Tamsyn Murray-Afterlife 01 My So-Called Afterlife (12 page)

Hep shook her head sarcastically as the students gathered around their friend. ‘Nice one, Lucy. That’s what I call lying low.’

By Sunday evening, I was as close to a nervous wreck as I’d ever been. Hep was still being dismissive, and Kimberly had decided I was envious. Jeremy had taken me seriously enough to read up on exorcism and shared my uneasy feeling that trouble was in store. No one had any suggestions about what we could do to stop it, but they convinced me it was pointless to try and talk Kimberly out of being at the cemetery when the cameras rolled again.

We got as close to the centre of the action as we could – no easy task with camera crews and burly bouncers everywhere. Since the show had aired the previous week, a lot of would-be ghost-hunters had turned up to watch the filming, and the bouncers were there to keep them away from the grave itself and whatever the show intended to do. None of the previous celebrities had wanted to take part again so there was a fresh crop of eager wannabes and has-beens hanging around, trying to look keen.

The Romanian paranormal expert called himself Dr Cristea and looked like he was auditioning for a horror film. He wore head-to-toe black and a seriously brooding expression. The overall effect was spoiled by the make-up girl dabbing foundation on to his face. Elvira was there,
hovering around the edge of the filming area. She’d proved useful in getting Jeremy past the bouncers, but if she knew what was going to happen next, she was keeping her lips sealed.

The grave itself looked like it’d had a run-in with an occult fly tipper. Apart from the time I’d been dared by my mates to go into the incense-scented magic shop in Bluewater shopping centre, I’d never seen so many weird symbols and candles in lanterns.

‘Over-accessorise much?’ I said to Hep as we stared at the circle of signs. ‘Any idea what it all means?’

She raised her shoulders nonchalantly. ‘Trouble for Kimberly, I hope. Have you noticed how she’s draping herself over Ryan?’

I glanced over. Kimberly had a possessive hand resting on Ryan’s arm. Turning my back to them, I squinted at the markings on the ground. I knew Hep was trying to get me on her side, and I wasn’t taking the bait. ‘I think it might be a reversed pentagram in the middle there. That can’t be good.’

‘Depends on your point of view.’ Her eyes narrowed suddenly. ‘Shhh! Elvira’s heading this way.’

‘We should be ready to begin soon,’ I heard Elvira’s whiny voice say to Jeremy.

He shuffled uneasily. ‘What actually happens?’

Elvira’s expression became ghoulish. ‘No one really knows. Exorcism is an ancient rite used on anything from ghosts to demons. The main thing is, they disappear.’

‘What if they don’t want to go?’

She laughed. It wasn’t a pleasant sound. ‘They don’t have a choice. It’s better for them in the long run than hanging around here, harassing the living.’

Jeremy watched her in silence for a moment. ‘Why do you hate them so much?’

Her pierced lip curled into a bitter smile. ‘You noticed? Since you ask, my mother was psychic, which meant I grew up being plagued by the dead.’ A hunted expression crossed her face and she shuddered. ‘I could never see them, but I heard enough of them. Sometimes they would scream all night. They terrified me. I promised myself that when I was older, I’d do everything in my power to get rid of them.’

‘Did they ever do you any harm?’ Jeremy asked softly.

Elvira scowled. ‘That’s not the point. This world is for the living. It’s no place for the dead.’

She stamped away, leaving the three of us to stare in stunned silence at her retreating back.

‘I’m sensing a bit of hostility there,’ Hep said after a while, raising a thoughtful eyebrow.

I was wondering what exorcism was like. It had a demonic ring to it; what if it hurt? Maybe I needed to have one last quiet attempt at talking Kimberly out of taking part.

I might have known I was wasting my breath.

‘You’re jealous,’ Kimberly accused, once I’d aired my concerns. ‘You don’t want me to be the centre of attention. Who believes in all this magical mumbo-jumbo, anyway?’

‘She’s not jealous, Kimberly,’ Ryan said, frowning. ‘You should listen to her. She might be right.’

Kimberly rolled her eyes. ‘Not you as well. Trust me, it’s all for the benefit of the cameras. They’ll need more than a couple of candles to get rid of me.’

Needless to say, she was wrong.

It’s been said before that I don’t know when to give up, but Kimberly’s refusal to listen had even me beaten, and I could only stand and watch.

