The Shadows Call Read online

  ‘Naomi?’

  One eye slid open. It was unfocussed. The pupil moved rapidly around in a flicking motion. Blood pooled in the corner, barely watered down by the thick tear that oozed out. Using a thumb, I smoothed away the blood. My action was enough for Naomi to focus on, and I watched her pupil dilate as she peered up at me. Perhaps she experienced a similar clarity that I did. Perhaps not. I was so tortured that every detail hit me in sharp relief.

  ‘J…Jaaa…’ Her voice came from some distant place. ‘Jaaack?’

  ‘Yes, it’s me, babe. It’s Jack. I’m going to look after you; you’re going to be all right. I…I promise….’

  Bystanders had begun to gather. Some had even come into the garden. I viewed everything with stark clarity, and yet those people were insubstantial to me. Grey shapes against the darkness.

  ‘Why won’t you help her?’ I screamed. ‘Somebody. Please! Call an ambulance, for God’s sake!

  A man crouched alongside me, his hand on my shoulder. His face was next to mine, but I couldn’t see him. All I could see was Naomi’s ruined face, her one open eye now centred on my face. The man said something, perhaps reassuring me an ambulance was coming, but his words were a muffled sequence of nonsensical sounds. In contrast Naomi’s words were sharp, even though they had a distant quality to them, like she called to me from across some great gulf.

  ‘Why didn’t you stop, Jack?’

  ‘Shhh, don’t talk. Save your strength.’

  As guilty as it makes me feel these days, I didn’t want the bystanders to hear the truth behind the crash. I didn’t want them to know we’d been having a blazing row. All they need hear was how much I loved Naomi.

  ‘Babe, everything’s going to be all right. An ambulance is coming. They’ll make you well again in no time.’ I leaned and kissed her gently on the forehead. I tasted her blood, but it didn’t matter.

  Naomi squirmed away from my lips. Her features twisted in revulsion. Pain, I told myself, it’s the pain she’s turning from. She pawed at me, her fingernails digging into my cheek. She didn’t realise it was me, I hoped, she was oblivious.

  Gently I moved her hand away, and leaned in. ‘Everything’s going to be fine soon,’ I reassured her.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Honest, Naomi, you’re going to be OK. I’m going to look after you.’

  ‘Noooo…’ Her face turned to mine, and her open eye was blazing. A bubble of mucus burst from her left nostril and more blood poured out. She champed her teeth, and spat frothy blood at me. ‘Get…away…from me.’

  ‘I’m going to keep you safe.’ I was crying, shameless in the face of the group of bystanders now peering down at us like ghouls.

  ‘G…get away from me…’ Her face contorted and there was no denying the terror in her gaze as she peered up at my face. She shuddered, and I knew it was from revulsion. ‘You…you did this to me.’

  ‘No. No, Naomi, that’s not fair.’

  I could feel hands on my shoulders. Someone was attempting to ease me away. Voices were low but commanding.

  ‘No! I’m not leaving her. She needs me!’

  Naomi pushed at me, her limbs as light as gossamer. The other hands were more substantial but I jerked free, pushing back with an elbow.

  ‘I’m not leaving her!’ My scream was more forceful than my attempts to shove the bystanders away. But it did no good.

  ‘I’m leaving you, Jack.’ Her voice was surprisingly clear.

  ‘No, Naomi, you can’t. I want you…’

  Her eyelid drooped shut.

  ‘Naomi! No. Don’t leave me! I want you, babe. I want you back!’

  ‘I’m…going…’ a smile slid across her mouth and it signified a calm stillness to her entire body. ‘I’m going…sweet…home…’

  Her final words were confused, random firings of her memory as she slipped from this world into oblivion. The last thing she said were words from the title of that damn film. Why hadn’t we just gone to see that other movie?

  Naomi was dead. I knew it. Yet I wasn’t prepared to let her go.

  ‘Naomi,’ I wailed. ‘Don’t go. Come back. I want you to come back. Please, babe. I want you. I want you.’

  Apparently I was still mumbling the same phrase when the paramedics arrived on the scene minutes later. I was still mumbling them when I was carted off to hospital. They sent a different ambulance for Naomi.

