Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

There’s always a situation where you know you didn’t do everything you could, you didn’t try hard enough. Remember in sports day at school when you felt so guilty after the teacher said ‘well at least you did your best,’ and you didn’t.

I have these moments a lot, it comes with the half-arsed way I tend to live my life, but there’s one I regret more than others. We didn’t do everything we could for Jacqueline Moreau, and it turns out, she was important.

There was already a media storm surrounding her death, it was reported all over the world, a European tourist dies on holiday and the whole of Europe gets indignant and somehow we seem to care more. The problem was getting close to the investigation and the crime scene. Because of the press coverage, the information was hidden a lot better than any of the other murders, in case journalists got hold of the grizzly details.

We had made a link with the other deaths because, the words were found on her body, but this time we couldn’t find any other link at all, it was so unlike any of the other murders. We should’ve been scratching our heads and missing sleep trying to figure it out, but we were complacent.

Jacqueline Moreau was a pretty blonde haired, blue eyed French girl, only twenty-one, on holiday in the Bahamas. She was staying with four other friends in three different hotel rooms in the same complex. She had been shot three times in the chest and her body had been dumped in the swimming pool, you can imagine the mental trauma of the maids and the early morning swimmers when they saw the red water.

It was shocking and sensationalised, everyone was now familiar with the story. The day before she was found dead Jacqueline had gotten a henna tattoo from a woman selling them on the beach, the words were within an elaborate flower design that covered much of her lower back. Lisa spent a whole evening staring at the photo and looking for them, they appeared like a magic eye picture after a while, an optical illusion. We had found them on a picture she had emailed back home of the tattoo, we hadn’t been able to see any police photos of the death.

It had become somewhat of an international mystery, there were already true crime books being written about it, various ‘tragedy in paradise,’ articles. This was mostly because of the gun shots, several guests with rooms facing the pool, the employees and even the hotel manager had heard three distinct gunshots around three in the morning. Security was sent to investigate and no one was found. They searched the complex for two hours, not leaving any spot overlooked, and they found nothing. They had to conclude that it had been an incident outside the hotel, and they gave up.

The next morning the body was discovered in the pool that one inconsolable guest had described as ‘something out of a horror movie.’ Me and Lisa went to the Bahamas posing as tourists, but the hotel was closed, the whole complex had been shut down and it was crawling with police and reporters. After several failed attempts to get closer we finally gave up and booked a flight home. At the time we were reassuring ourselves that we had tried everything, but the unspoken truth was that we hadn’t.

A young man, a Frenchman who Jacqueline had gotten friendly with on her holiday had been arrested and questioned. We hadn’t thought much about it because, like me, he had been realised without charge. There was no proof at all and they couldn’t hold him, he hadn’t even woken when the gunshots went off, and there were people staying either side of his room who could back this up.

I pointed out the young man’s name, which was Alex. But our conclusion was that there are more than a million people in the world called Alex. It wasn’t even a coincidence; it was just too benign to even make a connection. We hadn’t seen a picture of him because we couldn’t get into details of the report, and we didn’t think it was important.

To me, this murder was just another pin on my map, a connection, it was useful because it told me that the killer had gone across the Atlantic, and it gave us a pathway to Cuba and the next murder.

I would give everything I own to go back and try harder, if we had given Jacqueline Moreau another chance, if I had stared harder into her sparkling blue eyes and cared more, it makes me shiver to think about what I could’ve prevented. I know it hurts Lisa too, though she will never show it. Tony Calister was right when he wrote that pain can be like a twisting knife which won’t let go. That knife twists harder when I think about how much blood has been shed because of our mistake.

Chapter Fourteen

This chapter includes disturbing imagery which might offend. You've been warned

Chapter Fourteen

Opening my eyes in a dream was not really like opening my eyes. There was a film over them, a hazy mist. There was a lot of weight behind the motion, too much thought went into understanding why my eyes were opening, as if I could see the processes in my brain, the cogs working and pulling against each other.

The room was green, in an abstract way. That probably doesn’t make much sense outside of the dream, but it was more the feeling of green than the colour itself. I knew it was a warning for something, green walls were reflecting a green sky from the window partially covered by thin curtains. The colour outside was as bright as disco lights.

It reminded me of something I had seen during the day, the bottom of the swimming pool, green tiles. I remembered it because I was afraid I would never be able to look under deep water again. It was a tiny portion of the last twenty-four hours, an insignificant moment.

It wasn’t just the walls and the outside, the bed sheets were a dirty, murky green colour, and I didn’t have to think too hard to know where I had seen that colour, it was on the ocean floor, reeds and moss clinging to rocks. There was only one bed in this hotel room, but it was the same room, my twisted dream logic told me, convincing me that two plus two equals five. Lisa’s bed didn’t exist in this reality, perhaps Lisa didn’t exist here either.

