Dead Push (Kiera Hudson Series Two#7) (8 page)

“Yes,” Lilly said.

“But why send those letters to Sophie?” I asked. “What was the point?”

“What was the point in you going to find her again?” Lilly came back quickly at me.

“Because…” I started.

“Because you still had feelings for her,” Lilly cut over me. “Noah believes that the photographer wanted to awaken the feelings that Sophie once had for you, so when you came together again you would resume that love affair. Now can you imagine how much pain that would have caused…”

“Kiera,” I whispered, before she had a chance to finish. “But I stayed true to Kiera.”

“When that didn’t work, a picture with the word
push
was left in Kiera’s flat for you or her to find, it didn’t matter who, as long as it worked its way back to her,” Lilly said. “The photographer knew the picture would awaken Kiera’s feelings for her father and she would go in search of him. With the word ‘push’ written on the back, Kiera would somehow believe it was her destiny to find her father again. Get a second shot at some happiness. After all, she had found little to be happy about in this new world.”

“But that photograph led her to me,” Jack grunted, his crazy yellow eyes fading in brightness. It was something close to a look of remorse – something I had never seen in the evil bastard’s eyes before.

“What do you mean?” I asked him.

“That picture the photographer left for Kiera or you to find in her apartment wasn’t of her father, it was of me looking like her father,” Jack tried to explain. “I took on Frank Hudson’s form to bait Kiera into the house so I could take her hostage and tell her that she was my sister. She was so pleased to see me – or who she believed to be her father –
that she threw her arms about me. It was then the photographer appeared in the front doorway and took the photo of us together.”

“W
eren’t you just a teeny-weeny bit suspicious?” I sneered, unable to let go of those feelings of mistrust I had for Jack deep inside of me.

“No, not really,” Jack said, his eyes still dull-looking. “I’d heard Luke mention the photographer before and I thought it was all just part of the trap we were setting for Kiera at that time.”

“So whoever this photographer is, he’s working for Luke and the Elders?” I said.

“Not necessarily so,” Lilly said. “Noah thought the same at first and so did I, but now we’re not so sure.”

“He must be,” I insisted. “Whoever it is, he or she is going around sending letters and taking pictures to remind us of our past lives. It was one of those photographs that led Isidor to his death. This photographer left a picture of Isidor and the girl he loved in a grate leading down into The Hollows. So don’t sit there and try and tell me that this photographer is nothing more than a piece of scum.”

“Perhaps Isidor’s death was an accident,” Lilly said.

“Look, lady, I’m not known for my sense of humour, so stop trying to be funny,” I growled at her. “That picture led to Isidor dying, and that’s another thing I have to feel guilty about.”

“More pain,” Lilly said thoughtfully. “Guilt isn’t an easy thing to live with.”

“Stop the psychotherapy session, I’m not in the fucking mood,” I said. “I made my peace with Isidor before he died. So don’t sit there in judgment – you’re not so freaking perfect yourself.”

“So why has the guy in the ticket booth had a change of heart about the photographer?” Jack suddenly said, as if it was now his turn to diffuse the growing tension, not between us, but between Lilly and me.

Lilly looked at him and said, “At first it was believed that the photographer – whoever it is – was assisting the Elders by provoking old memories in you all, so you sought out your past lives and relived the pain there.”

“Whoever it is has done a great job,” I said, unable to hide my bitterness.

“But Noah noticed that perhaps delivering the letters and taking photographs has had a positive effect on this world,” Lilly said.

“Watching my friend Isidor have his head ripped off by a bunch of filthy wolves isn’t what I would call positive,” I said.

“No, but the holes – the cracks – that the letters and pictures made are a good thing,” Lilly said.

Both Jack and I looked back at her blankly.

“Those letters made a hole or a crack in this world, in which the old world could shine through,” Lilly said. “So in a way, Murphy was right. He saw it too, and like Noah and me, at first he thought those holes being made in the tracing paper were a bad thing, but they’re not – they’re very, very good.”

“Why?” Jack asked, leaning forward on the bench and staring at her.

“Because those holes and cracks are weakening this world that the Elders pushed you into,” she said, dropping her voice to a whisper again. “The more of us who remember our past lives, the more holes appear in the tracing paper. What if there were eventually so many holes that more and more of us could see through to what the world used to be and should be like? What if the humans started to remember? Do you think they would sit back and let their children be taken to those schools for matching? Do you think Luke and the wolves would be running the show for much longer if they remembered what the world used to be like?”

I looked away from Lilly and out across the station. I watched the line of dead people wait for their ticket to travel. I looked at Noah as he happily punched each of them out a ticket. Then slowly turning my head to look at Lilly, I said, “This is what this station is for. This is what Noah is doing. Every time he gives out one of those tickets and these people make journeys back into their past lives, they are pushing open holes in that tracing paper that separates the two worlds.”

“Exactly,” Lilly nodded with a smile. “Noah is making cracks. With each journey that is made, more appear until this whole
pushed
world the Elders created falls apart, revealing the one underneath. And just like I remembered Murphy and my past life, so will everyone else remember theirs, too.”

“So if Noah and you have all this figured out, what are me and Jack doing here?” I asked.

“Whoever the photographer is, he or she is passing through the cracks. They could be waiting in line right now. So we need you to unmask this photographer so we can discover if he or she is working for us or against us,” Lilly explained.

“If you don’t know where to find the photographer, how do you expect me and Potter to know where he is?” Jack asked, and he was rubbing his temples again with his fingertips as if suffering a migraine.

“You might not know where the photographer is now,” Lilly smiled, “but you know where he has been.”

