The Weight of Souls

“Then did you know that Rocket killed a man?”

I shook my head, but he talked on, as if I hadn’t moved. “William Huskisson, Member of Parliament for Liverpool. He was attending the opening of the Liverpool and Manchester Railway. He was the first ever guy under a train.” He hesitated and his fingers stroked the killer engine. “Bet you’ve seen a few of those.”

I shuffled my feet. “Not really.” He didn’t show that he’d heard me. “Are you coming out of there?”

“Rocket changed the world.” Justin still didn’t look at me. “Did you know they’re testing a network of personal driverless pods at Heathrow? They could be all over the world by the time we’re… you’re fifty.”

“Justin…”

“I was going to change the world.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Now he looked at me and I took a step back, almost tripping over the wheels of a pram. I weathered a glare from the mother and turned back to Justin.

He finally moved his hands from Rocket and spread them wide. “I know people say that, but I had ideas. We could have made them happen, Dad and me, just like Robert and his son.”

I gestured to the train he’d dropped from. “You get it then? You’re dead.”

He put his hand through the engine then pulled it free and nodded. “It’s been nearly a week and I don’t need to eat or sleep. I haven’t even been able to touch anyone since you.” His eyes met mine.

“Well, you aren’t touching me again.” I wrapped my hands around my elbows. “Tell me who killed you and you can move on.”

Justin shook his head slowly. “I don’t get this. I don’t get why you can see me when no one else can.”

A Japanese family moved towards me and I pressed my lips together. Then I gestured curtly for Justin to follow me and headed towards the lift.

We stood in silence as we rose towards the fifth floor. Justin said nothing more about engineering, Stephenson, or his Dad and every time he moved, I moved too – away from him, as though we were opposing magnets.

Finally the lift doors opened onto a white corridor with two exits. In one I could see a plastic replica of a skinned cow. I shuddered and turned the other way.

“The Science and Art of Medicine?” Justin frowned.

“I’m betting it’ll be quiet.” I paused with my hand on the door. A security guard glared at me through the glass but I was thinking about the dim lighting. I considered changing my mind and heading for the skinned cow, but apart from the guard, the room was empty; we’d be able to talk.

I opened the door and went in.

The air was cooler and drier here and the low lighting gave the impression, not of age or mustiness, but of importance. The displays were sedately lit and invited long, slow examination.

The security guard lounged on his stool by the door and barely glanced at me as I walked past.

On our left there was an Egyptian display. Perfect. Immediately I led Justin towards the mummified corpse that formed the centrepiece. We were shielded from the guard by a wall and there were no other visitors.

“I thought there’d be a picture of Anubis in here,” I frowned. “There isn’t one. That’s strange.”

“Who’s Anubis?” Justin stood next to me, so close the hairs on my arms stood up.

“Egyptian God of embalming and mummification.”

Justin eyed the mummy in the sarcophagus. “I can see why you thought there’d be something about him round here. Why, does it matter? You aren’t Egyptian are you?”

“I’m half Chinese, Hargreaves.”

“On your Mum’s side, right?”

“Right.”

He hesitated briefly. “Then… why’re you called Taylor Oh?”

“Huh?”

“Shouldn’t you be Taylor Smith, or something, whatever your Dad’s name is?”

“Not everyone takes their husband’s name,” I snapped. Then I looked at the ceiling and took a breath. “If we all keep the same name it helps us keep track.”

“Keep track?”

“Of who carries the curse.” I cracked my knuckles, hardly able to believe that I was about to speak the words. But Justin was dead; he had no one to tell. If he thought I was crazy or didn’t believe me, what would it matter? Suddenly I was desperate to talk and the words tumbled from me like sand through an hourglass.

“Anubis is meant to be the reason for all this. My ancestor was a member of an expedition of... I suppose you'd call them tomb robbers. They found Nefertiti's tomb but it wasn't empty.” I looked at the mummified Egyptian, my memory taking me back to my mother's book. Scattered lanterns illuminated the bodies.

For a moment the mummy had looked as if it were bathed in blood. I caught a skeptical twitch of Justin’s eyebrows.

“Oh-Fa was the last survivor of the slaughter. Anubis offered him life in exchange for his service. Oh-Fa agreed and now, at a certain age, unlucky members of my family start to see ghosts – murder victims. I was ten.”

“Ten.” Disbelief vibrated in Justin's voice.

I sighed and focused on the bandaged corpse. “It was your first day at school.”

“Oh, please...”

“Really. It was my birthday, remember?” I closed my eyes, allowing the memories to wash over me. “I'd been seeing this clown all day. At first I thought Dad might have hired him – you know, like a really cruddy birthday treat. But it was creepy the way he was hanging around the school. I kept seeing his balloons, but no one else noticed anything.”

Justin shook his head. “You're making this up.”

I pushed my hair from my face. “Why would I?”

He leaned close to the glass case, close enough for his breath to have fogged the glass, but no fog appeared. Then he leaned back. “So then what?”

“I started hearing the flap-slap of his giant shoes. Clown shoes, you know?”

Justin smirked.

“That sound.” I shuddered. “Pete said I could be having a migraine or something, so I called Dad and he took me home.”

“And that was the end of it?”

I snorted. “I wish. Somehow the clown followed us back. Dad couldn't drive me to the door, there was a Volvo or something double-parked at the end of the road. He dropped me off and went to find a space.” I swallowed, the recollection still filling me with a ten year-old’s terror.

“I only had to pass nine houses by myself. I could hear the rumble of the underground line and a dog barking in someone’s garden. Then I heard those damn shoes...”

13 WORST BIRTHDAY EVER

Flap-slap.

I froze.

Flap-slap.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood to attention and I spun around. For a moment I saw nothing out of the ordinary then I caught my breath as a single red balloon floated at head height from behind the house at the