From Dark Places (5 page)

She bit her lip. “There must be another way.”

He forced himself to stay silent. It had to be her choice.

“What happened to the other souls, the ones whose bodies I shared before?”

“They went back to where they came from,” he lied. “Don’t worry about them.”

She stepped forward. The woman shivered, pulled her collar up and locked the car. She buttoned her coat, threw her bag onto her shoulder and hurried across the road towards a crowded restaurant. By the time the woman reached the other side of the street, Nathaniel knew the soul with whom he had just conversed had forgotten herself, their conversations and the choice just made.

He crossed the street, not even noticing the cars and buses as they passed through him. Then he was moving through the glass doors, the tables and diners; through the waiters until he stood next to her again.

The excited conversation between the woman and her lover was of no interest to him. He paid no attention to their words, just waited. The starter came and went. The wine flowed and still he waited. The main course arrived. Poached fish. He smiled.

This one was going to be easy.

On the third swallow, as her lover hailed the waiter for more wine, unseen fingers slipped through the skin of her neck and caught a tiny bone in her throat. It should have slid down unnoticed. Now it was killing her.

She turned blue and the soul within writhed. He could barely glimpse the soul he cared about, she was so faint. But the core soul twisted, knowing this wasn’t its time.

The body fell from the chair, diners clustered around her, while the maitre’d tried to dislodge the blockage. Nathaniel held it firm. Her lover yelled into his mobile phone for an ambulance as her last breath dissipated from her lungs.

He didn’t let go until the core soul detached from the body, screaming with the pain of being wrenched from life ahead of schedule. He grasped the twisting form, ripped it in two, then again, and again until only a faint, grey haze floated above the body.

The soul he was waiting for coalesced in the body, now it had room to fill it. She sat up and looked around at the ring of distressed diners. He readied himself for the inevitable scream.

“Oh my God!”

She was examining the contract. The conversation, in its sixth incarnation, had been the smoothest and fastest so far. She remembered more quickly each time. She had cried, sobbing at the sight of the woman’s lover weeping over the body strapped to the trolley. It had taken Nathaniel a long time to reassure her she was free from guilt.

She was still pure, unsullied, beautiful.

Perfect.

“What does this clause actually mean?”

He looked at the one she pointed to. “That’s the part clarifying that evolution can only take place when the soul has lived out its allotted time, returned to the source, contracted for the next life and so on.”

“What happens if I don’t go back to the source? What happens if I decide to stay in this form, on Earth?”

If Nathaniel still had a heart, it would have begun to pound. “You would be wilfully breaking the remainder of the contract. Destroying it.”

“Would I be punished?”

“By a higher authority?” At her nod, he shook his head. “It doesn’t exist, remember?”

“So I would just stay here?”

“Yes.”

“As I am now?”

“Yes.”

“With you?”

He leant closer. “Yes.”

She looked at the contract. “I don’t want to choose anyone else. I don’t want them to die, it isn’t right. And if we can’t break this curse, then… well, then I have to break this contract.”

She looked back at him, seeking reassurance. He put his hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t be afraid. If this is what you want to do, just tear it like paper. But there’s no going back. You’ll never evolve, you’ll never know what it is to ascend. You’ll be on Earth, like we are now, for eternity. ”

“I’d rather do that than kill more poor people,” she whispered.

He marvelled at her sacrifice. He couldn’t remember the feeling of it now, his choice was made so long ago. The one who had chosen him, as he had chosen her, had abandoned him a long time ago. He wouldn’t abandon her.

She tore the paper and leaned into his embrace. He held her as she wept, the world of people passing by them, oblivious.

“Thank you,” she said, pulling away to look into his eyes.

“What for?”

“For being so patient with me.”

He drew her back into his arms. “It was nothing,” he whispered. “You’re worth the effort. You’re one in a billion.”

THE PERFECT ESCAPE

Still panting from his own exertion, Dave watched Phil bring his snowboard to a stop a few feet away, grinning.

“Thought I was going to hit you?” he laughed.

