The Protector of Memories (The Veil of Death Book 1) (5 page)

When Faith and Hope left the hospital, they were amazed at the amount of people within its grounds.

They looked back at the scene from the pavement’s edge and it became all too obvious that these people were here to honour their sister, Charity.

They were holding candles and placards; the grounds and gardens were awash with a vast amount of flowers, crucifixes, soft toys and photographs of Charity’s face.

“Let’s go home.” Faith said despondently and hailed down a black cab.

They remained quiet as the driver navigated through the streets away from St Mary’s Hospital and toward Marylebone.

Twenty minutes, they arrived at Baker Street.

Faith unlocked the entrance door of a red-bricked building and led Hope toward the lift that serviced the penthouse suite. She unlocked the door to her open-planned apartment and for the first time, introduced Hope into her home.

“Have you any wine?” Hope asked.

Faith nodded, walked toward the kitchen area, around the central breakfast bar and opened a bottle of red wine.

Hope walked further into the room and toward an intricately carved archway on the right hand side. She gazed at the many carved symbols and stroked her fingertips across the figures of water nymphs, olive branches, bows and arrows, musical notes and instruments, torches of flame and a vast amount of animals, birds, flowers and fauna.

“Here you are.” Faith said as she handed her sister a glass of wine.

Hope drank it down gratefully and followed her sister into an area filled with sofas, armchairs, cushions and brightly coloured bean-bags. She then focussed on the twelve windows that stood floor to ceiling along the length of the left-hand side of the apartment.

Each window was arched and decorated in a similar way to that of the archway.

She gazed at the carvings of human figures and the objects that they held within their hands – bows and arrows, shields, swords, scales and doves.

Hope trailed her fingertips across the ears of horses, wings of eagles; stroked the stone petals of lily pads, scales of fish and sea horses. “Our first mortal life is to be the hardest.” Hope said with sadness. “We still remember who we are and what it is that we have lost.” She placed her empty glass onto a wooden table, walked toward one of the windows and peered down onto the street below.

Faith joined her sister’s side. “Over there…” she pointed, “… those lights in the distance are from the hospital that keeps Charity safe.”

Hope nodded and when her sister said nothing, Faith continued. “The park that stretches out before us is called Regents.” And when Hope still remained quiet, Faith added. “I know not why Charity spoke the way she did but maybe tomorrow she will be as we know her to be…” but Faith’s words trailed away at the sight of the vast amount of flickering images beside those of the living. “Why are not the ghosts seen by the living?” Faith asked aloud.

Hope shook her head and stared down at the pavement. “I too would not be able to see them if it were not for the sighting of their auras.” She shifted closer toward her sister. “Did you see the swirling mass of heavy emotions that Charity was filled with? Did you see it Faith? Did you feel it?”

“Yes Hope I did. I also witnessed you trying to absorb what Charity was filled with. I thought you had used your immortal abilities to keep the Festivities of Life flowing?”

Hope did not answer her sister straight away.

Instead, she stared up into the night sky and watched the stars until the clouds obstructed their view. She sighed aloud and then explained. “I bestowed the essence of happiness only to watch sadness eat it all up. I lifted up the mortal sprit with energies from laughter, love and hope and as quickly as they soared and danced; despair and hopelessness cut into their sails and threw them into a deep, dark pit of depression, self-loathing, bitterness and blame.”

Hope placed the palm of her hand onto the window pane and welcomed its coldness. “We live on a planet whose creatures are filled with heaviness. Whilst I could, I used my abilities to absorb that heaviness… I thought it would allow the lightness to come in.”

“Why did you not use the energies to heal your own mortal vessel? I know you have not done so… I see the ill-health and imbalances that your life-force has suffered.”

“I tried. Whilst it worked on the outside, it did not reach my inner turmoil. I asked of the mortals what they did within their darkest of moments. They told me that alcohol was the medicine that helped them. They said; ‘it will get me out of my mind and it does… to a degree – it numbs the pain.” Hope turned and looked at her sister. “I thought that if I lightened what Earth weighed her children down with - then they would become free?”

Faith nodded. “I understand. You sacrificed a part of your Self so that others could be filled with happiness?”

