Hope waited.
Faith tried again. “My name is Faith…” Faith paused to read the nurse’s name tag and added, “Nurse Low. As I have but explained. I am Faith and this is my sister, Hope. Charity, our sister, has been in a car accident. Is she alright? Can we see her?
Nurse Low sniffed aloud at the strong smell of alcohol that was permeating the air around her station; these people really take the biscuit. If you’re going to pretend to be a relative of a Star then at least look the part_.
“Excuse me?” Faith said. “Our sister. Charity?”
“You need to show me some I.D.” Nurse Low said and quickly added. “Besides, Charity doesn’t have any sisters.”
Faith stared at the nurse. “Of course she has sisters. We are her sisters.”
Nurse Low has had enough. “I’m calling security. You are anybody and anybody wants to be somebody to Charity_”
“I am Faith,” Faith interrupted. “My concern is for my sister and not on what you believe me to be.”
“I don’t appre_.”
“Nurse Low.” Nurse Katherine Adams interjected. “Let me deal with this.” She glanced between the two women and said, “I am Nurse Katherine Adams. I was the one who telephoned Faith? Charity had your number written down as a point of contact?”
“I am Faith.” Faith said. “And this is my sister Hope.”
“Oh please.” Nurse Low said and made a snorting sound.
Katherine ignored her rudeness, looked to the main entrance doors, noticed a group of reporters charging their way toward them and insisted, “Follow me.” She ushered Faith and Hope into the lifts and then toward the private room that Charity was situated in.
When they eventually arrived into the room, Katherine observed very closely their behaviour and after a couple of minutes had passed it became obvious how close the woman were to other another. “I must apologise,” she explained. “For what must have seemed quite insensitive but necessary…” Katherine smiled and added. “I’ll be at the nurses’ station if you need anything.”
She made her way out of the room, closed the door and placed an urgent ‘beeper’ message to Mr Herringbone, the consultant surgeon, informing him that Charity had two visitors claiming to be her sisters.
∞
Faith and Hope stood either side of Charity’s bed.
They stared down at their sister whose head was swathed in bandages and her left arm was encased within a plaster.
“It looks worse than it is.” Charity mumbled beneath the bandages. “It is but my arm that was broken.” And she held up her arm to prove the point while looking at the damage that Mother Earth had done unto Faith and Hope.
Charity was about to tell them about Alastair Herringbone - her ‘prized possession’ - when in walked the man himself.
Mr Alastair Herringbone was a tall, thin man just over six feet; he was fifty-nine years old and possessed a long bony aquiline nose that protruded out from his equally long and bony face. His eyelids sagged over his narrow eyes. A white clinical overcoat covered a tailored grey suit, crisp white shirt and yellow tie.
“You are Charity’s relatives?” He asked and waved his hands about the room to rid the bad odour that had wafted under his nose. “I am Mr Herringbone… Alistair Herringbone.” Alistair said and noticed how tall the two women were - as with Charity, they also stood a couple of inches taller than he.
He looked down at Charity and shook his head to rid his mind of the dreadful image of her face before he had bandaged it up. In his line of work he has seen it all… or thought he had; a rapidly ageing face? Now that was a new experience for him.
“I am Faith.” Faith said, introducing herself.
She looked into the man’s brown eyes and saw sparks of yellow, amber, blues and reds. This reminded her of the immortal who loved to manipulate the energies born from fire and heat. He would forge them with the scraps of debris that he collected from the Universe. “Are you the ‘Forger’?” Faith asked him but within the next breath, she spoke to the ghosts. “You need to talk to me one at a time.”
The schizophrenic - Alastair thought as he glanced over the scabs that riddled the woman’s scalp but as far as he was concerned it was not her mind that he would be re-styling. He scrutinized her cheekbones, jaw line, eyelids, ears and neck and he could tell by her bone structure that in her younger days, she would have been as startlingly beautiful as Charity is… was_?
“Hope.” Hope said and held out her hand but lowered it when he declined to shake it.
The alcoholic – Alastair thought and explained. “My hands are my tools.”
He scrutinized Hope’s face and realised that she would need far more work done to her skin. The years of alcohol abuse has taken its toll and Alastair made a mental note of the skin grafts needed before casting his eyes up and down the length of her body. He now wondered if there was actually any smooth skin left to be salvaged. With this thought in mind, he shrugged; no matter. Skin can be obtained elsewhere and focussing upon her bone structure, he realised that she too must have been a beauty in her younger days.
Alastair stared into the woman’s eyes and became captivated by the intensity of the colour within them; a rich emerald-green that he had never seen the like of before. He peered closer at the sight of tiny flecks of amber that seemed to flicker_.
“Alastair!” Charity snapped. “That is quite enough.”
He coughed - shook his head. “As is the obvious, Charity has broken her left-arm...” Alastair paused looked to his watch and added. “As to the injuries to her face...” he paused again, wondering if Charity had had the chance to discuss the importance of the situation.
“It’s okay Alastair. You can trust my sisters with the truth.”
He nodded.
