Razorhurst (38 page)

Glory was already downstairs. She’d walked through them without faltering, as if they weren’t there. Kelpie closed her eyes. If she couldn’t see them, then …

She could feel them.

Her stomach clenched, shifted. She swallowed and opened her eyes. Large eyes were looking straight at her. She squeezed Dymphna’s hand even tighter.

“Come on, Kelpie,” Dymphna said.

Glory was talking to one of her men at the bottom of the stairs.

Kelpie kept her gaze down. She tried to slow her breathing, to take that first step and keep on going. Another ghost walked straight through her. She felt like a littlie. Not a grown-up like Dymphna. She reminded herself that they were the same age. If Dymphna was grown up, then she had to be too. Dymphna would not quail at a house full of ghosts. Nothing scared her.

Dymphna leaned down to whisper in Kelpie’s ear, “Look down. Say nothing. Don’t look at them. Don’t think about them. Walk as if you and I are the only ones here.”

Dymphna took a step, pulling Kelpie with her. But Kelpie felt herself floating.

Dymphna knows. Dymphna sees them too
.

Kelpie could not hold on to that.

How could Dymphna know? How could Dymphna see? How could she not even flinch?

Dark spots filled her vision as if the air was full of holes, but then everything was light, floating upward, unanchored. Kelpie could not stay conscious in such a dislocated world.

She fell into weightlessness.

Betting Shops

Gambling was everywhere in Razorhurst. In every pub, every gentlemen’s establishment, as well as the establishments of the not-so-gentle men. Rumour had it that the gentlemen’s lavatories on the top floor of David Jones were run by an attendant who was also an SP bookie. Marble sinks; porcelain trough; clean, fresh towels; and a chance to place an each-way bet on the nags. Or whatever else you fancied. Couldn’t find better than that, could you?

Gambling was not legal. Which meant there were no regulations. Which meant being able to bet on anything.

Such as: would Glory’s party end with the coppers closing it down?

How many more would be dead by midnight?

Was 1932 the bloody year of 1928 all over again? If so, how many dead razors and standovers before the end of the month? Several had money on eleven. Which was how many it had been back in ’28.

Would Mr. Davidson take over all of Razorhurst? Short odds. Or would Gloriana Nelson take over the whole pie? Longer ones. Even longer were the odds on them both being gone by the end of the month. But there was plenty of money on it.

Would Dymphna Campbell make it through the day?

She was the Angel of Death, which led many to believe she was impervious to the permanent good night. How could the Angel of Death die? But plenty said, no, her days were numbered
because
she was Death’s angel, and Death always came to claim his own. She’d been the best girl in the entire city for how long now? Almost three years. It was clear as day her number was up.

Dymphna would have been saddened to know that the book was running heavily against her. She’d be even sadder to know that Neal Darcy had once killed her himself, under the name of Kitty Macintosh.

She might not have tickets on herself, but everyone else did.

DYMPHNA

Dymphna saw Kelpie’s eyes roll back. She slipped her arms around her before Kelpie could tumble down the stairs. The girl weighed disturbingly little. Dymphna put one arm under her back and the other under her feet and carried her down. She vowed that she would feed Kelpie more than three times a day—ten or a dozen times—as much as it took for her not to feel hollow boned like a bird.

She vowed, too, to teach the kid everything she knew about ghosts. She should have told her back at the flat. But Dymphna had been rattled, and Jimmy had barely left her side. She could not do anything that would encourage him to stay. She refused to have him haunting her for the rest of her life.

Even so, she should have told Kelpie.

The time to tell her was not at Glory’s house caught in a swarm of ghosts.

Dymphna doubted that Kelpie had ever known anyone else who saw them. She had seen only one other person who did, before Kelpie that was. They were rare, Kelpie and her.

She’d handled it all wrong. Might have lost Kelpie forever, she’d made such a mess of things.

Glory looked up. “She fainted?”

Dymphna nodded.

“Take her to the kitchen. We’ll get some water and food into her. That’ll bring her round. She’s practically starving, poor wee pup. I should’ve had food brought up first thing. I wasn’t thinking. Sorry, Dymphna.”

