prologue

  PROLOGUE

    Ellie followed Meakin up the narrow wooden stairs to the second floor. The stairwell was dark, with fat shadows that clung to the corners and hung overhead. Any bulbs in the sockets were long dead, never to be replaced. Something smelled bad, something unknown and unseen, something possibly urinated upon at least once. A more unpleasant place she’d never seen in her life.
    Shivering despite the humid warmth of the day, Ellie wondered if it were the dank surroundings or the unknown territory she was entering into that had her nerves on edge. Things had been odd from the minute she’d set eyes on Meakin - really odd - but perhaps it was the hype that surrounded the man that made the mundane seem unreal. The reality of the man was far from what she’d heard. In her mind - during the months she’d followed the clues and solved the puzzles - Ellie had developed a picture in her mind as to what Meakin was like, how he would look and act. She imagined a tall, powerful man, well built with good taste in clothes and a high sense of style. She imagined dark, mysterious eyes that held a hypnotic gaze, a trim goatee, a touch of grey at the temples. The man before her - five steps up - couldn’t have been more different. Meakin was thin, stooped, balding, dressed in tatty jeans and a dirty Hawaiian shirt over an equally dirty white T-shirt. His shoes were mismatched runners; one with laces, the other with Velcro.
    Nothing about Meakin made sense. Some of the stories spoke of him as though he were a demigod, or some sort of superhero. In person he looked like a man who didn’t sleep much, who had few people skills and wanted as little as possible to do with the world at large. His attitude to her so far had been indifferent to the point of rudeness. As soon as she’d started to speak to him he just spoke over her until she stopped speaking. She’d doubted he was even who he claimed to be until he answered the questions she’d been told to ask. This was indeed the man she’d hunted for the past eight months.
    Meakin waited at the top of the stairs, his keys in his hands. Ellie couldn’t see his eyes, hidden as they were by the ever-present aviator sunglasses, but she could feel them bore into her. Perhaps he was mentally undressing her as they stood there, and felt a little more ill at ease at the thought. She was uncomfortable and did not want to be there with this strange man in this strange place, surrounded by shadows that seemed to move about and change shape constantly. But she noticed that the shadows seemed to stay away from Meakin, like they were wary of him somehow. She thought of the short walk from the park where she’d finally met him. Meakin had walked ahead, maybe ten feet in front of Ellie. As they passed the shops, Ellie’s wandering eye caught a glimpse of their reflections. Meakins seemed to jump about, shift and change and merge into new figures at each pane of glass, while hers never altered. Maybe it was a difference of perspective, she told herself, or maybe something else.
    Ellie shivered again and she caught sight of Meakin leering at her, a nasty smile or a sneer on his face. Without turning, he slipped the key into the lock and opened the door.
    " No good waiting out here,” he said and turned and entered the apartment, leaving Ellie on the stairs in the gloom. Down on the floor below, something slithered in the half dark. Ellie’s misgivings grew, but it was better the devil you knew than the one you didn’t. It had been a hard fight finding this man and she wasn’t giving up because of a case of the jitters. She followed Meakin in.
    One of the first things Ellie noticed was that everything in the apartment was the distinct lack of colour. Small pockets sprouted here and there as photos sitting on shelves, or against the walls, but all matt finish and without frames. The walls were bare, painted a dull flat grey, as were the appliances. The carpet and the furnishings were the same basic colour, the personality of the place matching that of the occupant. The curtains nailed over the windows were black.
Ellie stopped when they reached a small kitchenette/dining room. Dull, scratched enamel dished were stacked on the sink. The glass in the microwave door was painted grey. More black curtains over the windows. Meakin pulled a chair from under the fifties style Formica table and motioned for Ellie to sit.
    “ Coffee?” he asked, his voice as grey as the décor.
    Ellie nodded.
    “ Decaf, if you have it.”
    “ Sorry. Regular only. I need the caffeine.”
    “ I’ll pass then, thanks.”
    Meakin shrugged and went to the fridge, an old sixties Kelvinator that required a pull on the handle to open. He looked inside.
    “ Got a Coke here if you want?”
    “ I’m fine thanks. Really.”
    Meakin shrugged again.
    “ Suit yourself.”
    He took a can of cola from the fridge and cracked the seal. Foam bubbled over his fingers and onto the dirty lino.
    “ Ah shit!”
    He changed hands, wiping the wet one on his pants leg and snagged a mug from the sink. A cursory glance to make sure nothing had taken up residence and half a can was poured in.
