The Guardian's Protector: The Chamber of Souls (7 page)

Then again, Amy had never been in love. Not even now. She liked Luke, really liked him, but Amy could never say she knew what love meant, especially if it meant you cry and get all daft. Maybe that’s why Amy had just stuck with Jack as her best friend; boys were less emotional.

‘Yes, but,’ Joan interrupted, ‘they’ve got a baby now and, well, I’ve never seen Luke be rude like that before.’

‘I didn’t think he’d dare!’ Frank said. ‘But he’s not worth your tears, Amy. You’re tougher than that!’

Amy nodded and faked a smile, thankful that they thought Luke’s behaviour was the reason for her meltdown. If they knew the real reason for her upset, that it may be true that Tom was magical, or that it may also be true that Luke was influenced by some dark force, they wouldn’t have a clue what to do. For that matter, even with what she just witnessed and whether or not she believed in the supposed light and dark forces, neither did Amy.

CHAPTER 5

THE MEETING

The event played so heavily on Amy’s mind that she could see Luke’s blackened eyes whenever she closed her own. She watched him like a predator whenever he was around—which he wasn’t much of late—trying to see if it would happen again. He wouldn’t tell her where he had been when he’d been gone for days at a time, which gave her a good excuse to make him to sleep on the couch whenever he was home.

She knew if she saw his eyes blacken again she could shout Adaizi’s name, but after two weeks of sleeping with one eye open in case he crept back into bed, and despite the baseball bat by the side of it, she told herself she’d imagined Luke’s eyes turning black.

Tom was a different matter. She couldn’t get away from his strange behaviour as easily. Uninterested in the toys that hung in front of his bouncer chair, he sat, staring at his hands, flicking his fingers with a concentrated look.

‘Tom’s a silly sausage!’ she shouted, to distract him. It worked every time; he screamed with delight each time she emphasised the word ‘sausage’. When Amy spoke to him he fixated on her mouth and tried to move his own.

It was the day of her first meeting at her local baby clinic. Amy had received a letter from her general practitioner telling her she should have Tom’s weight monitored. As she entered, most of the mums, sitting in wicker chairs in front of a large table, turned to look at her. Amy smiled at a few she recognised from the café. Behind the table, which held two large weighing scales, stood a woman in her late fifties with short, blonde hair.

‘Please undress your child on the changing table,’ she said, pointing to a table to her right, ‘then bring him here to be weighed.’ Amy smiled, placed Tom on the mat, undressed him, then carried him over. ‘I’ve not seen you before,’ said the nurse, as she placed Tom in the scales. ‘You’ve left it a long time for your first visit, haven’t you?’

‘Sorry,’ Amy said, feeling uncomfortable. ‘I was only just told.’

‘He’s a bit underweight, I think. How old is he?’ Amy knew if anything, Tom was overweight; he was huge compared to Francesca.

‘He’s seven weeks,’ Amy said.

‘Seven months, yes, I thought so. He’s a lot underweight,’ she said, lifting Tom out of the cold scales and passing him back to Amy.

‘Seven weeks old,’ Amy corrected.

‘Very funny,’ she said, then laughed.

‘What do you mean, very funny?’ Amy asked, placing Tom on her hip, one arm around his waist to support him.

‘Well, I know he doesn’t quite look seven months old,’ she said haughtily, pointing her finger at him like he was a criminal, ‘but I’m telling you he certainly isn’t seven weeks!’

‘Why not?’

‘His size. The fact that he’s supporting himself. In my professional opinion, this boy is around four to five months old.’ She gave Amy a look like she had proved her a liar.

‘He’s seven weeks,’ Amy insisted.

The lady looked at Tom, who’d been moving his head from her to Amy like he was at a tennis match, and her face hardened. ‘He certainly is not…’ she began again, but another nurse came over with Tom’s medical records and the pair of them began conferring.

Amy could feel the eyes of the mothers behind her and turned to give some of them a shy shrug. The woman opened the records and, as she read Tom’s date of birth, her eyebrows joined into one across her forehead.

‘I don’t believe it. I am ever so…’ She looked at Tom and back to the records and was clearly astonished. ‘…Sorry.’

