The Secret Vendetta

The Secret Vendetta


Past Tense


The limousine veered right into the courtyard and spun once round the fountain like a bulky, black snake. The fairy lights draped over the olive trees twinkled and glistened in the approaching darkness, its flickering lights reflecting themselves on the surface of the limousine. It drew up at the kerb just in front of the building, where an attendant was waiting, arm outstretched and hand latched onto the handle, to greet them.
He pulled open the door with his white-gloved hand and stood, rigidly, like a man of military, waiting for the people inside to get out. They did, tentatively. Or, rather, Varjak Swinton did. Unusual that a person would ride a limousine solo to such an event. He noticed there was a red carpet laid out in front of him that led to the entrance, and, dressed in his expensive suit, he suddenly felt the urge to strike a few poses on it. But there were no photographers here to capture the moment. Well, inside there were, but they weren't interested in him. No, all he had to strike poses to was a severely tired-looking attendant who was not even paying him the slightest bit of attention.
He strolled along the red carpet toward the double-door entrance, the ground more cushioned against his feet. He liked that. It made him feel like a movie star. He was then led inside by another attendant, who took his coat once he'd shrugged it off, and his gift. The room inside was tall, large and elegant-looking, and it was filled with equally elegant-looking people. The sounds of muffled chatter, big band music, and clinking glasses filled Varjak's ears under his tousled blond hair.
Various members of the room had stopped to look at him as he strode in - most of them female, casting him admiring glances, and some of them male, giving him disgruntled glares. Varjak, however, was casting a wary glance back to the entrance, where his coat was being hanged on a rack. He didn't like not wearing it. He was never seen without his dark green trench coat. But he had to remind himself of the formal occasion, and how, when they saw him, his friends would appreciate that he'd made the effort for once.
His married friends, that was. He wondered where they were, and set about scanning the room for them. Eventually, he caught sight of them- they waved him over, the bride blushing in her long white gown, the groom simply glowing with pride and happiness. Varjak felt a sickening lurch. He was sincerely happy for his friends, but all the same...
He stalked over to them, all smiles, as the usual Varjak would do. But he could not, no matter how hard he tried, shake off the feeling of sadness, of bitter regret...
"We wondered where you'd got to," said the groom, patting him cheerfully on the back as he approached. Varjak just shrugged, giving them a bright smile. That's right, Varjak. Look as happy as you can. But his attempts at beaming made him look a little goofy, and made the bride and groom burst out laughing, clutching at their ribs as they gave way to waves of mirth. The groom, having recovered somewhat, slapped him once, amicably, on the back, grinning.
Varjak grinned a little, too. They weren't usually the sort of people to go into hysterical laughter over nothing- Varjak decided that could only have been the sheer elation they both felt. It was clear as they held onto each other, faces rosy and dewy. It even made Varjak feel happy, too. He even managed to forget the strange, horrible feeling for an hour or two as celebrations progressed.
Sometime later, after more than a few wines for Varjak (he never really liked alcohol, but the occasion seemed to alter his opinion for a night), someone got up onto the stage and loudly clinked on their glass with a spoon. The murmurs faded out to a silence, and the whole room turned to the stage with rapt attention. Varjak turned, too, to see who had got up to give the toast. He recognised one of his friends, Alicia, on the stage.
Trust her to be first up for toasts- she's been fluttering around organising everything all day, Varjak thought with a bitter smirk. Alicia stood in front of the microphone in her sparkling black dress and softly waved, blond hair, and began to address the room in general.
"Good evening everyone," she began, and Varjak noticed she had no notes with her. "I hope you're all having a great evening, and that you will join me in congratulating Edward and Ruth on their wedding day," There was a smatter of clapping from the captive audience. Alicia continued on, but Varjak was no longer listening. His gaze slid over to Edward and Ruth- how beautiful she looked with her hair like that...He couldn't help feeling a twinge of jealousy as his eyes landed on Edward, and when Edward returned his stare he looked away, ashamed.
It wasn't that he'd had feelings for Ruth - he was too friendly with her for that, not to mention she was married to his best friend - no, it just reminded him of things he'd rather forget. Things he deeply regretted, words he'd wished he'd said...No. It wasn't fair to rake over that tonight, not when it was the happiest day of his friends' life. He fixed his stare back onto Alicia, trying to concentrate on her words, and putting the bad memories out of his mind. So then everything was relatively normal again for Varjak.