I felt heavy as I got to my feet. I felt constricted, pulled back by invisible hands. There was a tight stabbing at my chest, like fingers digging into my skin. As I started to walk, every step was laboured and torturous, I felt pain ripple through me, and the green room rippled with me. A tremor ran along the walls, waves of shadows like moving sunlight.

I carried on with my slow walk, every step catching me and slowing me, it seemed like the way astronauts walk in zero gravity. As I pushed the door open it resisted, and I felt a creeping fear, something at the back of my mind was screaming a warning at me, the walls reacted too, they shook with the fear in my head. I ignored the fear and fought with the door, a blinding light was building up behind it, changing in brightness like it was pulsing with energy.

Behind the door was a familiar corridor. I had seen it in life, but it had been full of doctors and nurses and it had been clean and sterile. Now the white was tarnished, flies buzzed around my head, they were collected in clusters over air vents, their black bodies glowing in the harsh light.

There was a trail of blood on the floor, it led through the corridor, straight and thin, not one drop out of place. The blood was dried though, and matte, a dull brown. There was something at the end of the trail, and I felt the fear return with a force which made me stumble. I followed the trail, my footsteps echoing louder than they should’ve done.

My mind tried to stop me, the strange slow pull against my legs and chest had been me, my own thoughts were a material presence holding me back. I knew what was at the end of the corridor, it was the thing I was hopelessly fighting. The lights grew brighter as I continued to walk, the dried blood started to shimmer and move as I walked, like a snake, like a living thing.

The lights were so harsh I couldn’t look at them, they buzzed loudly as if they were about to explode. My body gave one final effort and I fell to my knees out of breath, I slipped backwards a little on the floor, my legs kicking in the opposite direction. I began to crawl towards the figure crouched by the door.

Angelica’s hair hung like coarse snakes, it was matted with blood. The blood formed a crust of deep brown along her face and down the chin, it looked like lipstick smeared across her cheek. The smell hit me then, the same as the boy in Norway, I would remember that smell anywhere, like rotting meat, sweet and intoxicating, burning my throat like alcohol.

She was shivering, and the edges of her body were blurred, there were deep jagged cuts all down her skin, crusted with blood. I couldn’t look at the way they hung open, exposing the tissue beneath.

‘Angelica?’ I asked softly and my voice drifted like mist, barely audible.

The blank dull eyes looked at me, there was a film of milky white stretched over them. The skin around them was stretched tight and in the burning lights I could see green tinges to the skin, heavy purple bruises dotted all down her chest and the exposed leg. One hand rested on the floor, the other arm was being cradled against the wall. On the sole of her foot I could make out words, ‘in death we love.’

‘He will find me,’ the voice that came out was harsh and rasping, not Angelica’s voice.

‘You’re safe now,’ I ventured, and it was as though I were in a bubble, my words not reaching beyond myself. ‘You’re at peace now.’

‘He will find me,’ she repeated, ‘they can’t die.’

‘Who?’

‘They can’t die,’ she said again, the eyes rolled backwards into her head exposing bloodshot whites, ‘I can’t die.’

I placed a hand on her shoulder, she felt like dough, the soft skin moulding to my touch, I left a handprint there. The corpse of Angelica turned towards me. ‘I can’t die,’ it said.

The smell erupted, it blinded me, I stumbled back on my heels. It was the smell of death, I knew it now, unclean and infectious, the sweetness a desperation to cling to life. She raised the other arm to me, I saw the maggots like grains of rice eating the dead skin around the stump of her hand. Her arm was caked in brown blood, yellow pus seeping out of the wound. I screamed, it penetrated my bubble and shook the walls. Bricks crashed down from the ceiling.

The thing that was Angelica grabbed me, maggots crawling through her hair. The stump was at my neck, I screamed out, the other hand, spongy and heavy, clung to my shoulder, her nails scratched and drew blood like claws. I closed my eyes, screaming to wake up. But all I saw were those milky eyes. The corpse pressed its mouth against my screaming lips and I felt the maggots roll onto my tongue. They wriggled and crawled towards my throat.

I prayed that I would wake up, I pushed against the body, my hands sunk sickeningly into the loose flesh. ‘I can’t die.’ Something whispered in my ear, and I felt the maggots crawling over me, not just in my mouth but over my bare arms and up my legs. I pushed her away, with all my strength I pushed her away from me.