“No Faith. Happiness is temporary. I did it to keep the flame of Hope burning bright. The mortals have the essence of it but it is failing… diminishing. I am the Keeper of Hope and that does not mean that I get to keep it unto my Self.”

Faith smiled in relief that that ability had now been taken away from her sister. “Thank the stars that you can no more absorb what is not for you to absorb.”

“I do the same as you,” Hope whispered. “I could not stand by and witness another being’s inner turmoil and do nothing. I can see what it is that you are sacrificing. I see Madness waiting in the shadows of your mind.”

“You are right.” Faith whispered and brushed her fingers along the side of Hope’s weathered and worn-out face. She stepped away and echoing her sister’s own words said. “Our first mortal life is to be the hardest.”

H
ope was walking along a tunnel that is but of darkness. She held out her hands to steady herself but sank into the walls of the tunnel; the tunnel shifted and became an ocean of people. Waves of bodies pushing, grasping and clawing at one another; the bodies became bigger and heavier.

An orb of white light blinded the people and as they shielded their eyes from the glare, it opened up and released silvery-grey particles.

Hope felt the rays of light seeping into her body and when she looked around, everything had changed; she stood within a vastness of space.

Faith ran past Hope, grabbed hold of her sister’s hand and they found themselves standing on a floor of photographs – black, white and colour – castles, caverns and canyons. Faith touched the pictures and their pixels floated up and into her mind. The ghost’s thoughts, words, voices and echoes scattered into the vastness of the rooms.

The floor became now an ocean of water.

Hope and Faith floated down and came to stand upon the ocean’s bed.

Charity stood on a giant seashell higher than all the sea creatures beneath her.

The orb of light sprinkled stardust over Charity and her form became that of a starfish but the scene dramatically changed.

A smack of jellyfish caught the starfish within their tentacles and she was cast into a giant network of spindly, thin tendrils that pulsated with a crimson and inky blue liquid. She became entangled within them but as quickly as they controlled her, she controlled them.

Each vein began to pulsate with a deafening sound; the sounds were the voices of ghosts and they screamed and thrashed - not in the Realm of the Afterlife but inside the many rooms that were woven inside Faith’s mind.

Faith tried to regain some order within the deafening beat that each vein produced. Louder and louder until it weakened her body and she dropped to her knees.

Hope reached out to Faith but her viewpoint changed; she was looking down at a battle scene.

Faith and a ghost of a young boy stood side-by-side.

An army of human ghosts stood behind Faith and the giant army of empty ghosts faced her.

Hope flew down and vanished.

A noise coming from outside the room had woken Charity up at the exact moment that she was dreaming about Hope struggling within the sea of bodies and drowning within inner turmoil.

A smile crept over her face at the thought of her sister, who was one of the greatest of power-forces (the pure state of hope), struggling. And now that Hope was confined to the vessel of the human body, she was weak… floundering.

Charity laughed aloud but now frowned as another thought occurred to her – when Hope’s body dies, she would possibly live her second mortal lifetime within another human body… one who would never know the power-force that it held?

She sat up;
what a waste.

Her thoughts turned unto the empty ghosts who resided inside her mind. “You reside in me because I killed you?” She waited for at least one of them to answer and when they continued to do what they always seemed to do; howl and scream at her – she yelled out. “Shut up!”

But she had shouted so fiercely, it had caused her body to jump; a pain shot through her broken arm, reminding her how weak her own body was.

The door opened and in walked Alastair.

“I need some painkillers,” Charity demanded.”

Alastair remained quiet and she watched as a nurse pushed a wheelchair into the room. “Alastair. Are you listening to me? I need some painkillers_.”

“We haven’t the time!” He snapped back. “We need to move you to my clinic. The police arrived moments after your sisters had left_.”

Charity interrupted him, “Never ever refer to those women as my sisters… never again do you hear me?”

Alastair ignored her demands and focussed instead on his main concern, the police. “The police want to get a statement from you. I managed to hold them off… until this afternoon. The hospital is mobbed with well wishers, reporters and camera men. They will not leave until they know what your condition is.” He looked at his watch; 02.30.

“Don’t these people have homes to go to?” He took a breath and continued. “We need to leave through the ambulance exit. I need you safe within my clinic and away from prying eyes.”

Charity frowned. “Why don’t you just put them out of their misery and tell them what has happened?”

