The Ghosts of London

by Amy Cross

  Once she's rolled over and turned her back to me, I look down at my trembling hands. I know what I saw earlier, and I also know that there's no such thing as ghosts. Whoever that Quix girl is, she was right here, and she must have wanted something. After checking that the knife is still under my pillow, I set my head down. I know I won't sleep, but I figure I should at least try to rest before sunrise.

  I need to make sure that this is my first and last night in this hellhole.

  Chapter Two

  Rachel

  "It's really simple," I say, sitting on the edge of Alexander's bed while he watches from the doorway. In my hand, I'm holding a large carving knife, at least eight inches long with a broad blade. "I'm going to use this on myself," I continue, staring at him and watching the look of concern in his eyes. "All you have to do is watch. You like watching, don't you? Sometimes, anyway."

  "When you say you're going to use it on yourself," he replies, "what... I mean, what exactly does that entail?"

  I open my mouth to explain, but no words come out. The truth is, I'm still not certain that I can explain this to him fully, even though I know he already understands more than he's letting on. Alexander and I share a bond, but it's one that neither of us has fully admitted yet. I know that he knows a great a deal about me, and I'm pretty sure that he suspects I'm onto him. It took me a while to figure out what was really happening during my nights with him, and why he was so keen to hire me time after time, but I finally understand.

  It makes perfect sense.

  "You look worried," I say after a moment.

  "You're sitting on my bed with a knife in your hand," he points out.

  "It's not the first time."

  He stares at me.

  "It's not," I add with a faint smile. "I know it's not."

  "You're going to cut yourself," he says eventually. "Is that it? This is some kind of sado-masochistic -"

  "No," I say firmly. "Jesus Christ, I'm not that banal." Unbuttoning my coat, I slip it off and place the tip of the blade against the fabric of my shirt, directly above the heart. "This isn't just going to be skin deep," I tell him. "I have to take it all the way and prove something to myself, maybe even out the other side. I have to know exactly what happens. I mean, I know what happens, but I need someone else to watch and tell me the mechanics. I need to know how I end up..."

  An awkward silence descends for a moment.

  "I'm not explaining this very well," I mutter.

  "You want me to watch you kill yourself," he replies.

  "No," I reply quickly. "Well, yes... Kind of. Yes and no. I've left a tape in my coat pocket. I recorded a short video of myself explaining my actions and absolving you of any blame. As far as the police will be concerned, I simply did this to myself right in front of you, and you're an innocent bystander." I wait for him to reply. "Except, the police won't be involved at all, because there'll be no body and I won't actually be dead. That's what matters."

  He stares at me, but I know he understands.

  "Think of it as a kind of magic trick," I continue with a smile. "You have to trust me on this one, Alexander. When I'm done, you just have to watch and see what happens, and then wait for me to come back. And I will come back. You know I will."

  "How?" he asks, his interest clearly having been piqued.

  "That's what I need you to tell me," I reply. "I thought about just setting up a video camera to record the moment, but a camera would only capture part of the story. I need to know the whole thing. Just promise me you'll wait a few hours. If I'm not back by dawn, then something's gone wrong, but nothing will go wrong. I've done this a dozen times over the past few months, in various ways. I even did it earlier today, so I know it works."

  "That's rather difficult to believe," he replies calmly.

  "It's worth the effort," I say darkly. I wish he'd just admit the truth right now, and he must know that I'm onto him; still, he seems to think that somehow I might have missed the obvious point about his involvement in all of this. I guess maybe he thinks I'm pretty dumb, but he'll learn the truth soon enough.

  He pauses, as if he's undecided. "What will you do if I refuse?" he asks.

  "You won't refuse," I reply. "Do you want to know how I can be so sure?"

  "Please," he says with a faint smile. "Go ahead."

  "Because you're like me," I continue. "You said it yourself this morning. There aren't many people who are on this wavelength, but we both understand that there's more to existence than just breathing in and breathing out. You've seen glimpses of my dark side, and I've seen glimpses of yours, and at the end of the day, I know you trust me. I'm clearly not insane or delusional, and besides, this isn't the first time something unusual has happened when I'm in your penthouse, is it?" I wait for him to reply, but I can see from the look in his eyes that we understand one another. "The very first time I came here," I add, "you... I don't remember it in detail, but I pieced it together after. It was the first time this happened to me, or at least I think it was the first time."

  "Rachel -"

  "You killed me," I say firmly, interrupting him. "Calm down, I'm not mad. I realize it was an accident, a little game that went too far. I can only imagine how you felt when you realized that somehow I'd popped back to life, and ever since then you've been unable to let me go. You keep hiring me for massages, insisting that I come to your place late at night. Every time, I get a little blackout, a little moment where my memory slips." I can't help but smile as I see the look of fear in his eyes. "You enjoy it, don't you?" I ask. "Doing those things to me, and then having me wake up again. It's okay, I understand. Maybe I even like it myself, and as I said earlier, I'm willing to be yours and yours alone, but first you have to watch me do it to myself one time, and you have to tell me exactly what happens. No looking away, no running, no flinching. Just watch, and tell me later. Got it?"

  He pauses.

