Gheist Read online

  Kat sat down at the end of a pew near the back. She took off her heels and rubbed the balls of her feet and her arches. The stone floor was too cold to rest them on so she drew them up onto the velvet cushion. She watched the large shadows of the tiny candle flames on the wall.

  3

  Kat was shaken, gently.

  “Excuse me. Miss? Are you OK?” A woman with friendly eyes squatted down in front of her.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” Kat felt stiff. “I didn’t know where to go.” How long had she slept for? Some of the candles had gone out, some looked fresh, their wax cones unmelted.

  “Can I get you a coffee and you can tell me about it?” The lady had an air around her, not just the delicate aura of incense, but like Danton there was a presence, a projection of her personality into her surroundings. It had a soothing effect. “I’m Evelyn,” she said. “I’m the pastor here. You don’t sound like you’re a local.”

  “I’m Kat. From Motherwell, near Glasgow. In Scotland,” Kat said. “A coffee sounds great.”

  Evelyn stood, waited for Kat to put her shoes on. They went towards the altar, a low dais, on which there was a plain wooden table. No fancy triptychs in gold or crucified god here. Even the three alcoves set into the wall around the altar held no statues. Evelyn led Kat through a door in the side of the nave into a small open courtyard where the air was cool and full of the scent of the flowers and plants that grew there, then through another door into a changing and storage area, and finally into a kitchen, where Kat was offered a seat at a table.

  Kat watched Evelyn take a mug from a cupboard and prepare a fresh pot of filtered coffee. She sat down opposite Kat while hot water dripped through to the glass jug on the hot plate, the first drops sizzling.

  “What brought you to America?” Evelyn said.

  “Just a holiday,” Kat said. “Never been to America before. Not left the UK come to think of it. It was my fiancée Tony’s idea. A pre-moon, or some nonsense like that. Help us relax before the big day. ‘We should go see it, babe. The neon, the blue skies, the casinos. It’ll be magic.’ We were going to buy our wedding rings. He did a great sales pitch, made it seem like he’d never been here. I was too blinded by the sunshine to see how easily he fell back into the life; late nights, high stakes.” She couldn’t keep the bitterness out of her voice. She’d been trying to contain it all, hold herself together. But there it all was, ready to flood out of her; a levee about to burst its banks. “A few hands, a few drinks and the sums he was betting went up. I’d only ever played Freecell on the computer. Always been kind of scared of gambling, you know? What if I liked it? Blackjack’s an easy place to start. I started with a few hundred from Tony and made a couple of grand easy. I was high as a kite on nothing more than the thrill of it all. Tony wasn’t doing well. He seemed to sit at tables with higher stakes trying for that big win to recoup his losses. What a cliché.”

  “This isn’t a gentle town,” said Evelyn. “Gets its hook in you. Deep, if you’re not careful.”

  “He knew just where to go to get a loan,” Kat continued. She’d hardly heard Evelyn. “You’d think that would’ve been a bigger clue, right there. Handed over our passports, before I knew it. I hadn’t seen him take them from the room safe. I tried to stop him. But he passed me the money. ‘You’re a natural, you’ll get it back in no time.’ He always knew how to talk me round, now I think about it. Took me to some tables. I was doing quite well, then I did great. I turned my thousands into hundreds of thousands. That got me into the right poker rooms. I think I’d made a million. Didn’t even cash in my chips ‘cos I’d need them the next day. Got up in the morning and found Tony had gone, taking it all. Except he didn’t pay back the sharks. So I’ve been trying to keep them sweet and get back enough to get out of here. At least get my own passport back. Last night they caught up with me, gave me a good kicking. I got into a game earlier tonight, was doing really well, but I lost it all. I owe them, I owe everyone. I just ran, and ended up here.

  “I’m sorry. An attendant in a bathroom sent me this way. I don’t even know if I’m in the place she meant. Saw a couple of other places, but was turned away.”

