Alice Isn't Well (Death Herself Book 1) (10 page)

Chapter Fifteen

Today

“Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten.”

Sitting on the floor in her one-bedroom apartment, Alice stared at her phone on the edge of the table. Sure enough, a moment later it began to ring for the twentieth time that morning.

“Go away,” she whispered, with tears in her eyes. “Please, just stop trying to call me!”

She waited, feeling as if the ring-tone was burning into her soul, before finally it stopped. She'd considered setting the phone on silent, or even tossing it out the window, but at least if she allowed it to keep ringing, she'd know when her doctor and the various contact workers at the council eventually stopped trying to get in touch. That was all she wanted, to be left alone. Truth be told, it was all she'd really wanted for as long as she could remember.

Taking a deep breath, she leaned back and rested her head against the wall.

“I get it,” she told herself out loud, “I'm fired. I know.” Sighing, she let her head hang forward and closed her eyes as she tried to work out what she was going to do next. The support allowance she received from the health authority, the money that paid for the room, was conditional on her keeping the job. Since she was clearly going to be fired, she realized she'd soon be cut loose. With no family or friends to count on, and having only been out of hospital for a few weeks, she had no idea what to do next.

A moment later, her phone started ringing again.

“Please,” she whispered, as tears dripped down onto the bare floorboards. “I don't know what to do. I thought I was better now.”

She sat in silence for a few seconds, before hearing a faint scratching sound. Opening her eyes and wiping away the tears, she looked over toward the door and saw what appeared to be an envelope poking through at the bottom. After staring blankly for a few seconds as she tried to work out what was happening, she sniffed back more tears and got to her feet. Heading over to the door, she reached down and picked up the envelope, which turned out to have her name scribbled in rough handwritten letters on the front.

Opening the envelope, she found that it contained a piece of card, on which someone had written eleven words:

Sorry.

See you soon. Visit Matty before it's too late.

Hannah.

“Sorry?” Alice whispered, reading out loud. “See you soon?” She paused. “Matty?”

She stared at the name Hannah for a moment, before realizing she needed to catch the person who'd left the envelope. Fumbling with the lock, she managed to get the door open, but when she stepped out into the corridor she found that there was no-one in sight. She made her way to the stairwell and looked down, hoping to hear footsteps, but again there was nothing.

“Hello?” she called out.

All she heard was the echo of her own voice.

She paused for a moment, before making her way back to her door while looking at the piece of paper again.

“Hannah,” she muttered as she headed inside and swung the door shut. “Who the hell is Hannah?”

For the next few minutes, she scoured the paper and envelope for any hint of a clue. She held them up to a light, she felt for any kind of hidden indentation, she even tried to search online for some idea as to who had manufactured the envelope, but she came up with nothing useful. Taking a seat over by the window, she began to obsessively examine every minute detail of the handwriting, hoping against hope that there might be some kind of hidden code, something that would help her to work out what was happening, but still she came up blank.

Finally, she forced herself to set the paper and envelope down, before realizing that she was in danger of disappearing down her own personal rabbit-hole of paranoia, which was something her doctors had specifically warned might be a possibility.

“I need to get out of here,” she whispered to herself, before slipping the paper back into its envelope and reaching over to open the box in which she kept certain important items. Removing the lid, she was about to place the envelope inside when she saw that something unexpected was poking out from the top of the box, something she immediately knew hadn't been in there the last time she looked.

Slowly, she reached inside and took hold of what appeared to be a piece of black wire, before pulling it out and finding that it was almost a foot long and twisted in several places. Turning it over in her hands, she realized it was old, with some of its coating having apparently begun to peel away. She'd never seen it before in her life, and she'd certainly never placed it in the box. At the same time, somewhere in the back of her mind, she felt a faint, nagging sense of familiarity, as if some distant memory was stirring and starting to rise toward the surface of her thoughts.

Chapter Sixteen

1941

The explosion was huge, blasting tons of concrete through the air as a fireball rose into the night sky. All around, the ground shook with immense force as shock-wave after shock-wave rippled out from the epicenter. The bomb's energy had to go somewhere, so it was shaking the area apart with such force that even the nearby river was rocked by high waves. Of all the bombs that had fallen on London that night, this one was larger and more destructive than all the others.

Dropping to her knees on the grass, Wendy put her hands over her ears in a desperate attempt to drown out the sound. Unable to stay up as the ground shook beneath her, she rolled onto her side and squeezed her eyes tight shut, waiting as she felt the shock-waves rippling through her body. Pieces of debris rained down all around her, some of them more than large enough to crush her if they struck, but the most that actually hit her was a sprinkling of small chunks along with a fine layer of brick-dust.

Eventually, just when it seemed as if the carnage would never end, she felt the ground starting to fall still again and she realized the loud boom had faded, replaced by a strong ringing sensation that filled her ears. Pulling her hands away, she opened her eyes and sat up, staring in horror at the flames that roared from the hole where the tunnel entrance had been. She could feel the heat on her face, while the ringing in her ears was getting stronger, bringing a flash of pain in its wake.