So why, he thought bitterly years later, did they decide to attack then?
It was the lights that cut out first, which also cut off Alicia's speech, like some giant, invisible knife. There was a confused silence for a split moment, then a low murmur began, of equal confusion. Varjak was whipping his head around, side to side, up and down, backing up toward the entrance as he did so. He couldn't help it. Something felt wrong. And he had a fair idea of what it could be.
The undead weren't quite like vampires, or zombies, for that matter. Not the undead in real life. No, the undead in real life were like ghosts, except they were solid, life-like, and, a little like vampires, needed to drink the blood of their victim to convert the victim into one, too. Luckily, unlike vampires, the blood was not a necessity- merely something to keep them occupied, like a rather sick sport. They had the ability to walk through solid objects, become invisible, and to disappear and then reappear wherever they liked- like ghosts. And they were technically classed as dead. Whoever said the dead could never hurt you, Varjak had thought often, clearly hadn't run into these people.
"Varjak!" came the exasperated cry from somewhere in the near darkness. Varjak whipped round. Ruth. She was darting towards him, breathless, and pulling Edward along behind her. Varjak suddenly felt panicked.
"Varjak! We have to save Katy! They'll come after her!" asked Ruth, her eyes wide and breathing erratic.
Varjak regarded her carefully, then shook his head once. "They've no reason to," he assured her, but inside he was unsure. He didn't see a particular reason for the undead going after their one year old daughter, but then again, the ruthless lot they were...
"Are you sure?" demanded Edward, stepping up to the plate. Then he shook his head furiously. “No, we can't leave her. She's our daughter! Come on Ruth-” He tugged on her hand to pull her away, but Varjak grasped his arm, staring him angrily in the face.
"Are you insane?" he hissed at Edward, which made the uneasy Ruth wince. "Provided it is, there is no way we'll have time to leave. The sheer amount of them, for a start..."
"She's my daughter! We at least need to try and save her!" cried Ruth, her eyes beginning to well up. At the sight of her, Varjak felt his stomach twist into knots. Ruth never cried, ever. No-one in their group did. It was part of the job description- if you dedicated your life to killing people, or things, you had to have a steely core. Crying was simply an alien act, and you were internally shunned if you ever were to perform it, especially in panicked situations.
"Come here Ruth," murmured Edward coaxingly, pulling his wife to his torso and stroking her hair. But over her shoulder he stared at Varjak with a grim expression. Varjak felt much the same. Ruth pulled her head up from Edward's torso, her face chalky and stained black with runny mascara.
“The phone...isn't there a phone around here?" she croaked. “Can we call Arnaud...?”
Varjak and Edward exchanged glances. Edward seemed about to answer his wife, his mouth opening. Then it closed, as the room was suddenly submerged into ice-cold air.
They were here.


The Start


There was a thick silence in the cold, misty Portland streets, broken only by the occasional car wheeling past. The sun loomed over the horizon and cast a hazy pink glow over the grim-looking houses, giving them a false mask of beauty. Occasionally, an old greasy chip bag would flutter past, rustling as it tumbled down the road. Mrs Adams Senior, armed with her tabby cat, went outside to collect the newspaper that had just arrived on the front lawn. She picked it up and briefly scanned the front page, only really interested in how much the price had gone up by. She looked at the price below the date, '19th June 2005'- 45 cents. Well, that was okay. She let the cat down on the ground and hobbled back inside with the newspaper, reading it whilst simultaneously closing the door behind her.
Somewhere upstairs at the same time an alarm went off. A peach, pale and pink-nail-polished hand stretched out from somewhere underneath a sea of light blue quilts and slammed itself down on the little alarm clock. It was out of this same sea of blue cotton that a scruffy fluff of black hair poked out, followed by an angular, very pretty face. Her eye colour hadn't been quite clear as she was refusing to wake up and get out of bed. A knock sounded at the door.
“Katy, come on, it's your graduation today, get up,” said a gruff, but not unfriendly older man voice.
“Grandpa, just five minutes...” Katy Adams said sleepily, curling back under the sheets.
“Katy, please,” said Grandpa. “The ceremony starts at ten.”
Katy poked an almond-shaped, hazel-brown eye out from under the quilt and gave the clock an intent look.
“It's only eight Grandpa!”
