The Protector of Memories (The Veil of Death Book 1) (8 page)

“I intend to say a fond farewell to my friends and give to them the money that Charity has in essence stolen from them.” Hope squeezed her sister’s hands before adding. “I will then come and join you by your side. This is where I belong.

Hope arrived at the corner building in Camden and stood outside the front doors.

She read the notice that was attached to them: ‘This building is deemed unsafe. A ‘Dangerous Structure’ and it is to be demolished…”

Hope stopped reading and walked the building’s length to try and gain a point of access but the boarding had been re-boarded and secured and she could not work any of it loose with her fingers alone.

Fifteen mortal minutes lived and died and eventually, Hope had to admit defeat.

She stood at the main doors and stared at the padlock.
Where are my friends if not here?

Hitching the rucksack onto her shoulder, she decided to try the local park.

The route took Hope directly past a little row of local shops; the mini-mart, boutique, DVD shop, jewellery shop, and finally Sam’s book shop on the corner.

She peered into the large front window but all that she could see of Sam was the tips of her multi-coloured dyed hair because surrounding her, was a small group of customers.

Hope crossed over the road and stopped outside the wrought iron gates of the park. “There you are.” she said to the bundles of sleeping bodies that were dispersed around the park either on benches, pathways or grassland.

She walked her way toward the central fountain, sat down upon the lower wall that circled it and peering into the still waters, Hope saw a small supply of wine submerged within and shaking her head in dismay thought;
this is not enough.

Flicking the surface of the water, she retrieved a bottle of wine, unscrewed the cap and drank a good measure before setting it down onto the fountain’s wall.

Her thoughts turned once again onto her stardust.
Will it heal thy inner turmoil
? Hope sighed aloud as another thought came into her mind;
or is it all too late? Has the damage been done?
She picked up the bottle and continued to drink until she felt numbed by the anaesthetic of alcohol.

The song of a blackbird sounded out and Hope turned and listened to his singing.

For a couple of moments, she sat and enjoyed the beauty of the park’s nature as well as the collection of objects; cardboard wooden shacks for shelter and make-shift fires for warmth. She smiled softly at the scene and was pleased to discover that the park was to be her friends’ new home.
But they need sustenance
.

And before searching the park for some sort of tool to prise away the boarding of her home, Hope replenished the wine that she had just drunk with the one from her rucksack. She left the clothing and sandwiches on the wall for her friends to make use of and it was while she was searching the park that Hope saw the first sighting of her mother.

She knelt down and fingered the pattern of wording the moss and daisies were weaving into the cracks of the paving stones. When the wording was complete, Hope read out “’The Protector of Memories’.” She leant back onto the heels of her trainers, stared down at the colours of forest-green, yellow and white. A couple of mortal minutes lived and died and Hope still hadn’t grasped the meaning behind her Mother’s words. “Have I lost my sensibility?” Hope questioned.

She stood up, brushed the dust from the knees of her jeans and rubbed her hands over her mouth. She stared down at the wording for a little while longer before continuing her search.

Over the next ten minutes, Hope had managed to find a metal pole and tear away the wood from a small window situated in the courtyard. She was back inside her home, standing behind the wooden counter, listening to the sounds of its silence.

But coldness weaved itself into Hope’s denim jacket.

She shivered and bounding up the stairs, she ventured into the kitchen, tripped over a bucket - mud and rain water spilled out and seeped into the floorboards - but her attention was focussed on the fridge in the corner. Shuffling it away from the wall until it was far enough to get behind she worked loose the bricks, swept the rolls of money out from the hole and into her rucksack.

Hope then went into the bathroom, prised up the floorboards, collected up what was the last of the money that Charity had given to her and put that into the rucksack. She stood and listened again to the silence of the building… eerie and cold.

Rushing down the stairs and into the room that should always be filled with nothing but the sounds of life, laughter and merriment - this too was silent… silent and cold; dark and dingy.

Something ran across her foot. “Fear not little one,” she said to the furry creature. “There is enough food on these floors to keep you and your family going for a long while yet_”

A creaking noise sounded out and when Hope looked up at the ceiling she saw that one of the wooden beams was bending as if it were but a paper straw? Splinters of wood flew about as the wood continued to bend to its breaking point. One of the splinters pierced into Hope’s left eye. She cried out in pain at the fiery burning sensation her eyeball was consumed within and instinctively covered her eye with her hand.

Another noise sounded out and Hope turned toward the windows that ran the length of the wall – the glass shattered and shards of glass cascaded out and around her. She managed to duck down before any further damage was done to her skin.

Lumps of plaster started to fall from the ceiling and onto Hope’s head.

More of the wooden beams creaked and groaned and when Hope looked up through her good eye, she realised the roof was about to cave in.

She ran toward the back of the room; through the small gap that she had prised the boarding away from and stood in the middle of the road watching the billowing cloud of yellow smoke and red dust.

An explosion of brick, concrete and wood shot up into the air and fell back down into the building.

The home that she had been standing within was nothing but a pile of rubble, glass and wood.

