Chapter Eight

Greyfriars Kirkyard at night. Chill. Dark. The church ghostly in the silver moonlight. Trees denuded of leaves, their branches reaching out their skeletal fingers to the heavens. It didn’t take much imagination to see ghosts walking among the gravestones of the generations of the Edinburgh dead, slumbering – or lying unquietly – beneath their granite blankets. Hannah shivered and stamped her almost-numb feet and her breath misted in the night air as she spoke. “I’m so grateful you came with me tonight, George.”

“Not at all. If it wasn’t so damn cold, it would be quite a pleasant night.”

Hannah stared up at the twinkling stars in the clear sky. “There’ll be a frost later.”

“It’s started already. Come on, let’s find this plaque. Have you got your torch?”

Hannah waved it at him.

“Good, let’s switch on, and off we go.”

Hannah didn’t know or care whether George was faking his light-hearted attitude. She was glad of it.

The promised frost was already in evidence as their feet crunched the ground beneath them. In the dimly lit grounds, blades of grass twinkled with ice crystals. Hannah led the way. She hadn’t a clue where she was going, but something seemed to direct her, moving her forward, then to the right, until they reached the back wall.

Look up.

Hannah obeyed the voice in her head, shining her torch on the wall.

“There!” Hannah said. The grey stone plaque could not have been more than two feet by one foot and the only two words carved into it almost filled its surface. ‘Miss Carmichael’.

“What happens now?” George asked, his voice no more than a whisper.

“I don’t know. I suppose we just wait and see.”

“Is it my imagination or is it even colder right here? It’s bloody freezing.”

“I know. We won’t stay long. Then we’ll go over to the pub for a shot of Scotch.”

“That’s the best idea you’ve come up with so far, lass.”

Hannah switched off her torch. “No point wasting the batteries.”

George nodded and switched his off too. His breath misted in front of him, mingling with Hannah’s. Her fingers started to throb. Not even the thermal gloves she wore could keep out the bitter, penetrating cold. She couldn’t feel her feet.

Hannah turned to face the opposite direction, away from the plaque. Ahead of her stretched the path they had come up. To the right of it, grandiose monuments to some of Edinburgh’s finest citizens. To the left of her lay more graves, some elaborate granite structures with carved angels and Grecian pillars, silhouetted against the night sky.

A light breeze skittered around them, blowing a few remaining leaves off the ground and sending them dancing. Ancient trees creaked like old bones. Hannah gave a start at the ghostly shape of an owl as it unexpectedly took off from a nearby tree. It soared off into the sky, its plumage phantom pale. She realized she had grabbed George’s arm and gently dropped her hand.

George craned his neck. He whispered to her and pointed. “There’s something there. Moving in the bushes. I can’t make it out but it’s coming toward us. Switch your torch on. Let’s get a look at it.”

Hannah moved the torch so that an arc of light swept around the graveyard in front of them. For one second she thought she saw something. A tall figure, in shadow, darting out of the bushes, but gone before she fully registered it.

Her heart raced. “Did you get a proper look at it?”

“No. Not really. For a second, it seemed familiar.… No. I’m being stupid.”

“Familiar?”

“Ignore me. My imagination’s going haywire. Maybe it was the ghost of old Mackenzie.” His laugh was forced.

Hannah swept her torch around. “There’s nothing there now,” she said.

“I told you. Old Mackenzie on his nightly rounds.”

Hannah decided to play along with him. “Nasty piece of work by all accounts.”

“It’s a familiar story,” George said. “People persecuted for religion. Mackenzie was a cruel and merciless character. It provides a lot of entertainment for the tourists and revenue for the graveyard tours now though.”

“Well, whatever it was, it’s gone now.” Hannah shivered. “If I stay here much longer, I’ll turn into one of those statues.” She nodded over at an angel with folded wings silhouetted against the night sky. In this poor light, she half imagined it unfurling those wings and taking off, like the owl a few minutes earlier.

George snapped his torch off, pocketed it and slapped his hands together. “I don’t think there’s any point in staying here any longer. I’ll get the first round in.”

“OK.”

“Hannah.”

“Yes?”

George looked startled. “What?”

“You called my name.”

“No, I said I’d get the drinks in.”

“But I heard.…”

George looked at her intently.

“Nothing. We’re both seeing things and I’m starting to hear things. Let’s get that drink.” Hannah made to move forward. Something strong pulled her back. It clawed at her neck, dragged her back by her hair, tugging so hard, her scalp burned.

“I am not finished with you.”

She had heard that male voice before. “George. Help me!” She struggled to free herself from the invisible grasp.

