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

by D. K. Manning

  Brian nodded and agreed with the woman; it’s all very well telling folk that empty ghosts are about to take over the world but what about them that believe it all.

  He blew out his cheeks and said in a gentle tone. “I’m really sorry miss but I’ve had strict instructions not to let anybody back into the library. Can you come back tomorrow? We open the doors at nine o’clock. Linda will be here then.”

  Katherine nodded, she felt so disappointed at the thought of having to wait a whole night-time.

  Seeing the look of disappointment, Brain said. “Tell you what. Let me have your name and contact details. I’ll get Linda to give you a ring.”

  “Is she the woman with the owl on her shoulder?”

  “Blow me,” he said and laughed. “You can see it as well?” And it was then that he noticed the oddness of her eyes.

  “Excuse me?” Katherine said and waited for the man to take the piece of paper from her. “Excuse me?”

  Brian rubbed his hands over his chin, took the piece of paper and read the name written on it, “Katherine,” he said. “Okay Katherine. I’ll get Linda to give you a ring?”

  Shaking her head in disagreement, she said. “No I don’t want to be a nuisance. Just tell her that I will be here tomorrow morning just before you open. I think Faith recognised me but can you tell her that I am Nurse Katherine Adams… just in case.”

  Giving her a salute he said. “Will do…” and glancing at her face again asked, “You sure you’re alright. Sorry I can’t let you in.”

  “This I can handle…” she rubbed her hand gently over her stinging cheek. “Empty ghosts I cannot.”

  Brian nodded but said no more.

  “Thank you.” Katherine said and turned and walked away.

  ∞

  Brain locked the doors, pulled down the internal shutters and made his way back to the conservatory.

  He handed Linda the piece of paper. “She was waiting outside. But I did as instructed… I did feel sorry for the lass.”

  Linda read the name on the piece of paper, looked at Faith and Hope. “Katherine,” she said, “The woman who saw my owl.”

  Brian laughed. “She mentioned your owl. She also told me to say that she is Nurse Katherine Adams.”

  “Yes,” Faith said. “We know her.”

  “She’d been slapped on the face… hard; I could see the palm print.”

  “Not when I saw her she didn’t.” Linda said. “You should have let her into the library.”

  “Hey I was only doing me job. I asked if she was okay… I mean the slap an all – she said ‘she could handle that but not empty ghosts’.”

  “Why didn’t you let her in?” Linda insisted.

  “It’s alright. Don’t get your knickers in a twist it’s probably over nothing_.”

  “Brian this is serious. You need to start taking us seriously.”

  “I’m sorry. Look… she said she’ll come back just before nine tomorrow.”

  Linda sighed aloud her frustration but then her thoughts veered sharply toward Alan Bowling. “Faith…” she hesitated, “Alan has probably gone to the police by now.”

  Faith nodded her head in agreement. “I know Linda. I know.”

  Sam rubbed at her jaw and flinched at its tenderness. “Linda,” she asked in concern. “Will you be in trouble over this… the library I mean?”

  Linda shrugged her shoulders, “I expect so,” and then she looked around the conservatory. The room was empty now that all the ghosts had flickered out of sight to follow the ghost called David. “But such things pale into insignificance.”

  Smiling sadly at them all, she added. “Tomorrow is not to be a good day for any of us.”

  Chapter 22

  3rd day of April within her time of evening

  Charity opened her eyes and saw a hazy outline of Alastair standing by the bed.

  She waited until the blurriness had gone from her vision and asked is it done?

  But no words came out from her mouth.

  She tried talking again, but all that Charity could hear was a muffled sound. She tried waggling her tongue, but it felt as if it wasn’t there. What have you done to me?

  She raised her hands and felt the bandages around her head… her face - but she could feel no tenderness from surgery or stitches. She looked at Alastair and tried talking but again she heard only a rough muffled sound.

  She sat up.

  He pushed her back down, leant in close and whispered into her ear. “There is but one flaw to the female of the species. They talk.”

  Charity raised her good arm and scratched her fingernails down the length of his face.

  “You bitch,” he hissed, grabbed at her hand and administered a sedative into her system. “You wanted me to be your creator. Well then… it was up to me to adjust that one small flaw.” Alastair watched Charity’s eyelids flickering… drooping and finally closing - when he was confident that she was sedated, he released his grip, adjusted his tie and made his way out of the room.

  ∞

  One voice spoke inside Charity’s mind:

  Swear your allegiance to me.

  Charity opened her eyes and felt the sedative draining away from her body. She sat up and looked around the room to discover that the sight of the auras had been restored to her. She looked up at the ceiling, the walls and the door; the furniture and flowers - pulling back the bed sheet, she sat forward and looked down at the floor, her feet and her legs.

  Taking the energy source from the anger that she was creating, Charity attempted to manipulate it and to her delight, she could. She crafted the heat and moulded it into tiny fireballs and flicked them across the room and at the roses - scorching their petals.