‘That’s okay,’ Amy said, although she didn’t feel like being polite. ‘So is he overweight now?’

‘Yes…I mean…I…err,’ the woman said, fumbling with a chart. ‘Tom’s the largest seven-week-old we’ve had.’ She tried to remain professional, but her face showed how awkward she felt.

‘Right,’ Amy said and took Tom back to the changing table to dress him. It was clear some of the mothers were stunned by his age too.

‘She’s a know-it-all, that one,’ said a friendly young mum, pushing a pram back and forth.

‘It’s fine. I’m Amy, by the way.’

‘I’m Kate. Nice to meet you. My son’s seven weeks as well.’ Kate looked inside her pram. ‘He hates it in here. He always screams the place down because of those scales! Are you going to come once a week from now on?’ Kate asked with a hopeful glance.

‘I don’t think so,’ Amy said, glancing back at the nurse.

‘Don’t worry about sour face,’ Kate said. ‘She says my Ethan’s too big for his age as well. She even told me to get him checked out for some kind of ageing disorder! I can’t remember the name of the condition she said now but…she’s a cheeky cow!’ Amy didn’t know how to respond; surely a nurse wouldn’t say that without reason, but Amy gave her an agreeable nod.

‘We’re going to a café after here.’ Kate pointed to some other mums. ‘You’re welcome to come along if you like.’

‘Thanks,’ Amy said. ‘I will.’

After placing Tom back into his pram, several mothers set off down the road. Amy smiled when the other mothers glanced her way, but it was only Kate who made the effort to speak to her. As they continued onto the main road, Amy realised it was her café.

‘I work here,’ Amy said. Kate looked impressed. The door and window to the shop next door lay flat on the pavement outside, barricaded off for pedestrians to walk around. The sound of hammers echoed from inside.

As she stepped inside the café, Amy was surprised by the reconstruction. The counter, which normally ran the full length of the café, had been made into two with a walkway in between. On the wall behind was the reason why: a beautiful archway had been situated for customers to walk through. In front of the archway was a small barricade and a ‘no entry’ sign.

‘All right?’ Jack asked, stepping over the barricade, sweat dripping from his dirty forehead.

‘As if you weren’t grungy looking enough!’ Amy laughed. ‘Are you clean enough to make some brews?’ Amy whispered, health and safety laws coming to mind.

‘Yeah! I’ve only got to wash my hands!’ he said, looking confused. ‘Hey guess what, Amy,’ Jack said, with eagerness. ‘I can have the upstairs for my martial arts gym!’ His face lit with happiness. All he’d ever wanted was his own gym.

‘Great,’ Amy said, loathing the fact that Winston had got his claws further into him. She would have continued giving encouragement, but her attention went to a large workman in the shop behind wiping a muscular arm across his forehead to brush his messy locks from his ruggedly handsome face. His white T-shirt, which had become transparent with moisture, clung to his chiselled frame. Oblivious to her, he stood, speaking with Winston.

In her mind’s eye she watched him dive off a cliff and into a waterfall then envisioned him rising from the deep, blue water with ease, a fizz of white frothy ripples surrounding him as he shook those messy locks. A sexy voice naming the latest aftershave could be added in the background at a later date.

As the Adonis turned, she noticed a deep, horrific scar running the down the left side of his face, ruining his otherwise perfect skin, and her heart jumped. If it weren’t for the scar he would have been flawless. As she wondered what could possibly have happened to him to create such a terrible deformity, he stopped talking to Winston and met her gaze. His striking, teal-green eyes were gentler than any eyes she’d ever seen, but something in his expression unnerved her. As he gave her a shy, friendly smile, a chill ran through Amy and her skin began to tingle; a sign that something wasn’t right.

She dropped her gaze and began to blush, confused with herself. She’d never stared at anyone so intently. Even though she could feel his eyes still on her, she couldn’t look back up to meet his gaze. Feeling hot under her skin, she looked up at Jack, who held a smirk.

‘He gets that a lot!’ he said.

