Bryony Pearce - The Weight of Souls

I looked at my hand and then across at the barely twitching shadows. Across the park the old man had shifted position. I turned back to Justin. “You were murdered. I wonder if…”

“Hey, do you know that guy?” Justin pointed. The old man had levered himself up and was ambling across the garden towards us.

“No,” I dismissed him. “He’s just leaving the park. You need to focus.”

“It’s just that he keeps looking at you and there’s something about him.”

I lifted my spine from the tree trunk. “He keeps looking at me?” I frowned. “It looks like I’m talking to myself, Hargreaves, I’m going to get odd looks.” Still, I shifted onto my heels. “How long’s he been looking at me?”

“I haven’t been paying him much attention, Oh.”

As the old man drew near I studied him. His trousers were frayed at the bottom and his great coat was warm for the weather. But he was old. Old people liked to keep warm, didn’t they?

He kept his eyes cast down. When he reached the tree nearest me his head rose. Our eyes met. He touched the brim of his hat with twisted fingers, nodded and went as if to walk on. “Kids.”

Hope lit Justin’s eyes like a sunrise. “You can see me?”

“Crap.” The old man’s face twisted and he lunged at me.

I dove sideways and his arm hissed through the tree trunk where I’d been sitting.

“Geezer, what’re you doing?” Justin scrambled to his feet. The ghost ignored him, focused completely on me.

“I can’t take another Mark right now,” I cried. The Darkness was already moving and if he touched me I’d be carrying two Marks, with no idea who had killed Justin.

The ghost lurched towards me, grinning hugely. “You can help me. It won’t take long.”

I tried to get to my feet but slipped on the grass. “Leave me alone.”

The old man bent over me. His hooked nose had a bead of moisture on it. It trembled above my face as he reached for my cheek with cracked fingers. I scrabbled backwards but he was faster than he looked.

Suddenly he grunted and flew sideways.

I blinked. Justin had tackled him and now he had both arms round his waist. “Run,” he shouted.

I leaped to my feet. “Justin–”

“Go.”

The old man was wriggling and swearing viciously.

“Meet me at my house. Do you know where it is?”

“Pete pointed it out once.” He renewed his grip on the great brown coat. “Go.”

I looked back once. The old guy had removed his hat. He was hitting Justin with it and tears were streaming down his face.

Bloody dead people.

When I got home the study was shut tight. The Book of Oh-Fa however, was sitting on the dining room table. I bit my lip, but the temptation was too strong to ignore. Swiftly I grabbed it, stuffed it under my top and, with the pressure of the ancient leather on my skin, I tiptoed upstairs.

Once in my room I leaned against the door. There I stuck my tingling hand behind my back. It was too tempting to just keep looking at it, like picking a scab.

Under the bed the shadows pulsed. I slammed the lights on, all of them. A long time ago Mum had installed a bulb under my bed. Now there was no part of my room that wasn’t brightly lit.

I exhaled heavily. I had less than two weeks before the Darkness came for me and I had no idea what had really happened to Justin and who I should be Marking.

Swearing under my breath I crossed to the window. As I passed the dresser I automatically stroked my picture-board of Mum. My fingertips caressed a snippet of her favourite jumper, her old hair band, a silky piece of the skirt I had most liked her in. My fingers bumped over her turquoise beads and lingered on the three photos: one of her smiling over her shoulder, one where she looked sad and serious and hid her gloved hand behind her back, one of her holding a baby – me. In that one her eyes were half-closed and her expression unreadable, but her bare hands were curled around my back as if I was the most precious thing in the whole world and might break.

Her book pressed against my stomach. I tugged it free of my waistband and opened it with reverent fingers. I closed my eyes to bring her voice to mind then started to read.

Entry the fifth

My hand shakes as I write this, trembling so hard that I can barely make sense. The Professor paces outside and his demands have become increasingly urgent. Perhaps his gun is trained on me even now. Still, I cannot move without finishing this, my family needs to know what happened.

If only there was a way to beg my child’s forgiveness. Even if I make it home now, I do not deserve to look upon the faces of my family.

The sack of blood money at my feet is not compensation. How could I think it would ever be enough?

Perhaps I should let the Professor shoot me.

It began when I returned to the hole in the ground, a moment that already seems a lifetime ago.

Despite the queue of lantern bearers who had entered the tomb ahead of me, a preternatural darkness still covered every step below the sixth. Miserably I sought the Professor. The glare of the sun on his small round spectacles erased his eyes as he gestured me downwards.

On the fifth step I caught up with the man in front. Like lovers entering an icy sea we felt together with our toes. Step-by-step we descended and the tide of dark rose first to our thighs, then our chests. My bare legs prickled with cold then the darkness enveloped my head.

My lantern revealed walls decorated floor to ceiling with hieroglyphs. As I wondered what ancient curses surrounded us, we rounded a corner to find a large antechamber, riddled with tunnels like black mouths. In the centre the overseers were waiting to take the light.

“We’re setting up base there.” Sunbird indicated the lanterns already clustered by the far wall. “Stay out of the way until you’re needed.”

I followed the muted speech of my fellows, stumbling blindly towards the noise until I thumped into another of the men. I ignored his curse and wriggled into a space to try and meditate.

I should have fled.

There was a shout outside and I almost dropped the book. “Taylor Oh!”

I opened my window and leaned into the air. Justin was standing on the street, hands cupped round his mouth. “I can’t get in.”

A secret smile touched my lips.

Of course he couldn’t .

“I’ll come and get you.” As I passed the dresser I put the book down carefully and looked, not at Mum this time, but in the mirror. Something made me pick up my hairbrush. Swiftly I dragged it through my hair, shaking it out over my shoulders. Then I opened my bedroom door, sucked in a breath at the sight of the dimly-lit hallway and sped as stealthily as possible to the vestibule.

I opened the door and peered out. Justin stood at the top of the steps. “I tried to walk through the door, but it’s solid. Don’t tell me your front door’s cursed too.” He sounded grumpy and tired and I couldn’t help smiling as he tried to walk past. “Ow.” He rebounded onto the pavement and rubbed his shoulder. “I don't understand; there’s nothing there.”

I rubbed my palm on my jeans. “I’m not sure if this’ll work but we can try. Here, you’ll have to take my hand.” My lip curled as I held my arm out to him.

Justin looked at it. “You don’t mind?”

“It’s the only way you’re getting in.”

I braced myself for the familiar hateful jolt, but when Justin’s fingers wrapped around mine they just felt dry and cool; no electric ice.

I walked backwards, Justin walked gingerly forwards and he was in.