‘Heaven: n (usu pl) the visible sky; (sometimes cap) the dwelling place of God and His angels where the blessed go after death’

‘Hell: n (Christianity) the place of punishment of the wicked after death; the home of devils and demons; any place or state of supreme misery or discomfort’

Chapter One

Murder

Kate Finley wasn't aware of this, but her life had approximately four and a half minutes to go.

Along the street the orange light of the street lamps barely permeated the darkness. Long parts of the pavement were left completely devoid of light, and it was in these that Kate Finley felt most nervous. Not that she was afraid of the dark, she just found being alone so late at night on the poorly-lit street a bit unsettling. Especially with all the recent unpleasant events that had taken place in the surrounding area. She found herself thinking of the news report she had heard that morning of a new body they had found in the canal. Kate shivered and pushed her hands deeper into her coat pockets.

She had approached the longest unlit part of the street. Here she quickened her pace, her shoes making a hollow clacking sound on the pavement, drawing unwanted attention her her presence. Clouds flitted in front of the moon in the sky above her. Overhead, trees leaned over the street, normally providing shelter but now just making the darkness even deeper. Kate turned a corner. At the end of the road the pub loomed in front of her, a tower that represented her safety. She clutched her bag tightly to her as she passed a dark alley. Suddenly another set of footsteps was added to her own clacking heels. She glanced surreptitiously around her and saw a dark figure slide out of the shadows of the alley to fall instep behind her. Fear fluttered around Kate's heart and stomach. She subtly quickened her steps, focusing on the building at the end of the road. Was she imagining it, or were the footsteps behind her accelerating to match hers?

With a surge of relief she saw that the door of the pub had opened, and two men had staggered out. It was only 7 O clock or so, but the one with the red hair was looking distinctly worse for the wear, and he was leaning against the wall of the pub, whilst his friend lit up a cigarette. She greeted them with a small smile and gladly entered the light and warmth of the bar. The moment she was inside she stepped away from the door and watched it anxiously to see if anyone else would come in. But thankfully whoever had been following her had obviously decided not to come into the pub. She turned and walked headlong into someone, knocking his beer out of his hand, and spilling a large quantity on herself too. The shattering glass silenced the room. This was her first mistake.

Kate blinked, and brushed beer off of her coat. A group of men in the corner jeered at her.

“Sorry.” She said, smiling apologetically at the man and reaching for her purse. “I'll buy you another one.” As she went to walk over to the bar she realised the man had not moved. She looked into his face, which was about a head above hers. His eyes were staring at the same spot on the floor where the puddle of frothy straw-coloured liquid spread through the ship-wrecked glass fragments.

“You broke my glass.” He said, in a flat, monotone voice. His hand was held as if he were gripping a phantom pint. Kate frowned as the chatter resumed around her.

“I know, I'm sorry. If you come over to the bar I can buy you another one.” She moved away from him again, but still he didn't follow. She turned back and said impatiently, “Look do you want another dri-?”

But the question died in her throat. The man had dropped to all fours and was picking up the shattered glass pieces, crushing them into his left palm, pushing them deep into his skin. He was making a weird, high-pitched moaning sound as he did so. Kate stared at him, horrified.

“Hey!” The man ignored her, but stabbed a particularly jagged piece viciously into his hand. Blood pooled in the centre of the palm, running through his fingers and dripping onto the floor to mix with the spilt beer. Kate backed into the bar. The Bartender glanced over at her pale face, and then at the man on the floor.

“Jesus” He muttered. A circle of silence spread like ripples on a pond as those nearest the man realised what he was doing. The man was obviously unwell, Kate thought, staring transfixed at the jerky way he picked up the glass pieces. She approached him slowly, much like a vet would to an easily startled animal.

This was her second mistake.

“Excuse me? Um...Sir? Are – are you OK?” It was a ridiculous question to ask, and Kate heard that as soon as she had opened her mouth. But she had to say something – she couldn't just let him do that to himself. The man stopped what he was doing and became perfectly still. He turned his face towards her and Kate saw, with a thrill of fear, that he looked completely deranged. His eyes were unfocused and wild-looking, and a rope of saliva dripped down his chin sickeningly. He said nothing, but continued to stare at her. Kate heart was kicking up a taboo in her chest, drumming fiercely against her ribs. She stepped back a fraction, and some glass crunched under her foot.

This was her third, final mistake.

The effect of this simple action was catastrophic. The man gave a guttural howl that raised the hairs on the back of Kate's neck and chilled her to her very soul. Then in a sudden, fluid movement he grabbed the heavy base of the glass and leapt up, thrusting the jagged edge into her throat.

Screams of shock echoed throughout the bar, and everywhere people were snatching up their belongings and running for the door, where a small scrum formed. Kate saw all this through a haze of white-hot pain. Adrenaline rocketed through her body a second later, numbing the pain but making her more aware of the wetness spreading down the front of her jumper. Dimly she realised with surprise that she was still standing. As soon as this realisation hit her, however, she felt her legs give way, and she crumpled to the floor like a rag-doll. Glancing down she saw a shocking scarlet waterfall of blood cascading down from her neck. She dragged her hands up to her throat and felt the thick end of the glass stuck there. Faintly she realised that the man was being restrained by the bartender and a number of other men, but continued to shriek like an unearthly being. Blackness clawed at the edge of her vision as the pain hit her like the entire weight of the ocean at once. Looking around, she found the eyes of the man. They were filled with an inner madness and a malice that told her he enjoyed watching her die.

Her life began to ebb away as surely as the blood that pooled on the floor around her. She was aware of people rushing around her, pressing cloths against her throat in an effort to staunch the flow. She wanted to tell them not to bother, that it wasn't worth it...it was too late. Her mind was oddly clear, and a million frozen images flew past her open eyes. She shuddered and gasped for breath, the blood gargling in her throat, the black on the edges of her vision spreading and completing.

With one last trembling breath, the darkness consumed her.