  Then she manipulated the element of air and caught the blackened petals and as they hovered, she hesitated… toyed with what she wanted to do with them, smiled in sweet satisfaction and after restoring their shape to rose petals, she decided upon the colour of blood red rather than pinks and yellows.

  Concentrating her sights onto her hands, Charity now began to sculpture the gnarled fingers back to those of a young woman’s but she got as far as the skin; the brown spots disappeared… reappeared – flickered and faded.

  Sweat beads trickled down her spine and exhaustion swept throughout her body.

  She said to the ghost inside her mind; Okay allegiance sworn.

  The noise of… something - filled Charity’s mind and she wondered if that was the sound of death laughing?

  Who are you? She questioned the voice residing inside her mind.

  I am the Saviour.

  Tilting her head, Charity caught a fragrance that was similar to that of the empty ghosts; you smell as they… of acid and tar. Who were you before you became empty?

  Silence crackled in the room.

  Minutes lived and died.

  Hera.

  Charity narrowed her eyes at the sound of that name and she filled her mind with a barrage of insults, rage and expletives. And then she tried to shout out her anger but all that she produced was a muffled sound.

  Her anger spiralled into a rage at what Alastair had done to her tongue and her inner voice screamed to Hera; if you think I’m going to swear my allegiance to a vindictive, manipulating bitch_

  It is done. Do not make the same mistake that my empty ghosts so often do.

  Looking around the room, Charity realised that whilst she was busy having a rant at Hera, she had lost control of her anger.

  The entire surface of the wall in front of her was awash with blackened holes; scorched marks that had puffs of smouldering smoke billowing out of them. She put her hands together, controlled her breathing and reined in the power-force from the emotions that she had just created.

  What do you want from me? Charity’s inner voice asked. And don’t lie. I know that you want more than my allegiance.

  Your memories are plentiful and so the empty ghosts that you created are not leaving your vessel. Command them back to me.

>   When she caught the scent of Hera’s lie within the stench of the acid and tar, Charity’s laughter resounded within her mind; I told you not to lie to me. My empty ghosts will not leave my body that sustains them with life to go into a Void that is Empty. What do you want with them?

  Cut off their supply of memories.

  Hera, you still lie to me. It is my stardust that you are interested in - stardust prevents my little army of five ghosts from breaking my vessel. I command them out… you get the stardust. They come back with a vengeance. You really think you can trick me twice?

  I control who leaves the Void of Emptiness. When they return back to me, I promise you that they will not leave it. Your loyalty will receive the highest of rewards.

  You can keep your gifts Hera for they are as empty as your ghosts. What use will I have of manipulating the energies when my body is dead? My stardust is protecting me. I would be a fool to surrender it?

  If you had the power-force of regeneration at your disposal there will be no need for stardust.

  Charity sniffed for the scent of Hera’s lies but couldn’t smell it? For sure Hera was still lying to her. She delved deeper; tar, acid and bitterness were the only fragrances that she could smell.

  Attempt once more to sculpture the image you wish to be seen as. Might I suggest that you try with your tongue?

  She did as Hera suggested and attempted again to manipulate the energies around her. She started with the growth of her tongue without breaking out into a sweat.

  Humming a little tune, she rolled a string of ‘Rs’ and set about sculpturing her body and face into an image of a young and beautiful woman.

  Then she manipulated resources that cannot be obtained on Earth… Reality and Perception – she wove the force of their power into her image. All of Earth’s creatures who gazed upon Charity’s image would see their own definition of beauty. “To everyone, I am beautiful.”

  Charity licked her lips with her tongue and felt the smoothness of her mouth.

  Sixty seconds to create a piece of art. One second to destroy it.

  The image that Charity had just perfected - vanished - she stared back at the previous image of the old and withered face.

  Do we have a deal?

  Charity sighed aloud, spoke… but again all that arrived was a muffled sound and so using her thoughts, she said to Hera, You ask a lot of me.

  Might I remind you again that your loyalty will receive the highest of rewards?

  Charity stared at her reflection and realised that with the power-force of regeneration at her disposal there would be no need for people like Alastair. She could give to the mortals anything that they desired and hide it all within the inventions of creams. Besides, she reasoned to herself; I do as the mortals do - manipulate the essence of truth until it suits their own needs.

  She frowned; how could she trust Hera? Would her mortal body die as soon as her stardust had gone? If so, she would be cast into the Void of Emptiness and claimed by her creations of empty ghosts.

  I am the commander to the empty ghosts and when the battle commences between us and the mortals we will win? Swear your allegiance to me and when Victory arrives, you will stand by my side and together we will command the species that is to take its rightful place upon the Earth - The empty ghosts.

  As Charity listened to Hera’s words, she weighed up her chances… worst case scenario would be an early arrival into the Void of Emptiness but if Hera was true to her word and Charity had the ability to regenerate… the possibilities would be endless. Her influence that she would have over the mortals would be enormous.

  Okay Hera you have made your point. You have my allegiance.