“Hannah? What’s the matter?” George put his hand out to steady her, gave a cry and dropped it to his side. “For fuck’s sake. What’s going on?”

The invisible arms that held her tightened their grip. Hannah wriggled one way, then the other, but couldn’t free herself. The more she struggled, the tighter the vise-like grip became. Invisible fingers dug into her upper arms, dragging them behind her back, almost lifting her off the ground. “It won’t let me go. I can’t get free. George, please.”

He seemed rooted to the spot.

The voice in her head grew louder, more urgent. “You are here where you belong, Kirsten. Here where you’ll stay.”

It tugged her back harder and she slipped on the frosty ground, struggling to regain her balance. Was the voice even in her head? Couldn’t George hear it?

“Please. Let me go!”

Her cries snapped George into action. He tried to grab her arm and instantly recoiled. “It’s like an electric shock every time I come near you. Like you’ve got a force-field around you. I can’t get through it.” He tried again. Again he shot back.

Whatever held Hannah tightened its grasp once more. It dragged her back further.

“You belong here, Kirsten. With the dead.”

The voice was raw, grating. Loud enough to rattle her eardrums. She cried out, “Let me go!”

The creature strengthened its hold. It shifted position and leaped onto her shoulders, weighing her down so that she was bent almost double. She could see nothing. But George could. His mouth gaped.

“What is it? What have I got on my back?”

“I.… It’s…a gargoyle. It’s like a gargoyle!”

Hannah squirmed, trying to throw the thing off. The harder she twisted, the more it clung on. Hideous breath invaded her nostrils. Still she could see nothing. Then, between her legs, fingers. Claws, tearing at her trousers, trying to stroke.… A filthy laugh.…

“No.” Strength she didn’t know she possessed rescued her. She wrenched herself hard left.

Without warning, the iron grip broke and she fell forward. Free. George caught her.

Hannah struggled to breathe. “What the hell was that thing?”

George shook his head. His hands trembled. “I only saw it for an instant. It looked like one of those stone carvings you get in old churches. It had this awful grin on its face. Gargoyle is the best I can manage.”

“It spoke to me. Did you hear it?”

George shook his head. “Not a word. What did it say?”

“It told me I belonged here. With the dead. It called me Kirsten.”

George put his arms around her, comforting her.

If only she could slow her heart down. It felt ready to burst from her chest. She remembered what that thing had tried to do when it had her in its grip and the nausea made her gag. “I must have been the only one meant to hear it. But why? What does it want from me? And why did it call me Kirsten?”

“I don’t know, Hannah. I wish I did.”

Hannah gently extricated herself from George’s arms. “I really need that drink now. This was a crazy idea, coming here on a night like this. Let’s go.” She set off. George hesitated for a second, then followed her.

In the pub, Hannah’s hands shook so badly she struggled to hold her glass. The neat Scotch burned her throat and made her cough, but it warmed and soothed her.

“I think we need some professional help,” George said after a lengthy silence.

“So do I, but who? There are so many fakes around.”

“I’ll ask a friend of mine. She did a dissertation on mediums and that sort of thing at university. I remember at the time she said that she had come across some fascinating people in the course of her research. Some obvious fakes, some less obvious and some she couldn’t begin to explain. Maybe one of them can help us.”

“So, she reckoned some of them were the real deal?”

George nodded. “And you’d never have met a more skeptical person than Megan before she started on that. After she’d finished, she had to admit there could be something in it.”

“I can’t help thinking this is all linked to Mairead’s disappearance.”

“And Mairead generally. Where had she been living all that time she was supposed to be caring for her mother?”

Hannah shook her head. “And why is it that I keep seeing a woman dressed in Victorian clothes with Mairead’s face? And the photograph in that newspaper I found in Murdoch Maclean’s shop?”

George sipped his drink. “I’ll speak to Megan. I’ll call her tomorrow. Bit late now.”

“Thanks, George. Anything to stop all this. And find Mairead.”

* * *

At home, Hannah undressed. She remembered the creature’s hold on her – its talons clawing her. Kirsten. She couldn’t get that name out of her mind. It meant something to her but, try as she might, she couldn’t remember ever knowing a Kirsten.

She peeled off her trousers. She must wash them before she could bring herself to wear them again. As she made to roll them up to put in the laundry, her fingers found perforations. And a rip. Holding them to the light, she stared. There…in the gusset. No way had they been there before.

She dashed into the kitchen, flipped open the kitchen waste bin and dumped the trousers in, her heart thumping. Then she turned on the hot water and scrubbed her hands until they were red and sore. Anything to get the filth of that creature off her.