  17

  Caressed by a Ghostly Hand

  Sarah looked strange. Actually, that’s incorrect; she was looking at me in a strange way. I was the one with the odd expression on my face.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  I blinked out of my awful reminiscence.

  ‘Sorry, did I zone out for a minute?’

  ‘You were mumbling something.’

  ‘I was?’

  She held up her digital recorder. ‘If you don’t believe me, I can let you hear. We’re still recording.’

  ‘I was just, uh, reading those words,’ I said. I was positive that if we did listen back I’d have been repeating the same mantra as I had the night Naomi died.

  ‘Yeah,’ she agreed, but she didn’t relax her odd perusal.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Nothing. Just forget about it.’

  ‘Forget about what?’

  Sarah pushed back her hair. Rocked her balance from one foot to the other before settling herself. ‘You had this look on your face: you looked ready to murder someone.’

  I stared at her, didn’t say a word.

  The atmosphere grew palpable.

  I let out a slow exhalation. ‘I’ve never hurt a soul in my life.’

  ‘Didn’t say you had,’ Sarah replied, ‘I said you looked ready to murder someone. And seeing as I’m the only one here…’

  She was only kidding, and offered a conciliatory smile to show it. She said into the recorder, ‘EVP session ended.’

  Studying the scrawled words on the walls again, I made myself a promise that I’d fill them in with Polyfilla or some other spackling paste before painting them over. A coat of emulsion wouldn’t hide the words, and I didn’t want my children seeing them. I’m not sure how easy a lie would come to my lips if Gemma or Jake asked what their significance was.

  ‘Should we go and get a cuppa before we tackle the basement?’

  ‘You still want to go down there?’ I asked.

  ‘Yeah, we should cover all bases.’

  ‘I thought the basement creeped you out.’

  ‘It does. But so do you and I’m still here.’ She stuck her tongue in her cheek.

  ‘That’s what I like about you, Sarah. You never mince your words.’

  ‘Oh, so you like me then?’ She moved from foot to foot again.

  ‘Well, yeah, of course. I thought that was obvious.’ My face warmed by degrees.

  ‘So there’s a chance I will survive the night, after all?’

  I looked away quickly. I’d misconstrued her question, got my hopes up. ‘I’d never hurt a soul,’ I reassured her. Then I had to wonder if I had indeed misinterpreted her meaning. Was she suggesting she stay the entire night? I glanced at her, but she’d already headed out of the room.

  ‘We’ll leave the recorder running in the dumbwaiter cupboard,’ she said, ‘may as well be productive while we’re supping tea.’

  I joined her as she set the recorder on the dumbwaiter platform. She stepped out the closet and closed the door. Her back was against my chest, and I could feel the contours of her body, the warmth of her skin radiating through her clothing. She didn’t step away. She looked over her shoulder at me. Our gazes held for a second longer, then I cleared my throat, and gave her room to move. When she did I was positive she deliberately swept her backside across my groin. My scrotum tingled, and I felt a stirring down below that had been absent since I’d walked in on Catriona and Mark months ago. Jesus, I wanted to pull her back to me and to let her feel my desire, but I didn’t. I was afraid that she’d reject me, slap my face and storm off. I coughed
again, turned to hide my growing erection by pretending to check the other doors were firmly shut.

  My face was furnace hot now, and I daren’t look back in case Sarah guessed what I was trying to hide. I fiddled with the door handle, until I was sure she was going down the stairs. I couldn’t swear but I thought I caught a soft chuckle at my expense, and it was no disembodied voice.

  I followed down the stairs, going slowly, adjusting the front of my pants.

  What was wrong with me?

  You’d think I’d never been with a woman before.

  Why didn’t I just let Sarah know how I felt and see how the rest of the evening panned out? I liked her and was sure she liked me too. What was the worst that could happen?

  Rejection.

  OK. But it wasn’t as if I was a stranger to that, was it?

  Catriona’s face intruded in my mind, set in a scowl. It morphed to that of Naomi’s. She was laughing, but it was bitter and harsh. I forced the memories away, though it was a struggle.