I lay in a pile of writhing maggots, but Angelica was gone. I was alone, but I still felt them crawling over me. I stood up, feeling that pull again, my mind fighting with me. There was a mirror on the wall, I glanced at my reflection and screamed, I screamed with a mouth that was hanging open with skin torn and cracked around a giant gaping hole, maggots ate me now, and my eyes were glazed hollows.

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

I was sitting on the veranda of our hotel in Cuba. I was watching everyone else continue with their ordinary lives, the maids and the guards exchanging polite nods as they past each other. Carts rattled by, filled with used towels and empty bottles from the mini bars. Over friendly smiles were given to the people loaded with supplies for a day on the beach. All with rosy cheeks and burnt shoulders. I was glad to be in the shade, once again the sun was harsh and even in this early hour it seemed unmoving in the sky, always high and still growing in intensity.

I heard Lisa’s phone bleep from inside the room, then the crash against wood as she threw it down on the coffee table. She had made the phone call against her will, I knew this because I was the one who forced her into it. I had begged and pleaded with her to make that call. We both know it wasn’t an option that I might do it, she was more convincing than me in any situation, at any lie.

She poked her head around the French windows and motioned me to come inside, throwing a suspicious glance at the guard stationed against the outer fences, casually leaning against the mesh. We hadn’t told anyone what I had seen in the water, and to Lisa, anyone with a uniform was a threat. Once again her disconnected logic and lack of compassion baffled me. We had gone from hiding evidence to hiding a body.

‘What did they say?’ I asked as she flung the glass door shut with a heavy smack. I was glad to be back in the air-conditioned room.

She shook her head, ‘you were right,’ she admitted, though her eyes suggested she still thought I was wrong. ‘He doesn’t eat.’

I nodded. In some ways it was what I wanted to hear, but I still suppressed a shiver. I already knew we were dealing with madness, I knew where he was, I had been there, I just hadn’t realised the level of insanity. The investigation was dragging me kicking and screaming to places I didn’t want to go.

Lisa looked so tired, there were dark patches under her eyes and she had the drawn gaunt look of the very ill. There were more creases on her face than I remembered from the last time I looked at her.

‘The doctor told me something really strange,’ she said,’ he told me Jarl ate the food, but the plates came back full.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘It’s suggestion,’ Lisa explained, her face resuming the look of calm I was used to, being more knowledgeable than me about something seemed to restore her to normality. ‘You remember when he told you to go swimming?’ I nodded. ‘He must have suggested that exact spot, in something he did or said, he weighted the head,’ she hesitated only for a moment, ‘knowing you would find it.’

‘So he can influence people?’ I asked, then I remembered something, ‘in the doctor’s file, it said he had manipulated the staff. It’s like Derren Brown.’

Lisa narrowed her eyes at me, ‘you watch too much TV,’ the way she spoke made me ashamed of my lifestyle and everything I had done up to the point I had met her.

‘Do you think that’s why there’s no record of him?’ I was clutching at straws, but I had a theory. ‘You told me you haven’t found a trail through airports, the name doesn’t register anywhere. He can deceive people, fool them into believing a blank sheet of paper is a passport.’

Lisa snorted, ‘or he has a very good fake passport, it’s more likely.’

I had to agree with her internally, outwardly I still liked my crazy idea. I remembered the reason I had asked her to phone the hospital in the first place. ‘How long has he been in the hospital?’

‘Two weeks.’

I nodded, thinking about what this meant, ‘when they told you he didn’t eat, did they mean he has, a few times, just not recently, or he’s picky, or what?’

Lisa looked at the floor, she was wondering the same impossible thought as me. ‘No,’ she whispered, ‘every single meal, the plate comes back full, every single meal for two weeks.’ Her voice cracked, the silence hung between us.

‘Why haven’t they tried to force feed him?’

‘I told you,’ she shot back angrily, ‘he told them he ate the food.’

‘And the riots?’ This time my voice cracked.

‘Yes,’ she whispered, it was barely even a sound, ‘a patient died in the riots.’

We looked at each other, I needed to absorb all this information, it was taking a lot of effort. ‘Jarl is a cannibal?’ She was on the verge of laugher, ‘you know how stupid we sound to even think about this.’

‘Not just Jarl,’ I said, ‘the children in Norway, didn’t they try to bite you?’ She nodded, we had both been thinking about it.

‘A rehab centre in France,’ I was speaking more to myself than her, ‘it’s a cult.’

‘A cult?’ Lisa put her head in her hands and leaned over the coffee table until her hair was scraping the surface. ‘The more we find out, the more impossible it all seems.’ She sighed deeply, the sound raked through her.

