Spirit Page 6

  Our steps echoed against the concrete walls. I had to grasp the railing to stop myself from tripping over. I don’t know how Elliot ran, let alone stood on his feet in his condition. There was a loud crack above us and the sound of the door being smashed open against the concrete wall.

  Brash shouts echoed down to us. There was another crack, and a bullet zinged into the iron railing. Elliot took my shoulders and hauled me to the outside of the steps before I could utter a word. “Just keep going to the ground level. Once we get out, we’ll hide in the alleys.”

  My heart hammered, my blood spiking with adrenaline. Footfalls crashed above us. I could only hope we could run faster than they could. We came to an exit door. I groaned out loud when it read ‘Level Three’. Elliot pushed the door open, “Through here. Close it gently. They’ll think we’ve gone all the way to the ground floor.”

  “But we can’t get out from here,” I whispered.

  Elliot slipped me through the door and nudged it closed. It shut without a sound, but now we were in darkness. The only light came from beneath the closed doors of the various offices lining the corridor. “We can. This way.”

  He was breathing heavily. I knew he was at his limit. I clutched his hand and stopped, “You need to rest.”

  His palm cupped my cheek, “Always thinking of other people.” He squeezed my hand and led me down the corridor. “If we’re in luck, they won’t know about this little secret.”

  “How do you know about this little secret?”

  Elliot slowed, thinking, “Not sure. I just know that I do. It sounds ridiculous, but I’m running on instinct here. I can only tell you I know I’ve been here before, but I don’t remember why I was here.”

  “I’ll take that as a positive.”

  He squeezed my hand and led me past the offices and into the more functional part of the floor. I clutched my nose closed. “What stinks?”

  “We’re in the cleaner’s room. Smells like a mouldy mop to me.” Elliot led me to the window at the end of the closet and started to wiggle the window open.

  “Do you mean to tell me Black John forgot about imaging locks on his windows?” I asked as I helped manoeuvre the window upwards.

  “This window never has been locked.”

  I leaned over the sill, “I can see why.” The outside wall of the building was against the roof-top of the next adjoining building. At least two floors below. “How are we going to get down there?”

  I turned and watched Elliot tie off the end of a long rope to the side of some shelves that were attached to the wall. “Is that going to be strong enough?” I asked.

  He gave the rope a solid tug, “Don’t look at me like that. It’ll hold. Have you done any abseiling?”

  “Years ago in the You Yangs.” Actually, it was more than a few years ago. It was during my fourth year of high school and I’d only been sixteen.

  “I’ll go first. Watch where I put my feet and do what I do. Just stand as straight as you can against the building and take your weight on your shoulders. You’ll be fine. I know you will.”

  “What about you? Your side?” At least it had stopped bleeding, but I could see it was still bothering him.

  Elliot sent me a lopsided grin, “At least I feel…something. It’s the closest I’ve been to feeling alive for decades. It reminds me that I’m real.”

  “I know you’re real.”

  “Whatever place this is, however it was created, at least it allows me to be able to touch things, pick things up,” he cupped my cheek, “…feel you.”

  I put my hand over his and sighed, “I know. I want it to be like this all the time. Only not here. I want this in reality. Our reality.”

  His hand slipped from my cheek, “God only knows how we will work that out.”

  “I hope He does,” I murmured as he slipped over the sill to the bricks outside. He showed me how to grip the rope and stand, then neatly let himself down to the top of the roof below.

  Elliot motioned me to follow. I wouldn’t be able to do much in the shoes I wore. I pulled them off and dropped them one by one to Elliot below, then manoeuvred myself over the sill until my feet dangled with nothing but air beneath them.

  I gripped the rope with white knuckles, fighting against panic that worked its way from my chest into my head. I forced my feet into action and flattened the underside of my foot against the bricks. Trying to do as Elliot had, I put my weight into the back of my shoulders and slid from the safety of the window.

