Vampire - Child of Destiny (Vampire Series Book 2) (14 page)

She returned to the question,
why now?
After all this time; why had she confided in Dawn?  Something had changed.  She couldn't quite fathom what; not yet at least, well, apart from the spirit which had appeared yesterday.  It was like nothing she had ever witnessed before, and she knew, deep down, that this time she couldn't ignore the plea for help.

"Mary...
Are
you okay?" Dawn asked her, concern apparent in the quiver of her voice.

"Yes...yes, of course
I am
.  Sorry.  I was miles away."  Mary smiled up at Dawn, and took a sip of her hot sweet tea, hoping it would reassure the older woman that she was okay.  Instantly, Mary saw the frown fade from Dawn’s worried brow, and a sweet smile of relief replacing it.

"Oh, my dear girl, I was a little worried for a while there...so will you tell me why you decided to admit to um...your...um…gift…at this particular time?"

"A spirit visited me last night, Dawn...He was so very scared.  He was like a whirlwind, he confused me by how fast he spun, and I got the impression, although he didn't say it, that he had died violently."  She paused, once more looking up at Dawn, who was holding her hand to her mouth in shock.

"I found it difficult to understand him...but I did get
one
word, a word he shouted over and over."  Mary paused again, she then continued in a tiny whisper, "Kate, he called for
Kate!
"

Dawn sharply inhaled a startled gasp, "Do you think he meant Kate...you know,
our
Kate?" 

"I don't know...But, I tried to call this morning and her mobile went to voicemail.  I left a message, and I've left three more since, but she hasn't called back, and it's not like her.  I know it's ridiculous, because it might have nothing to do with Kate, but I think I need to go to London, I need to see her."

"Yes, yes, love I think you do.  It's probably nothing, like you said.  But even so, a trip to London will put your mind at ease, and I think it will do you good to take a holiday, have a little fun..."

Rising from the chair; Mary said, her voice nervous, "I'm going to go, I'm gonna get packed and set off before I can change my mind."  Before Dawn was able to answer, she ran from the kitchen, up the stairs, and shouted back, "Call me a taxi, please."

Chapter Three

Mary quickly found a seat on the train and slumped down with a sigh.  Her heart thumped hard in her chest from rushing around in preparation for the stay at Kate's.  Well, she hoped she was going to be able to stay at Kate's, she still hadn't managed to get through to her, and her concerns were growing.

Feeling hot and bothered, Mary shrugged off her coat, and placed it on the rack overhead which also held her holdalls.  She knew why she felt hot and bothered, it was the thought of entering London - she hated the place.  The crowds of nameless people and spirits, pushing and shoving, it overwhelmed her, and made her feel claustrophobic and breathless.  She found it embarrassing that she had, in the past, talked to spirits thinking they were alive and normal, only to realise that she was in fact talking to a dead person.  More than once she had wanted to run away, when spectators to the event, as there were on several occasions, started to snicker and point at her, obviously thinking she was completely deluded.

However, this wasn't the only reason.  More than anything she was nervous at the thought of mixing with Kate's friends.  For the most part Mary found them to be pompous, ignorant, and egotistical.  She knew they only talked to her because they hoped she could further their career.  However, when they realised she couldn't, they would promptly walk away, leaving her without concern or apology.  She had on several occasions remarked to Kate on the shallowness of the company she kept.  Kate would just laugh and say, "Oh, Mary, you need to get a thicker skin, it’s not about you, it's just the way it is, it's called networking."

"I'm not stupid!" Mary would snap, "But is there a need to be quite
so
rude and ill mannered?"  Kate would often shrug her shoulders and say, "It's the world I live and work in, Mar..."

Mary knew that after taking over her father’s business of being an agent to the rich and famous, Kate, in fact, had no other choice but to associate with the rabble (Mary's name for Kate's associates and friends), and sometimes she felt guilty for her criticism of them.  She knew that Kate was sometimes hurt by her remarks, she could tell by the expressions on her face, and she was certain that Kate thought that she was criticising her career.  Several times, Mary had tried to rectify this by adding that she knew Kate wasn't like them, but she just didn't like the crowd Kate hung out with.  Mary, however, wasn't very good at expressing herself, especially under pressure, and so she normally ended up sounding even more scathing and dismissive of Kate's work than she did previously.

Trying unsuccessfully to snuggle down further into the unyielding chair, Mary looked around the carriage.  It was empty.  The one person other than her, who had been seated in the carriage when she had entered at Petersfield, got off a couple of stops later, which meant that Mary had the carriage to herself.  She therefore hoped that no one else would enter, but knew that it was unlikely, so she closed her eyes and enjoyed the peace while she could. 

Her eyes were only closed for about five minutes when she felt an overwhelming sense of rage enter.  The hairs on the back of her arms and her neck stood on end, and her heart started to beat wildly in response to the presence.  Mary spun around, trying to see the entity, but panicking because she couldn't see the spirit.  The malice that engulfed her was almost palpable and her body shivered in fear in response to the entity.

