The Lost: Book Two of The Whitechapel Chronicles

Chapter 26

When the screaming started, I began to wildly flail and kick for the surface.

I had been under so deep that the darkness surrounding me was almost impenetrable, enveloping me like the warmest of blankets, cushioning my bruised body, nurturing my tortured soul.

When I had settled down to sleep, my mind had been racing, with nothing but images of Josiah and Harper crowding my head and making it hard to breathe.  Bunkering down next to Lucius on the cold unforgiving floor of the old Mills basement room, the boy had stirred in his slumber, his eyes crinkling as he let out a little grumble. Snuggling closer to my arm, his little gloved hand slipped into mine and immediately he was calm, tiny contented snores drifting up from his still body. Having him close seemed to calm me also and soon I found my eyelids drooping heavily, unable to fight the unrelenting exhaustion any longer.

Down, down, down I went, gladly, welcoming the darkness as it consumed me and content to leave the nightmares behind.

That was until the first scream pierced through the gloom, cutting through the black like a shard of glass, and then it was quickly followed by the others, the sound escalating from blissful nothingness to ear-shattering shrieks of agony that made my head feel like it might split into two.

Staggering to my feet, disorientated and dizzy, I stumbled over to the doorway, leaning against it as I tried to steady myself. Inside the lower basement room, all was as it had been before. Some slept, having relinquished themselves to slumber like I had and some just sat in the dark, keeping watch. None of them were screaming.

"Megan?" A soft, gruff voice called out to me and I turned to find Garrick, raised up on his elbow, staring at my half-bent form as I fought to stop myself from crumbling to my knees.

"I-I need some air, I'll be fine," I said, with a pained grimace that would have fooled no one and pitched myself into the large room, dragging my feet past those probing, suspicious eyes. I already knew that he was following, I'd heard the sound of his feet shuffling on the stone floor, I'd heard him hiss my name but I couldn't stop. I needed to get out of this room that smelt of decay and rot, I needed to flee from the ghosts that dwelt here, I needed to dash my head against a brick wall and deafen the cries.

Harper was where I had left him, ever the watchman, ever alert and he was already on his feet when I tumbled into the stairwell.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

The screaming was breaking me. The sound was tearing me apart as if ghostly hands had grabbed hold of my limbs and were threatening to rip me to pieces. Harper tried to reach out to steady me as I staggered past him, but I shook him off, clambering up the staircase to the ground level above. The sun had barely just set on the city horizon and the light was fading fast, tinges of dusky mauve seeping in through the shattered windows of the Mill. My feet crunched in the grit as I ran through the building, heading straight for the door and taking in great gulps of air as soon as I ran through it, throwing my back up against the wall and staring up into the evening sky.

The pain rocketed down the back of my neck, the muscles in my shoulders automatically tightening as if someone were squeezing them hard in clenched fists. I clutched my head but the noise only grew louder as the voices fought to be heard. I did crumble then, my legs unable to take the strain any longer and they buckled underneath, my back sliding down the wall as I hit the floor hard.

Firm hands grabbed me and pulled me into a sitting position, although my body tried to resist, curling up almost foetal in an effort to protect itself.

"Megan," a voice said close to my ear, but it was muted by the screams and seemed so far away. Everything seemed so far away.

"Megan, please," the voice said again. Harper's voice, an edge of uncharacteristic panic in his tone.