  Evelyn got up, poured out two mugs of coffee, and slid one over to Kat. “The spirit moves across the world in mysterious ways. You may not be where you were sent, but you’re still in the right place.” Evelyn must have seen a few lost souls before. “Have you eaten?” she asked.

  Kat shook her head, recognising that other hollow feeling as her stomach grumbled just thinking of food.

  “I’ve got some leftover chicken. I’ll make you a sandwich. Then we’ll find you some blankets and you can sleep on the couch. Guess we’ll figure out what to do with you in the morning.”

  That sounded like a good idea, but was that a sigh at the end? Kat couldn’t help but hear a hint of reproach in Evelyn’s voice. Perhaps it was just projection; she needed someone to tell her she’d screwed up.

  The sandwich was good, even if the mayo was the bright white of a movie star’s teeth. One of those weird American things. Like the butter which had the taste as well as the colour bleached from it. She’d heard you couldn’t buy eggs with brown shells as they were considered dirty.

  When she was a kid, her family had gone on holiday once, up North, to Plockton, near the isle of Skye, before they built a bridge. They’d stayed in a croft, which was practically two rooms. If you left the door open the owner’s chickens would be in making a mess of the kitchen floor. But there were plenty of fresh eggs for breakfast.

  Kat finished the sandwich. She washed the plate and the mugs in the sink and put them on the dryer. It sounded like Evelyn was checking every cupboard in the house. Kat went through into a cosy living area. She felt awkward not having been formally invited, though. There was a small TV, and a large number of books. Most of them were on bookshelves bowing under the weight, but plenty more rose up in carefully balanced stacks. On many the paper was discoloured with age. A couple of heavy woollen blankets lay folded on the couch. Was Evelyn looking for a pillow? Kat could sleep without one. She felt heavy, a bag of wet sand which could mould itself to fit anywhere.

  Evelyn smiled when she came back in, threading an old key onto a leather thong. “You should wear this while you’re here. I think you’ve got everything you need. The bathroom is just through there.”

  Kat took the key and turned it over in her hand. It was cold and surprisingly heavy. It looked like it would open a pirate’s treasure chest. Was there a door she might need to use it on? Why did she have to wear it? It seemed a small thing to do in exchange for the woman’s hospitality. No worse than taking her shoes off at the door. Besides it looked like Evelyn wasn’t going to leave until she put it on. She slipped the thing over her head, the cold key hanging between her breasts.

  “See you in the morning,” Evelyn said, and went off to the back of the house.

  Kat scrubbed her teeth with some toothpaste using her finger. She felt a bit better already. She stepped out of her dress and hung it over the back of the sofa. She unfolded the blankets and stretched out on the couch. In moments she was asleep, the key clutched in her hand.

  4

  Kat woke early, confused, on a couch. Why wasn’t she in her hotel room? Yesterday came back in full technicolour. A sense of dread wrapped tightly round her. Breathe. Breath deep. She needed a plan. She couldn’t stay here. Evelyn had been kind, but Kat could see she was an unwelcome presence.

  She got up, unsure what to do. The weight of the key swinging around her neck was unfamiliar. What was that all about? A deep ache pulsed from her side. Her ribs still hurt, the bruises not fading but changing from purple towards green.

  Kat slipped the stolen dress back on. She really needed new clothes, or to get back her own. She felt ashamed wearing this dress. It reminded her of how desperate she had become. She should have gotten help. But she’d chosen the easy way. What could be more natural than winning it all back and winning some freedom
while she was at it? No more need to worry about work, or Tony. She could start again, anywhere. She’d won enough once, she could do it again.

  Exactly. She was a winner. This was just a temporary setback. She’d go back to the hotel. She’d have a long shower and change. She’d tell them she wanted to stay for another week. Simple really. She’d find a job for a few days, wait tables, something down to earth like that. Then with her wages she’d win it all back. So long as Danton and the other goons didn’t come looking for the money she owed them.