Hope laughed gently at the craziness of the world and decided that it wasn’t any different to the chaos that occurred within the Universe.

She raised her hip-flask high into the air. “A toast!” she shouted, “A toast to this life!” And after taking a decent swig, she offered it to the woman who stood next to her.

When the woman declined the offer Hope shared instead the conclusion that she had arrived at. “Your mortality is no different to our immortality… shorter of course - but no different.”

Sarah stared at the woman who was clearly drunk; one of her eyes was swollen and her face was streaked with blood, dust and muck. “You’re one of them squatters.” She said in disgust.

“I am Hope.” Hope said and squeezed gently the woman’s shoulder.

Sarah backed away, “Don’t you touch me you filthy drunk.”

Hope stared after the woman whose auras mirrored what had flickered in her eyes; hatred… scorn? “You know me not?” She said and stood staring long after the woman had gone.

“To the park,” Hope whispered and when she got there she sought out the man she knew as ‘Taff’ and wedged the rucksack filled with the money between his sleeping body and the slatted wood of the bench.

“You will know what to do with this Taff. It will keep you all stocked with wine, food and shelter… for a while at least.”

When Hope reached the wrought iron gates, she turned and looked at the people who she considered to be friends. She recollected the stories that they had shared with her; love’s found and lost; broken hearts and promises – pain, guilt and despair. That was what was etched into their hearts. They had each shown Hope understanding, kindness, warmth and compassion. She cared not for the ‘whys’ behind their actions. “Thank you,” she whispered and made her way toward Sam’s book shop.

When Faith left Hope, she continued to walk in the direction of Marylebone - cutting through the Park called Regents, she sat on one of the benches nearest to the exit that led out onto Baker Street.

She breathed in the fresh, cold air and looked up toward the sky.

The ghosts relayed their messages and relief arrived to her within that moment. She looked into her mind and could see the wealth of canyons; castles and caves created within it. The ghosts spoke to her and she listened to each message with clarity.

There was no clawing, itching or clambering but that of peace. “Thank you,” she whispered to her mother. “Now that I have peace of mind I can even hear that of my own thoughts.”

Faith leant back and enjoyed the view in the park.

She looked out and across the park’s lake and watched paddle boats the colour of blues and yellows treading water. She listened to the sounds of laughter as people tried to steer their boats away from other boats, the ducks or the edge of the lake.

Ghosts were sitting with the mortals and remembering how good it felt to enjoy the essence of Joy.

Faith waved back to the children who waved to her, nodded her head in acknowledgement to the vast amounts of ghosts visiting their loved ones. She blew out a breath of air and watched it mingle with the coldness of Earth’s air.

A middle-aged couple; a man and a woman - walked along the pathway and the moment they drew near to Faith, she felt a shift within the air.

Before she had gotten a chance to react, another creature similar to the one that had woven itself into Charity was crawling its way up Faith’s right arm. But this one had fifteen spindly, thread-like tendrils and Faith moved her left hand toward the creature and when it did not flinch, she tentatively stroked one of the tendrils and it felt smooth and silky to the touch… and tickly – like that of a spider’s cobweb.

Faith peered closer toward the creature and noticed that the crimson and inky blue was actually a liquid that pulsated within the tendrils and that each one was attached to a minute, shiny black sac… it was a pin-prick of a size and could barely be seen.

The creature moved up her arm and then her shoulder.

Faith sniffed the air around the creature and caught the slightest scent of tar, acid and… stardust.

“Who are you?” Faith asked but the creature crawled up and over her face and she shivered at the sensation of thousands of insects crawling all over her.

We mean you no harm. We want you to remember us as we once were.

Faith nodded at the collective voice that had spoken.

An image pierced itself into her mind.

She saw limbs and torsos scattered; blood soaked the soil – hair, skin and fingernails hung from the branches of scorched, blackened trees.

The images disappeared and a fragrance drifted in and out of her mind… flowers, apples, almond blossoms, pine cones and earth.

Realisation flooded into Faith’s awareness – what she smelt for the briefest of moments was the scent of Femininity before it was consumed by acid, scorched flesh and the pungent smell of tar.

Tears welled up into Faith’s eyes, “I see you. I can see you all.” She whispered.

The creature loosened its grip and drifted over toward the middle-aged couple and Faith looked at their aura layers and focussed on the colours of black, greys and reds – dark, murky colours she knew to be that of selfishness, arrogance, greed, violence, blame, contempt and jealousy.

Faith stood up. “I have seen the women that the two of you have slaughtered.”

They turned and faced her and she said to them, “My name is Faith and you need to know that the ghosts of these women have just taken up residence within your bodies.”

The woman took a step toward Faith but the man stopped her, whispered something before they turned and walked away.

Faith raised her voice. “The West End Library is where all ghosts communicate and yours wish to speak with you!” And she sat back down, scratched at her head and realised that that was not true.

The creature had not actually asked her to pass on a message and the question that Hope had asked earlier on now popped into her mind;
why the mortal body
for
it is indeed limited
– and she looked around the park with the intention of asking one of the human ghosts that very question.

