The Protector of Memories (The Veil of Death Book 1)

by D. K. Manning

  They sat in the armchairs by the shop’s front window and it was Sam who spoke first.

  “Sarah can I ask you something…” Sam paused, “but don’t be angry.”

  “Fire away.” Sarah said.

  “How did you really get that bruise on your shoulder?”

  “I banged it on the kitchen cupboard. It was Nigel’s idea to say that ‘that woman’ had hit me with an iron-bar.”

  “’That woman’ is called Hope.” Sam said in annoyance.

  “But Hope isn’t ‘that woman’. She isn’t old… haggard.”

  “Sarah I can’t explain why it is Hope’s appearance has changed but believe me. It’s Hope. The woman I love.

  Sarah made a snorting noise but then held her hands up. “Whatever.” She said. “But when you’ve seen what she and her friends have done to the park you might not be so sympathetic to their cause… whatever that is. They’ve ruined the park. Broken wine bottles, shopping trolleys, wooden shacks and mess all over the place… it’s disgusting…” she took a breath. “And now they’re saying the park’s theirs because it’s public and they are the public.” Sarah took another breath, picked up her coffee and watched Sam over the rim.

  After a few moments of quiet, Sarah said. “I watched the news yesterday. Sounds like Faith and Hope have taken Charity for a right ride. I wondered how Hope could afford to buy all that alcohol. What a waste… all that money and she blew it on booze. As to being a sister of Charity…” Sarah snorted, “It’s all getting a bit boring now. Can’t they just leave the poor woman alone_?”

  “Sarah,” Sam interrupted, “Hope and Faith are Charity’s sisters.”

  “Oh come off it Sam! That woman is an embarrassment to the entire race of women and she has the cheek to say she’s Charity’s sister.” Sarah picked up a croissant and bit into it angrily.

  “Sarah enough_.” but Sam stopped in mid-sentence at the sight of bright red markings on Sarah’s hand. “What are those?”

  “Nothing…” Sarah shrugged, “flea-bites.”

  Sam looked at the sight of tiny red blotches and realised they were all the way up Sarah’s neck. Before she realised what she was saying she had said it. “You’ve not killed anyone have you?”

  “What sort of stupid question is that?!” Sarah shouted. “If you must know I got it from one of those filthy squatters when I went into the park _.”

  She stopped talking… she’d already said too much and was about to lie about not having been in the park at all when Sam shoved a newspaper at her.

  “Read that.” Sam said. “Do you remember them? David and Dawn Woodhouse?”

  Sarah nodded a ‘yes’ and read the article.

  She looked up at Sam and laughed. “You are kiddin me right? You don’t actually believe any of this?” But she realised Sam was deadly serious, “Bloody hell Sam you’re sounding as nutty as that woman you want to shag_.”

  Sam’s anger was immediate. “I’ve had just about enough of you and how you speak to me. What gives you the right to talk to me like that?”

  “Oh right.” Sarah scoffed. “But it’s okay to accuse me of killing someone. What are you going to do now Sam? Go around asking all those with marks on their bodies if they’ve killed?” she raised her voice, “If that don’t sound like you’ve lost the plot then what does!”

  Sam hung her head down. “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have_.”

  Sarah interrupted her. “You’ve changed do you know that?” and she made her way toward the door, turned and added. “You used to be such a sweet little thing… so easy to be around.”

  “I’ve not changed,” Sam said. “I’m just getting fed up with how you talk to me. You turn nasty when I don’t agree with you. That’s not friendship Sarah.”

  Sarah smirked at Sam, turned, walked out of the door and slammed it shut with such a force, the glass vibrated.

  Sam turned her back on Sarah when she saw that she was giving her the ‘one-finger salute’ and flopped down into the armchair.

  Her heart beat was rapid and her hearing was muffled.

  She lit a cigarette, leant back into the armchair and stared up at the ceiling - replaying over and over again the conversation she had just had with Sarah; have you killed? Why did you go and say that Sam… you fool.