“You know full well it will take you all that time to get ready,” said Grandpa, with the barest hint of amusement in his voice. “Now come on. Grandma didn't spend all that money on a new dress for the ceremony for you not even to turn up.”
Katy sighed. “Okay, getting up now.”
“Good. I'll see you downstairs.” Then there was a thump thump thump on the landing, which eventually became quieter, indicating that Grandpa had gone downstairs. Well, she thought, Grandpa certainly hadn't been lying about the two hours to get ready thing. Katy was a fashionable person who liked to keep up-to-date with trends, which meant she took a major - and a major amount of time creating that appearance. It so happened that today however that she was being forced to wear a black overall dress-type thing (which was hideous), so she didn't have to spend time raking out a good outfit. And she'd also received a black graduation hat, complete with the cute golden tousle that she had been playing with ever since she had it delivered to her.
True to form, it still took Katy until quarter to ten to come downstairs, complete with minimal but immaculate make-up (she didn't need much- Katy had naturally beautiful looks) and long, beached waved black hair. And of course, that awful black grad outfit.
“Happy graduation darling!” cried Grandma when she came down the beige-carpeted stairs, presenting her a plate of pancakes with maple syrup.
“Thanks Grandma,” she replied with genuine warmth, eyes bulging hungrily at the pancakes. She loved Grandma's pancakes. She only made them on special occasions. Grandpa was already eating a pile at the other end of the immaculate wooden breakfast bar. Grandma watched her as she ate, a warm smile on her face. Katy eventually noticed this halfway through her scoffing of the pancakes and gulped down her mouthful before saying politely, “What is it, Grandma? You look like you've got something to tell me.”
Katy was usually blunt about things. She thought of it as being truthful about what she was thinking. The annoying thing was that she had a really bad habit of letting her mouth run away with her sometimes, so being a blunt person wasn't exactly a strength. Grandma looked at her, a kind look on her face. Grandpa had looked up interestedly from his pancakes too.
“Well, as a graduation present, Grandpa and I thought we would get you a house. To live by yourself, we mean.”
Katy choked on the mouthful sliding down her throat. After Grandma had patted her on the back and made sure she was okay, she replied, “But Grandma, I was going to buy a house later with my inheritance money.”
Grandma smiled at her again. “Honey, your Grandpa and I are aware you're growing up. You won't be able to live with us up until you're twenty-one, that's for sure.”
“Don't say stuff like that Grandma,” Katy said, looking at her a little sadly. “That's always been my plan. And anyway, I'm fine living in Portland for now.”
“Sweetheart, I'm afraid we've already bought the house,” said Grandma. “It's in suburbia California. I'm afraid it was all we could afford- we couldn't get a house any closer to the university-”
“Grandma!” gasped Katy, astonished. “A house actually in? Are you kidding? That's amazing, thank you!” She leapt up to hug and kiss both her grandparents. She was expecting to just get the train into university everyday at unforgiving hours. This was truly giving her the independence she had been secretly wanting for a while now.
“There's another part of the surprise,” said Grandpa, leaning across the breakfast bar. He was fairly young for a grandfather- only 55. He looked good for his age. “We're also paying for your flight out, and since your house has been bought you can move in literally any time you want.”
Katy felt a huge lump in her throat at this. Leaving her grandparents...it was a huge step, considering that she'd spent all her eighteen years of life with them.
“Thank you,” she said, biting back tears. Grandma saw this, and immediately reached out to her.
“Oh, dear, now don't get emotional- oh my Lord, look at the time!” she said suddenly, staring up at the clock. It was five to ten. “Come on everyone, lets get to the car! I'm not missing my grandbaby's graduation!”

They arrived on time to the graduation service, which was just as well as Katy's name was one of the first called up. She received her diploma on stage and waved at Grandma, who was blowing her nose rather loudly in the second front row of the audience. After the graduation they had gone out for a celebratory meal (as if the house and flight wasn't quite enough) and they went back home.
In her room Katy was on her bed reading 'Catcher in the Rye'. She didn't really like the main character Holden- he was a bit pessimistic and irritating for her liking, but she liked the journey he went on throughout the book. That was, his jumping from place to place doing whatever he liked. Katy wished she could do that sort of thing sometimes. Just leave and go to random places, just for the sake of it. She supposed that was the only reason she even liked 'Catcher in the Rye'.