At first, it didn’t seem like anything was going to happen. As the sun sank and the sky darkened, Dr Cristea began talking into the camera, his thick Romanian accent making even the most boring sentences sound creepy. Occasionally, Finlay asked a question. Each of the celebrities was sent to light the candles, which took longer than they expected, mostly because I followed them around blowing them out. Eventually, though, they were all lit and, once they were all stood in the middle of the circle, the chanting began. A deep sense of unease wormed its way through my stomach. The words weren’t familiar. They didn’t even seem to be
English, but they sounded like deeply bad news for any ghost, especially one whose grave stood in the centre of a pentagram.

Kimberly’s attention was dragged away from Ryan. Frowning, she moved closer to the ring of candles. As her foot stepped over the line of the outer circle, everything changed. With a thin, high wail, Kimberly was dragged into the centre of the pentagram. Out of nowhere, a fierce wind sprang up and buffeted both us and the cameras. The volume of Dr Cristea’s monotonous voice increased.

‘It looks like we may have something.’ Finlay directed his wide eyes to the camera. ‘Hang on, things could get hairy.’

In slow motion, I turned to look at Kimberly. She was screaming in terror and struggling to free herself, as though something had hold of her ankles and was pulling her into the ground. Hep watched, her face expressionless, but Ryan looked shocked. Jeremy was staring at a gloating Elvira in bewilderment.

‘Someone help me! Lucy, please, it’s dragging me in!’

I stared wildly around. The trees were bending dangerously under the pressure of the wind, and leaves were being torn from their branches. Above the shriek of wind, I could hear the relentless voice of the exorcist. In the midst of the pentagram, Kimberly looked small and terrified, her shrill screams piercing the chaos around her. She seemed to be disintegrating before my eyes. I couldn’t stand it any longer.

‘No, Lucy!’ Hep shouted as I moved past her, realising my intentions a fraction too late.

I stumbled forwards, ignoring her cry, and held out my hand to Kimberly.

A faint glitter of triumph flickered in her eyes as she latched a vice-like grip on to my wrist. ‘That was really stupid, Lucy, even by your standards,’ she hissed, and pulled me into the pentagram.

The instant I was inside, my legs turned to deadweights. I glanced down to see my beloved Uggs were stretching and distorting as the spell sucked me in.

‘Let go.’ I tugged backwards. ‘If I can reach the others maybe we can pull you free.’

Her pretty face twisted into a sneer. ‘It’s too late for that, you idiot. I can’t get out. Still, every cloud has a silver lining.’

Fear clutched at my stomach. ‘What do you mean?’

The hand on my wrist tightened. ‘Can’t you even figure that out? What the hell does Ryan see in you?’ she spat. Around us, the howling wind intensified. ‘You planned this, didn’t you?’

Stunned, I shook my head. ‘That’s not true!’

‘Don’t deny it. You wanted me out of the way so you can have him all to yourself. Well, it’s not going to happen like that.’ Her lip curled in scorn. ‘If I have to go, I’m taking you with me. Say goodbye to your precious Ryan!’

Below her, a gaping red slit was opening up. It didn’t look inviting. In desperation, I tried to prise her fingers off me. It was no good – she wasn’t letting me go. Thrashing in helpless panic, I missed Jeremy bellowing my name, didn’t see him charging forward to grab hold of the plug
chain around my neck. It was only when I felt the metal dig into me and the chain fall away that I realised what he was trying to do. With renewed urgency, I thrust my free hand into the pocket of my jeans and made a fist around the spare plug that nestled there. Praying to any god listening, I dragged my hand out. As Kimberly’s face began to dissolve in front of me, I looked deep into her eyes. ‘I don’t think I’ll come after all. Good luck, Kimberly.’

The crimson chasm was widening. I could feel it sucking us in. My vision started to turn salt and pepper. I didn’t have long, seconds maybe. Summoning all of my strength, I hurled the plug as far away as I could. The second it left my fingers there was a terrible roaring in my ears. A nanosecond later I felt a bone-crunching lurch, as though my soul was being wrenched from my body. The world tilted and turned black. I let out a horror-filled, silent scream and collapsed into the pitch darkness.

‘Lucy?’

I could hear the voice. It sounded very far away. Whoever it was should leave me alone. I couldn’t remember ever feeling more wrecked.

‘Lucy, wake up!’

My eyes snapped open. ‘Go away, I’m tired.’

Jeremy’s white face swam into view. ‘Oh, thank goodness you’re all right.’