Struggling to her feet, she found that her balance was off. She stumbled a few paces before dropping down again as the pain in her ears became worse. After taking a couple of deep breaths, she began to crawl forward, even as the ground beneath her hands and feet seemed to tilt and swivel all around. It was almost as if the explosion had been strong enough to send the whole world spinning, and after a moment she dropped down and began to dig her hands into the damp soil, terrified that if she didn't cling on she'd end up being thrown clear off the ground and sent spinning into the sky. She squeezed her eyes tight shut again, and then she opened them once the sense of dizziness had passed. To her surprise, she saw a pair of boots nearby, and when she looked up she saw a dark figure standing over her.

Beyond the ringing in her ears, she could tell the figure was trying to talk to her, but none of the words were getting through.

“Please,” she whispered, “I need... Can you help me?”

The figure kept talking, and this time a second voice joined in, although Wendy couldn't see anyone else. Feeling something wet and warm on her forehead, she reached up and found that blood was running down from a cut just below her hairline. And then, slowly, the ringing sensation in her ears began to fade, until finally she could hear sirens in the distance and the waves of the nearby river.

“I
said
,” a female voice told her suddenly, loud and clear as the dark figure leaned down to her, “you're
welcome
!”

“What?” Wendy stammered. She sat up, relieved that the world no longer seemed to be spinning quite so much.

“For saving your life,” the voice continued. “For getting you out of there just seconds before the direct hit. If I hadn't told you to run, you'd be down there now, dead already or burning or suffocating in dirt and brick-dust, or trapped with no hope of being dug out in time.” She turned to look back toward the tunnels, and now the flames cast a warm glow across her face, highlighting her dark stare. “Trust me, plenty of those people didn't die immediately. If you want to know the true meaning of the word horror, try imagining what its like for them down there right now. The ones who died in the explosion were lucky. The rest are most likely drowning in their own melted skin.”

Taking a series of deep breaths, Wendy watched with shock as the figure turned back to her. Although her features were still mostly hidden in darkness, it was clear she was the same person who'd been in the tunnel just before the bomb had hit. She didn't look old at all, just a teen or maybe in her early twenties, but from the flickering sliver of light on the side of her face Wendy could already tell that she was the same girl whose face had been under the older face.

“We can be friends,” said another voice suddenly, an older voice. “You're such a lovely young lady.”

Panicking, Wendy looked around, but there was no sign of the old woman. Confused, she turned back to the figure, who held up what seemed to be a piece of cloth with eye-holes and a gap for a mouth. It looked like some kind of rubber mask, except that after a moment it began to twitch.

“Come closer,” the old woman's voice continued, coming from the cloth-like mask. “Let me get a proper look at you.”

“What
is
that?” Wendy stammered, crawling back a little.

“Have you ever heard of the Witch of Oxenby?” the first, younger voice asked.

Wendy shook her head.

“Good,” she continued, before tearing the face into several little pieces and then tossing them to the ground. “That was the last of her, anyway. I'd almost finished disposing of her a few hours ago, but she crept up on me. You'd think she wouldn't be so dangerous once she was only a face, wouldn't you? Wrong. Very wrong.”

Staring down at the pieces of flesh on the grass, Wendy felt as if she was losing her mind.

“It's a good job you came along and distracted her,” the girl added, using the heel of her boot to grind the chunks of flesh down. “Gave me a chance to get my arms free and tear her away. She'd managed to creep her face onto mine while I was taking a nap, and she'd bound my arms.” She paused, before reaching out a hand. “Hannah. We've met before.”

Wendy stared at the hand, but she was too scared to accept the girl's offer.

“Hold this,” Hannah continued after a moment, tossing a piece of wire at her.

Holding the wire up, Wendy saw that it was about a foot long, and it looked as if it had been bent and twisted several times.

“That's what she used to stitch her face over mine,” Hannah continued. “I kind of want to study it later, so don't lose it. If you let it go, I'll find you and put it right back in your hands, do you understand?”

Hearing the sound of engines in the distance, Wendy looked up just in time to see dark shapes passing in front of the moon.

“Looks like the RAF,” Hannah muttered. “If we're lucky, that means the bombing is over for tonight. The Germans have headed home, and now the Brits are back. Probably won't work out like that, though. I wouldn't be surprised if there's a second round. There are several demons up there tonight, that's always a bad sign.”

“Demons?” Wendy asked.

“Yeah, demons. What's wrong with you, never heard of demons before?”

Still feeling slightly dizzy, Wendy got to her feet, with the piece of wire in her hands.

“How are your ears?” Hannah asked.

“They hurt,” Wendy replied, before looking back toward the burning rubble. “What about the people down there?”

“Forget about them, they're dead.”

