12

 As the sun rose over the rooftops, the light behind my eyelids was too bright to ignore any further. My body was stiff, my shoulder ached and I had pins and needles in my legs. A cool breeze played across my face reminding me of summer. When I opened my eyes however, the clouds were rolling over the skies and were about to cover the sun’s lovely rays.

 I sighed and my shoulders slumped.

 Standing was difficult. I pushed against the lower part of my back and heard several pops, releasing some tension, the same for my neck. I took out my pipe and lit the tobacco I had pressed inside. Having a smoke in the morning sun was one of the few pleasures in life, it’s a shame I had just spent the night sleeping against a lamppost.

 “Cal!” Lowri came running down Trinity Street, she stopped in front of me, holding her knees and panting. Sweat and panic painted across her face, her cheeks were red, she didn’t wear her usual cap instead her hair was free and wild.

 “Lowri, what’s wrong?” I asked, reaching out to her shoulders to steady her.

 “Cal, its Prospect. He’s dead.”

 I let go of her shoulders. My hands slumped to my side. My mind went numb and suddenly the world seemed to blur to me as time slowed down. I couldn’t say anything, my now dry mouth made shapes but nothing came out. Prospect. The man who had kept my father company on those cold nights sitting on the docks, smoking, talking, watching the sun rise together, the man who had looked after me when he had died was gone.

 “Cal?” Lowri’s voice was a distant breeze. “Cal?” she spoke as she shook me. Just like when she had brought me back from the Netherworld. A woman’s voice will do that to you, bring you back to Earth.

 “H-how?” I croaked.

 “He was killed, his Murmur too.”

 My face screwed up at that, the young, polite boy who answered the door to me every time I had visited had been murdered. Prospect had past dealings which could have come back to haunt him but Murmur was innocent, a short life devoted to Grace. “Who?”

 “Don’t know. The Roaches are getting involved.”

 It made sense, Prospect was a decent member of society. He worked with the community and turned people to Grace in times of need.

 “Cal, there’s more.” Lowri looked at me, her eyes were red and her cheeks were tear stained. “Four others have been killed.”

 “That’s a little more than usual, who?”

 “Grey, Frankie, Lola and Wil.”

 This wasn’t right; it didn’t feel right in my gut. Grey and Frankie were brothers, they were Watchers, both of them high up in Don’s world. Grey had been the man who opened the gate at Don’s mansion. Lola was Don’s long-term mistress. Wil was head of import-export from the Eastern Port in and out of the South. These were personal attacks on my brother and had Handy Jak’s stink all over it. But why Prospect?

 “I need to get to Val Corner.” I knew Prospect’s body wouldn’t be there, the dead weren’t kept in Seren, not in the city at least. No space. People were either burned and their ashes scattered, or they were buried in the fields with red Adonis flowers growing over the graves.

 We began to walk. Neither spoke. We couldn’t. I didn’t have to look in her direction but I could tell Lowri had started crying softly to herself. And I let her cry. Both because I thought she needed it and because I simply didn’t know what to say. My father used to always say, a crying woman should never be interrupted.

 We turned onto Black Cross and began to make our way over the dark stones, surrounded by hagglers and sellers. Despite the company of the shoppers around us the silence between me and Lowri was palpable.

 We finally arrived to the grand, historic building that was Val Corner. Everything about the building seemed to have been magnified tenfold. The spiralled columns seemed taller, and the horn shaped rooftop loomed ever more. This time however, the ghouls giving life to newborn, winged babies had a different, more sinister meaning to my life affirming view of the last time I was here.

 The door wasn’t opened by a young boy. Instead we found it already ajar, already the invitation to come in was ominous. Lowri pushed the door open and stepped inside. I stood outside, my toes inside my boots touching the threshold. There was a feeling about this place now. I didn’t know whether it was the death of a friend and a holy man or my very recent experiences with the other side but I was hesitant about going in side �" scared even.

 The feeling was hard to describe, it wasn’t just the fact that I felt a chill on the back of my neck despite being sheltered from the wind by the shape of the building. It was the smell, like burnt bread, the sound of what appeared to be a high pitched whistle, except too high and quiet to hear prominently, it also felt like I was breathing smoke, thick, enough to cough on.

 Inside, Lowri looked at me, her red eyes expectant.

 I stepped into the religious building and immediately felt as if I were walking through water. The presence of souls was obvious, though not to Lowri, she seemed to move through the hall without falter. For me, it was more difficult. Everything seemed so quiet. Val Corner wasn’t the loudest corner of Seren but again, it was different this time around.

 “Can I help?” an old voice came from our left.

 I turned to face the owner, a small figure stood in the doorway to the room Lowri, Prospect and I had sat, drank, and discussed the cylinder. I put my hand in my pocket and felt the vibration of the metal against my fingertips; it was also warm �" very warm. I looked again at the doorway; there was a glow behind the man that stood there, silhouetting him.

 “We’re here to pay our respects to Prospect,” Lowri said.

 “Come, my dear.” He turned and disappeared into the light.

 Lowri began walking over, but again, I hesitated.

 “Cal?”

 “I’m coming.”