Unfortunately Katy related to Holden in more ways than she liked to admit. She didn't have a best friend, instead just being generally popular with her schoolmates. She had had a couple of teeny-bopper boyfriends when she was about 14 or 15 but nothing ever serious. This was partly what made her fairly popular at her school- good-looking but hard to get. Katy had never been majorly interested in relationships.
She sighed, and put the book down on her creaky wooden bedside table, falling back on her pillow and thinking about everything that had just happened, and everything she'd just read. She supposed going to university was quite like a huge adventure, especially since she was getting her own house on top of that. The thrill-loving part of her started pulsing at this thought- the more she thought about it, the more she wanted to go. Of course she loved her grandparents, and yes, leaving them would be insanely emotional, but a kicking urge had been born inside of her today that made her want to go as soon as possible.
It was only a week later that Katy, having considered everything carefully, came downstairs one evening whilst her grandparents were sitting around the TV watching 'American Idol' to tell them that she had packed, and would like to leave tomorrow if possible. They even switched off 'American Idol' at that one. They crowded around her and asked her if she was absolutely sure, and if she was, that they would be delighted to phone for a plane for her now. Once that had been done, her grandma returned and they shared an emotional goodbye, even though it technically wasn't happening until tomorrow. Her grandpa clapped her on the shoulder, tears visible in his eyes, and sobbed a little as he hugged her tightly. That night they had spent looking at the family picture album instead of watching the 'American Idol' marathon, looking at baby Katy's pictures when she was with her parents on the day they got married. She didn't cry at these ones- she had accepted that her parents were dead, but a longing and loss still throbbed inside her at the thought that she could have had parents, if it hadn't been for the stupid car crash they got into on the way home. That always earned her a lot of sympathy from teachers in elementary and middle school. Eventually it got late and everyone retired to their respective bedrooms, but it took a pensive and excitable Katy far longer to get to sleep.

The plane had touched down in California at eleven in the morning. Katy quickly found her suitcase and pulled it off, wheeling toward the exit. Half an hour later, her cab veered onto a street in suburban California. This street was where Katy would be living from now on. Trees fell behind them at a moderate pace as Katy gazed out of the window, heart racing quietly with anticipation.
The yellow cab pulled up outside a large, clean-looking house behind a moving van and Katy got out. Home. She'd have to get used to applying that word to this house. It was a beautiful house indeed, yet for some unknown reason its previous occupants had abandoned it on a whim, and Katy's grandparents had secured it for a fraction of its true value. The street in which the house was situated was a vast, perfect sort of street, the type synonymous with 'Wisteria Lane'. The ample little American boulevard. Even an appropriate scent of freshly cut grass hung in the air. Katy inhaled the fresh air, recognising the difference in scent from Portland to California. California smelt similar to Spain; it was an exotic, humid smell that was warm and intoxicating and inviting. It was a far cry from the dank, heavy smell of rain that so frequently was present in the Portland breeze. It was also a lot more sunny in California than Portland. The sun beat down on her like a bully, as though to make her realise what she had been missing in Portland, what with its infamous dreary state.
A few hours later, the boxes had been crated into the house and Katy stood, staring around, in her new living room. Then she began tearing open boxes and set to work on furbishing her new house.
Some hours later the doorbell rang for the first time. Katy, who had been religiously depositing clothes on the bed and arranging them into organised piles, jumped up, promptly smacking her head off a shelf above her. Cursing, she hobbled down the stairs, a hand at her head. She twisted the front door handle at moderate speed and swung it open.
Then she blinked. There was a small, podgy-looking woman on her doorstep, and she was beaming up at her. Her face was flushed red and her hair was a wiry, coppery sort of colour, and she wore a black hair-band in it. She had a fat, leathery-looking hand outstretched in front of her, and Katy looked at its contents. A ticket, of some sort. She looked back up at the woman, wearing a frown.
"You've just moved in, haven't you dear?" said the woman in her squeaky voice.
"Yes, I have," replied Katy, a thin eyebrow raising. She glanced back down at the ticket. "Is that for me?"
The woman nodded, making her treble chin jiggle. "Oh, yes dear, if you want it. It's a ticket to the party at the Swinton Hotel, actually. Very exclusive place, is the Swinton. Just at the edge of town, too."
Tentatively, Katy reached forwards and pulled the ticket from the woman's grasp. "Thanks. But why are you giving me this?"
By way of answer, the woman turned on her fat little heel and wobbled off. Katy darted after her.
