CHAPTER 20

Agnes does take the greatcoat in the end, for warmth more than anything else; being seen out alone, or accosted by a rough man no longer register as legitimate fears in her mind. The writing has warned her that something far worse waits ahead.

Too late.

Walcot Street lies deserted. Shutters cover the shops and night has dulled the cheerful gilt letters on their signs. A breeze slips down the road, flattening the lights in the street lamps. She hears her weary footsteps – just the one pair, stumbling along – and yet she has the peculiar feeling that she did not leave that house alone.

Shadows flee across the cobbles and climb up walls. Agnes has spent her life studying them, but she has not appreciated their sheer number until tonight. She sees shadows thrown by a dancing flame, the shadow of a tree branch, of an alley cat, shadows from nothing at all.

Twice she winces at the sight of a figure rising up a wall. Each time, it turns out to be her own. The shape of the greatcoat changes her silhouette, confuses the eyes. She curses herself for a coward. Afraid of your own shadow – that is how the saying goes. Cedric scoffs at this. He says the real monsters, like vampires, do not even cast a shade. You never see them coming.

Well, Agnes can certainly feel something approaching fast behind her: a terrible premonition that bites at her heels as she walks. She will not turn and examine it, will not let it develop into a clear thought until she is home.

Too late, too late.

Her mind has never felt so disjointed and febrile. A crescent moon curves behind tattered clouds and she finds herself absurdly grateful that it is not shining full – why should that be? A large moon would help her to see. She does not believe in Cedric’s ghouls and lycanthropes.

But then, a few weeks ago, she did not believe in ghosts.

In another turn, she is greeted by the welcome sight of the abbey, a bulwark of protection. If she had the strength, she would run to it. No murderer or monster would dare attack her there.

Panting, she crosses the churchyard and looks up at the place of worship. Angels are carved either side of the great arched doorway, where they climb Jacob’s Ladder. They seem to be leaning in, offering Agnes a hand. Their stone faces are mottled the colour of decay; she notices for the first time how stern their features are. Perhaps they are not going up to Heaven at all. They might be spirits climbing down.