Other People's Bodies
Amy Cross
Other People's Bodies
(The Heights book 1)
by Amy Cross
Kindle Edition
Copyright Amy Cross, All Rights Reserved
Published by Dark Season Books
This edition first published: September 2013
Originally published in serial form as The Heights between July and August 2013
http://amycrossbooks.wordpress.com
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment. If you enjoy it and wish to share it with others, please consider buying them their own copy. Feedback is always welcome. The author reserves all rights in respect of this work.
COMING SOON
Knives (Broken White 1.7)
Dramatis Personae (Broken White 1.8)
Day 366 (Mass Extinction Event 2.1)
The Letting (The Devil's Photographer 1.3)
The Promise (The Devil's Photographer 1.4)
ALSO BY AMY CROSS
Horror
Asylum
American Coven
The Night Girl
Devil's Briar
The Vampire's Grave
Fantasy / Horror
Dark Season series 1
Dark Season series 2
Dark Season series 3
Lupine Howl series 1
Lupine Howl series 2
Lupine Howl series 3
Grave Girl
Ghosts
The Library
Dystopia
Mass Extinction Event series 1
Erotica
Broken Blue
Table of Contents
Part One
New Beginnings
Part Two
Blood
Part Three
Perfection
Part Four
Soldiers
Part Five
Damaged Goods
Part Six
Weapons of War
Part Seven
Mirror Image
Part Eight
Mephistopheles
Bonus
The Church
(The Devil's Photographer 1.1)
Other People's Bodies
(The Heights book 1)
Part One
New Beginnings
Prologue
"No!" she screamed, pushing him to the ground and running off across the dark car park.
Stumbling back to his feet, he tried to catch sight of her. For a moment, he saw a brief flash of her naked, bruised body racing through the moonlight, and then she was gone. Cursing his luck, the man started limping after her. He knew there was no way he could catch up to her on sheer pace alone, but at the same time he couldn't stop trying. Out here, so close to the cliff edge and with the moon mostly hidden by dark clouds, he was filled with determination. After everything that had happened, he knew he couldn't let her go so easily.
"You don't understand!" he shouted. "I'm trying to save your life, not -" He paused as he realized she was already too far away. "Damn it," he muttered, pushing his way through the bracken. As soon as he reached the edge of the cliff-top path, he turned and looked for any sign of her silhouette against the night sky. Sure enough, he quickly spotted her racing away toward the lighthouse.
"Stop!" he shouted, filled with a sense of panic. Limping after her, he tried to get his bearings. The hotel was a couple of hundred meters behind him, which meant that he must be getting close to the edge of the cliff. As he struggled through the bushes, he desperately tried to keep sight of her in the distance. His limp slowed him down, but he wasn't the only one with an injury, and he knew that sooner or later she'd have to stop.
"You have to be careful!" he called out as he fought his way out of the bushes and finally emerged right at the edge of the cliff. As he came to a halt, his feet skidded in the mud and he landed heavily on his backside. Getting back up, he took a couple of steps further forward before realizing that he was right at the edge of the cliff. Far down below, heavy waves were battering the dark rocks.
Hearing a noise nearby, he turned and spotted a figure hanging from the side of the cliff. As he hurried over, he realized that she hadn't fallen; she was trying to climb down. It was a dangerous, suicidal plan, and she had no chance. One wrong move, and she'd plummet more than a hundred meters onto the black rocks that loomed up from the choppy waters.
"You're making a mistake!" he shouted as he knelt on the slippery ground, right at the edge of the cliff. He reached down, trying to get her to take his hand. "You won't make it. Let me help you up". He waited for her to reply, but she was clearly determined to climb down; moving carefully, she managed to dislodge a small rock, which fell crashing to the ground far below.
"For God's sake!" he shouted, reaching a little further and finally managing to grab her wrist. "I'll explain everything, but you have to come up first! Do you really think I'd hurt you? Of all the people in this godforsaken place -"
"Don't touch me!" she screamed, trying to force him away. Losing her footing, she scrabbled at the cliff-face, desperately trying to get some purchase as her legs flailed desperately.
"Do you want to die?" he shouted, staring down at her. A hint of moonlight made her face just about visible, and he could see her wild, terrified eyes, staring back at him from a fearful face that had been cut and slashed just a few minutes earlier.
"Let go!" she screamed, trying to wriggle free.
"I'm trying to save your life!" he replied, feeling her wrist start to slip loose from his hand. Holding her tighter, he tried to haul her up as her wrist slowly and inexorably slipped further and further out of his grip. "You've got this all wrong," he continued. "You have to trust me!"
"Don't you fucking touch me!" she screamed, pulling away from him. She reached out and grabbed a small outcrop, using it to steady herself as she tried to get free from his grasp.
"Please!" he shouted, hearing a splitting sound, like fabric being torn. Seconds later, he felt her starting to come loose, followed by a scream, and he watched as she fell backward, her body plummeting ever downward until she crashed lifelessly against the rocks and slid down into the water.