As this drama was unfolding, Ellie looked around. She’d met eccentric people before, was related to few, but this place gave her the willies, along with its occupant. The place was so odd, so monochrome, no shine. And then it hit her. Nothing reflective. No mirrors, no glass, nothing that would reflect an image, even accidentally.
    Meakin pulled the chair opposite Ellie and spun it around so he could lean on the back. It was a practised move, a habit. Meakin sat the mug on the cracked and chipped table and rested his forearms on the back of the chair, staring at Ellie, and Ellie altered one part in her earlier deduction. One reflective surface, or rather two. The lenses in Meakin’s sunglasses, still on even indoors. Mirrored, she only saw her reflection in them.
    Both Meakin and Ellie started to talk at the same time. As before, Meakin just talked louder until Ellie gave up. He began to ask questions.
    “ I’m pretty sure I know the answer to this, Miss Cameron, but I’ll ask anyway. You might surprise me. Why are you here?”
    Ellie looked away from Meakin and stared at the tabletop, unsure where to start.
    “ It’s hard to say, Mr Meakin. I…”
    Meakin held up a hand to interrupt.
    “ Call me Rob, or Meakin if you have to call me something. Mister was my father. He left when I was three.”
    “ Oh,” Ellie said, not sure what to do with the information. “ I’m sorry.”
    Meakin just shrugged and sipped his drink. Ellie continued.
    “ Okay. Rob? I was given your name…”
    “ By who?”
    “ Lots of people. Tony Alvaredo in Galston. Mel Adamson at the Harbour. Others all over the place.”
    Meakin slouched down a little.
    “ Here it comes.”
    Ellie felt a line of sweat bead on her brow. She licked her lips. Her hands shook.
    “ They told me you see things.”
    “ Doesn’t everyone?”
    “ I was told you see things other people don’t.”
    “ So does your average drug addict. Ask ‘em.”
    Ellie shivered as though a chill had descended upon her.
    “ I was told you see dead people.”
    Meakin slammed his hand on the table, his cup rattling. Ellie jumped.
    “ Bingo!”
    Meakin leaned forward, his smile cold and menacing.
    “ Just like the little kid in the movie, right? See dead guys just running around right? Do you know just how stupid that sounds, Miss Cameron?”
    Meakin voice grew louder as he spoke, until he was all but yelling at Ellie. Ellie cringed at his words, starting visibly as each syllable was spat in her direction. Meakin stopped, breathing heavy. He calmed himself, breathing deep and sitting back down. He adjusted his glasses and placed his hands on the table top. His voice dropped to a whisper.
    “ Who do you work for, Miss Cameron?”
    Ellie looked up, trembling slightly.
    “ What do you mean?”
    “ Who sent you here? What do you hope to learn? It wouldn’t be the first time someone has tried to slip in an interviewer. Who do you work for?”
    Ellie shook her head.
    “ I don’t work for anyone. I came here of my own free will.”
    Meakin’s hand slammed on the table again. Ellie jumped. Meakin’s voice took on a menacing growl.
    “ Bullshit, Miss Cameron. Come on, who sent you? Bryant at the Enquirer? Or Dalhousey at the Star? Don’t tell me McDougall at the Advocate has run out of manufactured headlines?”
    Ellie shook her head again, trembling. Loud noises scared her at the best of times. Being shouted at by a strange man terrified her.
    “ I’m here for my own purposes. I’ve spent months tracking you. I need your help.”
Ellie sobbed. A tear ran down her cheek.
    “ I need you.”
    The last words were barely a whisper, but Meakin learned enough from them, to know she was telling the truth. He reached across to the side cupboard and snagged a box of tissues and held it out to Ellie. She refused and rummaged around in her bag, finding her own supply. Quietly, still softly sobbing, she dabbed at her eyes and nose. Meakin waited. Ellie regained some of her composure.
    " I need to know things, Mr M… Rob. No one has been able to help me. Not my local priest, or any of the others I’ve spoken to. Most won’t even speak to me. But I was given your name, and told of how you’ve helped others. Please, can you tell me, is it true?”
    “ Do I see things? Goblins, ghosts and the like?”
    Ellie nodded. Meakin shook his head.
    “ Used to. Not any more. I got cured, you might say. Don’t see much of anything anymore.”
    Meakin raised his right hand and tapped the frames of his sunglasses. Ellie’s heart sank. She was too late, obviously. There’d been a show like this on late night TV. Some guy who saw weird things couldn’t handle it and took his eyes out with a spoon or something. She thought it might have been Twilight Zone, or Evil Touch. Ellie stumbled for words.
