Chapter 12

Jack pulled up outside his office and killed the engine. We sat in an uncomfortable silence that seemed to stretch taut, before I reached for the door handle.

"You sure you want to drive home?" he asked, turning to me. "I can pick you up in the morning."

"No, I'm fine. Thanks." I managed a smile, strained thought it was, and he simply nodded as I pulled open the door and climbed out. I paused for a moment before I turned back to him. "Why not just call in the covens?"

"How do you mean?"

"You're taking on all the pressure of trying to keep the peace. Why not call in the covens. They could have a necromancer come in and confirm Kenny's dead with a days' notice."

"I don't want the covens here." He pressed his lips into a firm line and his grip on the steering wheel tightened. "Once they come into a city, they tend not to leave. They've stayed away from here so far, because they've had no reason to come in. If we invite them, that will change."

That pretty much tied in with what I knew about the covens, and if I were honest, the last thing I wanted was the covens setting up shop in York. The very moment they did, would be the moment I needed to flee.

Something I desperately wanted to avoid.

It was new, but I felt like I was building a life here. I had a friend, and a job. As I eyed Jack, I couldn't help but wonder if I could have something else too. Someone who could care for me, perhaps even love me, despite what I was.

All I needed to do was ensure he never found out I was the one who had killed Kenny.

"Okay," I said, offering a weak smile. "I'll see you in the morning."

I watched as Jack drove away as I stood by my car, holding a bag of Tupperware boxes that held several different cuts of meat that had come from what I could only hope was an ethical source. Though, I wasn't going to dwell on how ethical a source it could be when talking about human flesh.

It was time to make a decision.

There was something I'd been putting off since Friday, not quite certain whether or not I was going to stay. Killing Kenny had been part of the reason for that, since there was no chance of me staying if my part in that was discovered.

But, during the intensely awkward 'date' with Jack, as I'd picked over my food, wondering all the while if he had realised what I had done, I had come to a decision.

I liked it in York.

I wanted to stay.

Which meant I needed to do some thing to make sure I could.

Kenny had only been dead for a few days and his spirit wouldn't be contactable from the world of the living. It was too soon, and his spirit would be confused. Which meant the only thing a necromancer could do was confirm whether he was on the other side.

So, I had some time.

I climbed into my car and dumped the bag of Tupperware containers onto the back seat before buckling up. A quick check of my watch and I started the engine. It was after nine, which meant I had time enough for what I needed to do.

And to get where I needed to go.

Driving south, through the city, I kept just above the speed limit. I was all too aware of the type of meat I had on the back seat, and I really didn't want to be pulled over by some bored cop. I kept an eye on my mirror, watching for any cars following, and didn't breathe easily until I was out of the city.

Paranoia was eating at me, and I couldn't help but feel I was being watched. The rational part of my mind told me it was because of what I was going to do, but there was a small, very loud, part that was screaming warnings at me.

The whole thing was giving me a headache.

Even with the lack of Sunday night traffic, it took me almost forty minutes to drive the fifteen miles to Stillingfleet, a small village south of the city. I passed quickly through the village proper and took a narrow country road to the south-east.

Ten minutes later, I was pulling up along the overgrown grass verge beside a heavy wire mesh fence that surrounded the Stillingfleet Colliery.

Past the fence was the mine itself; a sprawling industrial complex hidden from the road by a screen of tall trees and scrubland, with a number of the old colliery buildings still standing. Spoil heaps, those large mounds of waste material left over from the mining process sat on the outskirts, while towering steel frames, rusted and weathered by years of exposure, dominated the skyline.

Warning signs were fixed along the length of the fence, set to deter trespassers and indicating unstable ground, collapsing buildings and flooded mineshafts. Any paths around the property were long abandoned, overgrown and difficult to access.

Especially when carrying a body. Or at least, rubbish bags containing body parts.

Even with the supernatural strength, that I no longer had, it had been a difficult task, and I grimaced as I climbed out of the car and looked around. Seeing the road was clear, I turned back to the fence and, ignoring the gibbering, panic filled voice, in the back of my mind, clambered over it.

A task made even more difficult by not having that extra strength.

Still, I made it and dropped awkwardly to the grass beyond the fence. I brushed my hands against my jeans and with a heavy sigh for what I had to do, I set off into the trees.

Branches cracked beneath my booted feet, and old leaves dry from the summer heat, crunching and rustling in a way that could only advertise my presence to anyone who happened to be nearby. My shoulders hunched further with every step, and I gave thanks for the density of the trees that helped muffle the sounds of my passage.

Birds sang out, their song one of outrage and alarm at my invading their space, a place that had seen little travel from humans from some time.

Which is why I'd picked the place to dump his body.

I'd driven through Stillingfleet on my way to York barely a week before, and had stopped for lunch at the village pub. It was there I had learned of the history of the place with old newspaper articles and photos that lined the walls, along with a chatty old man happy to pass the time with a stranger on a warm afternoon.

Understandable then that in my panicked state after killing him, it had been the first place to come to mind.

I paused at the treeline and peered out over the open waste ground. Weeds grew from cracks in the concrete, and tarmac of the abandoned road. There were no lights and all I had was the moon and stars to go by, but it was enough.