  "I also know that you followed me the other night and killed me in the alley. What happened? Did you want to try something a little more direct and dangerous? I could smell your cologne, Alexander. I know it was you."

  He opens his mouth to say something, but no words come out.

  "You don't need to confess," I say calmly. "I'm not looking for an apology or some kind of repentance, and I don't even want you to break down in tears and jabber on about how sorry you are. Just tell me you'll watch. You owe me that much."

  "How long have you known?" he asks.

  "I've been figuring it out for a while."

  "And you didn't think to mention it sooner?"

  "I was trying to work out how to use it to my advantage," I tell him, figuring that I should pretend to have a fuller grasp of the situation. "You can't blame me for that. I kept coming back, though, so that has to count for something, doesn't it? I could easily have told you to fuck off, but I didn't. I let you have your little bit of fun, and to be honest, I even considered playing dumb for a while longer. The problem, though, is that I need to know what happens, and that's why I've come to you tonight."

  I wait for him to reply.

  "Please," I add.

  "I'll watch," he replies after a moment. "I'll watch and then I'll tell you what I see."

  Getting to my feet, I take a deep breath and pause for a moment. At the back of my mind, there's the nagging concern that maybe this time something will go wrong and I won't come back. Then again, I've reached the point where my life doesn't really seem to matter very much. I should already be dead, several times over, and yet I keep coming back, so I already feel as if I'm living on borrowed time. Every day, I wonder if this might be the moment when it all ends, when death finally catches up to me, and I don't think I want to live with so much doubt anymore. I want to know the truth, about how it works and more importantly why it works.

  I want to know my limits.

  "Ready?" I ask, with the tip of the blade pressed against my shirt, poking through to the flesh beneath.

  He nods.

  I close
my eyes and push the knife straight through my chest.

  Chapter Three

  Katie

  Suddenly it hits me like a wave of pain.

  Sitting up on the mattress, I feel as if someone just punched me in the gut, or even stabbed me. For a moment, filled with panic and unable to work out what the hell's happening, I push a hand under my shirt and frantically feel my chest, convinced that something must have happened. Eventually, however, I realize that there's no injury, and when I look over at Izzy I see that she's still asleep.

  I look across the gloomy room, which is a little lighter now that the first hint of sunrise is creeping through the window. I keep expecting to see that Quix woman again, but there's no sign of her. As I start to calm down, I remind myself that I'm just being unnecessarily jumpy. Once I've caught my breath, I settle back down on the mattress and stare up at the grimy, cracked ceiling. Still, I've got this horribly uneasy feeling in my chest, as if something terrible just happened.

  I hope to God that it's nothing to do with Rachel.

  Chapter Four

  Rachel

  "Don't!" I gasp, pushing Alexander away as I fall back down onto the bed. Closing my eyes, I try to focus on the pain and allow it to overwhelm my body. I just want this to be over with as quickly as possible, but instead it feels as if my whole body is trembling.

  I hold my breath.

  "Do you -"

  "No!" I shout, opening my eyes and taking a gulp of air. Alexander is standing a few feet away, staring at me with a look of horror in his eyes.

  Looking down at my chest, I see the handle of the knife jutting out as blood pours from the wound. With shaking hands, I reach up and take hold of the handle, immediately feeling the blade slice between my ribs and tear through my body. I take a deep breath and realize that somehow, by some freakish miracle, I must have missed my heart.

  "I have to do this," I grunt, before slowly sliding the knife out. The pain is immense, but not enough to knock me out, and for a moment I stare down at the blood-soaked blade. It's hard to believe that I have to do this again, but after a moment I realize that the pain is only going to get worse and worse.

  "I can do it for you," Alexander says. "If you like -"

  "No," I gasp, repositioning the tip of the blade, determined to ensure that this time it goes straight into my heart. After taking another deep breath, I push again, and the metal slices through my flesh and deep into my body. A fraction of a second later, I feel a tearing sensation in one side of my chest, followed by a feeling of something hot and rich erupting in my body, and then...

  And then my heart stops beating.

  I swear, I can feel the precise moment. All around me, the world seems to fall completely silent. I open my mouth to say something, but suddenly I realize that there's no point. Nothing matters anyway, so I might as well just wait for the inevitable. I stare straight ahead for a moment, before glancing over at Alexander. He's staring at me impassively, and I figure that maybe I should try to say something, just in case this turns out to be the end.

  "I..." I gasp, before falling flat on my back with such force that I feel the blade jiggle against my torn heart.

  Blood starts to flow into the back of my mouth as I stare up at the ceiling of Alexander's bedroom. I've finally done what was necessary, and I can feel my life draining away. It's not the first time, of course, and it probably won't be the last, but at least I have Alexander watching me so that I can find out exactly what happens.

  I try to close my eyes, but I can't. Everything still goes dark, however, and finally my entire mind seems to rush away and disappear into oblivion.

  Chapter Five

  Katie

  "Quix?" Simeon pauses. "Yeah, maybe. Name rings a bell."