    “ You’re blin.. er, visually challenged?”
    Meakin’s rue smile grew a laugh line.
    “ Your shirt is white, skirt blue but not quite royal. Well made. You have a red flower embroidered over your right breast. Sorry, my knowledge of plants is limited so I can’t tell what it is. Nice tits too, by the way. Your hair is blond, though I’ll bet it’s from a bottle.”
    The hand that tapped the frames took hold of the glasses and began to raise them. Ellie tensed, unsure of what was happening. Meakin continued, leaning forward as he raised the glasses ever so slowly. His smile widened.
    “ Your shoes are Laurent. I saw them as you walked past at the park. The right heel’s been repaired.”
    Meakin seemed to Ellie’s eyes to be growing larger as he leaned closer. The glasses cleared his eyes, which were closed. Suddenly he snapped them open.
    “ BOO!”
    Ellie squeaked and nearly fell from her chair. Meakin laughed long and loud. His eyes were blue. Perfectly ordinary. Bloodshot and blurry maybe, but normal. Still laughing. Meakin straightened up and replaced the glasses.
    “ Hah. Evil Touch. Guy takes his own eyes out coz he sees nasty stuff. Classic. Got it on tape.”
    Meakin drained the enamel cup of cola, then emptied the can into it. He crushed the can in his fist and tossed it over his shoulder, where it came to rest on top of a pile of others.
    “ No, Miss Cameron. I can see perfectly well. I have a medical condition. Tyridgiums. Too much sun as a kid.”       
    He downed his drink.
    “ Despite what you may have heard.”
    Meakin’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper.
    “ I’m not a vampire either!”
    Ellie sat bolt upright. She was breathing fast, her heart racing. For no real reason, other than his poor people skills perhaps, she was afraid of this man. It made no sense. He was rude, unpleasant and loud, but hardly threatening. He just set her nerves humming, and seemed to know it, revelling in the small amount of power he held over her.
    Meakin got up and took another cup from the sink, washed it quickly under the tap before filling it with water. He handed it to Ellie, who shook her head.
    “ Slow your breathing or you’ll hyperventilate. Have some water.”
    He pushed the cup at her again. Ellie took it and held it in her hands. Meakin sat back down in his chair.
    “ I saw you looking around. No reflections, right? Easy.”
    Ellie sipped at her water, her hands shaking against her will.
    “ I have a complex, you might say. I can’t bear my reflection, Miss Cameron. I can’t stand to see myself. It makes me sick.”
    Ellie gaped. Okay, he wasn’t Orlando Bloom, but who was these days. But Meakin wasn’t bad looking. Odd looking, unkempt to be sure, but not sickening.
    “ I don’t understand.”
    Meakin sneered, his face turning unpleasant.
    “ The eyes may be the windows to the soul, but don’t judge a book by its cover.”
    Ellie stared at him.
    “ What does that mean?”
    Meakin’s smile brightened, like a kid given a new toy.
    “ You really want to know?”
    Ellie nodded. Meakin pointed to the compact Ellie had taken from her bag earlier when she’d been in search of the tissues.
    “ Pick that up and turn around in your chair, until your back is to me.”
    Ellie looked uncertain. Meakin saw it and sneered his half smile.
    “ Oh, as if. Look, you can leave any time you want. No-one is forcing you top stay here.”
    Ellie closed her eyes, not wanting her back turned to this strange man, then nodded and did as she was asked. Meakin waited until she settled.
    “ Okay, open your compact and aim it around until you can see me.”
    Ellie’s hand shook slightly, but she kept control until she could see Meakin’s reflection. He still looked normal enough, though his glasses were off again and his eyes were closed.
    “ Better put your cup down, just in case,” he said without looking. When he heard the cup rattle on the table he said,” Don’t worry, you’re safe. You ready?”
    Ellie nodded, then remembering Meakin’s eyes were closed, responded.
    “ I’m ready.”
    “ Goodoh. Try not to scream, okay?”
    Meakin opened his eyes. Ellie squealed and the compact dropped to the floor, the mirror shattering before the plastic case bounced under the table. Ellie spun around to face Meakin, who was adjusting his glasses back over his face.
    “ They always scream,” he said to no-one in particular. “ Even the guys. Some more than others.”
    Satisfied his glasses were comfortable, he turned his gaze to Ellie, who sat open mouthed, staring at him with eyes wide open. He half shrugged.
    “ So what do you think?”
    “ I need your help,” Ellie said, her voice shaking. “ Will you help me?"