“Well then. We are the only people who are aware that Charity has only broken her arm. We need to cover up the fact that Charity has aged… somewhat rapidly. Her critics will have a field day if they find out that the very creams and lotions that Charity promotes as being the ‘magic formula for youth and beauty’ is nothing but an illusion. Her reputation will be in ruins. Her celebrity status will be ripped from under her_.”
“Alastair. You have made your point!” Charity shouted and moved her hand away at the realisation that he was not holding it but… patting it!
She narrowed her eyes at the man who was treating her so differently now that her mortal flesh was old.
He smiled, patted the bed sheet and continued. “I have the ability to give back to Charity what Mother Nature has stolen from her… youth and beauty.”
Alastair frowned as he again recalled the image of Charity’s old and ugly face and thought now upon her body that was once flawlessly perfect and so dammed desirable that he never quite got enough of it.
“Alastair!” Charity snapped out his name. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
He frowned down at Charity.
Alastair suffered her foul mouth because it was never her conversation that he sought within their sordid affair.
He gripped the bed sheet, smiled, adjusted his tie and continued to address the women. “Charity will be moved to my private clinic this evening. It is my intention to release a statement to the media tomorrow morning. I will state that Charity has suffered extensive injuries to her face.” He stopped talking in case anybody wanted to add anything – seemingly not, he continued. “Charity also explained that the two of you could benefit from my skills and expertise…” he held up his hands to stop the one called Faith from talking. “It’s okay. No thanks necessary. I am the best in the field of plastic surgery and facial reconstruction…” he paused. “But you probably already know this.” And he waited for them to acknowledge who he was.
It was Charity who broke the awkwardness of the moment. “Alastair. You must forgive my sisters and their… ignorance. They do not mix within our world.”
“And what world would that be?” Faith asked and added, “The world of deceit, illusions and lie
s. Have you not learnt from our own history?”
Charity narrowed her eyes at the sarcasm within Faith’s voice but answered not her sister’s question and asked her own instead. “Do you understand what it is that I ask from you? And why?”
“Yes Charity I do.” Faith said. “You want us to lie about the extent of your injuries so that Mr Herringbone can recreate the illusion of youth and beauty that goes no deeper than your skin.”
“Got it in one,” Charity said and then she reminded them, “The money that you both so willingly accepted came from the very fact that I represent youth and beauty. You were not so… picky then. Were you?”
Hope frowned at Charity’s sarcasm and told her, “I thank the stars that you managed to escape death.” She looked across at Mr Herringbone. “I have had quite enough face changes to last me this mortal life. I need not another one. But it is very kind that you use your skills to help those who need it the most.” And she took her hip-flask out from her denim jacket’s inner pocket and took a good hefty swig of the red wine.
“For fuck sake Hope!” Charity snapped.
Hope wiped her mouth. “You know why it is that I drink. To numb the pain that_”
“Shut up!” Charity shouted loudly into the room.
She looked to Alastair, lowered her voice and said. “Now do you understand why it is that I tell the world I have no family… no sisters?” She collapsed back unto the pillows; Are they my sisters now that our Unity is severed?
Alastair’s beeper sounded.
“I will leave the three of you to discuss how you intend to handle the public and the media.”
He patted the top of Charity’s head and as he left the room he said. “I will sort out how we are going to get you moved from here without you being seen.”
Charity was seething at how ungrateful her sisters were behaving and as to Alistair’s behaviour she would have to deal with him later.
Settling her gaze onto Hope, she mimicked what her sister had just said to Alastair; “’It is very kind that you use your skills to help those who need it the most’.” And she looked at her sisters with disappointment, anger and betrayal. “I am trying to help you… but do you know what? Sod it. If that is the way you want to appear during your mortal lifetime then so be it. All that I ask is that you play the game and keep quiet for my sake.”
Hope took a step back at the sight of so much anger amassing in Charity’s auras. “Why are you so angry with us?” she asked in concern.
Charity leant back against the pillow, closed her eyes. “Leave me alone. I am tired,” and when she heard the sound of the door opening and closing, she was relieved that her sisters had done just that – left the room without expressing another word.
But suspicion crept into her mind.
“Why so… willing?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “What does it matter? Sisters…” she spat the word out with contempt. “How stupid have I been_.”
A pain shot through her head and pierced the depths of her thoughts.
She was swamped within a darkness of such weight and ferocity and now voices seared insidiously into her mind.
Charity waited until her mind had adjusted to the voices of the intruders but the longer she listened the angrier she became. You ungrateful lot. You should be thanking me. Her inner voice screamed over all other voices. I released you from those rotting, decaying lumps of meat. You are as I once was, Immortal! And how do you thank me? By wailing?
Her mind then plunged into darkness and just before she was thrown into a state of unconsciousness, Charity heard one voice over all others:
Drink the memories. Break the vessel. Return to the Void of Emptiness with the right of your claim.
Chapter 6
1st day of April within her time of evening
When Faith and Hope left the hospital, they were amazed at the amount of people within its grounds.
They looked back at the scene from the pavement’s edge and it became all too obvious that these people were here to honour their sister, Charity.
They were holding candles and placards; the grounds and gardens were awash with a vast amount of flowers, crucifixes, soft toys and photographs of Charity’s face.