  I watch as he butters some toast, and it's clear that since I mentioned Quix just now, he's seemed a little more agitated than normal. With a cigarette in his mouth and stubble on his chin, he definitely looks less calm and collected than before, as if he had a rough night and he should be getting some sleep. Bleary-eyed and a little on-edge, he places the toast on a plate before sliding it toward me across the table.

  "Breakfast is served," he says with a smile, before placing various pots of jam and marmalade next to the plate. "Don't go telling anyone that you don't get fine service at this joint, yeah?"

  I smile politely.

  "So you and Izzy got talking last night, eh?" he continues, taking a drag on his cigarette.

  "Kind of," I reply. "Just a little."

  "That's nice of her," he says, even though there seems to be a hint of irritation in his voice. "Really nice. I must remember to thank her later."

  "So this Quix woman," I continue. "What happened to her?"

  "Buggered if I know," he replies. "I barely even remember her, darling, to be completely honest with you. Was she the ginger one, or -"

  "Black hair," I reply, even though I don't think he really needs the hint. "A little taller than me, some scars around her mouth -"

  "That's right," he says quickly, as if he doesn't want me to continue. "I remember now. She wasn't here for long. Actually, I barely even spoke to her. Just another girl who passed through this place, got what she needed, and left. I mean, as much as I like the girls I help, I don't really expect any of them to stay for too long. The whole idea of this place is that they get themselves back on their feet and then off they go, into their new lives. Frankly, it'd be a bit of failure if any of them hung around. Know what I mean?"

  "Izzy's been here for a while," I point out.

  "Yeah, well, Izzy's a fucking no-hoper." He takes another drag. "I didn't mean that," he adds. "God bless her heart, she's just proving to be a little tricky, that's all, a bit of a challenge, but that's very much a rarity. Consider her to be a cautionary tale. With you, my dear, we're gonna get you sorted and see if we can find your sister, and if we can't, then we'll set you up with something else, yeah? There's nothing worse than uncertainty in this world, so I think the best thing is to work fast."

  "Can I check my mail?" I ask, putting some jam on the toast. "She might have replied."

  "Go ahead," he says, grabbing a chunky old laptop from the counter and passing it to me "Just don't get too down if she hasn't got back to you yet, yeah?"

  As I log into my mail account, I hear footsteps coming down the stairs. A few seconds later, Izzy slopes into the room, conspicuously not saying anything to either of us as she heads to the rickety, shuddering fridge in the corner. Once my mail has loaded on the screen, I see with disappointment that Rachel still hasn't got back to me. She's never been the kind of person who spends a lot of time online, but I'm convinced that she should have at least checked her mail by now. Figuring that maybe she read it but didn't understand the situation, I type out another quick message, emphasizing the fact that I need to see her urgently. Finally, I log out and close the laptop, and that's when I realize that Simeon and Izzy seem not to be talking to each other.

  "Found your brother yet?" Izzy asks as she pours herself a mug of coffee.

  "It's her sister she's looking for," Simeon replies. "Get it right."

  "Whatever." She turns to me. "Found your sister yet?"

  I shake my head.

  "Huh." She takes a sip from her mug. "She the flaky type?"

  "Not really," I reply.

  "Maybe something's happened to her."

  "You're not being helpful," Simeon mutters. "Haven't you got to go and get ready for work?"

  "I am ready," she replies, giving him a quick twirl so he can see her rumpled shirt from all angles. "What's wrong? Don't you think I look good enough?"

  "You could at least do your hair," he replies. "You look like you're wearing a fucking mop on your head."

  "Why bother? It'd just get undone again, especially at the back."

  "How else can I look for her?" I ask, feeling as if the pair of them could get lost in their passive-aggressive conversation all morning if I let them. "I mean, there has to be a way to find som
eone you're looking for in London. Like a list of addresses, or maybe some way to check where she last logged into her mail, or a record of where she works."

  "You could always go to the cops," Izzy says with a smile.

  "No," Simeon says quickly, "I don't think that's the best step. The cops always complicate things."

  "I'd rather not get them involved," I reply. Since I've been away from home for a few days now, I'm sure my parents will have asked the police to keep an eye out for me, even though I left a note explicitly saying that I didn't want to be contacted. The whole point of coming to London was to get the hell away from my old life, and the last thing I need to do is let them get their hooks in me again.

  "I can ask around," Simeon says. "There's ways and means. Not all of them are completely legit, but I guess that's not our priority, right? I can definitely see if anyone's heard anything. Put the feelers out, you know?"

  "Oh," Izzy replies with a grin, "your legendary feelers. Are you -" Before she can finish, there's a distant knocking sound, as if someone is banging on the door. "He's early," she says, suddenly seeming a little irritated as she checks her watch. "I thought he wasn't coming 'til eight."

  "That's his choice," Simeon mutters. "Go and let him in, then. You don't want to keep your mate waiting, do you?"

  I watch as Izzy heads through to the next room. Moments later, there's the sound of voices in the hallway, and then Izzy leads the visitor through a different part of the building before they head upstairs, almost as if she didn't want me to see who arrived. I still don't quite know who Izzy is or what she's doing here, or even what kind of set-up Simeon's running, but I'm starting to get more and more suspicious.

  "What's happening?" I ask, turning to Simeon.