Chapter 61

HEARING THINGS, SEEING THINGS

WHITECHAPEL—6:02 AM, FEBRUARY 28, 2011

Her dreams were of fire. More fire. Just like before. Oceans of it. And a rainbow of colors. Flames of every hue. Among them, a blue tongue of fire brushed flesh. Human flesh. And the flesh melted, pink and red, running like wax. Bone showing and then bone charring. The blue flame liquefied the body and turned everything to ash.

Her eyes snapped open and she sat up in bed, panting.

Charlie, she thought. Charlie Faultless, burned.

Tears ran down her face. She whimpered and climbed out of bed. It was cold, and she shivered. Outside it was still dark, although light was just starting to seep into the night sky. She peeked through the curtain. Down in the quad, blue lights flared.

A blue tongue of it . . .

She flinched and moved away from the window. But she could still see the lights showing in the sky. Police cars filled the parking area. The whole place was lit up. Detectives and forensic officers had been trawling all night, looking for evidence. Two murders yesterday added to the terror leaching through Barrowmore and to the pressure mounting on the police.

She went back to bed and huddled under the covers. She was very scared and very confused.

She remembered her dream again.

Charlie Faultless, burned.

That’s what it was telling her.

And it was true.

Someone knocked on her bedroom door, and it made her jump. Her mother’s voice said, “Can I come in, darlin’?”

She said nothing.

“Darlin’, please let me come in.”

“Okay,” she said.

She cried when her mum entered the room.

“It’s all right, sweetheart,” said Mum, hugging her.

She loved that feeling. Her mother’s warmth, her softness. She felt safe in her mum’s arms. At least she used to. Not so much any more. The world had become more dangerous in the past couple of days. And not even love could keep the peril at bay.

Mum stroked her hair and said, “Do you want to talk about what happened to Candice?”

Jasmine shook her head.

Mum said, “You can ask me whenever you feel like talking.”

Jasmine nodded.

It had been a scary few hours. When Jasmine ran home after leaving Candice, she’d bumped into a man standing right outside her door. He was tall and large, and he had a mean face. He said he was Mr Wilks, a policeman, and he was here to see Jasmine’s mum and grandad. Inside the house, Mum had told Jasmine to go to her room, but she listened through her door and heard Mr Wilks talk about Charlie Faultless. Hearing what he was saying made Jasmine’s nerves jangle. And when he said someone else had been murdered—“a kid”—she wanted to be sick.

She asked her mum now, “Why did . . . why did Candice get killed?”

“Darlin, there’s a lot of bad men in the world. But there are more good people, you know. Sometimes bad things, horrible things, happen, but they don’t happen a lot. I don’t know why Candice got killed.”

“Do you believe in God, mum?”

Her mum’s eyes narrowed. She was thinking. Then she said, “I don’t know, Jasmine.”

“If God was real, why would he let Candice die? And Italy’s mum, too.”

“I don’t know, darlin’’. Sometimes things just happen.”

“Mum . . . ”

“Yes.”

“I . . . I saw horrible things happen to Charlie.”

She felt her mum shudder.

“Do you like him, Mum?”

“Of course. He was your Auntie Rachel’s boyfriend. So he’s almost like family.”

“I saw him being burned.”

“Where did you see this, Jasmine?”

“In my head, Mum . . . you know.”

“In your head.”

“Yes, like the other dreams. Like . . . like the things I see that come true.”

Her mum nodded.

“What did old Bet say?” said Jasmine. “Does she still want to spit at me?”

“No, no she doesn’t. She’s had a very difficult life. It makes her sad. It makes her do horrible things like she did to you when you saw her. She . . . she doesn’t mean it.”

“She shouldn’t do it, then.”

“No, she shouldn’t.”

“Does she dream too, Mum?”

“Yes, she dreams too.”

“And she can see things that haven’t happened?”

Mum nodded.

“Did . . . did your mum do it too?”

“I think she did.”

Jasmine buried her face in her mum’s chest. “Why are we different?” she said. “I don’t want to be different.”