Ducking low, I scurried across the open space towards the nearest building and pressed myself back against the weathered wood that creaked alarmingly from even the slight pressure of my body. I stepped quickly away and ran on silent feet to the nearest spoil heap.

From a distance, the spoil heaps resembled small artificial hills, irregular and jagged, with steep sides where the material had been dumped and left to settle. Some rose several metres high, while the others were smaller, blending easier into the landscape.

Sparse grasses, mosses, and hardy shrubs clung to the slopes, their patches of green contrasting starkly with the dark, barren areas of exposed rock and shale that had been left over from the mining processes.

Rain and wind had eroded the heaps, carving shallow gullies and exposing layers of material. Loose stones covered the ground around them, falling in the small rockslides that occurred during the settling process.

Stone crunched underfoot and I turned this way and that, trying to remember which of the piles I had buried the remains beneath. A task made all the more difficult by my emotional state that night, and the darkness that had blanketed the area.

"Crap," I muttered, realising I was lost.

My heart was beating way too fast and the hairs on the back of my neck were fully raised, like the hackles of a dog, as I wandered almost aimlessly amongst those unnatural hills, searching. An hour, became two, and then three, and still I hadn't found the body.

It was well past midnight before I stumbled upon the location, more from luck than any kind of tracking skill I might have had. I was trying to climb part way up a heap and a rock shifted awkwardly beneath my foot and was soon followed by a dozen or more.

As I looked back, following their loud, clattering, tumble. I caught sight of the black bag revealed by their passing.

Then the stench hit me.

It should have been revolting. Every part of my being screamed that the odour was one of death and I should be repulsed.

But it wasn't.

And my mouth started watering.

"Dammit," I muttered, swallowing my disgust with myself as I climbed back down.

I pulled my knife from my pocket and flicked it open, the silver blade flashing in the cool moonlight. I cut quickly through the bag and reached in, mouth twisting into a grimace as my fingers sank into the slimy mess inside.

Feeling around, I cursed silently and pulled my hand back out. I shifted a few more rocks and revealed the next bag.

In there I had more luck, and when I pulled out my hand covered in fluids I tried not to think about, I held Kennys watch.

It was big, heavy, and made of gold. Tacky and ugly to boot. I slipped it into my jacket pocket and reached back into the bag, coming back out with a hand. The flesh was swollen and ripe, and I had to use my knife to cut away the flesh enough that I could slip the gold signet ring from the finger.

Moving on to the next bag, the largest, I cut it open to reveal the bloated torso. Flies burst from the bag and maggot crawled in the flesh. I'd not buried the bags properly at all, just covering them with rocks and debris in my panicked haste, and leaving rips and tears in the bags that had allowed the insects in.

A sloppy job.

I was disappointed and angry at myself for leaving so much exposed, but I had wasted enough time and didn't want to waste a minute more, so I pushed those thoughts aside and reached into the bag, feeling around in the stinking fluids for the knife I'd used to butcher him.

My fingers closed around it, and I almost crowed with delight, then my heart leapt to my throat and my stomach lurched, as a voice cried out in the night.

"Who's there?"

I spun on my heel, eyes wide and heart hammering. A beam of light swung across the open ground, revealing all before it and I stood, frozen in fear, hand covered in the rotting, decaying matter of the body lying exposed at my feet.

All I wanted to do was run, to hide, to disappear and not be seen.

But it was too late.

The beam of light hit me, and I stared directly at it, and the man holding the torch in his hand.

"Hello?" he called out. Then, "Bloody hell, what's that smell?"

"Probably a cat," another voice replied. "Or a fox. Summat died."

The beam of light moved past me, and I gaped, not understanding.

I hadn't been seen.

Almost like I was invisible.

My eyes dropped to the body parts lying in the open bags.

Like Kenny had been.

I stared at my hands, wondering. I'd lost my strength, but in its place, had I gained a new power?

How?

Two men came into view, their torches shining as the beams danced and skittered across the spoil heaps.

Those beams passed over me not once, but twice more, and still I remained unseen, while in plain view.

"You see anything?" the first voice asked.

"No, but it stinks," replied the other. "Who cares? Scavengers will have whatever it is."

"Don't want my dogs eating it," the first muttered, sulkily.

"Well, you search if you want. I'm off back. Sooner we get that copper and lead stripped, sooner we can get home."

The two men grumbled with one another, but the second man's argument won out and the two of them carried on, working their way through the spoil heaps towards the abandoned buildings and whatever metal they could steal from them.

I waited, holding my breath as I watched them walk all too slowly away, and inhaled only when I could hold it no more.

Blinking, I marvelled at what had just happened. It wasn't that they just hadn't seen me, they hadn't seen the open bags at my feet either. Somehow, I had made them invisible too.

Not wanting to test my luck any further, I set aside the knife and reburied the bags, gathering rock and stone and piling it high over the bags. It wasn't perfect, but it was better than nothing and I daren't risk more, not with those scavengers wandering around.

Picking the knife back up, I set off running, back to the trees and my waiting car.

There was still much to do.