Page 17 of Brimstone Bound
She smiled. ‘Fortunately, I can provide you with an entire wardrobe.’
I pulled a face. ‘You mean dead people’s clothing.’
‘That’s not something to get squeamish about,’ she told me.
Probably not, but I had to get squeamish about something. I couldn’t pretend that any of this was normal. I sighed. Unfortunately, I didn’t have a whole lot of choice. ‘Dead people’s clothing it is.’
‘I should report all of this, of course,’ Laura said. I started to shake my head in alarm, but she was already there. ‘However, I reckon you’ve got enough problems as it is. The faster you get out of here the better. Someone tried to kill you, Emma. Hell, someonedidkill you. We can worry about the whys and wherefores of your resurrection later. Right now, you need to work out who sliced open your throat so you can stop them from doing it again. There’s no guarantee that you’ll wake up a second time.’
I couldn’t deny that thought had been bothering me, too. ‘I might have been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or I might have been targeted.’ I clenched my teeth together so tightly it hurt. ‘The best way to find out who did this to me is to pretend I’m actually dead. If I go home, I might put Jeremy in danger.’
‘Is that your husband?’
‘Boyfriend.’ I ran a hand through my hair. ‘He’ll be out of his mind with worry, but I can’t risk his life too.’
‘You were probably just unlucky and were targeted by a mugger.’
‘Probably.’ Except it didn’t feel like an opportunistic crime. It felt like I was killed for a reason. It felt like it was personal. I shuddered. ‘Once I know for sure, I can tell everyone I’m alright. I’ll have to hope that Jeremy understands.’
‘Do you have other family?’
‘My parents are dead. I’ve got no siblings.’ I thought about my uncle. I’d barely spoken to him in years. I sent him a Christmas card every year out of a sense of duty – after all, he’d taken me in when I was nothing but a snotty-nosed kid. But he’d always kept his distance and we weren’t close. He wasn’t a bad guy, but he wasn’t a family man either. This wasn’t the time to bother him.
Laura squeezed my arm. ‘I’ll hold the fort here. I won’t manage it for more than a couple of days, but I can postpone your post-mortem and make up something about other cases when the police come calling. It actually helps that they weren’t able to identify you immediately. With nothing else to go on, your case will be put on a back burner.’ She nodded decisively. ‘And if the worst happens, I can always pretend to lose your body for a day or two. I can’t keep it up forever, but it’ll buy you some time.’ She hesitated. ‘I should draw some blood from you.’
‘To test for vampirism or signs that I’m turning furry?’ I guessed.
‘Yeah.’ She looked apologetic. ‘There’s no sign that you are, but then I’ve never seen a corpse reanimate before.’ She peered at me. ‘You don’t feel the sudden urge to eat brains, do you?’
I tried to smile. ‘No. But I could murder a cheese sandwich.’
‘Then you’re absolutely fine.’
We exchanged looks. ‘You’re the only other person in the world that knows what’s happened,’ I said quietly. ‘If this is only temporary and I drop dead again in three days or something…’
‘I’m sure you won’t.’
‘But if I do,’ I persisted, ‘keep this to yourself, if you can. Chalk it up to the weirdness of life or something, and forget about me. I don’t want Jeremy knowing that I didn’t go to him for help. And I don’t want my corpse dissected by government scientists.’
Her gaze was solemn. ‘Your secret will be safe with me. But keep me posted with what you discover. And let me know if you start feeling ill.’
I nodded. ‘I will. I promise.’ I bit my lip. ‘Thank you. Not many people would have dealt with this as well as you have.’
‘I might say the same thing about you, Emma.’
I managed a smile. ‘It’s still only early days.’
***
Less than an hour later, I walked out of the front doors of Fitzwilliam Manor Hospital wearing jeans that were so tight they could have been sprayed on, an over-sized man’s T-shirt with a warm sweater and a large puffy jacket on top, and scuffed trainers on my feet. It was an interesting get-up but it would have to do for now.
Surprisingly, I felt full of energy. There were no strange aches and pains, and there was nothing to indicate that a few hours earlier I’d been at the rainbow bridge. I had no memory of what being dead was like. There was no tunnel with a pinprick of light at the end, no harp-strumming angels, no sign of my parents.
I sucked in a sharp breath. This was not the time to get maudlin. Somehow, I’d survived my own murder. The only way forward now was to solve it to ensure that it didn’t happen again – and that meant staying focused and returning to the scene of the crime.
Despite my feeble protests, Laura had emptied her purse and given me all her loose cash. It wasn’t a huge amount, but it would keep me going for a day or two. I hopped onto the Underground, travelling a mere three stops until I reached Piccadilly yet again. Then I re-traced my steps from the night before.
Everything looked very different in daylight. The glitz and glamour of night time had yielded to a seedier sheen, although the big screen at the Piccadilly Circus corner continued its incessant flickering of images, and there were plenty of people around.