“Tell them what exactly? That you are in a critical condition…” Alastair pointed to the empty wheelchair, “oh look there’s Charity. Isn’t she doing well considering that she is meant to be on the brink of death? No Charity, we stick to my plan.”

She narrowed her eyes at his sarcastic tone.

“But I am not on the brink of death am I? The plan is that I have suffered severe damage to my face.” Charity raised her voice in anger, “Not my goddamn body. So I cannot see why there would be any questions as to why you are moving me!”

She got out of bed, walked up to Alastair until she was a hair’s breadth away from his face. “Speak to me like that again and I will turn your dreams into a living hell. Understand?” Charity tilted her head down, looked directly into his eyes and when she saw the flicker of fear, she smiled. “Good.” She patted the side of his face - walked past him and sat herself down into the wheelchair.

Alastair adjusted his tie. “Wheel her out!” He ordered the nurse and followed them into the lift that went directly down to the waiting bay for the ambulances.

∞

The lift seemed to take an age.

The silence was unbearable.

Nurse Katherine Adams gripped tight the handles of the wheelchair as her thoughts focussed on the people that she had left in the relatives’ room.

Their expressions of grief and loss were still etched deep into her mind and she frowned down at Charity - five people were dead and this vain and selfish woman has not once asked about any other person involved in that car accident… not even the young girl Alice.
All this woman cares about is her reputation… her face!

Katherine “tutted” aloud to show how disgusted she was by Charity’s behaviour and mentally dared her;
go on,
she thought,
you try speaking to somebody who doesn’t adore you. See what you get back?

She steeled herself in readiness but Charity remained quiet.

Katherine frowned and looked at the top of Charity’s head. She noticed now the colour of the hairs that were poking through the bandages,
grey?

Her thoughts went back to yesterday afternoon when Charity had been wheeled into A&E.

Mr Herringbone had immediately demanded for the ‘highest of security’ and ‘confidentiality’. One nurse – herself – was assigned to Charity.

Mr Herringbone had already bandaged Charity’s face and claimed ‘extensive trauma’?
The woman could still hold a conversation for goodness sake!
She glanced at Mr Herringbone;
somebody else who cares only for his reputation.

The lift shuddered to a halt.

The doors opened and when the fresh air drifted into the lift, it was a welcoming relief to her because the air was beginning to smell… rotten?

Katherine wheeled Charity over to where the ambulances were and left her there;
she can damn well do the rest herself.

By the time she had walked back toward the lift, the tail lights of the ambulance that Mr Herringbone had decided to drive had already disappeared out of the hospital’s emergency area.

She made her way back to the office to finish the paper work before heading off home but as she passed the nurses’ station, Nurse Low called her over.

“Nurse Adams I’ve had a woman called Mrs Crewmonger on the phone…” Nurse Low paused.

“Go on.” Katherine instructed.

“She is the mother of poor Alice. I escorted her to identify her daughter’s body… Alice. The young girl who was driving Charity’s car…” she paused again.

Katherine nodded her head impatiently.

Nurse Low continued. “I explained that her daughter’s body cannot be released until the police have determined why it was that Alice had lost control of the car. That was awful – the poor woman was in such a state and then to be told_.”

“Nurse Low. You are deviating.”

“Sorry,” she said, “Well… Mrs Crewmonger told me that something had happened to Charity’s face long before the car accident.”

Katherine frowned and asked, “Her face?”

“Yes.” Nurse Low nodded, “She says that her daughter Alice had rung her and told her that something had happened to Charity’s face long before Alice had even set foot inside the car. Mrs Crewmonger keeps asking for Alice’s mobile phone…” Nurse Low shrugged, “she insists that Charity’s creams have been sabotaged. What do I do?”

“Where are Alice’s personal effects?”

“With her body…” Nurse Low paused, “I think.” And looking to her watch added, “Or the police have taken them. I don’t know. Anyway what do I do about Mrs Crewmonger?”

“Give her my number.” Katherine instructed but as she walked away, she added. “Give Mrs Crewmonger my personal mobile number.”

“Gladly,” Nurse Low said.

Katherine walked in the direction of her office but then changed her mind and headed back toward the lift that she had just come out of. She wanted to check if Alice’s personal effects were still in the hospital.