  It was very bright in the kitchen. Kat had shunned the light, playing at tables all day round. How could it be so strong so early? She made herself useful by putting on the filter machine. Her stomach grumbled. The eat-when-you-want buffets had kept her going, but all she’d had since breakfast yesterday was Evelyn’s chicken sandwich. It was one thing to put coffee on in someone else’s house, quite another to make yourself breakfast. Her mum had taught her to be a respectful guest. She should do the dishes, but she also didn’t want to disturb her host, clattering around.

  Hiding from the light in the living room, Kat browsed through Evelyn’s books. It felt intrusive, this insight into someone else’s tastes and interests, but she was curious. There weren’t as many theological texts as she’d expected. A few on other faiths, Buddhism, Zoroastrianism, the Cathar heresy, the Sufi and Ismaili sects. Hardly mainstream, but Evelyn was probably a scholar in her field. Most of the books were paperbacks, a mix of horror novels and romance books. It was an unusual combination. Hearing movement, Kat sat down.

  Evelyn looked shocked to see her. Had she forgotten that Kat was here or expected her to have left already?

  “I hope you don’t mind.” Kat lifted her mug. “It should still be hot.”

  Evelyn nodded. She came back with her own mug. “Sorry. You know how it is. Some mornings you need a drop of wake-up juice.”

  “I didn’t want to go without saying thanks first,” said Kat.

  To Kat’s surprise Evelyn smiled. She always seemed so serious. “You’re welcome. But you seemed so out of sorts last night, are you sure you’re ready?”

  “I don’t want to be any trouble. I think I was still in shock. I’ll do what I should’ve done before and talk to the British authorities. I think there’s a consulate in LA. I’ll see how they can help.”

  “As long as you’re sure.”

  Evelyn followed Kat to the door and she started her long walk back to the Strip.

  It was good to feel clean again, put on fresh clothes. She’d throw the dress into a dumpster first chance she got.

  They’d been very understanding about her lost keycard. Kat had hesitated approaching the reception desk. Fearing someone was waiting for her, she’d scoped the place out while lurking behind a pillar. With the card games, the team of bad guys and now the spy work, she had begun living the James Bond fantasy. She forgot to mention her credit cards were gone too, and they’d been happy to extend her stay another week.

  It had been strange seeing the city in the daylight, squinting in the chrome flash of the sun. It had felt empty and washed out. The neon signs had looked forlorn. Everything was a little shabby, frayed and bleached round the edges. Drying her hair, sitting on the bed, Kat could enjoy the view all the way to mountains through tinted glass with the air con on so high it gave her goosebumps.

  Over the hot rush of the hair dryer she thought she heard a knock. Stopping it she was sure.

  “Room service.”

  “I didn’t order anything,” Kat said loudly. This was that old ruse to get you to open the door, wasn’t it? She felt a little of the excitement and fear she got at the table.

  “Compliments of the house.” It was a woman, not a couple of heavies.

  “Just leave it outside, thank you.”

  “Sorry, Ma’am. I need you to sign for it.”

  “Can you bring it back later?”

  “It’s a good breakfast, Ma’am. It’ll go cold.”

  Could it really just be food? Kat hadn’t been surprised that Evelyn didn’t ask her to stay for breakfast, she had practically rushed out the door - even so she had been a little disappointed and hungry. It seemed like madness to turn down food when she was ravenous. She looked through the peephole – there was a woman and a trolley with a tray on top, silver domes over plates, orange juice, a cafetière, and even a small bottle of champagne in an ice bucket. She was being silly. Kat unchained the door and opened it up. “I’m sorry. I just wasn’t expecting anything.”

  “I’ll just set it up over here.” The woman put the plates on the table in the corner of the room, arranged some cutlery and crockery and handed Kat a black leather folder with a pen. The woman seemed familiar, but Kat couldn’t place where from. She’d probably seen her in the dining room. Kat signed for the food and added a generous tip for the trouble she’d caused.