  Just as I needed to grip the rope, my palms began to sweat. Great, such a useful visceral response to fear. Sweat. I wiped each palm on my thigh before clutching the rope again. I had to start moving. I couldn’t stay here forever. I slid one foot down the wall, then the other, hand over hand. I never knew two stories could feel so high!

  Strong arms plucked me from the rope, holding me beneath my knees and shoulders. I sagged gratefully against Elliot’s chest, my body shaking.

  “Take a breath and relax. You did well, Cassie.”

  I looked into his smiling face and realised I could stay like this forever. Even his eyes smiled and my heart did a little flip-flop in response. He tilted my body and set me on my feet.

  There was the sound of shattering glass before shards hit the roof. I looked up to see one of the thugs aiming a pistol at us through the window he’d just broken. Elliot grabbed my hand, “Hurry!”

  I flew after him, my feet barely touching the ground, as he pulled me behind him. There was a dull crack and a chunk of concrete burst near my feet. I gasped, instinctively ducking my head as another chunk exploded, closer this time. That was too close for comfort. They weren’t helping if they wanted us alive. Well, they wanted Elliot alive, at least. I was the expendable one.

  Elliot ducked around the corner of an adjacent building and I stumbled after him. We stopped, resting our backs against a wall, breathing heavily, “Are you okay, Cassie?”

  I could only nod. It seemed I was as fit in this world as I was in the real world. That wasn’t saying much.

  He placed my shoes on the ground at my feet, “Here, put these on.”

  “We are we going to go?” I asked. “People are going to be looking for us everywhere.”

  I saw Elliot’s jaw clenching as he thought, “First we’ll lose them, then I’ll think of somewhere. This is my town too and I know it just as well as Black John.”

  “Do you have any idea why he wants you so badly?”

  Elliot made a dismayed sound, “I don’t know. I just know he’s not the type to take no for an answer.” He squeezed my hand, and I realised he still held it, “Let’s get going. It won’t take them long to get to us out here.”

  He’d rested for me. I tugged his hand and waited for him to face me, “Don’t worry about me. I’ll keep up. Let’s just get somewhere safe.”

  Elliot gave me a short nod, but not before I saw a look of admiration on his face. I felt the brush of butterfly wings in my chest as a giddy type of feeling gushed through me and I knew I’d do anything to see that look on his face again.

  We went through a series of twists and turns, in one door and out another, always keeping to darkened corridors and stairwells. Elliot would pause where I would have been hurtled headlong into trouble a few times, had he not been so alert?

  At last, we slipped out into an alley at ground level. The sounds of the bustling city brushed around me, more evident as we’d come from the sound-proofed quiet of dark corridors. I followed Elliot towards the street. He brushed his back against the wall and peered cautiously around the edge of the building.

  Eventually, he nodded, “All clear. Let’s go.”

  “Hang on. Let me stand on this side of you. That blood stands out like anything.” I changed sides and stood at his other side to hide his battered waist as best I could.

  A smile twitched his mouth, “Are you always this smart, Dr Hunter?”

  I looked up at him and raised my brows, “Of course. You should see me when I’m not s
cared out of my wits.”

  We turned into the street, walking as fast as we dared. There were a few people here and there, but it was nothing like the modern-day hustle of happy people in modern-day Melbourne. I dared watch some people. I received some long sideways stares, telling me to mind my own business at the cost of physical harm. Some looks were openly hostile. Some were so openly curious they made me uncomfortable with the look of cagey brazenness on their faces. I lowered my gaze to the ground and kept it trained on my feet.

  We ducked down Royal Arcade, one of my favourite arcades in Melbourne. I looked into the shops, but the windows were black and lifeless. There was nothing inside the multitude of little specialty shops that lined the walk. “Why does everything look like this?” I spoke out loud.

  Our feet made scuffing noises on the black-and-white tiles. I tensed as we passed a man who had his head lowered and hat covering his face. He didn’t look up and didn’t break step. I leaned closer to Elliot. Seemed as though everyone was on edge in this place. “Well, if Black John made this version of Melbourne, I don’t think he would have done a lot of shopping. Maybe he couldn’t make it because he didn’t know what it looked like.”

