The illuminated neon cross attached to the church’s steeple shone like a lantern in a lighthouse, propelling and repelling her in equal measure. It warned of danger ahead yet beckoned her towards it.
She could just about see its dimly lit interior through the stained-glass windows. Squeezing the knife handle now firmly in her grip, she slipped on her glasses and approached the church’s large wooden doors. Flick tugged the metal rings until she was inside a pitch-black porch. In night-vision mode, her glasses helped her to find the handles tothe next set of doors, and then … nothing. The battery ran out. She cursed them and discarded them to the floor.
It was the first time Flick had been inside Elijah’s second workspace. Unsecured wooden pews were scattered about and used as leaning posts to prop up full-sized canvases. Paint-splattered boards protected parts of the original flooring and large sheets of cloth were nailed to walls and covered some windows. A bank of at least a dozen computer screens was lined up against a wall where she assumed Elijah and his team had perfected Flick’s holograms. The altar at the far end was only just visible; behind it, a crucifix.
A noise from that area caught her attention. The sound was human and a mix of a howl and a groan. Chills spread across the surface of her skin as she took a few cautious paces closer to it. Then, without warning, the effigy of Jesus on the cross came to life. She quickly retreated until, through the dim light, she realised there was someone attached to it.
‘Elijah!’ she cried out. But as she hurried towards him, the unmistakable sound of a safety catch being removed from a weapon stopped her in her tracks.
‘Ordinary people probably wouldn’t know what this sound was, but you and I aren’t ordinary, are we?’ a woman’s voice began.
She recognised it as belonging to the woman who had electrocuted and murdered Grace. The grip jabbed Flick sharply. She didn’t reply or turn around to see who was holding her at gunpoint. When Elijah groaned again, weapon or no weapon, it was all Flick could do to stop herself from trying to free him. ‘Are you okay?’ she directed towards him instead.
Emilia let out a humourless laugh. ‘Does he look okay? He’s strapped to a cross and slowly choking to death.’
As Flick turned to face her assailant, she held the hunting knife behind her and out of sight. At the same time, the town’s annual fireworks display burst into life with a crackof thunder and bright, purple lights, illuminating the woman’s appearance. A bar across a window cast a shadow over her eyes, giving them a hollow appearance. But she recognised her nonetheless.
‘I thought you …’ began Flick.
‘… were dead,’ said Emilia. ‘Yes, I get that a lot. Drop your weapon.’
‘I don’t have one.’
A much louder bang rang through the air and at first Flick thought it was another firework exploding. It was only when Elijah let out a muffled yell that she realised it was a gunshot. The woman had just fired a bullet into him.
‘If you want to play a game of rock, scissors, paper, knife and gun, then I think I might have the upper hand,’ she continued. ‘Drop it.’
‘Please, let him go,’ Flick begged as the knife hit the flagstones. More fireworks exploded, casting the room in yellow and white streaks. ‘This is between you and me, Elijah has nothing to do with it.’
‘Look at him up there on that cross. I’ve turned him into art like he did to you with those holograms. Perhaps I could sell this to the Tate Modern and make my fortune? Have you ever been? I might have, but I can’t be sure.’
Flick’s stitch was growing ever more debilitating, and she fought hard not to bend over double. She didn’t want to let Emilia have any more of the upper hand than she already had. But still she felt no pain. ‘What do you want from us?’ she asked.
‘Not “us”, only you. And you know the answer to that.’
Her captor looked ready to respond when something appeared to distract her. She turned her head sharply and moved the barrel of her weapon so that it pointed over Flick’s shoulder.
It meant that besides Elijah, there was someone else in the room with them.
Chapter 86
EMILIA
‘Hello, Emilia.’
The greeting appeared from behind Flick, a disembodied voice hidden in the twilight of the church. ‘I think it’s time we talked.’
Its familiarity was immediate but made no sense. Only when the figure moved and a firework’s white light caught his eyes and lips did every wisp of air leave her lungs.
‘Ted,’ she began, and swallowed hard. He offered her a brittle smile. ‘You’re … you’re alive?’
‘Looks can be deceiving.’
‘But I was there when they killed you!’
As he took another step closer to her, she steadied one trembling hand with the other but kept her gun pointed at the ghost.
‘I’m not here to hurt you,’ he assured and she believed him. His tone was as calm and persuasive as it had been when he’d reassured her that he’d look after her following her discharge from hospital.