  When I shroud your memories with Oblivion, weave the stardust into the empty ghosts and command them back to the Void of Emptiness. When they leave your mind the link between you and I will be severed… when you cast your eyes to the sky and see only the mist then my arrival to Earth will be imminent.

  The screams from the empty ghosts grew piercingly louder, deafening her eardrums. Closing her eyes, Charity tricked them into believing that they would be returning to the mind that was plentiful; do as I ask and when you return to my vessel, oblivion will be gone.

  Hiding the scent from her lie, she waited…

  A couple of moments passed by and then peace filtered into her mind as the spindly network of five tendrils drifted out of her head.

  The fragrance of Hera’s acid and tar left Charity’s sense of smell and holding her breath in anticipation, she quickly set about sculpturing her body into an image of youth & beauty.

  Hera had kept true to her word.

  Sixty seconds later and she was gazing back at her beautiful reflection.

  “Alastair... Alastair… Alastair,” she whispered. “What is to be the fate for you?”

  When she had decided what it was to be, she walked the corridors until she found a telephone, dialled 999 and when it was picked up she whispered. “You have got to help me. I am Charity, the Face of Youth and Beauty you have_.”

  “Emergency. Which service?” The voice on the other end asked.

  “The police. I need the police. I am Charity. You must know who I am? Mr Herringbone is going to kill me. Please help me. He won’t let me leave the clinic… he keeps me drugged but I’ve managed_.”

  “Charity of course…” the voice gasped into the ear-piece.

  “Help me you’ve got to help me.”

  “A police car is on its way_.”

  “I can hear him. Oh God he’s going to kill me_.”

  Dropping the telephone receiver so that it clattered against the wall she walked back to her room, made a sound of gentle laughter, sent her echoes tinkling along the rooms, corridors and floors - ensuring that they would only be heard by Alastair. When she had wrapped the bandages around her head and restored the scorched wall back to its whiteness, she got into bed and listened to the sound of hurried footsteps.

  Alastair appeared at the doorway a little out of breath from running down the stairs. He frowned over at Charity and could have sworn he had heard her laughing… the old laugh.

  He walked over to her bedside, looked down at her bandaged face and whispered softly. “I will reconstruct your face but it will be on my terms_.” he stopped at the sight of Charity’s fingers twitching; she should be out cold.

  He hurried out of the room and was back within minutes holding a syringe filled with a paralytic drug.

  But as he was about to administer it into Charity, the syringe was knocked from his hand.

  “Mr Alastair Herringbone. I am arresting you for the kidnapping and false imprisonment of Charity…”

  Alastair stared at the policeman stupefied, listening and now he tried to struggle out from the arm lock, but another policeman grabbed his other arm and held that equally as tight.

  “Get off me you idiots!” Alastair shouted and struggled to get out from their hold. “Let me go. I have not kidnapped Charity. Let me go!”

  The policeman on his left, said. “That’s not what Charity has told us.”

  Alastair laughed… coughed but then spluttered when Charity began to talk.

  “That man has been holding me captive. He is obsessed with me.”

  “You…” Alastair spluttered “how can you speak…”

  Charity got up from the bed, unravelled the bandages from her face.

  Alastair stared at her beauty; his eyes softened and his desire for her returned instantly.

  But his thoughts whirled around in his mind.

  His eyes flickered over Charity’s face then to the floor as he tried to process what was happening. But I saw her face? Alastair looked up at her face, neck and hands… smooth – unblemished - unwrinkled. How?

  The police grabbed his arms tighter and led him out of the door.

  “Charity!” he shouted and tried turning around so that he could look at her. “Tell them the truth damn you. You bitch if you don’t tell them the truth I’ll…” and he changed
tactics, “remember what we had? We can go back to how it was. Just tell them that I have not kidnapped you. I will forgive you and we can sort something out.”

  Charity remained quiet and leant her body into the police officer as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “You okay?” he whispered, “I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”

  Alastair was led out through the main entrance toward a police car and when he caught sight of Charity, he tried pleading with her again. “Please don’t do this to me. We can sort something out.”

  Charity turned toward the reporters and the cameras. “This man kidnapped me and lied to you all. He has become obsessed with me and threatened to kill me if I didn’t claim that it was his surgical work that has made me young and beautiful_.”

  “You liar!” Alastair shouted, “test her creams... it damages the skin. She knew that. I don’t know how she’s doing it but this woman is tricking you.” He shouted out to the reporters. “You have got to believe me. It is Charity who is lying.” But rage filled him when he saw that his words were being ignored.

  Everybody was gawping up at her as if she were some sort of Goddess and before he knew what he was saying he had said it. “Charity I’m going to kill you!”

  Camera bulbs flashed, popped and caught up his words alongside the image of his face that was so full of anger.

  He realised then that he had just sealed his own fate.

  Chapter 23

  4th day of April within her time of morning

  Charity smiled into the cameras. “What kept me going through my ordeal was that you were all outside the clinic. It does not matter to me that you knew not what I was going through. It was the fact that you were keeping vigil. God heard your prayers and he kept me from harm.”