“No, I knew you were just messing about.” He couldn’t be bothered to joke along. It was the same every time.

Phil shrugged and watched Emily hurtling down the slope towards them. “She’s still not used to stopping these things,” he said. “Let’s get behind the barrier.”

“Whatever,” Dave replied flatly, unclipping his boots from the board. From behind the barrier, he watched Emily sweep unsteadily into the final curve, just managing it. The sky was a brilliant blue above her, the air crisp. Another perfect day.

“That was fantastic!” she beamed. “I’ve always wanted to do that! Wow!”

“Isn’t it great?” Phil enthused back, and she nodded happily, looking to Dave for his response.

“I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“Want to switch to skis?” Phil asked.

“No. I don’t want to be here at all.”

Even though Phil and Emily looked uncomfortable, Dave knew they were relieved; his bad mood tarnished the perfection.

“I guess you’d better see the Experience Manager,” Emily suggested, slipping her hand into Phil’s. Dave nodded. “See you soon!” she called, as he trudged away.

Dave couldn’t bring himself to respond, so he pretended not to hear her.

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” he repeated, this time to a pert brunette sitting behind a desk in a nearby chalet.

“That’s fine Sir, would you like to try a different resort?” she chirped back, tapping the projected buttons on the oak surface in front of her.

“No, you don’t understand, I don’t want to be here anymore.”

When his response didn’t fit a recognised pattern, she looked at him properly for the first time. He brushed a strand of his floppy brown hair out of his eyes and held her gaze.

“Err, ok, how about a trip to Venice? Or the pyramids, they’re beautiful at this time of year you know.” She was looking behind at the projected screen, just a blue haze for him on his side of the desk.

He sighed. “I don’t want to go to Venice, or Egypt. I don’t want to see Mars either, before you ask. I want to Exit.”

Her tapping fingers froze. “If you have a complaint, I’m sure we’ll be able to resolve it and improve your experience. Perhaps if you told me the nature of the prob–”

“You can’t fix it.” He looked down at the wedding band on his left hand. “I just want to Exit. Please.” When she didn’t respond, he banged his fist on the desk. “I want to Exit damn it! Can’t you understand?”

She jumped. “I need to get my supervisor,” she replied and blinked out.

He was left alone in the room, watching the perfect fire roaring away in the perfect fireplace. He hated it.

After several minutes of pacing another woman, older looking and more officious, blinked into existence behind the desk.

“Can I help you, Mr Richardson? I understand there’s some sort of problem.”

He dropped into the chair. “Look, I just want to Exit. I told the girl that, but I’m guessing she isn’t authorised to meet that kind of request.”

The woman nodded, leaning forwards. “Could you explain the reason?”

“I just don’t want to be here any more. Isn’t that enough?”

“Would you like to go to–”

“No! I don’t want to go anywhere else for Pete’s sake!”

She paused for a beat. “Would you like to change something about your appearance?”

He shook his head.

“Perhaps you’d like to try being a different gender. A change of gender can restore interest in–”

“Look, for Christ’s sake, can’t a man just not want to be here any more? It’s my right, isn’t it?”

She leaned back in the chair. “Your desire to Exit may be caused by a neurochemical imbalance, so before we make any hasty decisions, I’ll order a full work-up.”

“Jesus,” he muttered, holding his head in his hands. “I’m paying for this. I have the right to make this decision. I might be one hundred and fifty-two years old but I’m not stupid. I still have all my faculties and know what I’m asking. None of your fancy software can fix this. I want to stop now.”

She was pretending to listen him, but he knew she was receiving a message. “I understand the loss of your wife has reduced your Experience enjoyment. Would you like to discuss the partnering options available to you?”

He stood, kicked the chair away in a flash of rage. “None of this is real!” he yelled. “It’s a bloody program! Do you think I forgot that? Do you think some bloody AI is going to take my wife’s place? I know my rights under the Euthanasia Act, so go and make a note in your bloody file and unplug me before I message my lawyer!”