  “Makes sense,” I said. I stopped by a door we passed and tried opening it. The handle didn’t move. It was decorative only. I left it and we walked on, “Seems he chose what to put here. Makes me shudder about the things he wanted to include.”

  “Don’t worry. I know where his hot spots were, we’ll steer clear of them, for the moment.”

  “Cassandra? Is that you?”

  I stopped short, heart banging to a halt. That voice I’d know anywhere, flowing like silk and leaving me feeling nauseated on the inside. It couldn’t be…but the last time I’d seen him, he was ripped from his body and taken screaming into the Grey-Mists. Elliot hadn’t found him. Now I knew why, “George Campbell.”

  I turned and faced the man I’d exposed for killing innocent people to reap the benefits of their re-written wills, not to mention my patient Henry Davis, but the man I saw in front of me wasn’t the self-assured man I’d once known. His gaze flittered all around, head jerking this way and that. His eyes were hollowed, face haunted, as though he’d seen the worst, and tried his best to keep his head down and away from trouble.

  He wore the style of nineteen thirties clothing everyone here wore, but even a three-piece suit didn’t hide the hunching shoulders, the nervous twitch of fingers, or the flighty edge to his stance. “What did he get you for?” The gleam in his eyes repulsed me.

  “Nothing. I came here willingly,” I said.

  Campbell’s mouth fell open, then a sly smile spread across his mouth. This was the George I was familiar with. “I didn’t know you had it in you. Black John only takes a certain type of person, you know. He chooses you. If only I’d have known…what a team we’d have made.”

  I shuddered beneath his greasy look, “Hasn’t being here done anything to change you?”

  “It’s dangerous, I know, but if you keep your head down, there’s a wealth of opportunity here. If you want to make it, you can.”

  “The filthy feeding off the filthy,” Elliot murmured.

  George snapped his fingers as he turned his attention to Elliot, “Hey, I know you. I saw you when…”

  “When you were taken. Yes, you saw me.”

  Confusion crossed George’s features, “But…no-one could see you. You’re dead. Cassie, how did you know he existed?”

  “If you only knew George, you wouldn’t have done the things you did while you were alive,” I said.

  A slow smile spread on George’s face as he came to the right conclusion. “You can see ghosts! That’s how you knew. I knew I didn’t leave any traces. One of them must have told you, didn’t they? Which one was it? That old biddy Eloise, or that insane old man Porter.”

  I shuddered, not wanting to think of how many people George might have murdered. “Neither of them.”

  “Then how are you here?”

  “The usual way.” I didn’t want to tell him I wasn’t exactly dead, or how I came to be here. I didn’t trust him as far as I could throw him, and knowing George, he’d go straight to Black John if he knew he was looking for us.

  “Did you see your funeral? I always wanted to know what happened at mine. Who came, what they said. Did…did many people come to my funeral?”

  “We didn’t attend,” Elliot said, taking my hand in his, “And we have a place to be. Good luck with your endeavours, George.”

  George reached for Elliot’s arm, tugging him back. A look from Elliot had George dropping his hand. He was hesitant. Out of character. This was the first time I’d seen George look half-way sincere, “Do you know if there’s a way out of here? I mean, if you know, could you…tell me?”

  “I thought you were having the time of your life here,” Elliot said.

  “No! No! That was before I spoke to you. You have to watch what you say. Can’t trust anyone. I’m just playing by the rules here. Please. I’m desperate. If there’s a way. Do you think…could you help me out? We know each other. Friends help friends, right?” The only thing more repugnant than the smug George, was the begging George. How did I ever think he was attractive? The guy was a first-class sleaze-bag.

  Elliot’s face became carefully blank. I knew he despised George, and I knew he was only being polite, “Maybe. We have to go.”

  Elliot tugged my hand and I turned willingly with him.