Now I saw her like this, desperate and confused, it was time to suggest the thing I had been too afraid to say. If there ever was a time, this was it. I placed my hand uncertainly on her back, I had flash backs of our kiss the night before. ‘You know who killed Angelica,’ I tested, ‘isn’t that what you wanted.’ I let that sink in, ‘isn’t it time we went home?’

Her neck snapped up with inhuman speed, she stood up from the coffee table and walked across the room, her back to me. I was afraid I had broken her, pushed her over the edge. Years seemed to pass as she stood there.

‘You really think that’s enough?’ She asked, her voice thick with emotion. ‘You were there, at the hospital, it’s so clean you could lick the floors.’

I nodded, realising what she meant, ‘but he’s not well,’ I admitted, ‘it’s not fair, but he belongs there.’

‘And how long do you think he’ll be there?’ She hissed back at me, ‘he can convince them he’s sane as any moment.’

‘He’s obviously tried,’ I reassured her, ‘and they haven’t fallen for it.’

‘But the riots?’ Lisa turned back to me, her eyes were red at the edges, but painfully dry. ‘How many people are going to die?’

‘So now you care about people dying?’ It had just slipped out, I hadn’t meant to hurt her, but it was true, she had never shown me any emotion, any indication that she cared about any death but Angelica’s.

‘Maybe I don’t,’ she admitted, I never thought she would, her voice was cruel and empty.

‘If you don’t care,’ I said, ‘give it up.’

‘You don’t understand,’ she threw her hands up in exasperation, she sounded like she was begging for something, ‘it’s for Angelica that I can’t give up now.’

‘You want revenge?’ I understood now, and it left me cold. Her eyes were wild and angry.

‘I want to find Alex,’ she whispered, ‘whoever he is.’ Everything went quiet, the cheerful voices outside even stopped.

‘Why?’

‘You saw Jarl’s face when we spoke about Alex,’ I couldn’t look in her eyes, ‘you saw how afraid he was, if Alex is going to hurt him, I want it to happen. If you Alex wants to kill Jarl, I say let him. Let him tear into him the way he killed my sister.’

‘You’re serious,’ I waited for the feeling to return to my chest, it was numb and solid.

‘Yes,’ she nodded, ‘Jarl is scared of Alex, and I want to know why.’

‘You want to carry on digging?’ I realised how unenthusiastic and scared I sounded.

‘I have to,’ she said blankly, ‘you don’t have to come with me, but whether you do or not, I am.’

I shrugged, I realised how pathetic it must’ve looked, maybe that was what sparked her anger. She laughed coldly at me, ‘you just wanted to play detective,’ she spat, ‘you want to live out your TV fantasies, but as soon as you see something that scares you, you want to go home.’

‘You just told me that you could do it alone,’ now it was my turn to be angry, ‘besides, I’ve seen a lot of things that scare me, I’ve been through everything you have. Feral children, funerals without bodies, I’ve been held at gunpoint, I’ve met a murderer. All this time I’ve followed you.’

‘So that makes it okay to leave me now?’

‘You told me I didn’t have to come!’ I repeated louder, angrier.

‘I didn’t really mean that,’ she admitted, she sounded almost shy, ‘I thought you would, it helps to have someone around who’s more afraid than me.’

And she had gone back to offhandedly insulting me again. I groaned in frustration, ‘you want to go Havana,’ I said through my hands.

‘I want to find out what Project 45 is,’ she said, the resolution and determination shining through, ‘I want to find Alex, and I want to end this whole thing.’

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

I should probably explain the chain of events that led to our strained and unexpected embrace.

We arrived in Norway, in the small fishing village, early in the morning. My eyes were still clogged with sleep and I was clutching a coffee like the heat radiating from the tiny mug would prise my frozen hands apart. Because it was cold, but I knew it would be cold, and I was prepared this time. I was wrapped up in ten layers, hardly moving like a sumo wrestler, my cheeks pushed out by the scarf tight enough to strangle me.

The exposed skin of my face was still burning though, and through only one pair of gloves my hands were numb. It was convenient for us that the area in which Heimlaug lived was an up and coming tourist attraction. It had appeared on several lists of undiscovered Scandinavian gems, and since then people had been flocking there. The main pull being the whale watching trips which ran from the harbour. The quaint, nostalgic feel to the place was popular also, old fashioned, brightly painted houses and a community where everyone knows everyone else.

The sea was bright in the winter sun, a deep green tinged with blue, thrashing and biting at the rocks. Dark grey snow capped mountains loomed oppressively over everything, they looked to me like a stern father to the rebellious sea. The air was thick with the smell of fresh fish and salty mist.