"Uh, hey, excuse me! What is this party? Why are you giving me this ticket?" But the woman did not turn, or answer. Katy watched her hobble over the road, reddened flesh wobbling around like jelly, and disappear into a house opposite. She stood there for a moment, staring at the woman's identical house, then remembered the paper in her hand. A ticket. She glanced down at it, hoping it would hold more answers for her questions. But all it said was the time to be there, and the address of the hotel. She gave the ticket one last, hard look, before throwing it into a bush and stalking off inside. Guilt twinged in the pit of her stomach, but she ignored it. The woman had been ignorant enough to give her the ticket without any sort of real explanation, hadn't she? So it was perfectly alright that Katy should have acted in that manner.
But all night, Katy found herself thinking about the ticket, and found herself unable to get to sleep because of it. She tossed and turned, but she was completely awake. What, do you want to go back outside for it? a voice inside her said sternly, but Katy shook her head.
"Don't be so dumb," she muttered to herself irritably, but the desire to go out for it remained. This was totally dumb- a ticket to a party! And she was actually worrying about it! She rolled over to her side once more, annoyed with herself. Then, eventually, she was able to welcome the emptiness of sleep.
That was when the dreams started.
She was lying on the ground, immobilized, her head turned to the right and feeling as heavy as stone. It really was as though her own bones had gained in weight, sinking her limbs unwillingly into the earth. And she knew it was earth, as its rustic, rich smell filled her nostrils, and she felt herself sink slightly into the ground, something that could not be done with concrete.
She rolled her eyes upwards- the only body part that didn't feel like it was a tonne in weight- and saw green. Dark green. And it was flapping about in front of her face. The source of the material was obscured by a streak of white light, however. Katy tried to move, her heart thudding, but still her bones weighed her down to the earth.
She tried to cry out, but when her mouth opened it was filled completely with mud. Earthy-tasting, dirty, wet mud. She started to cry, the mud tasted beyond disgusting, and it seemed every time she opened her mouth further that tiny gap got filled up with mud, too. She tried desperately to spit it out, but as though it too had entered some mega-gravitational forcefield, it weighed heavily in her mouth. And yet the material continued to flap about in front of her face, as though taunting her as she could not get up.
Then, thankfully, she woke up to a cool sunlight streaming through the window. She sat up, cold sweat trickling down her milky pallor, and breathed out heavily. The ticket. Something told her she had to get that ticket back. Her gut instinct seemed to nudge her into action as she stood up and wrapped a dressing gown around her slender frame. She just prayed that it was still there.
It was a further half hour of nail-breaking raking before Katy finally came across the ticket. Seriously, this ticket better be worth screwing up my nails for, she thought irritably. But when she found it she kissed it, despite the earth that coated it.
Earth. She froze. In her dream she had been sinking down into a pile of earth, and it had filled her mouth, almost suffocating her.
Katy felt sick. So sick that she almost threw the ticket away again- it seemed to hold nothing but bad luck for her. But then a knot in her stomach repelled the idea, almost annoyed that she had thought of such a thing. Weird.
Reluctantly, she clung onto it, still unsure why her instincts screamed at her to do so, and ambled back inside to get breakfast. Digging made you hungry, she observed. She placed the ticket in an empty drawer and scuttled off immediately to scrub at her hands.
Over the course of the next few days, talk of the party at the Swinton was rife in the neighbourhood. Katy knew this as she had been visited by yet more curious neighbours, all bringing her various home-welcoming gifts, like peach cobbler, cookies, fruit baskets- all a bit corny, Katy thought, but yeah, better than what most people would treat a teenager like who's suddenly come to live on their turf.
On another positive, it also gave her the opportunity to ask around about the party. She discovered that it was being held by one of the members of the upper end part of the neighbourhood- the higher class people, that was.
Curiously, she never saw the fat little woman after the night she gave her the ticket. She'd also asked around about her, and she was told that the fat little woman was something of a lonesome soul, seldom leaving her house for anywhere- even the shopping she apparently did on-line. Most likely that was the reason she'd scuttled over to Katy's that day with that big false grin and the ticket in her sweaty little hand.
So much for doing something out of good will. She'd also heard from the neighbours that the event was basically really formal, so that afternoon Katy went out and bought herself a super-cute emerald green mini dress for the occasion. She was looking forward to the night now, especially as it gave her the opportunity to meet some new people. And as she had privately suspected, the dream did not occur again when she got the ticket back. And she definitely felt a lot better with it in her possession. So now all she had to do was wait until the night.


