Chapter 36

A DARKNESS IN THE CORNER OF HER EYE

Tash woke up from her nap screaming, her body drenched in sweat.

The dreams again.

She dreamt a lot. They were vivid. But they’d not been as scary as this for a long time—for nearly fifteen years.

Not since Rachel and those other women had been murdered had she visualized such terrors.

Christ, she thought, crossing to the table where her handbag sat, digging out her cigarettes but then remembering that Jasmine was in the flat.

She put the fags away, the itch for one clawing at her chest, the panic rising.

Sit down, she told herself. Have a sit down, and she returned to the couch where she’d been dozing.

She wiped sleep from her eyes. The dream stained her mind. Most of the time they faded, and she had to grab at them as they floated off.

But this one was staying put.

She shut her eyes, trying to blind herself to the images reeling through her mind. But that didn’t help. The dream replayed itself behind her eyelids. It drove her mad. It made her shake.

In her dream, she was walking through the estate.

It was a bright day, brighter than any she could remember. Everything was blindingly white.

Almost everything.

Just outside her eyeline, a shadow lurked.

Every time she turned towards it, thinking it would come into view, it stayed where it was—a notch in the side of her vision.

It panicked her. In her dream, she tried to escape it. But it was always there.

A darkness in the corner of her eye.

Trying to flee the wraith, or whatever it was, she raced along the streets, the light still blindingly white.

Somehow, she came to a spiral staircase that sunk down into the earth, into a well.

She stared down into the abyss.

Screams came up from the darkness.

The cries of agony.

She could even smell something in her dream, and she recognized the odor. It was sulphur.

Deep in the depth of the well, a fire glowed orange.

Her conscious self told her, “No, no . . . ” Tash’s unconscious form descended the staircase. The darkness was still in her eye. She wanted it to go away. It was claustrophobic.

She raced down the staircase. She noticed the stairs were glistening under her feet. At first she ignored the strange sheen. But then she stopped and squatted and touched the stair, and frantically tried to wipe the blood from her fingers.

She screamed in her dream, and maybe in her flat, and began to descend again until she came to the shore of a lake.

A lake of fire.

Bubbling lava splashing at the shore.

She looked around. She was in a cellar. It was dirty and smelly. Damp on the walls. Rats scurrying behind crates. Cobwebs draped everywhere—and this burning lagoon.

A small raft the size of a tea towel bobbed on the blistering waves. Something sat on the raft. In her dream, she stared at it, focusing. Also in the distance, a voice whispered. It said a word that she couldn’t make out. Although it sounded like “yellow” or “pillow”, Tash knew it wasn’t either of those. It was something much worse. A terrible word. A terrible name.

Ignoring the voice, she reached out for the raft. It was too far. She stretched. The heat seared her face. But she had to get to it. She leaned forward.

Something dark and terrifying reared up out of the lake of fire and engulfed Tash, and that was when she screamed herself awake and sat bolt upright.

Now, sitting on the sofa, her mind spinning, Tash felt a dread slowly washing over her—and over Barrowmore.

Something terrible was here; she could feel it. The killing of the boys was more than just savagery—it had a meaning. Just like Rachel’s killing all those years ago. It indicated a-coming of something—it foretold an arrival.

She shook. Her dad spoke of Armageddon. The “end times”. The Day of Judgment.

Maybe Rachel’s death had something to do with that. Maybe the youths’ murders were also linked.

“Mum, I’m sick.”

Tash started. She looked up. Jasmine stood in the door of her bedroom. Her daughter was pale. Her brow was furrowed, and tears wetted her cheeks.

“Come here, sweetheart,” said Tash, and she embraced her daughter.

The girl said, “I’m not lying about the dreams, Mum, honest.”

“I know, it’s okay.

“I’m really feeling weird. I had a horrible nightmare.”

Tash eased her away. “It’s all right to tell me.”

“It was about a fiery lake and . . . and something in my eye. And someone whispering ‘pillow’ or something.”