 As I came to the doorway, the light dimmed slightly as if it adjusted to my eyes, or the other way around. I entered the room, Prospect sat in the wing backed chair. A slightly blue tinge to him, a light radiating from his chest. I stopped and stared at him, at Prospect, who looked at me as if this were an everyday occurrence. Lowri was engaging in a conversation with the other preacher. I walked to my chair and sat down, Prospect followed me with his dark eyes. He looked completely normal, as if nothing had ever happened, like he was actually sitting in front of me, black robes, white scarf, white skull cap. His leg crossed over his other, his fingers tented, over which he looked at me with deep, dark eyes, they had a look of knowing something, an amusing secret he was hiding from a child. He didn’t smile, his expression was blank. But those eyes.

 “There will be a service held tomorrow...” I heard the preacher and Lowri talking but they were distant voices to me and Prospect now.

 I stepped closer to the soul seated in front of me. I felt Prospect’s warmth, just like the warmth from the light in the alley. I felt the hairs on my arms stand on end. As I stepped closer to Prospect, the amusement seemed to build in his eyes. He nodded. Ever so slightly but it was definitely a subtle indication that stepping into Prospect’s light was the right thing to do. I sat down through Prospect and into his chair, into Prospect’s light.

 A white light stunned my vision.

 I’m sitting on a dock; the wooden boards underneath me are wet. Soaked by the waves that had lapped up from when the tide was high. The sun was setting, an orange half-crescent reflecting in the sea’s rough surface. A large galleon is moored to my left; its dock lines dance from taut to slack to taut to slack as the wind catches the sails and rock the ship. Wooden containers are stacked behind me. Beyond them, the rest of the Eastern Port.

 A cigar is in my mouth, it’s warm, smooth smoke goes into my lungs easily and I blow it out into the chilled, harsh air. Grace’s stars are beginning to shine in the nearing purple sky above.

 “What am I going to do, George?” a voice comes from my right, I turn to face my partner sitting next to me. His black hair hidden under a flat cap, amber mouthpiece of his pipe in mouth. The wind billowing around us.

 “What’s he done this time, Paddy?” I ask and look back to the water in front.

 “Harvey’s got him Breaking.” Paddy sighs.

 I nod. “Paddy, there’s only so much you, Helena or Grace can do to guide him. He’s a young man; can’t you remember what you were like at that age?”

 Paddy chuckles, smoke puffs out in small bursts as he does so.

 “See? He’s young, ambitious. He will find his own way.”

 “I just wish he were more like Eli.”

 “They’re completely different people, Paddy.” The smell of salt is strong.

 “I know. I know. Helena is tired of his antics though. Come to think of it, she should be here soon. She wanted to see the painting before we accepted it.”

 I nod to myself and take another draft of my cigar.

 Paddy puts his chin up, takes his pipe out of his mouth and sniffs the air.

 “What is it?” I ask.

 “Smoke? You smell that?” he looks at me.

 I sniff the air as well. There’s definitely smoke there. “Yeah �"”

 A voice comes from over the containers behind us.

 “Did he say fire?” Paddy looks at me.

 “I didn’t hear �"”

 “Fire!” the voice is clearer now, it floats across the docks.

 I turn around and see black smoke. It’s coming from everywhere. Fear shoots through my heart like an arrow in my chest. My stomach feels like it’s doing somersaults as I stand.

 “George, Helena’s on her way here. She may already be here.”

 My pounding heart drops. “You take the offices and sections 1 to 3, and I’ll take 4 to 7.”

 Paddy nods to me, and starts running, the smoke in front of us is growing. I watch him run in amongst the large containers before setting off myself.

 The containers were stacked on either side of him, wooden pallets created walls and eerie alleys wound around. The moonlight began to grow dim. The smoke from the fire was gathering over head. I turn a corner; flames lick the walls on either side. Black smoke crept up from above the containers.

 I keep running, the heat is becoming unbearable, sweat is beginning to fall from my forehead and gathering around my neck. My breathing becomes hard and ragged.

 Then I see him. A man standing before me. His face is covered by a scarf. He was wearing plain brown trousers and a once white shirt now stained with smoke. At first glance of his face the man is nothing special, perhaps another dockworker looking for others or a way out. The scarf could be to stop the smoke filling his lungs. But in his right hand he held a burning torch. That was a curious question, amidst the flames, why would you carry a torch? I look into his eyes, a mismatched pair of green and blue.

 “Hey, I’m looking for someone �" ” I begin but before I can finish he drops the torch and runs.

 I watch the back of him as he runs, I consider chasing him but somewhere amongst the containers on the other side of the Eastern Port a scream rings out. It’s a long, strained, wretched scream of a man who has found the love of his life.

 I woke in Prospect’s chair. His soul was gone. Lowri and the old preacher were still talking about the ceremony, it seemed like no time had passed.

 It was hard to breathe, my chest felt tight. I had just seen my father and his partner on their last job, and then run towards the fire that killed my parents. I still felt Prospect’s presence. His warmth. His memories. I could still smell the sea salt air and my father’s pipe smoke. My lip quivered but I turned my head away from Lowri, and coughed hard to get rid of any emotion.

 “Cal, you ok?” Lowri asked, always caring about me.

 “I’m fine.” And with that, I stood up and left.