Looking down at his hand, he slowly realized that he was still holding the skin of her arm and hand, which had become de-gloved from the rest of her body before she fell. Holding the skin up to the moonlight, he saw with horror that her familiar hand was now just a loose covering of skin, her body having fallen away. All he had now was the skin of her hand and arm, and - on one of the empty fingers - a wedding ring.
Laura
Today
Sitting in my car, I stare straight ahead and try to think of a reason not to burst into tears.
Just one reason, that's all I need. It doesn't have to be anything particularly big or important. I just need one reason to hold myself together at the start of another day. Checking my make-up in the rear-view mirror, I pay particular attention to my eyes: bright blue, with unusually small pupils, they stare back at me with an accusatory expression, as if to remind me that I'm fooling myself if I thought I was ready to move on. I can still see the old Laura Kingston, the liar and mistake-maker, so why wouldn't everyone else?
People can change, I tell myself, but not completely.
Then again, I remind myself that I've already taken the first step. I've shaken off the dust of London, leaving behind all the people who knew the real Laura. Or rather, the old Laura. I'm hundreds of miles from anyone who knows my past, which is supposed to make it easier for me to start again. Instead, in some perverse way that I hadn't expected and don't understand, it's making it harder. My own gaze is accusatory and unforgiving, a constant reminder that no-one can truly forget their past. No matter how far I run, I know I can never get away from myself.
S
till, I've got to try.
"Make-up," I say to myself finally, taking a deep breath as I try to pull myself together. I've spent so long getting ready for this interview, and I'm damn well not going to blow it by breaking into tears. Having cried for most of the past two weeks, I'm determined that today is going to be the start of a whole new phase, and I certainly don't want to have to re-do all my make-up. After all, it's been hell trying to get everything done in the confines of the passenger seat; I started before dawn, barely able to see a thing, and as the sun came up I was finally able to get finished. Living in a car is not, it turns out, a barrel of laughs.
"You are not going to cry," I tell myself forcefully, before feeling the familiar sensation of tears building up behind my eyes. "No!" I shout, daring myself to disobey as I stare at my reflection. "Seriously, don't even think about it! You're not allowed to cry! Self-pity was fine for a while, but now -" Suddenly, the first tear appears: a bead of water in the corner of my left eye, inconspicuous by itself but undoubtedly the harbinger or more to come.
Forcing my chin down until it presses against my collar, I try to swallow. Someone, long ago, told me that this is a way to physically prevent tears from reaching the eyes. I never thought to try it before, but now I feel as if my life depends upon this piece of throwaway advice. Sure enough, after a few minutes, I realize that my eyes are dry. Success, of sorts.
With my chin still pressed against my chest, I glance out the window and see a family walking to their car. A young boy gives me a weird look, and I immediately sit up straight and try to look normal.
"You can do this," I say out loud as I turn to look at myself again in the mirror. "You can do this. You can do this. You -" I pause for a moment, and suddenly I can't stop thinking about Lloyd and the break-up and the fight and the small fire and the golf clubs and the newsagent's window and the stuffed giraffe and the fireman's pole in the dingy little student bar and the... Finally the tears come, flooding from my eyes as I put my face in my hands and try to control the sobs. All things considered, the day is not going particularly well so far, and it still isn't even 8am. Damn it, I think to myself, when did you become such a fucking mess? Who's going to hire you while you're like this? You're going to buckle up right now! No more crying!
Twenty-five minutes later, I open the door and step out of the car, taking a deep breath and forcing myself to focus on the task at hand. My make-up is back as it should be, more or less, and my eyes are finally losing that familiar puffy quality. I'm fairly confident that I look normal and self-assured, and that the Laura who kept having mini breakdowns in the car was the old Laura. I'm now the new Laura, confident and focused. Damn it, it's hard keeping track of the old and new versions of myself. Turning, I try to focus on my new surroundings.
I'm standing in a large, mostly empty car park, just a short walk from the Heights Hotel. A large, slightly old-fashioned white building that looks like it belongs in the 1920s or 1930s, the hotel appears to have an art deco core that has been added to, over the years, with a series of extensions. The result is an odd, overbuilt structure that doesn't quite fit in with its desolate surroundings, but which nevertheless looks suitably remote and foreboding. The brochure described the Heights as a popular tourist destination in this part of the country, but right now it's hard to believe that the place is a popular anything. Even from a distance, it looks rundown and a little sad. The brochure was impressive, but the reality is a letdown. No wonder they're looking for a new general manager.
Turning and looking the other way, I spot a distant lighthouse on the opposite cliff, and I hear waves crashing against a nearby, unseen beach that I assume must be below the prow of the land.
"Great," I mutter, buttoning my coat. "I said I wanted somewhere isolated..."