  By the time I alighted the bottom step into the landing, my penis was flaccid again.

  Sarah was ahead of my position, passing the spare rooms, almost to the short flight of steps to the half-landing. Beyond her was the stained glass window. I tore my gaze from it, afraid of the face I might see staring back, scorning me, and concentrated on the sway of Sarah’s backside. In her trainers her step was accentuated, and her bum jiggled nicely. I could still feel the sensation of how it had rubbed against me, like the caress of a ghostly hand. It was the only lingering spirit I wanted to concentrate on. I hurried after her, and avoided looking at the window.

  Sarah made the tea.

  I opened a packet of HobNob biscuits, piling some on a plate.

  We sat next to each other on the settee. The TV was still on, but muted. Neither of us gave it more than a cursory glance.

  ‘I think we might be going about this the wrong way.’

  My mind was still on making love to Sarah; at least planning the manner in which I might romance her into my bed. But that’s not what she meant. She caught my dumb look.

  ‘EVP’s,’ she said. ‘When I think about it, we might be better served trying to catch visual evidence that something’s here.’

  Other than the unexplained movement of her phone, Sarah hadn’t witnessed anything visually. Not first hand. OK, she’d been there when I watched the shadow man chase the smaller figure through the basement, but she’d only my word for that. She hadn’t even been aware of anything unusual, apart from me howling and stumbling around. So I was secretly glad that she brought the subject up. It said a lot that my word wasn’t being questioned.

  ‘There’s different phenomena happening here,’ she went on. ‘You’ve seen a full-bodied apparition of your old girlfriend, as well as the matrixing events in the window. Then there are the shadow people. We’ve had an apport, and also that stuff with the dumbwaiter. They’re all activity that could be picked up by the right kind of equipment.’

  ‘What’s an “apport”?’

  ‘It happened with my phone. It’s a term paranormal investigators use to explain the transference of an object from one place to another. Sometimes – especially where a poltergeist is concerned - articles have been witnessed materializing out of thin air. Stones, nails, flowers, and even small animals have suddenly popped out of nowhere. I even know a married couple who swear a four foot rag doll they owned disappeared from its usual resting place in a rocking chair in their bedroom and has never been seen again.’

  ‘A thief probably stole it.’

  ‘Nothing else was taken. I doubt a burglar would sneak in and take nothing but a knitted doll.’

  ‘A kid then.’

  ‘They had no kids and no visitors to the house. They’re both adamant, and I’ve no reason to doubt them. I mean, if they were going to make a story up, they’d choose something more believable than a rag doll going walkabout.’

  I shivered at the image. There was something freaky about all dolls in my estimation. Let alone those that got up and walked away. Taking a glance over my shoulder I was relieved not to see a rosy-cheeked devil leering at me over the back of the settee. Grabbing a biscuit, I concentrated on chewing.

  ‘We could set up some trigger objects,’ Sarah suggested. ‘Put a camera on them and see what we catch.’

  ‘What kind of camera are you talking about?’

  ‘It works best in night vision,’ Sarah explained.

  ‘You have one?’

  ‘No. But remember that paranormal group I told you about, the one I’m friends with on Facebook…?’

  ‘They’ll lend you a camera?’ I asked, doubting already that’s what she meant.

  ‘Probably not. But I’m sure they’d love to investigate this place.’

  My headshake was emphatic.

  ‘Oh, go on, Jack.’ She leaned in close, her shoulder touching mine, and she rested her hands on my thigh. ‘Be a sport.’

  ‘I’m not sure I want a load of strangers roaming about the house,’ I said, my eyes flicking from her hands to her face. Her eyes twinkled, and her fingers danced up my leg. Their touch was like an electric jolt. ‘I’m happy doing this with you, but…’

  ‘I promise you,’ Sarah said, and her bottom lip pouted in that enticing way of hers. ‘Let me bring in my friends some time, and you get me all to yourself tonight.’

  Hell, if she had asked me to hand her the moon and stars I would have.

  I nodded, the small gesture infinitely small, but it placed my lips marginally closer to hers. Her breath tickled my face.