Suddenly she was shoved with extreme force into the back of the chair, her arms held firmly in place by the invisible enemy.

"
Leave...go home...go home...go home, go home, go home, go home, gogogogoGOGOGOGOGOGOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.
"

The high pitched scream echoed with needle-sharp pain in Mary’s ears.  She wanted to wrap her arms around her head; but was unable to, due to the spirit’s weight bearing down on her body holding her in place. 
Oh my God!
she silently screamed, unable to shout due to the pressure on her chest.  W
hat is it, oh dear God, what is it?

"
Leave, go...I will kill you...go home, go home, gogogogoGOGOGOGOGOGOGOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.
"

Over and over the bellowing rant engulfed her senses, drowning her mind and body in its icy cold grip.  Mary felt her mind descending into a black hole, spiralling down, down into an abyss that she struggled against, but couldn't climb out of, and the only escape was to give in and allow it to consume her.

<<<<>>>>

She's running along a sandy beach, the warm breeze tugging gently at her long dark hair, lifting it and caressing her long neck like a lover’s kiss.  She laughs in abandonment and it's a sound filled with joy and wonder.  Suddenly the magical scene is shattered by the bellow of a gruff voice.  The girl turns sharply.  She's afraid of the man, and although she knows him well - he stalks her day and night.  She turns reluctantly from the water’s edge and starts to trudge back towards him.  The key in her mind turns the lock inside her prison, the fun is gone, and once again she returns to a place that for her is hell - a place no child should inhabit.

<<<<>>>>

Mary gasps for breath as she rises up from the abyss into which she had fallen.  Forgetting that she is, in fact, on a train, she jumps up off the seat and then suddenly falls back, unsteady on her feet from the lurching of the carriage. 

"
What was that?
" she whispers to the empty space, but of course, no one answers.  She quickly scans the now sterile and empty carriage, the air is still, and there is no sign of the menacing intruder.

Closing her eyes, she leans back against the scratchy textured fabric of the chair, a breath escaping her lips in a long, drawn-out sigh. 

"We are approaching Woking station. Please stay in your seats until the train stops." 

The unnatural sounding train voice startles Mary, and she feels her heart speed up, and places her hand to her chest to still the rapid beating. 
What’s happening to me?
she silently asks.  Fear and trepidation concerning this new and unknown element of her 'gift', alarms her, and now more than ever she
inwardly raves against the curse.

Raking her hands through her hair, she tries to steady her nerves.

"Bloody hell!  Get a grip!" she mutters irritably to herself as she stands up and pulls the two large holdalls off the overhead rack in preparation for leaving the train.  The next stop being Clapham Junction, the change she needs to make in order to get to Victoria Station, which was just a few minutes’ walk from Kate's apartment.

Well, let's hope I make it to Kate's without the added bonus of thousands of ghosts,
her inner voice shouts,
and in one piece would be even better,
she adds scathingly.

To continue reading Death Whispers for free. Click on the following links:

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More about Charmain Marie Mitchell

Having run a successful garden centre then a floristry business, Charmain Mitchell never really had time to concentrate on her passion for writing.

Throughout her life, Charmain has wanted to become an author, but family and business commitments stood in the way and her writing consisted of a few short stories on the rare occasion that she had time to write them.

In late 2012, a freak accident finally allowed time for Charmain to indulge in her passion for writing. She says of this; "
Then a few weeks ago I fell over whilst trying to catch chickens and ended up breaking my ankle! Quite a comical way to break your ankle - I know; especially when I have kept horses for the majority of my life and have never yet broken any bones where they are concerned!

Suddenly I had six clear weeks in which I wouldn't be able to move very well. Help! How was I going to cope with doing zilch for that long? Then I thought, maybe I should do a bit of writing, and that is what I did, and the strange thing is, is that I haven't been able to stop since!
"

She says of her writing;

"I love writing, it is truly my passion! I love the way that through words I can make people think and feel differently, feel passion, sometimes pain, and get totally lost in my words. I love the fact that a brilliant writer will live forever, and will in some way influence generations to come. Is it not marvelous that we can still look back to writing from over two thousand years ago and believe in it and still learn from it?

The human imagination is a wondrous thing, it creates and then brings to life stories on a screen, and sometimes we believe in these stories so much that they become our passion. I'm talking about for instance: The Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter, and Star Wars etc...  I think we actually forget sometimes that all of these stories were started with a simple idea on a piece of paper, and they grew to be something that some of us forget started from the author's imagination."

Charmain Mitchell lives in a semi-rural village on the south coast of the UK with her four children, husband, two cats, and countless chickens.

If you would like to follow Charmain, you can do so via the following:

Twitter:

https://twitter.com/charmain_m

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Or you can drop Charmain a line at:

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Finally, if you can spare the time it would be greatly appreciated if you could leave a review – Charmain x