The Man in the Green Trench Coat


The cab veered right into the courtyard and spun once round the fountain, like a bulky, yellow snake. The fairy lights draped over the olive trees twinkled and glistened in the approaching darkness, its flickering lights reflecting themselves on the surface of the cab.
It drew up at the kerb just in front of the Swinton Hotel, where an attendant was waiting, arm outstretched and hand latched onto the handle, to greet the people inside. A peach-coloured hand stretched out from the gloom, and was taken in a strong grip by the attendant. Katy stepped out of the cab, her hair in luscious brown waves and dressed in an impressive, cute pink mini-dress. She lstrolled over to the entrance, where two other attendants stood.
At this point she felt decidedly nervous- who was she going to talk to? Why had the little woman given the ticket to her instead of going herself?
"Ticket please?" one attendant asked as she approached, breaking her reverie. She handed over the ticket. "Thank you, miss, now if you may step this way..." Katy was led inside by the attendant, who took her black, fluffy shawl once she'd shrugged it off. The place was impressive, she observed, and certainly very large. We were talking gold and cream pillars, gold-encrusted cherubs on the ceiling, pure wood flooring- you name it. So the weird little woman had been right about that.
"Wine?" asked a waiter, who appeared rather suddenly in front of her with a tray of wine glasses.
"Oh, yeah, thanks," said Katy awkwardly, taking one and setting off to find a seat. An hour later, Katy was sitting in amongst a crowd of students, chatting amiably with a few members. By students, she really meant a bunch of kids who clearly thought that since they were in Cali University that they were better than everyone else. She knew a few of their names- Eric, who was sitting opposite her, Delia, who was sitting two seats to her right, and Andrew, three seats to her left. The others had either been too drunk to introduce themselves or too aloof to do so.
She liked Andrew best- he didn't seem as-up as the others. She liked the way he looked too. He had floppy, dyed bright red hair that hung over one of his green eyes, and a peachy sort of pallor with rosy cheeks. He wore a casual striped shirt -with the sleeves rolled-up- and a black tie, with black trousers and shoes. Sort of smart and casual, thought Katy admiringly.
"Do you want more wine?" he asked, leaning across the table with a bottle of wine tilted above her glass. He had a smarmy, I'm-cute-and-I-know-it face on, which almost caused Katy to wrinkle her nose.
"Yeah, sure," Katy replied, faking a smile slightly. He was a little bit annoying, but nothing in comparison with his friends. Apart from his sort-of arrogant nature, she really did like him.
The wine glugged loudly as it was poured into the glass, practically to the brim. Eric shot him a conspiratorial look, as Katy raised the glass to her lips.
"Wait!" cried Eric, grasping the glass and looking panicked.
"What?" asked Katy, blinking, the glass hovering close to her mouth.
Eric grinned evilly. "Drink it in a downer! I dare you."
"No! I hate doing that,” she muttered, a little more grudgingly than intended.
"Go on. I dared you. Just do it," whined Eric. Other members of the group were turning round with rapt attention, staring at Katy. One thing Katy had discovered about Eric in the short time she had known him for was that he was a prime practical joker. Quite odd for such a pompous person.
"Go on! It's not going to kill you, you know..."
"Alright, fine!" groaned Katy, throwing the glass up to her lips so forcefully that it was likely to spill. But it didn't. Instead, the liquid had turned to ice less than a second before it made contact with Katy's face. As a result, the ice in the glass smacked promptly off her nose, causing a surge of pain to course through it. She spluttered frantically, as blood began to flow mutinously from her nostrils.
"Katy?" said Andrew, as he and several other members of the party flocked to her aid.
"I'm fine!" she coughed, wiping away the blood in a daze. She looked up into Andrew's concerned face. "Where's the bathroom?" she asked, gasping as the hot sticky substance threatened to drip into her mouth.
"Down the hall. I'll take you,” he said, pulling her up by the elbow before she could protest and wheeling her out of the room. They walked at a brisk pace down the dark, empty hallway until they came to two doors at the end.
"Just here,” said Andrew, pushing her into the female bathroom. Katy fell into it in a daze, and nearly tripped over the train of her dress in the process.
