Stories of the Night by J.T. Ellison

Author:J.T. Ellison [Ellison, J.T.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Two Tales Press

They let her out of the hospital on a sunny day two months later. She was still underweight, but her hair had started to grow back in, and though the scars were never going to go away, Evie’s skin was whole again, too. Morag offered to bring her to the flat, though she’d gotten a new flatmate while Evie was away—away, what a thing to call it. Said flatmate was on holiday and Evie was welcome to stay.

She didn’t want to go back there. Didn’t want to be anywhere near her old life. Except the cat. She’d ask Morag to deliver James Madison to her.

She took a hotel room on the Royal Mile and made plans for her final escape, spent the day walking, slowly, up and down the street. Her mind didn’t work all the way. She knew she needed to do something, but couldn’t completely recognize what it was. Her thoughts were still consumed with the painting.

Thomas was gone. The demon hadn’t returned. Once she’d broken out of the warehouse, been taken to hospital, and nursed back into being, she’d spoken, haltingly, to a detective inspector. The DI knew Evie had been seeing a young man named Thomas, whose body had been found in the River Ness upstream from the Infirmary Bridge. He’d committed suicide, his arms slashed to the bone.

Evie knew the demon had done it, wondered for the millionth time where he’d gone. Maybe she had killed him; maybe by getting out of the warehouse she’d managed to break his spell. She didn’t know; she oftentimes didn’t care. She was sorry for Thomas, but she hadn’t known him long. Who knew when the demon had taken him over—from the beginning, perhaps. She probably never knew him at all.

The DI wondered if Evie knew who had held her captive. What was she supposed to say, it was a demon? They’d lock her back in the hospital, but the one for the insane people now, where the white walls would be painted with other, baser things.

The warehouse where she’d been kept was an empty space, derelict and broken down, but no one could find the door she swore existed. Nothing reconciled with Evie’s truth outside of her DNA on the ground in the alley, so she lied about who she knew held her and said she had no idea who he was. That he’d grown tired of her and thrown her from a car. They searched the cameras for the area, and thought it strange, as Evie seemed to appear in the darkness on hands and knees, but in the end, they were happy to have her home safe.

She did tell them about seeing the bones of Brigit Wallace. She didn’t know where they were, and it hardly cleared the case, but she wanted the family to know their daughter was dead, so they could mourn properly.

Walking, walking, walking, it hit her. She needed to fly home to America as soon as possible. She needed to get the money from her bank accounts, go to an online cafe, book the ticket.

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