A Symphony of Echoes (The Chronicles of St Mary's, #2)

As we ran, we looked and listened – every sense we possessed pinging off our surroundings. Alert for any sound, any movement, anything at all that would give us the slightest idea where he was. Because he was here. Somewhere, not far away, he was here. Possibly, even close enough to reach a hand out of the darkness and …


Kal skidded to a halt, I crashed into the back of her, and we both fell into a handy doorway. My chest heaved, trying to take in enough oxygen to fuel my screaming muscles. My legs trembled. I leaned forwards, put my hands on my knees, and fought for breath in my bloody corset.

‘We can’t stay,’ panted Kal. ‘We’ve got to keep moving. If he catches us – we’re done.’

I nodded. However, we were still alive and that was something. More than could be said for Mary Kelly, anyway. I reached into my muff and looped my stun gun around my wrist. I had pepper spray as well and I was more than happy to use both.

‘Come on,’ said Kal, urgently. ‘The pod’s this way.’

Off we went again, but more carefully now, partly because we thought we had his measure and partly because we were exhausted. Kal led the way and I followed behind, watching our backs.

We stopped at a junction and took a few seconds to try to get our breath back, listening to the eerie, wet silence. We stood back to back. I screwed up my eyes in an effort to penetrate the thick tendrils of yellow-grey fog coiling around us.

Then, faintly, in the distance, we heard it again. A tiny sound.

Behind us.

Moving as quietly as we could, we set off. Ignoring historical accuracy, Kal had a small torch. It was almost useless. The fog just swirled the light back at us. Thick and dirty-yellow, it tasted of cheap coal, stung my throat and made my eyes run. I’d read about these pea-soupers. Thousands of people in London died every year from lung complaints. And don’t even get me started on The Great Stink.

‘God knows what this is doing to our lungs,’ said Kal.

‘Thank God I can’t breathe properly. Otherwise I might be dead by now.’

‘Oh, stop moaning. I bring you for a nice night out and all you do is complain.’

‘When I’m coughing up half a ton of black sputum tomorrow …’ and there was that sound again. Closer this time.

‘Down here,’ said Kal and we stood at the entrance to a long, narrow alleyway with high, windowless walls on each side. We’d have to go single file. I felt the hairs on my neck lift. The alley was very black and I really, really did not want to go down there.

‘Do you think the fog is lifting?’

Actually, I thought it was. I thought I could make out a small, light patch ahead, which, if the god of historians was with us, might be the exit.

‘OK, are you ready?

‘Kal …’

‘Yeah, I know. But he’s behind us and the pod is this way. We just have to get through this next bit and we’re home and dry.’

We both took a deep breath. She went first, with the torch. I walked behind her with my hand on her shoulder, half-turned, so I could watch our backs. I had my stun gun and a deep sense of unease.

Only too aware of how sound could carry, I whispered, ‘Are you armed?’

‘Torch and gun.’

‘You brought a gun?’

‘You didn’t?’

‘No, I did not.’

‘Don’t panic. It’s contemporary. Remington Derringer. They were known as muff pistols.’

‘That does not make it all right.’

The fog shifted above us. We both looked up. I had the impression we had just missed seeing something. When I looked down again, I couldn’t see the light at the entrance to the alleyway behind me. Something blocked the way. Something stood behind us. Something big. I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the weather. I always knew that one day we would bite off more than we could chew.

‘Kal, something’s behind us.’

Her arm appeared over my shoulder with the torch. Suddenly, shockingly close, I had the briefest glimpse of something wet and white, glistening in the flashlight. It moved with unnatural speed, knocking the torch out of her hand and brushing past us. It pushed me hard, but I managed to stay upright. I set my back against the wall, stun gun raised, covering us both.

‘Kal,’ I said, urgently. ‘Are you all right?’

‘I’m here,’ she said faintly, close by. ‘I think I’ve been stabbed. I’m bleeding.’

Every instinct I had told me to get out of that alley. To run. To flee blindly. Anywhere. Just get out. Get away. I took as deep a breath as I could manage in my stupid Victorian costume. Then another.

Historians don’t panic.

Although we do.

I bent, found the torch, and switched it on. Contrary to all convention – it still worked. Flashing it up and down the alley, I could see nothing near us. For some reason I checked above as well. Looking ahead, I could see the exit. Closer than I thought. The fog was lifting.

‘Can you run?’

‘Oh yes. It’s only my arm.’

We moved as fast as we could. Kal had hold of my arm and I relied on her to guide me because I was going backwards.