Mayhem by Sarah Pinborough Read Free Book Online Page A

head had been quiet since they’d fled, blissfully free of visions. Their rooms weren’t luxurious, but after the Pale they were more than adequate, and the skills he had learned back then had secured him a position with various barbers on and around the Whitechapel Road. Their incomes might be small, but combined, and with Matilda’s housekeeping skills, the Kosminskis had no fear of starvation. Life might be hard, but London had lived up to their hopes after their long journey fleeing from the pogroms he had visualised so violently. They were free, though the past felt like it was forever in their shadow.
    Shadows . He shivered. His mouth tasted of rough metal – fear . More than fear, dread: endless dread. He stood by the window and looked out at the twilight. Normally he found the noise from the busy streets comforting, and felt the safety of people – even though so many were violent and criminal or drunk and aggressive. There was always the warmth of the Jewish community, many of whom, like them, had escaped and settled in this most exciting of cities. Their past sufferings united them, and now they gathered together and told stories of the old country, even thought the youngest among them, had no real memories of it.
    The old country was in his blood – his grandmother’s tainted blood. And after five blissful years of freedom,it was now screaming in his veins. Something was coming – something from the old country was moving like an icy wind through Europe. For the past few weeks Aaron had woken every morning with the taste of rot and stagnant water choking him, and an oppressive creeping dread that almost paralysed him with fear. Whatever it was, it was ancient: a parasite that would bring wickedness in its wake, infecting wherever it went. And no one would see it coming.
    He shivered and peered out through the brown fog that clung to the windows. Here and there dots of sickly yellow glowed dimly as they battled to break through the poisonous atmosphere. He wished for summer, where day and night did not mingle beneath the hanging shroud that coated the city most days, refusing to let more than a sliver of sunlight through. It was, he decided, like a manifestation of the awful foreboding he felt inside. When the first vague feelings of disquiet had gripped him two months previously, he had ignored them, trying to will them away by throwing himself into work and family with an unusual vigour, surprising Matilda with his willingness to do extra where he could – anything to keep busy.
    But now the visions were coming thick and fast, and the constant dread was unbearable. Blood, darkness, hunger, age: they crippled him.
    Paris .
    His head swirled with snippets of French, cobbledstreets, drunk, wine, stumbling, soft skin. And then the blood: the feeding .
    He wanted to run, to gather up the children and flee as they had done before. Would his family listen this time? Would they leave this heaving river city that had become their home, where they had settled?
    The river: black, wicked, stagnant water.
    It wouldn’t stray too far from a river. It would need the water.
    He tried to push it from his mind, but the cold fingers gripped like a vice, digging into his brain.
    His family wouldn’t leave the city – and more than that, he couldn’t leave the city. The visions wouldn’t let him. That scared him the most: the visions sat like something slick, a wet dead thing in the pit of his stomach. Before, the visions had told him to flee; this time they demanded that he stay.

8
    London. October, 1888
    Dr Bond
    I had been unable to extract myself from Charles’ invitation to dinner, and even once I was in the warmth of his home and seated at the table, I found it hard to shake my distraction. Rainham . Ever since the mention of Rainham at the morgue my mind had taken a different turn, and I had barely been able to focus on the inspector, let alone my colleague. Rainham . Not the inquest itself, but the reminder of