We purposely chose a guesthouse which was on the same street as the house where Heimlaug Gunderson had lived, the place where she had been killed, discovered in pieces. From the upstairs hallway window you could see the small, sparse garden of Heimlaug’s home. The house itself was abandoned now, the boyfriend she shared it with has moved to Oslo to be with his family. There was a for sale sign outside, standing crooked in the mud and snow.

Because of the tragedy, our Guesthouse was very busy. It seemed that nothing boosted tourism like a local murder, people where letting their morbidity get the better of them. The landlady didn’t seem to mind this tasteless display, in fact, she was enjoying the attention, and enjoying the money even more. She liked nothing more than dishing out the gory details, she spoke like someone telling a ghost story as she described how the body was torn apart.

Wilhelmina wasn’t really a bad person, she was just profiting from unsavoury events, and at least she was honest about that. She struck me as the type of woman who saw an opportunity, any opportunity, and took it. She was short, skinny and bird like. She had a face which would seem harsh until you saw it smile.

The guesthouse was decorated in the traditional tourist style, a nautical theme running throughout. There were fishing nets hung from the ceiling and pictures of fish and famous boats lining the corridors. Wilhelmina spoke perfect English, even though her accent made it hard to understand her. It was such a musical accent that you couldn’t help but be charmed by it.

In another life I would’ve liked to have a holiday here, I saw the whale watching groups in their plastic macs, filing onto the boats and setting out onto the rocky coast. I would’ve envied them if I let myself forget why we were there. The world I had entered didn’t have space for me to envy tourists, not when on this very street Heimlaug Gunderson had been spread across her back yard.

Lisa reminded me that we wouldn’t be able to act as casual as we had in Glasgow. This was the first time we discussed having a story, inventing a background. We were a normal couple on a holiday, the more simple the less questions are asked. It seemed obvious, but I secretly wished we had gone for one of my elaborate cover stories, such as me and Lisa being on the run from the mafia.

I thought it might be awkward pretending to be Lisa’s boyfriend, but when you watch most couples, they barely touch, their affection is all held with their words and their eyes. Wilhelmina was standing over our table with the coffee pot poised over our empty mugs. You could hear her husband in the kitchen, and her teenaged daughter was serving another table.

‘You came at the right time,’ Wilhelmina was telling us, ‘I’m fully booked for the next month.’

‘A good time of year for whale watching?’ Lisa asked innocently, every time she lied it seemed she got better at it.

Wilhelmina laughed boisterously, her free hand on her hip as she rocked a little. ‘You could say that, maybe there are other things worth watching at the moment.’

‘I don’t understand,’ Lisa screwed up her eyes in feigned confusion.

‘Then you haven’t hear,’ our landlady’s face grew dark, she shook her head sadly, the gesture was well practised. ‘Our village has been caught up in a murder investigation.’

‘How terrible,’ Lisa put her hand over her mouth dramatically.

‘It happened on this very street,’ Wilhelmina sighed deeply. For a moment I was fooled by her look of sadness, but deep in her eyes all I saw were bank notes. ‘It was two weeks ago, only twenty seven’ she continued.

‘How did she die?’ Lisa asked.

Wilhelmina looked genuinely shocked at that question, ‘you’re eating your breakfast,’ she composed herself quickly, ‘I won’t tell you the details.’

Lisa seemed to remember where she was. ‘It’s certainly very tragic,’ she said, her eyes demurely on the floor.

‘We went to the same church, it’s tough when it’s someone you know.’

I nodded sympathetically as Wilhelmina drifted over to the next table.

‘That makes everyone,’ Lisa hissed at me.

‘She told us Heimlaug went to church,’ I reasoned, ‘that doesn’t prove anything.’

‘Angelica went to confession two days before she died,’ Lisa shot back at me before I’d even closed my mouth. ‘The last time she went to confession she was twelve.’

Wilhelmina walked past the table again and Lisa asked for more coffee, ‘I can’t help thinking about that poor girl,’ she said, ‘how is her family doing?’

Wilhelmina bit her lip nervously, ‘to be truthful, they feel a little guilty,’ she said, ‘her mother hadn’t spoken to her in a year,’ her voice dropped to a whisper, ‘she wasn’t best pleased with her living situation, you know,’ her voice dropped even lower and she bent in close, ‘unmarried.’ She stood up straight, ‘of course I told her family that Heimlaug had been going to church again recently, I think they were comforted by that.’ Lisa raised her eyebrows at me from behind Wilhelmina’s back.

‘By the way,’ our Landlady said with a motherly smile, ‘I’ve been told by the local police to make sure you don’t stay out too late, it’s sad to us, but our village is not safe at night.’

‘Of course,’ Lisa said, ‘a killer might be on the loose here.’