“Very well, Mr Richardson,” she said coldly. “You’ve made yourself perfectly clear. Would you like to Exit in the Experience, or in the real world?”

As he considered the question, she softened; “May I suggest passing away in your sleep here? It can be distressing for residents to wake in their pod. Your real body isn’t as –”

“I understand.” He held up his hands. “Fine, whatever. I just don’t want to wake up tomorrow.”

She nodded, tapping the desk. “And the rest of your last day, Sir, where would you like it to be?”

He thought carefully. “Cornwall,” he replied in a whisper. “On the cliffs west of Perranporth.”

It’ll end where it began, he thought, remembering the day he proposed to her on the real cliff, in the real world, in their real youth. She would have liked his last day to be there.

Even if it was only virtually perfect.

THE TENTH LORD

Only when Beth was certain her grandmother was completely occupied by her baking did she lift the edge of the embroidery canvas and peep underneath. The piece of paper she’d tucked into the frame earlier was still hidden there. She dropped the fabric, heart thrumming urgently. A flush of colour rose up from her chest to her cheeks.

Could she dare sneak a peek now?

She glanced at the door, slightly ajar, and listened to the sound of cake batter being beaten. She had a minute, surely? With trembling fingers, she plucked the secret from its place and held it in her lap.

After another check, she looked down at it. Brightly coloured and glossy, it was shinier than any of the paper in Grand-Mama’s extensive book collection. The vibrant colours amazed her.

What luck that the high winds had deposited it in their window box, and that she’d seen it first!

Forcing a swallow down her tight throat, she smoothed out the crushed edges and drank in the image hungrily. She had never seen anything like it before.

Centred on the page was a beautiful bottle of deep purple glass, curved and exotic, with a large teardrop stopper. Behind the bottle was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen, with dazzling green eyes and hair as neat as Grand-Mama’s eiderdown. She looked at the man kissing her throat. The sight of him made Beth’s breath catch in her throat. He was so handsome, he must be a prince and the woman, a princess.

She read the words underneath the bottle.

Allure. Wear something he can’t resist.

Perhaps it was a potion of some kind, making one irresistible to princes. She looked for a map, instructions of some kind for obtaining such a thing, but there were none. She flipped the page over, this time with the torn edge down the right-hand side.

The picture there made her gasp out loud.

A wood, filled with the most dramatic trees stretching into a blue sky and gathered beneath, young men and women, about the same age as her.

The boys touched the girls. One had his arm around a girl, another held hands with the girl next to him, but—oh but!—they were looking at a boy and girl in the foreground of the picture whose lips touched!

They were kissing each other, and didn’t mind the others seeing too!

There was some writing at the bottom, but before she collected herself enough to read it, she heard Grand-Mama’s footsteps in the hall. She shoved the paper down the side of the chair cushion and grabbed her needle.

“Elizabeth, lunch will be in one hour. That gives you enough time to practise your Latin. Put your embroidery away now, there’s a good girl.”

“Yes Grand-Mama,” she replied meekly, praying the old woman’s beady eyes wouldn’t notice how much she blushed. She did as she was told, permitting herself one glance at the chair cushion to ensure the paper remained out of sight as the old woman settled herself in the chair next to her.

“Open the window, dear, you look hot.”

Beth crossed the room, opened the large sash window and paused to glance at the first spring flowers in the window box bobbing prettily in the breeze.

“Hello!”

A voice from below startled her and, unthinking, she leant out to catch sight of a young man standing on the gravel below, holding a paper bag. His bright white jacket and trousers looked so odd against the rusty-brown path and deep green of the dense hedges, almost like he had been drawn on paper, cut out and stuck on.

She gripped the windowsill, pulling back into the room, flustered.

Not another one!

“Hello?” he called out again. “Do you live in apartment five?”

She glanced back nervously at Grand-Mama, head down, absorbed in finding a particular passage in her lesson book. With her hearing fading, Beth reasoned it might just be possible to get rid of him before she noticed.

Beth leant out slightly and waved him away, trying to make it obvious to him he needed to leave. But the strange fellow simply grinned and waved back.