‘Gets what? I thought I knew him,’ she lied. Even though there was an air of familiarity about him, she knew she’d never seen such a fascinating sight. ‘So shut up and get me a coffee!’ Amy took a deep breath, trying to slow the pace of her heart. She took a sideways glance back at the man to see him still smiling at her. This, she concluded, definitely made him strange.

After ordering their beverages, the mums and babies sat at the table next to the window. Amy took Tom out of his pram and sat him on her knee.

‘Ethan’s waking up,’ Kate said, looking at her pram. A few of the mothers stirred and some shuffled farther away, grimacing as they did. Amy was confused by their actions.

‘Ethan’s a nice name,’ Amy said, trying to lighten the air.

‘Thanks,’ Kate said as she took him out of his pram.

Kate put the child on her knee, and as she turned him to face Amy, Tom jerked back and Amy, holding back a gasp, stared in horror. There was definitely something wrong with him!

Amy had seen children with ageing disorders, but to her they were still beautiful. This was definitely a face only a mother could love. Amy cringed; she’d never had such cruel thoughts. She would scald a person who said a child was hideous, but this reaction couldn’t be helped.

Ethan’s cheeks were screwed up and taut, his skin an odd, none-human grey with blue veined lines running throughout like marbled stone. The texture, she presumed from the way it peeled and flaked, must have been rough; it was like someone had taken all moisture from his skin. It could have been some kind of new and horrid birthmark, but Amy had never seen anything like it.

In addition to this, his head was misshapen. His forehead too big or his crown too small, it looked like part of his brain had been squashed. His hairline was also too low down on his forehead, almost meeting his eyebrows, and his jet black eyes were fixed in a permanent scowl.

As he turned his crooked head, catching Amy’s glance, his lip curled and he made a snarling sound, making him look all the more disgusting. Something in his glare haunted Amy. Physically repulsed, bile rose to her throat. It was all she could do not to retch.

Amy had never felt such a strong aversion to anyone, especially a baby, but something inside her could sense his vicious nature. As he continued to raise his lip even farther, showing his dark gums, an intense feeling of malevolence and terror ripped through her. Amy felt cold, empty and lifeless, her eyes grew heavy and she began leaning forward like some force sucked her towards him.

Tom screamed, which brought her round. She sat back, blinked hard, then averted her eyes away. As she did, her familiar warmth re-entered her state.

‘Aww…he’s smiling!’ Kate said, oblivious to any part of Amy’s experience.

Amy took a deep gulp, her heart racing as she braced herself to ask the question. ‘What date was he born?’ Amy knew exactly what she would say next.

‘The fifteenth of April. Why?’ Kate asked.

Amy’s skin goose pimpled; it was the day before Tom’s. ‘At seven p.m.?’ Amy cringed as she braced herself.

‘Wow, how did you know that? Are you psychic?’ Kate asked.

‘Something like that!’ Amy said, turning her head to Winston, who stood under the arch watching them intently. As her glance held onto his, Amy realised he was on guard. Amy’s hairs stood on end as she glared back into the baby’s unflinching black eyes, which shined like oil.

Kate sat Ethan up and put him directly in front of Tom. ‘Here you are, Tom, a new mate for you. This is Ethan.’

Tom’s eyes were wider than Amy thought possible, his body language clearly indicating he wanted Ethan nowhere near him. He pressed himself as far back as he could into Amy and made his body rigid. Amy edged her chair back, but Kate pushed Ethan right in front of Tom, close enough for them to see eye to eye.

‘Hello, Tom,’ Kate said in a silly voice, holding Ethan’s hands and waving them at Tom. As Ethan’s hand touched Tom’s, immense sparks of white and blue fired between them, the noise like wild static. A magnetic force pulled their hands together and the fizzing sparks grew and fired all around them.

Screams broke out from the mothers as Amy struggled to break their hands free, but the rapid sparks, moving from one hand to the other, had an unbreakable force. They lasted for around ten seconds but the shocking impact made it feel like minutes. When the tie broke, Tom threw himself back as if he was choking and, just when Amy thought he couldn’t breathe, he let out the biggest scream she’d ever heard. He then let out a piercing, mortified ululation.