  Sarah peered deeply into my eyes. Then her eyelids crinkled at the corners and she craned up. Her mouth met mine, and we both sighed as we gently kissed. It was like the flutter of butterfly wings in my mouth, a soft gentle buzz. But then we leaned in closer and kissed with passion and hunger.

  18

  Things that go Bump in the Night.

  ‘Jack? Are you awake?’

  ‘I am now.’

  I reached for Sarah, my head stuffed with warm cotton wool as I surfaced from the deepest sleep I’d known in months. We had made love snuggled close together in my sleeping bag. It was slow and languid, almost tentative, but when we’d climaxed it had been together and more wonderful even than the first time downstairs. Then the sex had been frantic, rushed, and we’d barely got half of our clothes off before I had her stretched out on the settee and was hammering into her like a sixteen year old virgin in a brothel. We’d both been voracious, a bit too eager, and we knew if we left things at that, then we would probably never look each other in the eye again. Sarah had taken the lead, just as she had in my dream. Dressed only in her sweater, her coffee and cream legs flashing, her paler bum swaying, she’d led me from the parlour, up the stairs to my bedroom. I was without my trousers too, and was a little self-conscious. Sarah gave my goofy appearance no heed, going up the stairs in full view of my lascivious appraisal. She paused only to open the dumbwaiter closet and switch off the digital recorder. Disembodied moans were sure to follow and not the kind she wished to document.

  I momentarily lamented that my new bed had yet to be delivered, and this wasn’t the boudoir of my fantasy, but it was a fleeting concern. Sarah switched on the lamp. She bent to spread my sleeping bag on the carpet, and I watched, transfixed. Then she patted the sleeping bag and commanded me to lie down. I did as ordered, first pulling off my shirt and socks and tossing them aside. I must have been panting like a dog.

  ‘Slow down,’ Sarah said. ‘Take things easy, Jack. We’ve all night remember.’

  I lay back, watching her as if she was a veritable goddess.

  She peeled off her sweater and gently set it aside. She stood there, her breasts lifting and falling. They were small, pert globes that barely filled the cups of her push up bra. My breath caught in my throat as she arched her spine to unclip the straps. The mound of her vagina was presented to me, a small strip of pubic hair all that had been spared the razor. Her labia were slightl
y swollen, pouting as had her mouth before we’d taken that first kiss. I wanted to reach up and touch, but Sarah angled slightly away as she slipped out of her bra. She wasn’t being coy; she turned back and straddled over me, then lowered down and took my newly engorged penis inside her. The entire time I’d been holding my breath. My head was throbbing, and scarlet flashes darted across my vision – I exhaled long and hard, pure elation.

  I began to thrust inside her, but Sarah pressed her fingertips to my chest, whispering again for me to slow down. It took some control, and some guidance from her, but I managed. Soon I slipped into that same languid rhythm as she, and that second conjoining lasted and lasted. We came together, and then Sarah leaned in, her head fitting into the hollow of my shoulder. I pulled the sleeping bag around us, before our sweat could chill in the night air, and we’d finally rolled arm in arm onto our sides, where, spent and wrapped in the muzzy afterglow of shared orgasm, we slept.

  But now Sarah had wakened, and I wondered how fantastic a third time would be. Never had I gone three times in one night, but the stirring in my loins told me this time would be my personal record.

  Bang! Bang!

  ‘Can you hear that, Jack?’ Sarah’s voice reached me as a hushed rasp.

  I tensed.

  The bang was repeated.

  I sat up.

  I had no idea of the time. Outside it was still dark. But it might have been morning, with people on their way to work. Was the noise from outside?

  ‘It’s coming from inside the house.’ Sarah was also sitting up. I think she had been since before she’d woken me.

  Bump! Bang!

  ‘Shit,’ I said. ‘What is that?’

  ‘Is someone inside the house?’ The streetlamps cast enough of a wan glow within the bedroom for me to pick out Sarah’s features. Her eyes were wide and moist.

  ‘Burglars,’ I hissed.

  I didn’t remember either of us switching off the lamp. I clicked it on.

  Bang! Bump!

  ‘Jesus,’ Sarah said, ‘it sounds like they’re wrecking the place.’