‘It’s not just that,’ another deep, exhausted sigh, ‘the local children, you understand, there’s not much to do here, I suppose they’re bored.’ We both nodded and smiled at her and she floated away once again.

Heimlaug’s house proved fruitless for us, a frustrating waste of time. The block was built right over the water’s edge on a heavy section held with concrete blocks. Since any building space was hard to acquire, the houses were tightly packed together, all jostling for space in the cramped district. This meant that the neighbours on either side could see us, and one woman watched us through her curtains with furious eyes.

‘Clearly we’re not the only ones who’ve taken a look inside this house,’ I sighed, there was too much familiarity in the hateful gaze.

‘We’re not going to get anywhere,’ Lisa growled under her breath, ‘why doesn’t she just go back to her TV?’

‘Because we’re trying to break into a dead girl’s house,’ I hissed back.

The sun was setting slowly behind us, a beautiful pale moon was already visible in the iridescent pink sky. The high sea shimmered darkly already, dangerous and never ending.

Lisa moved down against the wall and motioned for me to the same thing, she was crouched against the window pane, slowly the neighbour retreated and her curtains flapped closed.

Lisa laughed, ‘they’re just as bad,’ she said, ‘they want us here because they need something to be angry about.’

I didn’t say anything, I could sympathise with these people. So much of my life has been spent willing things to annoy me, wanting people to push me too far so I’ll snap, just to see what would happen. We edged on our knees along the cold wet grass, we reached the wooden side gate which let to the garden. It was a pretty house, pale pink with white shutters, flowers in the window box that were dying without attention.

‘Anyone could’ve got through this gate,’ I said, observing the flimsy structure, the wind was making it rattle in the lock.

‘You’ve seen how close everyone lives,’ Lisa reminded me, ‘why is it that no one noticed a thing? The first thing they saw was the body.’

As if to back up Lisa’s thoughts, the neighbour appeared at her window again, and this time she was brandishing a phone like a weapon, dialling feverishly.

‘She’s bluffing,’ Lisa snorted.

My thoughts were of the police interview room, I imagined all the awkward questions that would be asked if we were found. The information we knew could put us in a dangerous position, I was already involved in the case, and we couldn’t pretend to be obnoxious tourists this time, they would find out who we were. ‘Just to be safe,’ I motioned away from the house, trying to keep the panic out of my movements.

Lisa huffed angrily like a spoilt child and eventually skulked away. The woman put the phone down as we walked away. Lisa pointed to her but I shook my head. ‘We’ll never get a moment’s peace from her.’

It was now almost completely dark, all that remained of the day was a thin dark blue line stretched across the sky. ‘Let’s find somewhere for dinner,’ I suggested as my stomach gave a mighty growl. Lisa nodded, still in a sulk.

We made our way back through the maze of multicoloured houses, listening to the subdued roar of the sea. The first restaurant we got to was closed for the night, inside the chairs were on top of the tables and everything was dark. The translation of the Norwegian sign read ‘open for lunch only.’

‘That’s unusual,’ I said, in a tourist area.’

‘I guess they take the curfew seriously,’ Lisa shrugged, then she glanced across the narrow street. I followed her gaze, and I noticed something for the first time, apart from a few people shuffling over the frozen ground, there was no one here, there were maybe five or six people on what should’ve been the busiest part of the village. It was the walk way with all the shops and restaurants, and they were all closed, it was only seven in the evening.

I understand dangerous teenagers with nothing better to do, I live in London, but that doesn’t stop London being busy at night. This was something different, maybe they just weren’t used to it, being a quiet fishing community for so long, perhaps they had over reacted to their problems. ‘Let’s go back,’ I sighed, ‘I was thinking about the tiny dining room with the log fire, my hands were numbing.

The problem was that we hadn’t explored the village in the dark before. All the houses and shop fronts were the same, there were no landmarks we could remember. I had the creeping feeling we were just going deeper into the narrow streets, getting further away from our destination.

We were so lost soon that the quiet desperation had sunk in, that teeth grinding stomach clenching feeling that you’ll never make it, when every brick and every house makes you frustrated and angry. We weren’t speaking at all soon, both wondering if we would be walking forever.

There wasn’t even anyone to ask for directions, it was so dark under the clear sky that I could barely see Lisa walking a few paces in front of me, and the streets were deserted. My feet were solid and my breath was coming out in white clouds, if we didn’t get inside soon we would freeze to death.

Lisa stopped so suddenly that I bumped into her. There was a young teenager a few paces from her, his face illuminated by a dim streetlight. He was about twelve or thirteen, with lank greasy hair hanging over his face, dark eyes staring up at us. His skin was pockmarked and yellow with dirt.