  A couple of moments later she decided Sarah was right about one thing, she could not go around accusing people of killing just because they had marks on their body; I’ll be the one getting committed never mind Faith.

  Sam decided to leave the warnings of empty ghosts for Faith to deal with and her attention was drawn now to the book shelf in front of her.

  She stared at the lightness of the wood – the grains and the knots; auras of wood, soil, mineral and plant. That was what Hope had seen in my auras.

  Sam sat up, stubbed out her cigarette, leant forward and placed the palm of her hand onto the wooden coffee table and tried to feel its warmth… the essence of the wood’s life – see the colours of its energies; this is what some tribes people do; listen and hear what the Earth is saying to them.

  “I am of the Earth.” Sam said into the room. “What are you saying to me?” She tried so hard to see the auras around the table but the harder she tried, the more her eyes began to sting.

  She flopped back down into her chair. “I see what I see,” she said aloud_.

  The sound of sirens screeching past the shop caused her to jump up and rush out of the door.

  Fire engines hurtled past, followed by ambulances and then police cars.

  She raced up the road and even before she had reached the park, she could see the flickering orange flames that told her a fire had broken out.

  Sam reached the yellow barriers, squeezed through a gap and stood gawping at the scene before her; the entire park within the wrought iron fencing was a blazing fireball.

  Arches of water from the hoses, jetted up and over into the park and she looked around the vicinity expecting to see the squatters out on the pavements… safe.

  “Where are they?” She shouted to anybody who would listen and when nobody answered her, she focussed her attentions back onto the blazing fireball.

  The flames and smoke diminished and it was then that Sam could make out the charred wooden huts, benches; the fountain’s concrete – blackened. Shrubs, trees and grass, curled up branches. But her hands flew to her mouth as she realised that it wasn’t scorched branches that she was staring at, but fingers… arms and bodies.

  “Dear God,” she whispered.

  And that was when the smell of hit her – she had never smelt anything quite like it but she knew the cause of it; burnt flesh. It stung her nostrils… her lungs and she leant over into the gutter and was sick.

  Smoke stung her eyes and when she rubbed them it only made the stinging worse. She put her hand out and steadied herself against a vehicle. No. No. No_.

  “Miss,” A voice said. “You need to get beyond the barriers.” Sam turned and looked up to see a fire man standing beside her. “Sorry it’s just…” but she was sick again. Sam took the offered tissue and wiped her mouth; beads of sweat formed on her forehead and she felt all colour draining from her.

  “You shouldn’t be seeing any of this. Do you live far?”

  Sam shook her head ‘no’ and tried to stop herself from fainting; she breathed in deep breathes of air but the smell of burnt flesh hit her again - she put the tissue over her nose but that made matters worse.

  She leant over into the gutter and was sick until she had nothing left in her stomach.

  Her mouth was filled with the tastes of acid, smoke and burnt flesh. “Oh dear…” she whispered and put her hands over her face to try and rid her mind from the images of curled fingers and charred bodies.

  “I’ll go get a medic.”

  “It’s okay…” she stopped to cough and repeated, “I’ll be okay.”

  “I’ve been doing this job a long, long time and I still haven’t gotten used to what you’ve just witnessed. My advice?
Go home. If you got any brandy. Have some. If not then a very hot sweet tea cause I’m afraid it’s gonna hit you like an express train.”

  Sam shook her head ‘yes’ but asked. “What is?”

  “Shock.”

  “Oh.” Sam stood up slowly so not to disturb the giddiness in her head. “Did any of the squatters manage to get out of the park before…?”

  The fire man shook his head sadly. “No. You sure I can’t get you checked out?”

  “I’ll be alright,” she whispered.

  He nodded and then ran back toward the park. “Don’t be on your own.” He shouted over his shoulder.

  Tears rolled down her face.

  She licked her lips and tasted salt, dirt and soot. “Dear God,” she whispered, turned away from the scene - pushed through the barriers and made her way back up the road.

  Sam used the wall as a support and when she reached her book shop, she groaned inwardly at the sight of Sarah, Nigel and Paul standing in a row outside the jewellery shop.