It took a lot of effort to stay focused on his still-worried eyes. ‘What happened?’ I mumbled. ‘Where’s Ryan?’

Ryan appeared behind him. ‘I’m here. We were at the churchyard with Kimberly, remember?’

My mind struggled over the words. We’d gone to watch the filming at Kimberly’s grave. I’d been trying to warn her about something. I moved my head to look around. How did I get back to the toilet? A stab of fear clutched at my heart. What in the name of all that was holy had gone on?

‘I remember it got very windy,’ I said, my voice thick and slurred. ‘And there were words, horrible words which didn’t mean anything, except that they did. I don’t understand. What happened?’

Ryan smiled down at me gently. ‘It’s not important right now. All that matters is that you’re here and you’re OK.’

Jeremy raised his head. ‘She’s confused. I don’t think she should be alone. Ryan, I know you must be here. You and Hep can come back to the flat for a while. We can take it in turns to watch her.’

I tried to move my head to see Hep, but it was heavy and darkness was closing in. The last thing I felt before slipping into unconsciousness was Ryan’s comforting arms sliding beneath me.

It was almost a week before I was back to full strength. Getting to and from the toilets was exhausting, but it had to be done. No one had seen anything of Kimberly. It didn’t surprise me. I’d seen more than enough of the hell-hole she was headed for and it didn’t look like the kind of place
anyone came back from. Jeremy had recorded
The Ghost’s the Host
for me. I plucked up the courage to watch it one afternoon with Ryan. It didn’t look anything like as terrifying as it had been and there was no sign of either Kimberly or me on screen. Anyone watching at home would have had no idea that one ghost had been banished and another had barely escaped.

Jeremy reported that Elvira had been thrilled with how the exorcism had gone. Obviously, she’d had a better idea than anyone from the show about what had gone on. I was only grateful she hadn’t heard Jeremy call my name as he’d dived forwards to save me. She thought he’d been trying to rescue Kimberly.

The incident made me even more apprehensive about passing across. What would it be like? Who even knew where you’d end up? But it did make me realise I didn’t want to head to the next plane with any unfinished business on Earth. That probably meant finding my killer. I didn’t share this revelation with Jeremy, although I did start to chip in during our frequent progress updates. Not that he needed my encouragement – he was a man on a mission.

If I thought the trauma of my narrow escape would earn me much down-time, I was wrong. He arrived at the toilet one afternoon armed with an appointment card, a determined expression and more bling than a gold-loving gangsta.

‘Fancy a trip to Walthamstow? I’ve got a lead.’

‘Shame you haven’t got a dog as well then.’ I looked him
up and down before demanding, ‘Did you mug a Christmas cracker salesman on the way over here?’

His face was blank. ‘What?’

Waving an arm, I gestured at the chains around his neck. ‘What’s with the metal-wear?’

He waggled the card. ‘You’ll understand in a minute.’

I squinted at it, trying to make out what it was for. ‘Don’t tell me. You’re meeting a builder called Dave for drinks and want me to chaperone.’

He threw me a level look. ‘I’m glad you’re feeling better.’

I responded with a sunny smile. ‘What’s in Walthamstow?’

‘Micky Snake, the best tattooist in London.’

‘I bet that’s not his real name.’

‘Probably not,’ Jeremy agreed. ‘But he is the best. He doesn’t let you into his studio unless he thinks you’re serious about getting a tattoo.’

He sounded like a bundle of fun. ‘How are we going to get in, then?’

Waggling the rectangle of card, Jeremy said, ‘By pretending I’m a homie who wants a tattoo.’ My mouth dropped into a horrified ‘O’, but Jeremy was oblivious. ‘Come on, the appointment is at two o’clock.’ He adopted what I guessed he thought was a brooding face. He looked like he was constipated. ‘I don’t think he’ll be happy if we’re late.’

Micky Snake’s studio was about five minutes from the tube station, tucked away off the main road. Once we’d got past
the complicated entry system and climbed the stairs to the first-floor studio, he showed us into his lair. We were the only customers there.

I gazed around in wonder. I’d never seen so many tattoos. Every bit of wall space was covered in drawings and photographs of body art. Micky himself was a walking advert for his job. His muscular arms and neck were thick with pictures, right up to his shaved head. He had none on his face. He’d gone for a thin moustache and goatee beard instead.

‘I’m Micky,’ he introduced himself, unnecessarily. ‘Do you know what you’re looking for, or did you want to have a look around the gallery?’