The Protector of Memories (The Veil of Death Book 1) (14 page)

She stopped in mid-sentence and looked over at Faith and then back at Hope.

“I don’t understand,” Sam whispered. “Unless… everything you speak of… where you come from - all of it… all true.”

“I have never lied to you Sam.” Hope said and stroked Sam’s face.

Sam felt as if her whole world had just turned upside down and inside out.

“Why is it that I keep on doubting the two of you? I’m so sorry.”

Hope smiled gently, “you don’t have to be sorry,” and she offered Sam a drink of wine.

Sam took the offer, drank the wine and handed the flask back. “I want to help but how can I if I am filled with doubt?”

Hope put her arm around Sam and kissed her on the cheek.

“You are doing fine. It is not every day that you meet those who were once of the stars.”

Sam took Hope’s hands gently into her own and explained. “There is so much I want to ask you. I have so many questions whirling around my head. So many things that I don’t understand… so much I want to discuss with you. You… Hope. Who are you_?”

Hope leant forward and kissed Sam.

After a couple of minutes, she pulled away – looked at Sam and when she caught the expression on Sam’s face, her heart momentarily missed a beat.

It was of such intensity.

Love burned bright within Sam’s eyes but there was also a depth of expectation as Sam waited for her to answer everything that there was to be asked about life. Taking a deep breath she tried to explain to Sam. “Adjust your mind to the possibility that most things in life need to be experienced rather than explained. Only then will you discover that there is no need to question.”

Sam opened her mouth but closed it again.

She stared at Hope and become mesmerised by those rich emerald- green eyes of hers. She stared deeper and noticed tiny flecks of oranges and yellows… white – flickering flames. “Your eyes look as if they hold the Universe and the stars… the answers and the explanations. I ask you so many questions because I believe you have the answers…”

“Stay with me this night?” Hope whispered.

Sam nodded shyly.

A noise sounded out into the room.

Sam looked up and over and realised that Faith and Linda had finished reading the books.

∞

Linda looked up at the ceiling and focussed on the cracks that ran throughout the plaster.

When Faith had pointed to the character called Athena and told her that that is who she is, she quietly questioned;
how can I be Athena
?

“I don’t want to sound sceptical.” Linda said and kept her focus on the ceiling so that she didn’t have to look at Faith, “But it is hard to believe that I am Athena, she is a character straight out of Greek Mythology. Gods and Goddesses are not real. They were created to make sense out of the unexplainable.”

Faith frowned at Linda. “You have just read about the impact that you had upon the mortals as you lived your first mortal life. From there the stories of ‘Athena’ began…” she paused, “began.” Faith emphasised the word to Linda,” and warned her, “Your existence is not within your name.”

“I don’t understand. I was claimed as Athena but you tell me that that is not my name. Who am I, if I am not called Athena?” Linda asked the question but hated herself for having asked it.

Faith remained quiet for a few moments, lowered her voice to a whisper and said. “We soared down to Earth and when we transformed ourselves into the party costume of the human body, Hera gave to us a name. Does it not make perfect sense that the scribe used the very name that began our mortality?” Faith took hold of Linda’s hands. “Look at me Linda,” she waited until Linda looked at her before continuing. “Name something and the belief in it becomes powerful. When it is spoken it is written and when it is written it is spoken.” Faith watched Linda for a couple of moments.

Linda looked down at the floor trying to process what Faith had just said but none of it made sense;
a merry-go-round of words that make no sense?

Faith broke the silence and answered Linda’s question. “Who are you? Your mother is the pure state of Wisdom. You are all that your mother is. You are an immortal being that once did what your mother still does; soar within the Universe and protect all those who need her protection. Wisdom fears nothing and no one. It is the essence of who you are that the scribe was etching into this story, not that of a name.”

Faith stopped speaking and the room became quiet.

After a couple of minutes had passed by, it was Linda who spoke. “I am sorry,” she said to Faith. “I have never doubted you before. I cannot understand why I do so now.” And she held Faith’s gaze. “Wisdom you say. Do you think I will ever remember who I once was… who I am?”

Faith shook her head. “Possibly not…” but paused and frowned, “… actually I don’t know. If my mother protects our memories then they are not lost. Within your Wisdom there will be the memory of who you are and what you are capable of. When it is needed, you will deliver it.”

“Pardon?” Linda said.

Faith tapped the book. “My mother does not waste her words… her echoes. She created this book for a reason. No…” she paused and looked up at Hope. “She is telling us to listen… wait and listen. Destiny is to call upon us and when she does I believe within that moment our abilities will awaken within us.”

