Dead Flesh by Tim O'Rourke Page B

Potter make for Murphy. Passing amongst them, I
noticed that one had been inscribed with the name Nessa and the
other Meren and I knew that these were the graves of Murphy’s
daughters. I could remember him saying their names as Potter had
argued with Murphy before going to the Fountain of Souls in search
of the Lycanthrope.
    I bent over and
peered at their names.
    “Your father
was a good man,” I whispered, “and I know he loved you so very
much. He loved you so much that it blinded him. He wanted revenge
for your murders so greatly that he put his own life in danger and
took us on a journey where he was tricked and betrayed, where he
ended up losing his own life.” Then straightening up, and with
tears standing in my eyes, I added, “But I guess he has told you
everything himself by now. I hope you are all happy together. And
one last thing before I go, can you tell your Dad that although
Potter would never admit this, he really misses him? We all
do.”
    Then, turning
my back on the makeshift crosses, I headed back through the
graveyard, passing Murphy’s cross as I went. And it was then that I
saw it, or rather I didn’t. I had hung Murphy’s crucifix on the
cross that Potter had made, but now it was gone. I searched the
earth and grass that surrounded the foot of the cross, wondering if
perhaps the crucifix had fallen off, but it wasn’t there. I stood
up and wondered if perhaps Potter had taken it before we had left
the graveyard that day. I made my way back through the woods.
    The wind had
started to pick up again, and the rain became heavier. With my hair
beginning to look like a series of black-coloured rat tails as it
clung to my face, I sped up as I headed back towards the manor.
Following the route that Potter had previously led me, I headed
towards the summerhouse, knowing that to avoid the downpour that
the swollen clouds were threatening, I could always shelter in
there.
    I ran from
beneath the trees and into the circular area where the summerhouse
stood. Just before it stood the statue that I had seen the day
before. But there was something different about it. And as I ran
towards it, I was sure that before it had been facing the
summerhouse, but now had its back turned towards it, as if the
stone girl had turned around somehow. As I drew nearer, I could see
that it wasn’t just the position of the girl that had changed,
there was something different about her hands.
    I reached the
statue, and with rain running down my face, I looked at Murphy’s
crucifix as it hung from the statue’s cold, stone fist. The
crucifix glistened wetly, and I reached out for it. I pulled on it,
but it was like the statue of the girl didn’t want to give it up.
The crucifix wouldn’t come free of her grasp, so I left her to hold
onto it. Then, looking into her featureless stone face, I
whispered, “What are you? Who are you? I know you can hear me.”
    And as I stood
in the driving rain and secretly hoped for a reply, it was me who
screeched as a hand suddenly gripped my shoulder.
     

Chapter Eleven
     
    Kayla
     
    “That wasn’t a
baby in that pram,” I gasped. “It was a doll! Why would she be
pushing that thing around?”
    “Freaky, huh?”
Isidor said, stepping from the doorway and watching the woman with
the pram retreat up the road. “And did you notice how the doll’s
eyes had been removed?”
    “Isidor, I
don’t want to state the freaking obvious, but this place is like,
really screwed up,” I said, standing in the rain next to him.
“Maybe we should just head back to the manor.”
    “Not before
putting some of these adverts around town,” he said, taking them
from within his coat.
    “You’re not
serious!” I said to him.
    “If anyone has
been pushed, as Kiera describes it,” Isidor replied thoughtfully,
“the people of this town must have. Someone has got to respond to
these adverts.”
    I followed
Isidor up the rain-drenched streets, as water raced along the
gutter and sloshed into the