Page 18 of Deader than Dead

Where was my jacket? And more importantly, my phones? I’d even settle for just one of them.

“Get out of here.”

That same voice again. The mask? How was that possible? It was one thing to accept it when it was tucked in my jacket and close by, but I’d hidden it. The mask wasn’t anywhere near me, or at least I assumed it wasn’t. It was hard to know for sure when I didn’t know my location.

I tried the door of the neighboring flat. Just like the one I’d been in, it was unlocked. Who lived here and why didn’t they lock their doors? Clutching the candle firmly so it didn’t slip out of my grasp and plunge me into darkness, I stepped inside. The layout of the flat was identical, and I found myself in another living room. A jacket lay across the back of the sofa. Mine?

Disappointment hit as soon as I picked it up. Not mine. It was too small. Beggars couldn’t be choosers, though, and I’d be stupid to step outside in what I assumed to be the middle of the night in just my T-shirt. Especially when I couldn’t seem to warm up, like damp had seeped into my bones. Placing the candle down on the table and the bag on the floor, I pulled it on. Just like I’d suspected, it erred on the side of being too tight. I wouldn’t be able to fasten it, but it was better than nothing.

I was picking the bag and candle up again when the noise came from the bedroom. A snore. A loud one. Presumably, the owner of this jacket was in there sleeping and wouldn’t be impressed if he woke up to discover me taking it.

“Get out of here.”

This time I took heed of the voice and left the flat. The blinking blue light of a camera snagged my attention from the end of the corridor. Were they watching me? And if so, why hadn’t they made any move to stop me from leaving? Bypassing the lift, I hurried to the stairs. There were a lot of floors to go down. How many exactly, I wasn’t sure. I didn’t count them and most of the floor markings were missing or covered in lurid graffiti that made them too difficult to read.

Finally, though, I reached the bottom and stumbled out into the cold, crisp night. For a few seconds, I stood, breathing it in, acting like someone who’d never been outside before, and then I started to walk. Only when I’d put some distance between myself and the building did I turn to look back. Lights on in several of the windows showed I hadn’t been quite as alone as it had felt like I was. I might not remember arriving at the building, but it had to be connected to the mask. And anything connected to the mask that couldn’t be destroyed, and had made the usually unflappable Dice freak out, couldn’t be good.

The streets were deserted, the houses dark, and the road empty of cars except for the occasional one. All my senses went on red alert as one of those cars slowed next to me, the driver lowering the window. “Need an Uber, mate?”

I almost laughed. What were the chances? No idea where I was. No phone. No way of contacting anyone, and an Uber driver had found me. There was one slight problem, though. “I don’t have…” I’d been going to say I didn’t have any money, but as I slid my hands in the pockets of my borrowed jacket, my fingers curled round a wad of cash, the feel of the banknotes unmistakable. How much was there? A hell of a lot, by the feel of it. No way I was going to pull it out in front of the Uber driver. He’d probably think I’d just burgled someone, and I wouldn’t see him for dust. Which was ironic considering, but taking money was a first for me.

“Please,” I said, opening the door and climbing into the back seat.

The driver’s eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. “Hope you don’t mind me saying, but you look like death warmed up. That’s why I stopped for you, even though I was on my way home. Didn’t want you collapsing in the middle of the street. Heavy night, was it?”

I only wished I could remember. “Something like that.”

He winked. “Gotcha. None of your business, Ken.” I assumed he was Ken rather than him calling me Ken. He cleared his throat, his fingers flexing on the steering wheel. “Need a destination, mate? I’m hoping that’s not a secret or we’re not gonna get far.”

A destination. Right. My gaze slid to the bag I’d automatically pulled onto my lap, one hand resting on top of it. The need to reunite it with its owner still burned in my chest—a compulsion I just couldn’t seem to shake, no matter how much I tried to rationalize it. I took a deep breath, and when an address I didn’t know tumbled from my lips, I went with it. There was some sort of supernatural force at work and I could either accept it, or rail against it, and I wasn’t sure I had the energy for the latter.

Throughout the journey, Ken engaged in small talk, but most of his questions only required a simple yes or no, or even a grunt sometimes. While he concentrated on driving, I peeled one note away from the rest and slid it out of my pocket to examine it. A fifty-pound note. Fuck! If that one note was fifty quid, how much did I have in my pocket? A small fortune if every single note in the thick wad was the same amount.

The Uber slowed to a stop outside a block of flats. “Here you go, mate.”

I made no move to get out as I studied the lack of lights on in any of the flats. “What time is it?”

Ken tapped his finger on the dashboard, bringing my attention to the bright LCD figures there. Nearly four in the morning. No wonder there were no lights on. Was I really going to turn up at a stranger’s house in the middle of the night on a hunch that the things I had belonged to him? It seemed I was. Leaning forward between the seats, I passed the fifty-pound note across. “Keep the change.”

“But…”

I was already climbing out of the Uber and closing the door behind me. In a perfect moment of serendipity, someone was leaving the building as I approached it. I sped up, catching the external door before it closed and slipping inside. From there, I let instinct lead me, until I stood in front of the door to one of the flats. I took a deep, fortifying breath and then I knocked.

Chapter Eleven

John

I didn’t make it as far as the morning, a noise rousing me from a restless sleep. I sat up, trying to work out what had woken me. It came again. A knock at the door. I fumbled for my phone on the nightstand, waking the screen to see the time. Four in the morning. Who the hell would pay me a visit at four in the morning? Crocodile? Had he realized his mistake in letting me walk away and come to do a better job? How would he have gotten my address, though? Cade? Was that why my boss had been calling me? Had he been going to warn me? If so, it was too little too late, seeing as he’d gotten me into this mess in the first place.

Who else could it be? My mother? No, not at four in the morning. No matter how worried she might be, she wouldn’t be wandering around London in the middle of the night. She was more likely to call the police. Was that who was knocking? It was doubtful. A person had to be missing for twenty-four hours for them to take it seriously, and I’d only taken myself off grid for a few hours.

The knock came again, louder this time, and seeming to have an edge of desperation to it. I got out of bed, swaying slightly like I was drunk as I decided what to do. If I ignored it, I might never know who it was. What if it was someone who needed help? Mind made up, I made my way to the door, unlocking it and pulling it open.

It wasn’t Crocodile. It wasn’t the police. And it most certainly wasn’t my mother. My knees buckled, and I grabbed onto the doorjamb to steady myself as I took in the man on my doorstep. The man who last I’d seen had been a corpse, and who couldn’t be standing here because it just wasn’t possible. The ritual had failed. There’d been nothing. No heartbeat. No sign of life. The voices from beyond the veil had even told me it wasn’t possible.

So how was he here?

Was I dreaming? Had I suffered a psychotic break brought on by a mixture of stress and grief? Could you lose your grip on reality that quickly? I didn’t think so, and the rough grain of the wood beneath my fingertips said I was awake.

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