Sam looked between them all and said. “Awaken to fight the monster that your parents unleashed upon us…” she hesitated and quickly added, “I wasn’t saying…” she faltered, “that is I wasn’t blaming_.”

“Sam,” Faith said, interrupting her flow, “You are a part of Earth. You need never justify yourself to us.”

Sam pushed her fingers through her hair. “What do we do now?” Sam asked and her words mirrored the fear that she felt.

“We wait.” Faith answered. “We wait for Destiny to call for us.”

NEWSPAPER HEADLINES

Written Statement of Charity, ‘The Face of Beauty’

I suffer from severe and blinding migraines and on the day of April’s 1
st
, I experienced an attack. I had every intention of getting a taxi to take me to the hospital but Alice… kind Alice insisted upon taking me. The last thing that I do remember is Alice saying; ’I have taken too much’ before she passed out onto the steering wheel. It was then that I realised that Alice was not wearing her seat belt. I was also aware that Alice’s air-bag did not inflate.

My thoughts are with Alice’s family and to those who have lost their loved ones. I hope that my statement will help these families come to some sort of closure.

The statement issued by the police

We can confirm that a high dosage of a drug, used for the treatment of travel-sickness, was found in Miss Alice Crewmonger’s system. One of the side effects of this medication is extreme drowsiness. Any speculation that Alice Crewmonger was a drug abuser is false. She had no history and there is no evidence to state otherwise. Alice Crewmonger passed out at the wheel of the car that she was driving due to having taken travel sickness tablets. As to the dosage, we suspect no ‘wrong doing’. Furthermore, after exhaustive tests on the car, no evidence was found to indicate that the car had been tampered with. Therefore, a verdict of: ‘Death by tragic accident’ has been determined.

Sam looked up from the newspaper article and stared out of her book shop’s front window.

She had not long arrived back home and had regrettably left Hope, but felt obliged to trade for a couple of hours before meeting Hope and Faith at the library this afternoon.

Raindrops spattered against the window pane.

Sam watched the drops rolling down the glass as her thoughts mulled over the statements she had just read. In her opinion, Charity’s statement indicated her to be in a very clear state of mind and not from somebody traumatised or so severely injured as Charity is reported to be. But then if she was faking anything the police would have know right away;
wouldn’t they?

She glanced at the article and stared at the black printed words.

Her thoughts now veered suddenly toward the moment when the letters in the books had disappeared. As soon as Faith and Linda had read them they had vanished.

But now Sam’s thoughts jumped to the mentioning of an owl on Linda’s shoulder;
what owl?
She rubbed her finger tips over the newspaper article and could not shake away the feeling at being, ‘the odd one out’;
words don’t disappear when I read them
.

She sighed aloud and tried not to think to hard… or deep.

Sam glanced over at the coffee table, the armchairs, the bookshelves, books, magazines and brochures; the kettle, coffee jar and miniature fridge.

There were no images of ghosts, auras or energy layers she could see.

Lighting up a cigarette she blew her breath gently onto the lighter’s flame and watched as it flickered. This made her think about Hope’s eyes which then triggered a memory of last night.

She blushed.

Then, by way of distraction, she flicked through the newspaper pages.

But her thoughts kept on drifting back onto Hope.

Sam brushed her fingers through her hair which reminded her of Hope’s gentleness. This then prompted the memory of Hope’s mouth… the softness of her tongue as it had explored every detail of Sam’s body.

“Strueth,” she whispered as her body responded to the memories of their love making.

She coughed, put her hands to her face and looked back down to read the newspaper.

But what Sam read made her feel as if she had just dived into a pool of freezing cold water; all sense of passion and desire drained right out of her.

A cold sense of dread was all that Sam could feel.

Ghost of David Woodhouse has spoken in

West End Library

I went to West End Library yesterday - 2
nd
April with the intention of sitting in on one of Faith’s medium sessions. It has been noted that she is ‘genuine’ and ‘the read deal’. I also went there to interview Faith about the allegations that Charity, The Face of Beauty had made - stating that Faith and Hope have been ‘extorting money’ from her. But to my horror, what I witnessed was Faith, brain washing, Dawn Woodhouse.

Two years ago, David Woodhouse, aged sixteen, committed suicide. He was found hanging in his bedroom by his mother, Dawn Woodhouse. Then a week after David’s death, Dawn called the police, telling them that she had just stabbed her husband, Phillip Woodhouse, (a high-ranking police officer and the father of David). When the police arrived at the house, they found the front door open. Dawn was sitting on the kitchen floor next to her husband, holding the kitchen knife that she had used to stab him with. Dawn had suffered a broken nose, swelling to her left eye and a dislocated right shoulder.

