Chapter Thirteen

“Run! Run!” James was screaming at the man on the bathroom floor.

“Where?!” was the terrified reply.

“I don’t know!”

“Well, know!” Matt scrambled to his feet, and stared at the guy in the doorway. He was almost silhouetted, but in the dim light coming through the window into the dark bathroom from the streetlamp outside was allowing Matt to see his features more prominently. Matt stared at him. He looked solid. He’d always imagined that ghosts were transparent, and faded, but he looked real. Then again, so did Jessica. But he’d never really thought of her as dead.

“Archangel, dark angel, lend me thy light. Through Death’s veil until we have heaven in sight,” James recited. “Archangel, dark angel, lend me thy light. Through Death’s veil until we have heaven in sight.”

“What the hell is that?” Matt asked him sceptically.

“The Satanic Mantra by Cradle Of Filth.” James shrugged, “A metal head lived here two years ago. It seemed appropriate, it’s all about going to heaven when we die.”

“Yeah. I got that, thanks.”

“Good.” James resumed his chanting. Matt thought it might be simply because he didn’t want to just stand there and watch while this happened. Matt stared at the guy again, who hadn’t moved from his position from the door. Matt backed off slightly, towards the window. Jumping didn’t seem like such a bad thing now that his time had come…

“No!” Matt’s cry sounded strangled, as a hand suddenly seized his neck. This guy was fast! It was like he had teleported. He was lifted off the floor and slammed into the side of the shower stall. His hands scrabbled madly as they tried to get the larger guy off. And Matt found himself staring into a pair of cold hazel eyes.

“-lend me thy light, through death’s veil until we have heaven in sight,” James’ voice was getting higher and higher, and louder and louder. “Archangel, dark angel, lend me thy-”

Matt felt like his head was about to explode. He was feeling weaker and weaker as the seconds went by, and he wasn’t entirely sure how much longer he could cling to consciousness. “No!” he croaked again, as the side of his face was swung into the mirror. James screamed, and a bright light was the last thing Matt remembered seeing.

*****

Jessica approached the bleeding body lying on the floor. Her face was calm enough, but she moved slowly, as a sign of respect. She bent down and stared into the face covered with slits and scratches, and let out a sigh, “Nice knowing you, Bourne. May your spirit not remain where mine has.” Then she stood up and went over to the phone. She glanced at the body one more time before picking up the receiver and pressing down on the nine three times. “Police please,” she said to the operator, and waited patiently for someone else to pick up. “Simpson flat,” was all she said, before the phone was replaced.