He was brandishing a small penknife. For a moment my heart caught in my throat, it forced its way through my body with a sudden lurch of shock. The boy snarled at us, his teeth glimmering faintly brown. I took Lisa’s arm but living in London so long had made her fearless, she turned her back on the boy and made to walk back the way we had come.

The boy took a step towards her, his knife was almost touching her hair.

‘Lisa,’ I croaked. The boy’s upper lip curled over his teeth as he snarled and I had to admit my heart beat faster, I threw my wallet at the boys feet, he ignored it, his yellow eyes fixed on Lisa’s back.

‘Take the money,’ I said, I was embarrassed to find my voice disjointed.

Lisa heard me and turned back with anger flashing over her features. Her anger was directed at me, but I saw her blink harshly as she saw how close the knife was to her. As she had turned it now rested over her heart, it was scratching the fabric of her jacket.

This close, I could smell decay and over ripe waste, it was seeping from the boy’s clothes like a gas. It was the smell of a dirty public toilet. There was something grey smeared down the back of his thin jacket, a dried liquid that burned my nostrils, it was so putrid I felt light headed.

The boy lunged with the knife and Lisa jumped out of the way, the boy’s arm slipped from her heart and ripped her jacket on her arm, the inside foam curled out. I grabbed her by the shoulders, but she still didn’t seem concerned, she was still and calm as usual.

He had reached out so quickly, and now it was like he hadn’t moved, he was standing as still as Lisa, with the knife still extended. Then Lisa cried out, it wasn’t a scream, but it was a gasp of shock. When I looked at her she had a small cut on her face, I hadn’t seen anything happen, I searched my mind for blanks in my vision, had I looked away? Even for a second?

Lisa pushed her fingers into the cut, her mouth was hanging slightly open. Sure enough, there was a beam of red glowing on the boy’s knife.

Lisa threw her purse as him, it hit him in the chest and bounced off. ‘Go on,’ she hissed, ‘enjoy your next hit.’

The boy snarled again, his face was illuminated in the moonlight, it wasn’t a human sound, it sounded like a dog growling. The boy bought the knife up to his nose, the rest of his body unmoving. He sniffed deeply, his eyes closed as if in ecstasy. Then he bought the knife to his lips, a pink tongue darted out and he licked the blood.

He leapt through the air, again he was too quick to catch, Lisa darted out of the way and the boy landed with a thud in the half melted snow. He gracefully got to his feet and as I turned around he was holding onto Lisa, it had happened again, there had been a loss of vision, or something. His fingers were digging into her arm, holding her like a steel vice. She kicked out at him and he didn’t let go.

There was a look on his face, desperation, hunger, the look of an addict, someone so far gone they didn’t care what they had to do. A thin line of spittle was hanging from his mouth. I pulled at him but he was fixed fast, the smell was making me blind, causing spots to dance across my eyes.

Eventually Lisa prized his hands away from her, she kicked him hard and grabbed my arm. The sound that came from him was like a rabid dog, We ran, we ran straight into another boy, this one didn’t smell nearly as bad, apart from disinterested eyes, and a strangely upright stance, he looked normal, he was about fifteen. But he was blocking the corridor.

We turned and the other boy had recovered, he was still brandishing his knife, he was smiling with his brown teeth displayed fully. We turned back, the second boy didn’t have a weapon, his hair was brown streaked with blonde. He was as still as the walls, smiling serenely.

I turned, remembering that the boy behind us was he one with the weapon, I gasped, there were two more boys at his side now. They were half obscured in the darkness that grew at every moment, they were standing silently on either side of the alley. The first boy was holding his knife so tightly his hands were illumined white.

As we turned back, the boy on the other side was now flanked by two others also. There wasn’t time for a breath, they launched at us, growling and hissing like wild animals. The boy with the knife came first. Since it had worked for Lisa, I kicked at his legs and he tripped, but the next moment he was on his feet again, it had barely slowed him down.

Lisa pushed her back against mine and we turned to keep an eye on them, her breathing was shallow, so was mine. Another boy grabbed hold of my arm, he ripped at my jacket sleeve, he exposed the skin and it burned with cold. I shouted out in anger as another boy held me still. His lips peeled back from his teeth and he bent over my wrist. I pushed him away with all my strength. He crashed into the wall so heavily that dust fell from the bricks.

The other boys had pinned Lisa to the ground. I pulled one off her, ripping into his sweatshirt as I did. She was pushing one away from her face frantically as he opened his mouth, the spit dripped on her forehead. Another boy was holding down her legs, so I kicked him hard in his side, he rolled over with a thud, and with her leg free, Lisa kicked the boy on top of her, he was unmoving though. I grabbed at his clothing and heaved, he wouldn’t move.