But the ghosts had all vanished… all but one.

“Where have they gone?” Faith asked the ghost in the image of a teenage boy.

“They go to their loved ones to send them a sign… a signal in the hope that it will be seen… sensed and then acted upon. The library should be full this very day.”

Faith nodded and realised that she had not spoken to Linda since yesterday. “I will look forward to the medium session.” She said and then asked the ghost, “Why do you not go to your loved ones?”

“I know that you are in the library every day.” The ghost replied. “They would too if they didn’t chatter all at the same time. Chatter… chatter and yet none of them listen.”

Faith smiled a gentle smile. “So you find their noise… noisy?” and she smiled again when the ghost returned a smile, albeit a weak one.

“I am confused.” Faith said. “Why are you not seen by your mortals?”

“It was never like this,” the ghost replied and explained. “There was a time when the living could see their ghosts. But then a veil was crafted by the ghosts of long ago which separated the Earth into two Realms; the Afterlife and Life. We have tried to rip that veil down… not to harm you - if not for the veil people would see us. It is a painful existence when you walk beside those you love and they see you not. Believe in you not.”

“Why craft such a thing in the first place.” Faith asked.

“Those who crafted it told no ghost their reasoning. We know only that they are called The Ancestors and all ghosts continually search the world but we feel not their presence to be anywhere.” The ghost looked through Faith and said, “We believe that perhaps it is to protect the sanity of people. Not all can cope when they see a ghost. But in doing so, it has hidden us away. We call it the ‘Veil of Death’ because as far as people are concerned we are dead.”

Faith shook her head in dismay. “But these Ancestors would have had the knowledge that the value of life is worthless when its meaning is concealed.”

The ghost’s image flickered. “As the belief in ghosts faded so too did the sixth sense of all mortals. Our ability to sight the auras… the emotional energies of all beings became redundant. Over the course of our evolution it has vanished completely from the majority. The minority who still possess it are either disbelieved or ridiculed.”

Faith nodded and felt a strong presence of sadness within this ghost. She wondered if he had a loved one who would be visiting the library today. “Is there to be a loved one at the library for you this day?”

“My mum,” The ghost answered. “She does not need to see me to believe that I am by her side.”

Faith nodded. “Yes.” she said and then added. “Your mum must miss you very much.”

The ghost’s image flickered. “Yes. It is one thing to know that I am by her side. But my mum can no more cuddle her son.”

Faith looked down at her hands. “Yes,” she whispered and read the auras that surrounded the young ghost and within all of his energy layers, he had ragged and torn cuts, gaping holes and emptiness. All signs indicating that when this young ghost had lived as a human being, he had experienced trauma, suffering and torment.

“You and I are from different worlds but yet we are the same.” The young ghost said.

“Immortal?” Faith asked and when the ghost flickered with acknowledgement she shook her head. “I was once immortal. Now I am a mortal being who lives with the memory of an immortal life. But even that will be gone when my second mortal lifetime arrives…” she hesitated, “unless I become a ghost. But that will not happen whilst Mother Earth has me destined to travel the cycle of her mortal reincarnation.”

“I will visit you Faith in your second mortal lifetime and if you can see me. I will call you the Immortal Mortal.”

“What is your name?” Faith asked.

“I am a ghost called David. My name was David.” And he looked into Faith. “You have your sixth sense.”

Faith nodded. “That has something to do with the fact that I was once a part of the Universe.” And she looked over at the lake. “It saddens me to think that I might become somebody who believes not in my own existence…” she paused and added, “or in ghosts.” Faith looked at the young ghost. “I like the name that you will give to me in my next life.”

“Be careful.” The ghost called David whispered. “I speak of those who have killed. Your words are dangerous to them and they will kill you for your silence.”

Faith nodded. “Yes my sister, Charity is one of those people.” And then she asked, “I witnessed a creature taking possession of my sister and another has just done so with a couple. Do you know what these creatures are?”

“The empty ghosts… yes I know of them but only from the stories that the ghosts of old tell us.”

“’Empty ghosts’,” Faith repeated the name and asked. “So the mortal body of the empty ghost’s killer is the realm of their residence?”

“The stories suggest that an empty ghost can only take possession of a human ghost but never a human being.”

“Well they have received permission because empty ghosts are beginning to take possession.”

“Yes Faith. It was my mum who you spoke to yesterday. You told her that she has a ghost residing within her body. This is why I need her to see you this day. I fear it is the empty ghost of my father.”

Faith stared at the ghost called David and remembered the woman from yesterday morning’s medium session. “Yes,” she shared. “I saw something enter into her mind but this creature did not show me the image of its death. It had but one tendril of a thread and it drifted into your mum…” she paused and realised now the significance of the tendrils. “The tendrils are empty Souls? Your mum has killed one Soul… your father?”

“I need to go.” The ghost called David said. “My mum needs me…” his energies flickered and before he disappeared he said, “Faith I will seek out the Void of Emptiness for it is there that these empty ghosts reside within.”