Dymphna would almost have believed that Glory hadn’t placed her bejewelled hands around her throat and squeezed. She wondered how close Glory had been to killing her.

She followed Glory into the kitchen, Kelpie limp in her arms. Mercifully it wasn’t like the rest of the house. There were only two ghosts.

“Hello, Johnno,” Dymphna said to Glory’s head chef.

Though they could not look less alike, Johnno Bailey reminded Dymphna of Isla, her family’s cook. Johnno Bailey cared about food the way Isla had. It was why Dymphna had stepped out with him.
He was the only man she’d been with who was alive to talk about it. Not that anyone knew. Because he was a decent bloke, he’d kept his mouth shut.

“Johnno, clear that crate.”

It was an order Johnno would only take from Glory. He gestured the kitchen hand back to his work and gathered up a bag of potatoes so Dymphna could put Kelpie down on the crate. He handed her half an onion. “Stick that under her nose.”

Dymphna did. Kelpie coughed.

“Water,” Glory said. “Give the puppy water.”

Johnno handed Dymphna a cup. She held it to Kelpie’s lips as her eyes opened.

“It’s all right,” Dymphna said. “Sip the water.”

Kelpie took the cup in her hands and sipped, then gulped. She held the cup out for more. Dymphna handed it to Johnno, who filled it and gave it back to Kelpie.

Unlike the rest of Surry Hills, Glory’s kitchen was modern, with running water, gas you didn’t have to put money in the meter for, and electricity. One of her iceboxes was electric.

“How do you feel?” Dymphna asked.

“Better,” Kelpie mumbled, staring at her.

Dymphna looked across at where a ghost was sitting with its back against the largest of the iceboxes counting its fingers. She made sure not to catch its eye, then she looked back at Kelpie. Kelpie didn’t say anything, but Dymphna knew she understood.

“You need something to eat,” Glory said. “Then you’ll be right as rain.”

Johnno handed Kelpie a sandwich, bacon poking out of the sides. She took a large bite and then another and another, and then it was gone. The girl could eat faster than anyone Dymphna had ever seen.

“You’re looking fine, Dymphna.”

“Thanks, Johnno. You too.”

“Are we ready?” Glory asked Johnno.

He indicated the platters of sausages and bacon sandwiches set to be handed out to the throngs on the back lane. “Just give the word.”

Glory looked out the window. “The sun’s almost low enough, don’t you think?”

“Wouldn’t hurt to start a bit early.”

One of the waiters came through and whispered to Glory. She
turned to Dymphna and Johnno. “First of the proper guests are here, my lovelies.”

Glory smiled at Dymphna, and she could see Glory’s joy in all of this: the chaos of wining and dining affluent, tuxedoed men inside and the people of the Hills in back. All the while plotting how to deal with her enemies. Gloriana Nelson had no use for a quiet life.

“Yes, start feeding the proud folk of the Hills. I shall see to me honourable guests. Dymphna, join us when you think the wee one’s up to it.”

Kelpie still sat on the crate, slumped against the wall. She did not look like she had the energy to stand up, let alone join the party. Dymphna squeezed in beside her on the milk crate.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly in Kelpie’s ear. “I should have told you sooner. But I didn’t want Jimmy to overhear.”

Kelpie let her head rest on Dymphna’s shoulder.

“The key is to never let them know that you see them. You have to learn to close your eyes to them even when your eyes are open. Focus on what you can touch and taste. Narrow your gaze and close your ears to all but breathing people. Don’t see the grey. Shut out the dead.”

Dymphna wished she could see more than the top of Kelpie’s head. She had no idea how she was responding.

“They prey on us, you know. You can’t let them. I’ll teach you. Once we’re away from this mess—it will be you and me, and I’ll teach you everything you need to know.”

“Where will we go?” Kelpie asked in a whisper.

“Far away from here. Overseas.”

“Somewhere … somewhere there are no … none of them?”

Dymphna was fairly sure there was no such place. Where there were people, there were ghosts. Hell, where there
weren’t
people, there were often ghosts.

“We’ll see what we can do.”

Johnno Bailey