  Before the waitress had left, Kat had pulled off the covers. She had bacon you could snap, eggs, salmon and cream cheese, slices of toast, some kind of sausage things, and ‘breakfast fries’; potato, onion and sweet peppers fried together. Only in America could you get fries for breakfast. She didn’t know where to start. Kat wanted all of it. She poured a coffee and added a curl of cream. With the orange juice she made herself a Buck’s Fizz. Then she got started on the glorious food.

  When she’d eaten she was full to bursting. She finished her hair and put all the used plates on the tray and placed it in the hall near her door. She felt drained, really exhausted. She’d slept well last night, but clearly not enough. Kat closed the curtains, put a Do Not Disturb sign on the door and fell fully clothed onto the bed.

  5

  Where the hell was she? Kat wasn’t in her room anymore. She really should keep better track of where she went to sleep. Her head felt heavy and swollen like she had a bad cold. Moving it made her feel woozy. She still had her clothes on. It didn’t feel like anything had happened to her. You heard about people being Roofied on holiday, but that was usually in bars, not in their breakfast. Her side still hurt.

  She was sitting in an office chair. There was no view across the city, just bare concrete walls. It may have been the place she’d played poker yesterday, assuming it had been yesterday, but there was no table, no fancy rug. But there was the big fella, Danton, and two other guys who looked scrawny beside him. She wasn’t so thrilled to see him this time. One of the guys wore a suit. The other was carrying a large ceramic pot, a terracotta vase with a domed lid. He kept shifting its weight around in his arms.

  They hadn’t noticed she was awake yet. She could get away again if only her arms weren’t duct-taped to the chair. If she struggled with her bonds she’d attract attention. She began to push the chair out of sight. One of the wheels squeaked. Kat cringed. She couldn’t catch a break. The one time you don’t want that to happen…

  The men turned to look at her, falling silent. The suit took out his phone and started filming. Kat started to panic and her breathing got short. Filming this was stupid, whatever “this” turned out to be.

  “You should’ve stayed gone,” said Danton.

  “I needed a change of clothes.”

  “Could’ve got them on the road.”

  Perhaps her luck had finally all gone. It had been a good run. Course maybe she’d lost it all when she met Tony. She just hated that the bastard was going to get away while she was the one tied to a frickin’ chair.

  “Shoulda, coulda, woulda. Just do what you’re gonna do. I’ve got nothing left anyway.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong.” Danton nodded at the guy with the jar who moved beside Kat. Was there something in it? A spider or a snake maybe? How could a piece of terracotta be so intimidating? “First of all you’re going to tell us all about Tony.”

  For better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health. Always the bridesmaid and never the bride, Kat knew the words well enough. She laughed. “You didn’t need to tie me up for that. But since it’s his debt, how about
you let me go if I tell you, call us even.”

  Danton squatted down in front of her. She could kick him in the nuts. His huge head came in close. His breath smelled of caramel. “Before last night that might’ve been true. At the very least you owe money for the dress, and the entry fee. So you tell us about Tony and that’ll be wiped off your slate. The rest we’ll come to in a minute.”

  At least she’d tried. She knew she’d played her last hand. “Okay. But it’s nothing you don’t know already.” Kat told them what she knew.

  “Now, about your other debts.”

  “I told you all I know. Tony has your money.”

  “Uh uh uh,” interrupted Danton, waving a finger. “Tony has some of the money. You lost a lot of money it appears you don’t have. You coulda folded and walked away, cashed in the chips, paid your bills. You went all in.”

  “Look, I’ve got nothing to give you.” Kat struggled against her bonds. “I rent, I’ve got no jewellery.”

  “But you do have something. In exchange for your debt, I’ll take your heart.”

  Kat felt the world open up beneath her. She felt like she was falling and had vertigo at the same time. “What? So you are going to kill me after all? Fuck you, you sick asshole. Just get on with it and stop playing with me.”