“But -”

“All of them,” Hannah continued. “They were unlucky. Those tunnels would have withstood anything except a direct hit, but that's exactly what happened tonight. Bad luck. Either that, or it's possible a demon took hold of the bomb after it had been dropped, and steered it toward the tunnels. They do that kind of thing sometimes, purely for their own amusement.” She paused for a moment, before turning to Wendy, and finally a hint of moonlight caught her face, showing just the edge of her big, shadow-ringed eyes framed by scruffy black hair. She was young, maybe twenty-five or so, with a few scars and cuts on her skin.

“Why did you have someone else's face on yours?” Wendy asked.

“It wasn't by choice.”

“But it was speaking to me.”

“She refused to go quietly. I hacked up her entire body when I first caught her a while ago, because I knew she was dangerous, but I figured that taking her head off would make her pretty benign. Shows what I know, huh? She tried to hitch a ride on me.” Checking her watch, she seemed lost in thought for a moment. “Did I scare you earlier? In your garden, I mean.”

Wendy frowned.

“Come on, kid, keep up. Didn't you hear me sniffing after you?”

“That was you?” Wendy asked, her eyes wide with shock.

“I wanted to ask you something,” Hannah continued, “but... Well, the time wasn't right. The truth is, I made a mistake a while ago, and I figure you're the only one who can help me put it straight. On account of my mistake having landed almost right on top of you.”

“What kind of mistake?”

Turning, Hannah took a few steps toward the river, before stopping and looking back at her. “I let a soul get away.”

Wendy frowned again. “A soul?”

“I was supposed to scoop him up and take him to where he needed to go,” she continued, “but I got distracted by that goddamn witch, so the other soul slipped away into the night. Well, maybe
slipped away
isn't the right way to describe it. I don't think he did anything on purpose, he was probably just a little confused and disorientated. After all, he
had
just crashed his bomber onto some houses, and he'd burned to death quite slowly. Actually, that part still strikes me as being a little odd.”

“Are you...” Wendy paused. “Are you talking about the pilot of the plane that crashed on my house?”

“It'd be a shocking coincidence if I wasn't. Then again, I tend to collect coincidences. I can see them coming and manipulate them a little, like how I just bumped into you in that tunnel. Neat, huh?”

Wendy paused again. “The plane killed my mother when it hit my house.”

“I got to
her
in time,” Hannah replied. “I took her to the right place.”

“Is she alive?” Feeling a sudden surge of hope, Wendy rushed forward. “Where is she?”

“She was a good person. She's somewhere she can be happy.”

“I want to see her!”

“It's complicated, kid.”

“Where is she?”

Hannah stared at her for a moment. “You know she's dead, right?”

“But you said -”

“Poor choice of words.” She sighed. “My job is to pick up people after they've died, people who for one reason or another didn't go direct to the next place. It's supposed to happen automatically, but sometimes it goes wrong, especially if there are demons involved. The thing is...” She stared at Wendy for a moment. “You can see the dead, can't you?”

Wendy shook her head.

“Yes, you can. I can tell.”

“No.”

“You were exposed in a violent manner. How close did you get when that plane crashed onto your house?”

Wendy swallowed hard. “I got burned a bit.”

“You got too close, then. It changed you.”

“I saw the pilot burning,” Wendy replied, feeling a shiver as she thought back to that moment.

“Exactly,” Hannah continued with a faint smile, “and that's why I need your help. Now he's dead, you'll be able to see him again, and you'll be able to help me find him.”

“Didn't they take his body away?”

“I imagine they swept up what was left, but I don't care about his body. I care about his soul, because that's the part that's lost and wondering the streets, and I need to get hold of him so I can put this right. Tell me something, did you see anyone else in the wreckage of the plane?”

“I don't think so.”

“You didn't see a demon?”

“I don't know what a demon looks like.”

“I think you'd know if you saw one,” Hannah replied. “I'm pretty sure the plane crashed because it had a run-in with a demon on its way back to base. There are plenty of demons in the air over London at the moment, they like watching all the carnage. They're pretty harmless most of the time, but occasionally one gets caught up in things. The plane probably flew right into it, it got wedged, and down the whole thing came.”

“That...” Wendy thought about it for a moment, before looking up at the dark sky. “Are there really demons up there?”

“Not usually, but they love watching human wars. There are a few over Europe right now.”

“I didn't think demons were real.”

“Maybe you can see them,” Hannah continued, “since you seem to be in tune with these things now. That happens sometimes, when someone gets exposed to a violent incident where a demon was already involved.”

“All I see is stars.”

“Look closer.”

Wendy stared at the sky, and a moment later she saw, perhaps, the faintest hint of a red smudge flitting overhead.

“Did you see that one?” Hannah asked.

Wendy turned to her. “That was a demon?”

“In one of its forms. Like I said, they enjoy watching the bombs falling. They get off on stuff like that.” She paused. “The pilot of that plane didn't deserve to crash and die, and he definitely doesn't deserve to be wandering the streets, lost and alone. That's why I have to find him.” She sighed. “Look, you seem like a decent kid, and the sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can go our separate ways. I don't want this to drag on all night, or all week, or... I don't know, a century or whatever.”