“So… what?
I’m gonna somehow go back to the day he took a picture of me with the dead wolf boy and unmask him?” I scoffed. “Is Jack meant to rip back the photographer’s hood as he’s taking a picture of himself and Kiera?”

“You’ve got the plan kind of half right,” Lilly said. “Neither you and Jack can go back and come in contact with yourselves. Noah says that would be really, really bad.”

“So if we can’t go to where and when we can be sure the photographer will appear, how the fuck are we meant to catch him?” I quizzed.

“You said that the photographer left a picture for your friend Isidor in a grate leading down into The Hollows,” Lilly reminded me. “You also said that he left a picture of Kiera and her father in her apartment. So
there are two times and places you know for sure the photographer will show up.”

“So you want us to go back together?” Jack asked, his eyes now shining brightly again.

“Not together,” Lilly said. “We don’t have time for that – and besides, what if you both missed him? We only have one shot at this. We stand a better chance of you finding the photographer if you split up.”

I was still trying to get my head around what it was Lilly was asking me and Jack to do, when she stirred me out of my thoughts by touching me on the shoulder and saying, “Potter, you go back and wait for the photographer to place the picture in Kiera’s apartment.” Then turning to look at Jack, she added, “And you, Jack, go back to the place where the photograph was placed for Isidor to find. One of you is sure to discover the identity of this photographer.”

“But I haven’t got a clue where this grate is going to be…” Jack started to protest.

“I know where it is – well, I can point you in the right direction at least,” I said, trying to remember the story Isidor told us. “You need to find a place called Lake Lure. Isidor and his girlfriend, Melody Rose, used to sit and read by the lake there.”

“Sounds like a right barrel of laughs,” Jack snarled.

“Find Isidor and you’ll find the place where he used to creep out from The Hollows and where the photographer leaves the picture for him,” I said, getting to grips with the plan.

“And what about you?” Lilly asked me, a look of concern on her face.

“I think I can find Kiera’s apartment all right,” I said. “It will feel strange to see her again. I wonder how different she will be…”

“This isn’t some kind of jolly,” Lilly snapped. “You’re not to have any contact with Kiera. She isn’t the Kiera you know and love. That’s not why you’re going back through the cracks.”

“Murphy told me that Kier
a got shot dead attending a robbery,” I said.

“So?!”
Lilly said. “Don’t concern yourself with that. Don’t get involved with the Kiera Hudson of the
pushed
world. Don’t interact with her or change anything. Unmask the photographer and come back.” She stared at me then added, “If you don’t think you can handle not getting involved with Kiera, then I’ll send Jack in your place and you can go and find the grate…”

“I can handle it,” I said, standing up. “I don’t think we should send Jack, do you? What, with his record for rape and murder.”

“She’s my sister,” Jack barked, jumping up onto his long spidery legs.

“Didn’t stop you in the Dust Palace,” I shot back. Before he could come back at me, I eyed Lilly and said, “So let’s get this over with. How do we go back through the cracks?”

Looking at me, Lilly said, “Get in line like everyone else and get yourself a ticket.”

Chapter Eleven

Jack

If that prick made one more jibe about me being a killer, I was going to tear him a new arsehole. He had done his own fair share of killing in the past. Potter was far from perfect – but he strutted around the goddamn place as if his shit didn’t stink. He had left as much shit in his wake as I had. I was glad we were splitting up. The mission would have lasted five freaking minutes if it had been me and him traveling back together. Only one of us would have come back through the cracks Lilly had spoken about, and it wouldn’t have been that obnoxious prick.

I got in line behind Potter. Lilly stood beside me. Being seven foot tall, I towered over those ahead of me. I could see the line snaking away. I glanced at those who wandered about the huge concourse.
So many dead people. A thought struck me which made my heart race: Would any of my victims be here? Were any of those women I had previously slain be waiting to get a ticket to go back? Would they recognise me? Sure they would – I was the last thing they saw as I ripped them to pieces. Would they want to speak to me? I doubted it. But I would love to speak with any one of them. It would be fascinating to talk with them about what I had done to them. I rubbed my temples with the tips of my bony fingers again. I could ask them what it had felt like to be scared by me. What had that fear felt like for them? Was there a little part of them which had secretly enjoyed what I’d done?

“
Stop it, Jack
,” I whispered to myself, pushing those thoughts away.

But maybe some of my victims did find their death as much as a rush as I found killing them, I wondered. Maybe there was something in that fine line between pleasure and pain.

“
Stop it
,” I whispered again to myself and swallowed hard. I didn’t want to think like that anymore. If only those thoughts would go away. Leave me in peace.

“What did you say?” Potter said, jerking his head around to look at me.

“Nothing,” I scowled at him.

He turned away again with a shrug of his broad shoulders.

“Are you all right?” Lilly asked, placing one hand gently on my forearm. “Are you struggling?”

I knew Lilly would understand my conflicting feelings – she was a wolf after all. I wondered how many she had killed in her life – or had she managed to beat the curse? Killing is like crack – you do it the once and spend the rest of your life chasing that original high. Now wasn’t the time to ask. I had to get my demons in check if this mission was going to be a success. I couldn’t risk everything by going on a killing spree on the other side of the cracks and holes Noah and the photographer had been making. But those thoughts – cravings – just wouldn’t go away; they never truly did. Killing to me was as natural as breathing air. The cravings
were always there, sometimes weak, other times, strong. It was like they rippled over me in waves. As I stood in line, those waves of desire to kill had grown suddenly strong, and like always, I didn’t know how long it would be until they faded again. The quickest way for them to go was to make a kill – but I didn’t want to do that anymore.