  “Sorted,” Nigel said with a tone of smugness.

  Sam momentarily froze as if that one word had cast her to stone.

  She shook her head in confusion and thought; no you wouldn’t and then she decided to follow her instincts; just ignore them.

  “They were vermin. The lot of em. What do we do with vermin? We clear the streets of it.” Sarah said angrily.

  Sam turned around slowly. “You’re lying. You wouldn’t.”

  She instinctively looked toward the police car.

  “You say anything to the police,” Nigel said threateningly. “And we’ll deny it. No proof. All gone up in smoke,” he laughed and added. “It’ll be our little secret. You’re good at keeping secrets.”

  Sam caught his meaning and snapped. “You’ve just admitted to burning people alive!” She raised her voice. “You think that that is the same as making a pass at me_.”

  “Keep your voice down.” Nigel hissed and stepped closer to Sam.

  “What do you mean by that?” Sarah asked Sam.

  Sam ignored Sarah and asked them. “Did you all have a hand in this_?”

  “Tell me what you just meant?” Sarah asked Sam as she stepped toward her.

  Sam yelled at the top of her voice. “You have just burnt those people alive! They were drunk. They never would have stood a chance!”

  Nigel grabbed Sam by the arm and pinched it hard. “I told you to keep your fucking voice down.”

  Sam flinched at the pain in her arm and the spittle on her face.

  “How could you do such a thing?”

  And raising her voice, Sam demanded that they all go back to the park. “Go on!” she yelled. “See if it’s funny when you realise that what you smell is burnt flesh!”

  “I’m getting out of here.” Paul said. “We’re drawing attention to ourselves… the police are looking over at us.” He looked at Sam and said, “Nigel’s only being nasty. We didn’t do anything.”

  “Shut up Paul…” Nigel hissed, “You didn’t do anything because you’re all talk. Well me and Sarah ain’t and we went in there and sorted em all out. Something needed to be done…” he released Sam’s arm, “whoosh…” he whispered and made out as if his hands and fingers were flames. “Nobody’s gonna miss em anyhow.”

  Paul stared at Nigel in disgust. “This ain’t funny mate. Not anymore_.”

  Sam interrupted him to say. “It never was funny Paul.”

  He shrugged, turned and walked into his record shop.

  Nigel coaxed Sarah away.

  Sam glanced at the rucksack on Sarah’s shoulder and read; ‘West End Library’. But at that moment in time, the only thing that was registering into Sam’s mind was the people in the park. “If you have set those people alight,” she said to Nigel. “I will not keep quiet.”

  “Fuck off Sam.” Nigel said and slammed the door in her face.

  Sam stepped away but felt giddy again.

  She turned around slowly and leant her body against the wall. Her hands then flew to her mouth at the sight before her.

  There were so many stretchers being put into vehicles - stretchers carrying zipped up body bags and Sam thought about the three people she had gotten to know over the weeks.

  They had walked into her shop and said ‘just browsing’. Initially Sam had been dubious… doubtful of their motives but they had reminded her of how she was in any book shop – thirsty for a story, hungry to escape into another world.

  Sam began to lend them books.

  There was Sally; grimy faced, bitten down fingernails; hair that stuck up and out just as much as Sam’s did. Wherever Sally went, Taff would follow. He had black, rotten teeth - but it never stopped him from grinning when he returned one book and received another. And finally, ‘Lolly’; she wore red blusher, blue mascara, green eye shadow and pink lipstick. ‘Cheers me face up.’ She would say.

  Tears surfaced at the memories and Sam was about to wipe them away when Faith’s words resound into her mind; our tears are a part of us. She let the tears fall and even when the salty drops started to itch on her skin, she still refused to wipe them away.

  Sam turned toward the jewellery shop’s door and saw a pair of eyes staring at her from behind the plastic shutter.

  Sarah pulled away.

  Sam continued to stare at the slats of plastic as they jostled together before settling into place.

  “Nigel’s got to be lying.” Sam muttered. She could not believe that Nigel or Sarah would do such a thing, “Cold bloodied murder. They wouldn’t do_?”