"I'll be next door, but I'm not checking my hair!" he called through the door, as though trying hard to recover the fact that he was vain as well as a bit arrogant. Katy stumbled over to the sink, not really hearing him. Her nose was pulsing too hard. She looked up into the mirror. Wow, I look such a state, she thought. What had even happened? Was it the edge of the glass that had burst her nose? It had felt cool and glass-like anyway- she remembered that much, and also because, as she pressed a finger to the tip of her nose, she felt a cool, wet patch which had not been there previously. She took off her gloves, grabbed some tissue and began mopping at the fresh, warm blood.
Before she could do any more cleaning, however, the room suddenly filled with air so cold it felt as if there were knives stabbing her all over her body. Katy froze, but shook all weird and wonderful thoughts out of her mind as she turned to the likely source- the window.
It was closed. Suddenly, a chilly blast of air swept across her face, making her tremble. She looked around wildly and suspiciously, but saw no signs of anything unusual.
A glass that had been left behind suddenly fell to the floor, smashing into pieces. Katy yelped, and unwillingly stepped backwards. The lights flickered angrily above her, bringing with it a loud, buzzing sound of faulty wiring. Then, there was a sudden stillness, where everything was normal once more, just for a moment.
Everything had completely frozen, as though wandering what to do next. Katy raised a tentative hand into the air, and began trailing her fingertips through it experimentally. She stopped. Her eyes widened. Her body went rigid. And her whole expression, her eyes, her body, was transfixed on the wall opposite her.
For, horrifyingly, crimson, dripping text appeared on the wall, fading slowly until it increased in clarity. It was just the viscosity of blood- Katy would have shuddered if she wasn't so terrified. Slowly, uncertainly, her frightened eyes began to focus on the print, trying, in spite of her fear, to discover what it said.
‘Do you want me to show myself?’
At this, Katy’s eyes widened to such an extent it felt as though her eyeballs would fall out any second. She took an involuntary step backwards, and tripped, falling right back onto the floor without tearing her eyes away from it for a second.
“W-What?” she stuttered, rubbing her eyes to ensure what she was seeing was not a figment of her imagination. She was still pretty certain it was. If not...what could it have been? A ghost? It was then another message appeared on the wall, the last one fading completely, as though someone had completely scrubbed it off.
‘I am all powerful, all great, completely fantastic...' If text could mutter to itself, Katy was sure this was what it would look like. She gave the wall a look of both uncertainty and incredulity. 'Completely fantastic' - that actually made Katy less afraid of the ghost- like a tiny, skinny teacher attempting to order her class around. Somehow not as menacing. After all, ghosts were just people at the end of day.
And it seemed the author of the messages could read her mind.
’Do you think I'm one of those ghosts that you come across in those television shows? Well I'm not. I’m far greater than that, Katy!’
There was a moment where Katy felt as though her ability to breath had just abandoned her.
“How do you know my name?” she asked the wall feebly. Despite the sudden shock of the writing she seemed to relax slightly more. Still terrified, needless to say, but more at ease than she was only but a few moments previously. Again, the writer somehow picked up on this.
‘Don't let your guard down. There is nothing good about talking to me. I can easily show myself to put you back in your place, if you really must persist in acting so juvenile towards your superiors.’
Katy grimaced at the wall. This was one strange ghost. The thought passed her mind to film this on her camera, but, somehow, she felt as though this conversation was private, meaningful. Like this ghost had been waiting for her, only her. Perhaps it was the use of her own name that made her feel so.
“Well, what are you like? What's so bad about showing yourself?” Oh, this was dumb. So dumb. Talking to a wall? mental. What the Hell was in that wine?
‘You would not wish to see me if you knew what I was like...’ the blood red text read.
“No, I believe I probably wouldn’t.” Katy replied truthfully. Not surprisingly, there was a pause between Katy’s words and the next message.
‘Nobody ever wants to see me. I've asked a lot of people over the past eighteen years; none of them even stay in the room long enough for me to finish the sentence. You’re my most persistent visitor yet.’
"Well of course," she muttered irritably. "There's not many people who would stay for long after seeing that."
There was a silence. Well, if you would count it as a silence. Katy decided to change the subject, like she would do if she was talking to any other human being.
“How do you know my name?” she asked again, suppressing a gulp, “And what is your, for that matter?”
‘My name is Varjak. Varjak Swinton.'
"Who are you, exactly? What are you? A ghost?"
'Find out for yourself…you'll not hear from me again. I'm going away from here, I need to move on. Goodbye.’