  “Bye then. I’ll trust you to keep your word,” George called after us. Yeah, like he’d ever keep his. We didn’t turn back.

  We entered the Burke Street Mall and headed to Elizabeth Street. There was a smattering of people around, but they just hung about as though they didn’t have anywhere to go. Listlessly watching others, at the same time watching out for themselves. It was strike or be struck. The more I saw of this Melbourne, the more it gave me the creeps.

  Elliot took my hand, “Let’s catch this tram.”

  We trotted the short distance and stepped on a tram, just before it began to rumble on down the road. We sat on the seat and made ourselves as inconspicuous as possible. The other occupants kept their heads down and avoided watching us. After a little while, Elliot nudged me and we changed trams. I was happy to let him lead me wherever we were going.

  My mind drifted, buzzing with the shock of being here. I thought it would be a simple matter of thinking of Laura, finding her and bringing her back to her body. I’d been a fool to think it would be that easy. But we hadn’t even seen her, let alone try for the next step of rescue, plus we seemed to have dropped right into the worst kind of trouble.

  I followed Elliot as we dismounted from the tram. He led me through a series of backstreets until I’d lost my sense of direction. He stopped in front of a small terrace made of red brick and trimmed with a pretty pattern of beige bricks. It was very pretty. Also familiar, but then again when I went to University, I used to rent a little terrace house just like this one close to the city. There were many of these styles of houses all throughout the inner suburbs.

  I watched him as his eyes roamed the house. He seemed hesitant to be here as though he didn’t quite know what to make of it. I looked from Elliot to the house. He seemed so totally lost.

  “Elliot, where are we?” I asked gently.

  The look of stark loss on his face was enough to leave me breathless. “It’s the only safe house I know.”

  I still didn’t understand what he meant, “Where?”

  “My house. Cassie. This is my home.”

  Chapter Six

  I swallowed a big lump of what-the-hell. This was truly Elliot’s territory. His time. His house. Where he lived with his wife and went about his daily business. I hadn’t had time to prepare myself, or think that I’d even be here like this with him. If this was only a taste of what he felt when he came to me in present times, then no-wonder he was totally disoriented.

  Elliot took my hand and I followed him through the gate to
the front door. It was strange. Foreign almost. I was the outsider here, and I felt it through to the soles of my feet. Every sound was amplified, from the scuffing of our feet on the smooth tiled porch to the metallic sound of the screen door opening; even the hollow sound of the open air filled every space in my mind.

  I tuned into the heat of Elliot’s hand around mine, anchoring myself to it, but when he opened the front door he let go and my hand dropped to my side, empty. He disappeared through the door.

  I took a tentative step through the door frame, “Where’s the inside?”

  There was nothing but hollow darkness. The front of the house was a facade only. “I guess Black John doesn’t know what the inside of my house looks like. Maybe that’s why it’s not finished.” Elliot sent me a fragile smile.

  “That’s a good thing, then. Fill it in. Show me what it looks like,” I said.

  “You want to know?”

  The tentative feeling disappeared, leaving a yearning to become a part of his world, “Of course I want to know. This is a part of you I’d never thought I’d see. Show me your house. I want to know how you lived. Be a part of that, and this is the only way I know how it will happen.”

  Elliot took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Long moments passed and I waited, watching the planes of his face subtly change with each passing memory. The darkness gave way to indistinct colours and forms, as though they were melting the opposite way to a watercolour painting, “Keep remembering, Elliot. Keep going!” I whispered.

  All around me, the colours brightened and solidified. An entire house melted into my reality. I reached out and touched the cool plastered wall, scuffed my feet on shining floorboards. We were standing in the middle of a long, cool hallway that stretched from the front door, to the back of the house.

  Beneath my feet, a carpet runner appeared over the floorboards. Crimson, with pretty little flowers printed in an endless intricate pattern. The walls were painted a fresh cream. The ceiling was a crisp white. A delicate plaster floret framed a dangling ceiling chandelier that cast a golden glow over the walls and floor.