The Dead House - Dawn Kurtagich Page 0,69

They flash and burn and change; they bleed into one another, but I must try. The first thing is a hand. A huge hand right in my face, and there is terror in my mouth, bursting to get out as I look at it coming slowly forward. I’m choking on the fear, which bends its way into my vitals like an insidious and very conscious weed. The weed knows exactly where to go, and it is laughing.

I see his face—but it’s torn, warped, bleeding. Dad.

There is shadow on a wall, moving, but slowing. And with the slowing, I’m filled with something. And then there is blood on very rough, dark walls—bleeding stone—like walls?!—then, clear as crystal, John the Viking’s face.

He is pale, his eyes wide, his lips grimly set.

He is always in the flashes, right at the end, and I don’t know why, and I am terrified.

79

Naida Camera Footage

Date and Time Index Missing

Naida’s Dorm

The camera light illuminates Naida’s face, turning it to sharp lines and deep furrows. In the distance, the constant echoing drip of water tells us she is in a room of stone. There is no natural light.

“Someone doesn’t want me snooping around,” Naida says, her voice low and solemn. “That little cast I performed… this is what’s been made of it.” She holds up a round object. “It’s a bull testicle, sealed with red wax. My conjure’s inside. The earthroot, the devil’s heart, the silver coin… Then there’s this.”

She lifts a tag from behind the object and reads it aloud.

“‘Be ye not unequally yoked together with unbelievers: for what fellowship hath righteousness with unrighteousness? and what communion hath light with darkness?’ ‘Ye cannot drink the cup of the Lord, and the cup of devils: ye cannot be partakers of the Lord’s table, and of the table of devils’—2 Corinthians 6:14 and 1 Corinthians 1:21.” She sticks her tongue between her teeth and laughs. “He’s quoting scripture at me. He’s taunting me—telling me I haven’t got what it takes to beat him. That I won’t do what might be necessary.”

She laughs again, shaking her head. “Someone’s been inside my room, found the bind I placed in secret, and conjured around it. He—or she, I suppose—is more powerful than I reckoned. But if he thought he’d scare me away by quoting scripture and reworking my bind against me, he doesn’t know me too well. This only makes me more certain. It only makes me more determined.”

She sighs. “But now I have to do something I really don’t want to do.” She looks up into the lens. “I have go and see Haji.”

Diary of Kaitlyn Johnson

Saturday, 8 January 2005, 7:55 pm

Basement

London, my precious London!

Naida’s never done anything like this before. She wants me to take her top hat camera so that we can look at the footage later. No need to tell me how stupid I look. She thinks this guy—Haji, she calls him—might give something away with a glance or a particular phrasing of words.

All I should care about is this: London. London, Dee. My sleepless city, at last, just like Carly and I planned. Cute, right?

Naida says we could be going into a den of vipers, and I secretly hope so. Anything to take away this feeling in my chest.

No going back now. We catch the 9:14 train.

A review of the system records on the date in question reveal no train ticket purchases by Carly Johnson or Naida Chounan-Dupré via credit card. We can only assume cash was used.

80

24 days until the incident

Naida Camera Footage

Sunday, 9 January 2005, 12:15 am

Time Index Not Noted

Top Hat Camera Clip #1

The streetlamps flicker over streets that look as though they’ve seen Victorian England. Kaitlyn, wearing the top hat camera, follows Naida across a deserted road and into a narrow alley; only one set of footsteps echoes against the walls and boarded-up windows that tower on either side.

“Are you sure this is the right way?” Kaitlyn whispers.

“I stole my cousin’s map,” Naida murmurs, rifling through her bag.

She pulls free a thick roll of parchment paper, murmuring, “It shows all the places she gets her supplies and all her… friends.” She nods, her gaze sharpening as she taps the scroll. “We got it right. Down here.”

“Not exactly the side of London I know best.”

The alley continues for three hundred yards and then banks sharply left. Kaitlyn follows Naida around the bend, glancing up at the buildings that tower on either side, and then the alley opens onto a small side street.

“Here,” Naida says, pointing