasn’t partial to this kind of drink, but on one occasion when my blood sugar levels plummeted, I had found it a speedy remedy. I came round within minutes, feeling almost re-energized. My clammy skin though left me chilly and I shivered. Thom took the glass away and threw a blanket round my shoulders. He hesitated at putting his fingers to my skin again, but then did so.
‘How do you feel?’
‘Better.’
Shoving his fingers through his hair, he stepped back.
‘This isn’t how I wanted you to find–’ He cut off angrily, came to my side and spoke gently. ‘Are you still cold? Do you want the fire on?’
I didn’t answer. Just stared forwards. He put it on anyway, turning to look at me every few seconds as he did so, as if ascertaining that I hadn’t run for the door. Unable to think straight I had to look away from him. I gazed out the window instead, and saw a blur of him reflected in it from the lamp. It reminded me of how you might see something through frosted glass.
‘You cannot look at me?’ he questioned.
‘I feel sick. I want to go home.’
‘Not yet!’
He kept his distance now, as I watched his fuzzy
image in the window.
‘I could tell you you’d hit your head and imagined it all! But I won’t insult you by lying. I’m strangely glad you’ve seen it. I’ve been fretting on the subject so much. It’s a relief in one way.’
‘What is it?’ I whispered.
He was silent for a minute or so.
‘The Devil!’ he began at last. ‘A demon – a vampire!’ He paced the room behind me. ‘Whatever you want to call it! The most unimaginable thing! A parting gift from an old–’ He cut off and plonked himself in the armchair. His hand went to his face. Standing up again, he recommenced pacing with a great supply of energy.
I closed my eyes a moment to escape the room, only to hear cawing outside. It sounded like demonic laughter, and that they were laughing at me. I turned to note them perched in the trees: a murder of crows, charcoal black against a darkening sky. One of those crows looked right at me with its yellow beady eyes. I shrank back. How many creatures were there in the world like that one in the mirror: a possession of demons, a massacre of vampires?
‘You know what I am, Alexandra?’
Of course I knew; the world was full of them, in the literary sense. At first I thought it was something to do with the wardrobe’s mirror. I must have voiced this because he was now speaking as if in reply to me –
‘Destroy it? You think I haven’t tried everything!’ he sighed. ‘Smashing the mirror? No! It’s not some magnum opus of Basil Hallward’s! It’s not in one mirror. It’s everywhere that I am, in me! I could see it in the window glass there if I choose to. I don’t look often, but I was looking at it tonight wondering what you would make of it – what you would make of me. And you’re in shock; look at the state of you! You’re trembling and look like you’re about to faint again?’
He took a step towards me. I slowly turned around to prevent him coming closer.
Halton Cray (Shadows of the World Book 1) Page 25
