The Killing Hour

I move back to the sofa. My coffee hasn’t got any warmer. ‘Something to do with their deaths. That doesn’t exactly sound like you’re on my side.’


‘What am I supposed to think? You’ve come here out of the blue, you’re covered in cuts and bruises, you tell me you were with two dead women. You have to go to the police, Charlie, yet you’re avoiding it. It’s as though you’re deliberately making the wrong choice.’

Ah yes, the Real World. A world full of ghosts and monsters – and choices. I can’t go to the police because they’ll think I did it. Hell, even Jo thinks I did it. Cyris drove a metal stake into Luciana’s chest and then into Kathy’s. Somewhere during the night his insanity rubbed off on me.

I slam my coffee cup onto the table so that its cold contents splash me. ‘Are you deaf? Jesus, Jo, they’ll put me in prison.’

‘Calm down, Charlie.’

‘Calm down? I am calm!’

‘If you won’t call the police, I will,’ she says, getting up.

I put both hands out in front of me as if to ward off her suggestion. ‘I’m sorry, Jo, I’m sorry,’ I say, trying my best to sound it. ‘Please, don’t call them, okay? Please, not yet. Just let me convince you.’

‘Of what, Charlie? That this Cyris of yours exists? That you killed him too?’

And there lies the problem. There lies the reason for her doubt. I killed Cyris. I killed him but that didn’t stop him. Didn’t stop him at all. Not in the Real World because there bad things happen.

Of course I’m enough of a realist to know I only wounded him, but I wonder what the outcome would have been if that knife had gone a few millimetres higher or lower. Would I be sitting here with cold coffee on my hand? Would I be sitting with Kathy and Luciana instead? Must life and death rest on seconds, on millimetres?

‘Stop being so …’

‘Repeat after me, Charlie. There are no such things as monsters.’

‘You weren’t there.’

‘I’m calling the police.’

‘You can’t.’

‘Just watch me.’ She heads towards the phone.

I stand up. ‘Don’t, Jo. At least just let me walk out of here.’

She turns around. Puts her hands on her hips. ‘Okay, Charlie, you win. Just don’t involve me any further.’

‘Come with me.’

‘Leave, Charlie.’

‘Coming here could have put you in danger. Cyris will find me, and if he finds you he’ll kill you. No matter what you think, he’s a monster, Jo.’

‘Then I’m no safer with you, am I?’

‘Are you going to call the police?’

‘You’re a mess. You’ve taken a beating, your hands are shaking, you keep shouting.’

‘I’m not shouting!’

‘You are. Look, why don’t you go home and we can discuss it tomorrow, okay?’

‘I’m not shouting.’

‘Okay, okay. Please, I want you to leave.’

‘I’ll leave, but you have to promise me you won’t call the police.’

‘I won’t.’

‘Won’t promise or won’t call them?’

She tilts her head and stares at me, tightening her lips into a thin line.

I hold my hands out in front of me, this time trying to ward off her anger. ‘Okay. Look, I’m sorry, I really am. I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m going to leave.’

‘I think that’s best.’

Not knowing what else to say, I end up thanking her for the coffee. She walks me to the door and looks at me as I stand on the doorstep. Maybe she’s right. Maybe the police would understand. But I’m picking they wouldn’t. I’m picking if I walk in there and tell them what I told Jo I’ll never walk back out. Only running away isn’t the solution either.

‘Charlie?’

What I need to do is find Cyris. That’s the solution.

‘Charlie?’

But how in the hell am I going to do that? Put an ad in the paper?

‘Charlie!’

‘Yeah?’

‘If you’re not going to go to the police at least get checked out by a doctor, okay?’

I rub the huge bump on my forehead and instantly regret it. I nod slowly, then walk down the driveway to my car.





6


I’ve known Jo eight years. We were married for six. She’d never betray me. She’d never turn me in. But we’re in the Real World now and trust isn’t a quality I can hope for. Yet it’s one I cling to when I step back inside and find Jo hanging up the phone. She tells me she was talking to her friend. I want to believe her, I really do.

‘You promised you’d leave,’ she says.

‘How much did you tell the police?’ I ask.

‘I was calling a friend,’ she repeats. ‘First of all you come here and …’

‘How much, Jo? Are they on their way?’

‘Stop shouting, Charlie.’

‘I’m not shouting! How much did you tell them?’

‘I haven’t said a word. I told you nobody answered …’