Savage Wings: Book Three of The Whitechapel Chronicles

Chapter 7

He trailed off again and it was all I could do not to charge right at him and rally my fists against his broad chest, but as it turned out, I didn't need to. He drew closer to me, looking around warily and dropping his voice to little more than a whisper as if he feared the walls themselves were eavesdropping.

"Megan, if there's one thing I do know, it's when not to interfere with things where I am clearly not welcome. When this type of thing happens, it's usually because someone or something doesn't want me to see. But let me tell you this: normal people don't just start fading away. They live. They die. Some live longer than others. Some take longer to die. I see it all."

"Strictly speaking, I'm not a normal person though, am I?"

"No, you're not. But the point is, I could see you and now it's like someone is stopping me. Each time I try, it gets harder. And each time I try, it makes me never want to try again. I can't look any more, I can't search for you. It's too dangerous. Whatever this is, Megan, it's dark business, trust me."

"So you're saying it's the Devil's work?"

"You don't have to fight on the side of the Devil to do dark work. Remember that. Not everything is as straight-forward as it appears. We're dealing with higher powers here and they all want to win, no matter what the cost. Now, I don't know who or what is preventing me from seeing, but I do know that I'm meddling in matters that don't concern me. I can feel it every time I try to find you. Someone is determined that I won't see what the future holds for you and as much as I wish I knew what lay ahead, I'm not risking their wrath again."

"And you're saying this has happened to you before?"

He nodded. "1984. A lady called Catherine Arden came to see me, or Sister Agnes Catherine as she was known in the Order. Sister Agnes was a very spiritual woman, in fact you couldn't have found a woman more dedicated to her faith. She told me that when she was just fifteen, she was visited by an Archangel who instructed her to accept God and to devote her life to Him and only to Him. And that's just what she did. For almost sixty years, she worked tirelessly, instructing those in the community to follow God's Holy Word. She fed the homeless, tended to and prayed for the sick. She prayed for those who spat in her face and rebuked her for her faith. I sat in her presence and I swear I've never met anyone more devout, it was like she fucking glowed, you know? But Sister Agnes was also a troubled woman. She'd been hearing voices, you see. At night time, they'd come and whisper in her ear, saying all sorts of strange and awful things and so, at the ripe old age of seventy-four, Agnes had begun to question God's plan for her. Was it a test? Was her time drawing to a close and God just wanted to make sure she was truly worthy? Was she being tormented by demons? Or was the poor old cow just suffering from dementia? She had questions and she wanted me to help her find the answers. She was so ashamed and terrified of what lay ahead and she just wanted the chance to prepare, to steel herself for whatever trials God had in store for her. And so, I agreed to help. Three times she visited and three times I searched and felt the presence of another trying to block me and yet still I persisted. I wanted to help her and if I'm honest, I was determined to beat them. After all, this was my business and if word got round that Josiah Hope couldn't deliver his side of the bargain, then how would I survive? How would I continue to care for Caelan?"

He stopped to glance around the room and his eyes came to rest on his bed, to which he pointed with a quivering hand. "That night, after Sister Agnes visited for the third time, I awoke to find someone in my room, this room, in fact. Now, I say someone, but maybe it was something, I don't know. All I know is that this invisible thing, whatever it was, pinned me to that bed, as if it was crushing the life out of me. I couldn't move. I could barely breathe. And then I felt hands on my face and thumbs pressing down on my eyes as if it was going to gouge out my eyeballs. I'd never felt such pain and I swear I could smell my own skin burning as the thing pressed harder and harder until I thought my eyeballs would burst from the sockets. And all the while, even though my eyes were closed, I could see this hot white light as if the whole room was engulfed in it, or maybe it was just inside my head, I don't know. But what I did know was that it was a warning."