The first boy’s knife lay discarded in the snow. I picked it up and stabbed at this boy’s ankle. He made a sound like an angry cat, like someone scratching as glass, but Lisa managed to wriggle away and we ran.

We made it back shivering, covered in the stench of unwashed clothes and muddy ice.

The next morning we were taken aside by our landlady and told that the boys in question had been found loitering outside the guesthouse in the early hours of the morning. She had called the police and the boys had been dealt with, they seemed disoriented and weak when they were found, and the police confirmed their dependency on narcotics.

The children had therefore been moved, been taken this very morning to a rehab institute in France which dealt mainly with young people in similar circumstances. I was sure I had heard about that before, a rehab centre in France, but I couldn’t remember where.

I still had the strip of clothing I had ripped from one of the boys. In the pocket there was a page torn from the bible, from Genesis On the back, in pencil was scribbled, ‘our father is Alex.’

Chapter Eleven

Please read everything that comes before this, starting with the prologue

Chapter Eleven

It was something of a revelation, our kiss. It was a moment of desperation in some ways, two people reaching out for something they didn’t understand, trying to make sense out of our situation. We had been thrown together day in and day out, I shouldn’t have been so surprised that it happened.

I wasn’t sure what I felt about Lisa, she wasn’t Angelica, that was where my knowledge of her ended. I knew she was capable, a little scary sometimes, she disregarded everyone’s feelings. I also knew there was something about her I should have been attracted to. In years gone by I would’ve been bragging about kissing Lisa, she was very possibly the most beautiful woman I had ever kissed. Now, I felt that I could never talk about it, I wanted to forget it.

This wasn’t the first time we had been intimate. It was only that her response shocked me this time, that she replied my kiss and didn’t push me away. Let me explain, we were in Norway. The first time we were close I suppose it was under similar circumstances, we were both overcome with fear and frustration. We were lost in the ever growing facts and puzzle pieces, feeling like we would never know the truth.

My heart was still thudding and the stiflingly hot room was making it hard to breathe. The sweat was drying with my steady gulps of air as I fell into an armchair. I was back in the hotel room, I looked about me, familiarising myself with everything in the room, scared it would dissolve.

As I began to relax the scenes of the night played over, slightly warped, darkened by my lapses in memory. I couldn’t hear Lisa, everything was so utterly still that I imagined I was alone, when I knew she was watching me, I could feel her eyes on me, I felt them creep across my spine, but she didn’t move, she didn’t even blink.

The coastline glittered from the narrow window, the moon casting a dark glow over everything, black shadows coloured silver spread over a landscape so perfect I wanted to sketch, I wanted to write poetry. I was shaken, but it was hard to believe anything could hurt us in this beautiful place. When I had regained my breath the events of the night lapsed into fantasy, I started to rationalise everything.

It was this country, the whole place was covered in pixie dust to me, the place of fairytales. It held nightmares that could be washed away with wishes.

‘What just happened?’ Lisa wasn’t under the same spell as me, she didn’t even consider the view.

‘We’re safe,’ my voice came out slow and lazy.

‘But what happened?’ She pointed to the jacket I had thrown on the bed.

‘Drugs,’ I shrugged, and I really believed it in the warm glow of the night.

Lisa seemed to think I was in a trance, she stormed over to me and placed her hands on the sofa edge, she leaned in close and spoke to me like I was a child.

‘You don’t believe that,’ she said.

I turned away from her.

‘Look at me,’ she growled. ‘There’s something else going on,’ she continued when I still looked past her to the window. ‘You know it.’

My stomach was starting to churn with worry, I wanted her to disappear, to evaporate in a puff of smoke. ‘Does it matter?’ I asked finally, ‘it’s not our problem.’

She snorted, ‘its all connected.’

I shook my head, I was exasperated, sometimes Lisa believed things so intently that no one could stand in the way of her delusions. In fact, you soon felt foolish for not agreeing. ‘This place doesn’t have an answers,’ I said quietly, though it hurt, if there was a revelation, if there was something deeper going on, I would want it to be here.

There was another horrible moment of utter stillness. This time it was worse, because she was looking right at me, she was looking in my eyes and pleading with me, but she was carved from stone. ‘I know,’ she said finally.

I had never heard her admit defeat before. So I held her, I took her stone hands and wondered if she was always this cold. I pulled her into my chair and she didn’t resist. We sat for a few moments like that, me gently stroking her hair and her seemingly on the verge of tears.

‘Thank-you,’ she said after a while, ‘you saved me tonight,’ even though we both knew she would’ve been able to save herself.