Grabbing my briefcase from the car, I slammed the door shut and turn to walk over to the hotel. After a moment, however, I notice something small and white on the tarmac, glinting in the sun. Leaning down, I'm surprised to see a single human tooth, complete with a hint of blood around the extant root. It's just sitting there, minding its own business, as if there's no reason in the world for a human tooth not to be out in a car park.
"Huh," I say, trying to work out how a tooth could end up out here like this.
After briefly wondering what to do, I take a tissue from my pocket and carefully scoop the tooth up. Figuring that someone might be looking for their lost molar, I walk quickly across the car park, making sure to carry a respectable gait and posture, just in case anyone happens to be watching her from a window and already forming a first impression of me. As I hold the tooth in my hand, I remind myself that I'll only get one chance to make a good first impression around here, so the next few minutes might be the most important minutes of my life.
Elizabeth
Five years ago
He runs a fingertip around the nipple of my left breast, and then down to a freckle just to one side of my belly button.
"You're perfect," he says. "They're going to love you".
"I'm not perfect," I reply with a smile. "No-one's perfect, Luke".
"You are". He leans closer and kisses the center of my chest, just below the collarbone. "Every inch of you, Elizabeth. I swear to God, I never thought a woman like you could exist".
"Now you're laying it on a little too thick," I say, raising a skeptical eyebrow. "Seriously. You don't have to try so hard". I pause for a moment, watching as he kisses the underside of my breast. "Are you nervous about next week?" I ask eventually, figuring that there has to be a reason why he's lavishing all this attention on me.
"Why would I be nervous?" he asks, his kisses conspicuously starting to move lower down my body.
"I get the impression your family's opinion is important to you," I reply. "If they don't like me -"
"They'll love you," he says. "Like I said, you're perfect".
I smile, realizing that there's no way to get through to him. He's all loved up and, unless I'm mistaken, he's trying very hard to convince himself that there's not going to be a problem when he takes me home to meet his family. I wish I could be so confident, but I've heard things about the Bannisters, and the thought of spending a whole week in their remote hotel is... Well, I wouldn't say I'm worried, but I'm certainly being cautious. I'm sure it'll be fun, but I'm not expecting to get much of a chance to relax.
"You're the most amazing woman in the world," he continues, as his kisses reach the spot just above my crotch. "My family are difficult, but they're not blind or stupid. You'll fit right in. Trust me".
I open my mouth to argue with him, but before I can say anything I feel his hot breath between my legs. Damn it, I know this is probably a mistake, but I can never resist Luke's charms. He makes everything so easy, and for a girl like me - born into poverty, shunned by her family - sometimes it's nice to relax and let someone take care of me for a little while. Closing my eyes and waiting for Luke's next touch, I try to put all these concerns to the back of my mind. I spend too long dwelling on the past. I need to focus on the present, and the future. I'm sure everything is going to be just fine.
Laura
Today
"Laura Kingston," I say, smiling as I stand at the reception desk. "Here to see Mr. Edward Bannister at eleven".
"He's running a little late," the receptionist replies, her clipped tones sounding instantly cold and dismissive. Barely glancing up from her screen, she nods in the direction of a sofa over by the window. "Take a seat".
"Do you mind if I ask you a quick question?" I continue, pulling a notebook from my pocket.
"I'm... kind of busy," the receptionist replies, looking a little put-out.
"I'll be quick," I say. "Is there anything in particular about your job that you think needs to be changed?"
"I... No. Nothing".
"Okay. And what do you think is the biggest challenge facing the hotel, from the guests' point of view?"
"I have no idea".
"Do you get many complaints?"
"And what are they about?"
"I don't remember," the receptionist replies unhelpfully, keeping her voice down as a group of guests wander past the desk. "We run regular questionnaires to gauge guest opinion, but as far as I know they don't come up with anything big. Just the usual".
"So when do you think it'll be fixed?" an annoyed-sounding man is asking nearby, haranguing the other receptionist. "You said it'd be twenty-four hours the last time I complained, and the time before that! All you seem to do is sit there and tell me what you think I want to hear! Why don't you try just telling me the truth and letting me know how long it's gonna be before I can take a hot shower?"
"Our janitorial team is working on it as fast as possible," the other receptionist explains politely. "In the meantime, I can offer you complimentary passes to our gym this afternoon, to -"
"I don't want to use the gym," the man says, clearly pissed off. "I want hot water in the shower and cold water in the toilet basin, not the other way round! I damn near scalded my ass! Christ, you'd think this place'd be able to afford a decent plumber, considering the prices of your rooms. I'll tell you one thing for free. I'm never coming back here. This place is a goddamn dump". With that, he storms off to join his equally displeased-looking wife over by the door, and the pair of them head outside as they discuss the latest disappointments of their visit.
"Tough customers, huh?" I ask, hoping to get a little conversation going with the reception staff.
"Nothing we can't handle," the younger receptionist says flatly. "Please, take a seat and someone will be with you shortly".