“Let’s go home.” Faith said despondently and hailed down a black cab.
They remained quiet as the driver navigated through the streets away from St Mary’s Hospital and toward Marylebone.
Twenty minutes, they arrived at Baker Street.
Faith unlocked the entrance door of a red-bricked building and led Hope toward the lift that serviced the penthouse suite. She unlocked the door to her open-planned apartment and for the first time, introduced Hope into her home.
“Have you any wine?” Hope asked.
Faith nodded, walked toward the kitchen area, around the central breakfast bar and opened a bottle of red wine.
Hope walked further into the room and toward an intricately carved archway on the right hand side. She gazed at the many carved symbols and stroked her fingertips across the figures of water nymphs, olive branches, bows and arrows, musical notes and instruments, torches of flame and a vast amount of animals, birds, flowers and fauna.
“Here you are.” Faith said as she handed her sister a glass of wine.
Hope drank it down gratefully and followed her sister into an area filled with sofas, armchairs, cushions and brightly coloured bean-bags. She then focussed on the twelve windows that stood floor to ceiling along the length of the left-hand side of the apartment.
Each window was arched and decorated in a similar way to that of the archway.
She gazed at the carvings of human figures and the objects that they held within their hands – bows and arrows, shields, swords, scales and doves.
Hope trailed her fingertips across the ears of horses, wings of eagles; stroked the stone petals of lily pads, scales of fish and sea horses. “Our first mortal life is to be the hardest.” Hope said with sadness. “We still remember who we are and what it is that we have lost.” She placed her empty glass onto a wooden table, walked toward one of the windows and peered down onto the street below.
Faith joined her sister’s side. “Over there…” she pointed, “… those lights in the distance are from the hospital that keeps Charity safe.”
Hope nodded and when her sister said nothing, Faith continued. “The park that stretches out before us is called Regents.” And when Hope still remained quiet, Faith added. “I know not why Charity spoke the way she did but maybe tomorrow she will be as we know her to be…” but Faith’s words trailed away at the sight of the vast amount of flickering images beside those of the living. “Why are not the ghosts seen by the living?” Faith asked aloud.
Hope shook her head and stared down at the pavement. “I too would not be able to see them if it were not for the sighting of their auras.” She shifted closer toward her sister. “Did you see the swirling mass of heavy emotions that Charity was filled with? Did you see it Faith? Did you feel it?”
“Yes Hope I did. I also witnessed you trying to absorb what Charity was filled with. I thought you had used your immortal abilities to keep the Festivities of Life flowing?”
Hope did not answer her sister straight away.
Instead, she stared up into the night sky and watched the stars until the clouds obstructed their view. She sighed aloud and then explained. “I bestowed the essence of happiness only to watch sadness eat it all up. I lifted up the mortal sprit with energies from laughter, love and hope and as quickly as they soared and danced; despair and hopelessness cut into their sails and threw them into a deep, dark pit of depression, self-loathing, bitterness and blame.”
Hope placed the palm of her hand onto the window pane and welcomed its coldness. “We live on a planet whose creatures are filled with heaviness. Whilst I could, I used my abilities to absorb that heaviness… I thought it would allow the lightness to come in.”
“Why did you not use the energies to heal your own mortal vessel?
I know you have not done so… I see the ill-health and imbalances that your life-force has suffered.”
“I tried. Whilst it worked on the outside, it did not reach my inner turmoil. I asked of the mortals what they did within their darkest of moments. They told me that alcohol was the medicine that helped them. They said; ‘it will get me out of my mind and it does… to a degree – it numbs the pain.” Hope turned and looked at her sister. “I thought that if I lightened what Earth weighed her children down with - then they would become free?”
Faith nodded. “I understand. You sacrificed a part of your Self so that others could be filled with happiness?”
“No Faith. Happiness is temporary. I did it to keep the flame of Hope burning bright. The mortals have the essence of it but it is failing… diminishing. I am the Keeper of Hope and that does not mean that I get to keep it unto my Self.”
Faith smiled in relief that that ability had now been taken away from her sister. “Thank the stars that you can no more absorb what is not for you to absorb.”
“I do the same as you,” Hope whispered. “I could not stand by and witness another being’s inner turmoil and do nothing. I can see what it is that you are sacrificing. I see Madness waiting in the shadows of your mind.”
“You are right.” Faith whispered and brushed her fingers along the side of Hope’s weathered and worn-out face. She stepped away and echoing her sister’s own words said. “Our first mortal life is to be the hardest.”
The Dream
2nd day of April before her time of lightness
Hope was walking along a tunnel that is but of darkness. She held out her hands to steady herself but sank into the walls of the tunnel; the tunnel shifted and became an ocean of people. Waves of bodies pushing, grasping and clawing at one another; the bodies became bigger and heavier.
An orb of white light blinded the people and as they shielded their eyes from the glare, it opened up and released silvery-grey particles.
Hope felt the rays of light seeping into her body and when she looked around, everything had changed; she stood within a vastness of space.
The Protector of Memories (The Veil of Death Book 1) Page 4
