Chapter 115

SURVIVAL

Tash came around.

Everything trembled. Dust rained from the ceiling. The floorboards shook. The walls creaked.

She looked around.

“Jasmine,” she said, trying to get up, but she was still tied to the bed. “Jasmine, baby.”

Her daughter was curled up in the corner. Standing by the door, looking out, was Hallam Buck. He came in and shut the door. He looked scared. It sounded like there was an earthquake.

“Th-they’re fighting,” said Buck.

“You bastard,” said Tash. “Untie me, Hallam. Untie me so I can kill you, you fucking bastard.”

He went to the table. He opened a leather briefcase—Montague Druitt’s briefcase.

“W-where did you get that?” said Tash.

“It was mine to start with. Faultless stole it.”

“It was at my—”

“Yes, and now it’s back with its rightful owner.”

He fished around inside.

Tash said, “What are you doing?” She looked over at Jasmine. She mouthed, Get out—run, but the child stayed where she was.

The trembling got worse.

“What’s going on?” said Tash.

“I told you,” said Buck. “They’re fighting—Faultless and Jack. But he’s not Faultless anymore. He’s something else.”

“Hallam? What do you—”

Buck looked up. Out of the briefcase he brought a scalpel. Tash felt her blood turn to ice.

Buck said, “I’m going to kill one of you, Tash. I got to. I made a mess of things before. I was weak, Jack said. And he ripped my cock and balls off. But if I kill one of you and cut you open, he’ll be grateful. He’ll let me worship him again. I’m going to be brave and—”

“Don’t do this, Hallam,” said Tash, panic in her voice. She struggled, trying to get free. “We’ve got to get out of here. The whole place is coming down. Untie me. Untie me and . . . and we can be friends.”

He laughed. It was a cold laugh. “No point in that anymore, Tash. I got no equipment now. You know what? Charlie Faultless should never have interfered all those years ago.”

Tash knitted her brow.

“You don’t remember?” he said.

She shook her head.

“You remember being attacked and Faultless saving you?”

“I remember that. It was you?”

“Yeah, me. He stopped me having you, the bastard.”

Tash tried to say something, but her throat was too dry.

“I’ve always liked you,” he said, “but, you bitch, you never liked me back.”

“I . . . I . . . ” She didn’t know what she was trying to say. What could she say? She could lie. But he’d see through it. He’d know. So she kept her mouth shut and looked at Jasmine and started to think how they would survive this.

Then she thought of something Hallam had said.

“What did you mean Charlie’s something else?”

“He ain’t human no more.”

Dread filled her heart. “What’s that mean?”

He said nothing, just sneered.

The fury of whatever was going on outside increased. Floorboards sprang up. The wall cracked. Everything was coming apart, and the noise was deafening.

How was she going to get out with Jasmine?

Hallam was moving towards her with the scalpel now. His eyes shone in the gloom. Debris showered him. He looked like a ghost. He licked his lips, and his tongue stood out pink against his pale, dust-coated face.

Tash arched her back. The ropes cut into her wrists and ankles. She felt the panic rise up. Her chest tightened. Hallam was going to kill her. He was touching her, lifting up her top, and she begged him not to. But his eyes fixed on the skin of her belly, and he rubbed it, his cold, clammy hand making her scream and writhe.

“You like it,” he said.

Tash screamed for Jasmine to run. But Jasmine sprang to her feet like a cat, and she was out of the corner in a flash, kicking at Hallam using what she’d learned at her tae kwan do classes.

It rocked Hallam, and he staggered, slashing with his blade. Tash feared her daughter would be cut. But Jasmine fought like a cornered animal. She had Hallam on the back foot. Her fury had scared him. Tash was still shouting at her to run, but her shrieking eleven year old drove Buck back towards the door with her attacks.

He hacked and sliced at her. And then he kicked and kicked again, anger etching his face now. And Jasmine yelped, stumbling. She bent double. Tash screamed. The scalpel rose. Hallam grabbed Jasmine’s hair. He snarled, spit spraying from between his teeth.

“I’ll kill you both,” he said.

The walls crumbled. The roof started to cave in. The door flew off its hinges.

A man, covered in dirt, flew into the room and barged into Hallam. The three of them—Hallam, Jasmine, and the man—fell in a heap.

“Jasmine, get out,” said Tash again.

The man pummeled Hallam. It was Spencer. For a second, Tash panicked because the youth had been with Jack. Her dad had grabbed him when they’d rescued Jasmine. Her dead dad. She screamed with rage. She cursed Hallam and urged Spencer to beat him, to kill him.

Jasmine rose from the pile of bodies and came to her mother, scrabbling at the ropes.

Hallam fought back. He jabbed with his scalpel. He cut Spencer, who shrieked. Blood spurted.

Tash, on her feet now, shoved Jasmine away and kicked Hallam hard in the side. He bent double, gasping for breath. She stamped on his hand, and he dropped the scalpel. She went to pick it up, but Spencer was shouting.

“We got to get out . . . we got to leg it . . . everything’s coming apart . . . the whole world’s breaking up . . . ”

Blood ran from his arm. He was at the door. Outside, it seemed as if the sky was falling in.

Tash looked for the scalpel again, her eyes skimming the floor, but it was gone. Her chest tightened.

Hallam’s got it, she thought.

But he was lying on the floor. A pool of blood formed around his head. It spread, dark fluid leaching across the dirty floorboards.

Tash turned her head slowly. Behind her stood Jasmine. She held the scalpel in her hand. It dripped blood.

“Jesus, we got to go,” said Spencer.

Tash snapped into action. She snatched the scalpel from Jasmine and tossed it aside, then grabbed her daughter by the hand and pulled her to the door.

“Go on, get out,” she said to Spencer as the ceiling behind her collapsed, burying the dead Hallam under rotten wood and plaster. “Now!” she yelled and shoved Spencer out of the door.

They stopped dead. Tash stared in horror. Everything was disintegrating. Huge walls cracked to reveal the night sky. As their surroundings collapsed, the streets of London came into view—the streets of Whitechapel. Through the crumbling masonry, Tash saw Londoners flee.

They must think it’s an earthquake, she thought.

A tremor shook the floor, and she looked down. It was giving way. She clutched Jasmine tightly. The ground was sliding apart as if tectonic plates were separating. And as the earth split and opened around them, Tash saw what was below.

A lake of fire sizzled and bubbled deep down in the crevice revealed by the upheaval.

“We’ve got to get away now,” said Tash.

“Mum, look.”

Jasmine was pointing upwards. Tash followed her gaze. For a moment, she saw nothing except the world coming apart. But then in the downpour of debris, two figures whirled.

She couldn’t make them out. They wheeled in the air so quickly. They were just a blur to Tash. One had wings. The other seemed to have a huge cape flapping behind him.

“It’s Charlie,” said Jasmine.

No, thought Tash, no, never.

And then Jasmine said, “He’s an angel.”

And then she remembered Hallam’s words.

He ain’t human no more.

As she stared up, praying Charlie was still a human who would hold her and kiss her and love her when this was finished, the ground under their feet gave way.