The next two weeks I spent just following her around. Her name was Aleanna Clark, Al to her friends, and she was turning the men's heads as she went like the wind turned the weathercocks. She lived in a rented flat in Islington, which she shared with her cat, Sylvester and worked at the Whittington Hospital in Archway. Twice I caught her getting a lift from one of the friendly doctors at the hospital, but both times she simply got out of the car, the good doctor drove off and this was it. No boyfriends, or even girlfriends for that matter, no night-time visitors, nothing and all the while I couldn't stop the nagging feeling at the back of my mind that something just didn't add up.
As the days went past I decided that my best opportunity for catching her was on her way home after a night shift. While her bus stopped right at the hospital there were enough quiet back streets between where she got off and her flat. But for some reason I still hesitated. I told myself it was because of this strange mystery I sensed about her, something that lurked in the shadows as the sun went down while I was sitting in the car looking up at her window. Though even as I looked I found there was something out of place. As if I might have been the one that had a trap slowly closing around him. I'm not normally claustrophobic, but suddenly I desperately wanted to get out of the car, and so when I unexpectedly glimpsed her stepping out of the building and heading down the road, not her usual way toward the bus stop, but the opposite direction, I gave her a little head start then eagerly jumped out of the car and set off after her.
I watched her walking just a short distance from me, secretly drinking in the way she moved, long blond hair stroking her back right down to firm buttocks, her steps graceful like a queen's, all long legs and slender hips. In my profession you never ask or are given any reasons as they rarely help, but this time I couldn't help but wonder. Why would the organisation want her dead? Why would anyone for that matter want her dead? What a waste! But then I stopped myself. What was I doing? Women are a weakness. This is exactly why it is harder to kill them. Or even just to harm them. Women are just more work in general. Not that I haven't done my fair share over the years. I suppose this is why Nick had asked me. So believe me when I tell you the best policy when it comes to women: Don't feel, just do! But watching her as the evening slowly dimmed the light around us made it damn hard not to feel. And it wasn't exactly just the heart I'm talking about here, either.
We turned a few corners and with a jolt I realised that we were heading toward the park. The dark promise of the night loomed over us and I found myself warming to the idea of going for a little walk among the trees. But just then she slowed her steps and stopped in front of a building. I frowned as I realised it was a church. The funny thing was I didn't remember there being a church here. And this one looked as though it had been here forever. I slowed down, almost praying she decided to move on. Or that it was closed. Whichever. But she tentatively walked to the entrance, opened the door and slipped inside. Damn! But whatever, so I waited.
An hour later I was starting get restless. Two hours later I was actually pissed off. I wondered if I should just leave her there. What on earth does one do in a church for hours on an ordinary Wednesday night, anyhow? Maybe there was some sort of back entrance. Maybe she wasn't even in there anymore. But for some reason I just couldn't piss off. I couldn't leave her there. The church glared at me in the dark, intimidating, so I glared back and entered.
We sometimes avoid places for reasons that seem exterior to ourselves. We tell ourselves it's the crowd, it's the snobbery, the atmosphere, the noise. We tell ourselves we don't like what's in there. But what we really don't like is how they make us feel. When just thinking about stepping through one door opens another deep within, letting memories loose in the playgrounds of our intellect, reminding us what we'd been hiding behind those old stiff locks and why.
Stepping into the church reminded me of the screams. Though after so many years it was difficult to tell anymore if they were still his I kept hearing or only mine.
I closed my eyes for a second as the cool air wrapped me and my steps carried me to the font on my right. The sudden coldness of the water about my fingers brought my focus back. A calm enfolded me as I touched it to my forehead, forming the sign of the cross, even if the act was more for show than anything else.
And then it happened. A recognition stronger than I ever felt, the substance of it escaping my mind like a dream racing away quicker than memory can chase it. Time slowed, my heartbeats marking the seconds as the world transformed into something new, pulsing with an other-worldly power that both fascinated and terrified me. It was behind me. I turned slowly as I was, awestruck, goosebump-cold, reality slipping into oblivion as the church turned around my eyes, light and shadows playing a requiem on the stage of creation.
He watched me, standing just a short distance ahead, and I looked back in return as if I'd never seen another human being before. I set off toward him along the benches, a question posed by my approach, he waited patiently, the answer rooted in his stance.
'We all wish, one day, to become someone we dream of, but in the end, we all turn into what we do.' He greeted me, his eyes piercing to the bottom of my soul, his expression calculating, as if weighing the growing odds he found there against my past dues.
'Is that so much to ask for? A chance at love?' I insisted.
'Oh, but it's not love that's your business, is it?' 'He raised an eyebrow.
'No.' I considered that for a moment, before the truth came spilling out. 'It is death.'
'Death waits for us all. But you might just find what you're searching for there.'
A stray breeze rose behind me, making the candles dance on the low tables around us, ruffling his shock of dark hair as he moved his gaze past me to look toward the entrance, his considerate face easing into a smile. I turned to look, too, to find the doors open, and that there was no one in the church but us. I turned back frowning to find there was no one in the church but me.
I stood there stupidly for a while, waiting for the world to make sense again before slowly walking out into the night, trying to decide where to get a drink, unconsciously rubbing at some annoying, little itch on my forehead.