Three weeks ago, the Court of Appeal decided in Dawn’s favour and a verdict of ‘self-defence’ was determined. Dawn Woodhouse was immediately released from prison.

Sam snubbed out her cigarette, lit another one and continued to read.

Faith
has brain washed, Dawn Woodhouse, into believing that the ghost of her dead husband, Phillip Woodhouse, has taken possession of her body. Furthermore, Faith has her believing that her son, David, is sending us all a warning.

I quote Dawn Woodhouse:

‘Phillip is an empty-ghost. He is inside my mind bleeding dry my memories. Memories from the living give him the ‘meaning of life’. He harms my body. He chokes me until I pass out - but he does not kill me. Please I implore you to speak to Faith. At the moment there are but a few people who have been possessed by these empty ghosts. But if they seek a way to gain entry into the living then we will all become possessed.

My son, David, tells us that we are witnessing within the age of the twenty-first century the awakening of this species of ghost. They fight now for their right to survive. We face one enemy: The empty ghosts’.

End of quotation.

I (Alan Bowling) pose a question to Faith: Do you sleep at night with a clear conscious? I hope not. I would like to think that the ghosts that you so adamantly insist; ‘are drinking dry our memories’ keep you awake at night.

Faith and her medium sessions need to be stopped before more harm is done to vulnerable people.

Article written by: Alan Bowing.

Sam read the last paragraph… twice - she then decided to ring Hope. “Hi it’s me…” Sam stopped to cough and listened to Hope who was telling her how much she had enjoyed last night.

Sam felt herself blushing as Hope continued to tell her how much her body was still tingling inside and out from their love making.

“Mine too,” Sam answered quietly but her thoughts turned back toward Alan Bowling’s article. “Hope…” Sam hesitated because she did not want to mix the beautiful experiences of love with death.

“Sam? Are you alright?”

“Sorry.” Sam said and asked. “Have you read the newspaper?”

“Yes. I am at the library with Faith and Linda. We read it together.”

“Is Faith alright?” Sam asked. “What does she say about the article?” But Sam frowned as she listened to the same two words being repeated from yesterday night; “We wait.”

“Hope… I’m worried. Could Faith get arrested? Or worse, committed. Oh dear god… she might get sectioned under the mental health act. Can Alan Bowling do that? We’ve got to do something_.”

“Sam.”

Sam listened to Hope’s voice; soft and gentle in volume and tone as she explained to her that Linda didn’t think Faith could get arrested or committed. “The worst that could happen is the library might ask Faith to stop holding her medium sessions. But if that happened then Faith would hold them somewhere else.”

Sam nodded. “Well I guess that’s a bit more info than ‘listen and wait’.” But regretting her sarcasm, quickly added. “I didn’t mean…“, she smiled weakly into the mobile phone; pushed her fingers through her hair and glanced down to the newspaper. “Hope I’m scared I’ll let you down… let you all down at the very moment you need me the most. I might not be there… emotionally that is_.”

Hope’s voice continued to talk down the phone line and this time it reminded Sam how soft the skin was on Hope’s body. How deceptive the dryness and wrinkles had been because to touch Hope’s skin was as if she had caressed… peaches; that lovely softness you get when you stroke peaches. “Hope…” her voice broke with emotion. “Last night was magical,” she felt herself blushing when Hope whispered into her ear. “We have this night to do it all over again.”

Sam nodded and whispered, “I can’t stop thinking about you and when I do…” she paused, “well…” she coughed, “My body keeps burning up and I_.”

The sound of the bell tinkled into the book-shop.

Sam jumped and looked up to see who it was and groaned inwardly when she saw who it was. “Hope. I’ve got to go. Sarah’s just walked into the shop…” she lowered her voice. “I love you. See you soon.” Sam regrettably hung up on Hope and walked around the counter. “Sarah. If you’re going to get nasty you can leave.”

Sarah held her hands up. “I come in peace. Sorry. Everything spiralled out of control and before I knew it well… sorry.” She held up a bag. “I bring offerings of croissants.”

Sam pushed her hand through her hair as she looked at Sarah. A few minutes passed and she decided to give her friend the benefit of doubt. “Okay. I’ll put the kettle on.”

Neither of them said a word until Sam had made the coffee, put the croissants onto a plate.

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.