  “Are you alright?” A voice interrupted her mutterings and when she looked up, Sam recognised the police officer to be the same one who had arrested Hope yesterday morning.

  He nodded toward Nigel’s and Sarah’s jewellery shop. “Anything I can help you with?”

  Sam shook her head. “Not this time,” she said and blew her nose.

  “You sure?” he asked and nodded again toward the jewellery shop to intimate that he had witnessed the altercation that had occurred between them all.

  “Do you know how the fire started?” She asked him.

  “Too early to say but the fire men haven’t found anything to indicate arson… seems like it was a careless accident.” He quickly added, “Horrific accident. You sure you’re okay?”

  Sam shivered. “I saw what happened… I mean I saw what had happened to the people in the park…” her words trailed away and she stared up at the police officer.

  The police officer held her eye contact.

  Sam looked down. “They are saying that they have done it,” she nodded toward the jewellery shop. “Nigel and Sarah told me that they started the fire.”

  “That’s a serious statement.”

  “But it is a true one.”

  “Serious thing to admit,” he said as he stared past Sam and at the jewellery shop. “What else did they tell you?”

  “Paul…” she pointed to the record shop. “He said that they didn’t do it. But Nigel seemed so insistent. He wanted me to believe that he had started the fire. He said it would be seen as an accident… no proof.”

  The police officer nodded. “You let us deal with this. If they start harassing you once all this police presence has gone…” he handed Sam a card, “ring the station.”

  Sam took the card and decided not to go back into the book shop. She locked the shop’s door, pulled the outer shutter down and closed the padlock. It was then that the words; West End Library registered into her mind followed by the words; ‘flea-bites’ and Sarah’s half-finished sentence about going into the park.

  “Excuse me?” She said to the police officer.

  “Call me Mike.” Mike said as he motioned to one of his colleagues to come on over.

  “Mike you need to ask them about a rucksack. They have a black rucksack with the words ‘West End Library’ written on it. And there’s money inside it but it isn’t theirs… Sarah and Nigel it isn’t their money. I know for a fact that Hope gave that money
to the people who live…” she faltered and added. “Hope the woman you arrested yesterday. She will confirm it. It was her money.”

  Mike rubbed his hands over his chin.

  Sam caught his hesitation. “You don’t believe me do you?”

  “Miss…”

  “Sam. My name is Sam.” Sam said and pushed her fingers through her hair. “The rucksack will prove it. They have stolen that money and I think they set fire to the park.”

  “Look…” he paused.

  “Ask Sarah how she got her flea-bites. They don’t have any pets. Sarah’s allergic to animal fur so those flea-bites prove that she went into that park to set alight to it.”

  “Sam. Let us deal with this.”

  “They are going to get away with murder. I know they are.”

  A woman joined Mike and he indicated to the record shop. “You start routine enquires there. I’m starting here…” he pointed to the jewellery shop as he continued to warn Sam. “Don’t do anything silly like take the law into your own hands.”

  “I won’t,” she whispered then her thoughts turned to Sally, Taff and Lolly. Those were the only people she had gotten to know but Sam reckoned that Sarah and Nigel had killed over thirty people… at least.

  “Nigel isn’t lying. They have done this.” Sam insisted as she put Mike’s card into her jean’s pocket.

  She bent down to check that she had locked the padlock before making her way around the corner.

  The police had started banging on all the shop’s doors and she did not want to be around for that altercation.

  She let herself into the street door that led up to her apartment, climbed the stairs, made her way into the kitchen and put the kettle on.

  When she retrieved the coffee and the bottle of brandy it dawned on her from where the brandy had come from. Sarah and Nigel had brought it with them when she had thrown a New Year’s Eve party. That was when Nigel had made a pass at her.

  She poured a large measure of the brandy into the coffee – added two heaped spoons of sugar, stirred the mixture and drank it all down. The fiery liquid seared Sam’s throat as it made its way into her empty stomach; it took with it - the smell of smoke and the taste of burnt flesh. She poured out the last of the brandy and drank that equally as fast.