The Book: Chapter 33

London greeted them in the early evening with grey skies and drizzle. Mist wrapped around the old buildings, hiding their secrets. The city was a breathing entity, lungs built on layers of history. Streets paved over centuries of pain, and stories forgotten by progress.

The deeper they went into the old burroughs, the heavier the air felt. The streets narrowed, winding through ancient stone walls and towering brick chimneys. These areas had seen more than their share of bombing, poverty and suffering—the kind of places that held the echoes of the past in chains.

Alice looked at the skyline. ‘This place doesn’t feel right.’

‘Nothing here is comfortable. It’s just London when the light’s growing dim.’

They arrived at what should have been the remnants of St Mary of Bethlehem Priory, expecting forgotten ruins, a blue plaque, ghost tours, and historical weight.

Instead, they stood outside a 50’s themed café.

Alice blinked at the neon sign: Bedlam Burgers: The Craziest Bites in Town!

Mick laughed. ‘You’ve got to be joking. The last structure of an asylum of misery had turned into a gaudy, themed restaurant. ‘They’ll have a Plague Doctor Pizzeria in the next street,’ Mick said.

The glass doors opened to a bright diner where waiters in straitjacket costumes served milkshakes in IV drips. A neon sign on the wall read Committed to Great Taste! while the menu board offered sandwiches named after historical patients.

Alice felt sick.

Mick slammed his hand on the wall. ‘It did this on purpose.’

‘I know,’ Alice said.

 ‘Making us chase ghosts just to lead us to this shit show,’ Mick said. He calmed down. ‘You know what, we’ve come all this way, we might as well grab a burger.’

Alice gave him a look that meant trouble.

‘I’m kidding,’ He held his hands up in surrender. ‘But seriously, we’re back to square one. What now?’

She was furious for falling into the book’s trap. The manipulative, omniscient bastard had sent them the length of the country. It was like a psychotic game show host. And this exploitative circus was an abomination to the memory of people’s suffering. It was hard to believe it had any connection to the horrors of the building’s past.

She looked through the window, searching for anything—or nothing—grasping at milkshake straws disguised as gastric tubes. A glass case near the register displayed rusted artefacts—relics from the site’s history, perhaps. Mick followed her gaze. ‘What have you seen?’

‘Maybe something worth looking at.’ She pointed at the case.

With nothing to lose and six hours driving behind them, they went inside, assaulted by the scent of sizzling grease and sweet onions. The jingle of a 1950s doo-wop song played over the speakers and every instinct screamed at Alice to leave. Despite the hoots and hollering of people having fun, it looked to her like they were still tortured here.

At first glance, the case was disappointing. But among the rusted keys and tarnished medical instruments she saw a yellowed page, handwritten in Latin. They tried to make out the words but the glass distorted them. Alice leaned in, scanning the script. The ink was faded, but she caught fragments of a phrase:

Daemonium ligatum... hic requiescit sub signo sacro...

Her world stopped as she read the English translation on a plaque attached to the glass case. ‘A bound demon... resting beneath a sacred sign.’

Mick kept his voice low. ‘I’d rather have a bound demon, than an unbound one. Small mercies and all that.’

Alice turned to the cashier. ‘Where did this come from?’

The girl, barely twenty, shrugged. ‘I dunno. I think someone said the owner found some stuff in the cellar when he was setting up the restaurant. There’s still a load of junk in the back room, but none of us will go down there, not even with the lights on. Do you want to order?’

The cellar. ‘Because nothing bad ever happens there. Just ask every horror film director ever born,’ Mick whispered.

He smiled at the girl and Alice couldn’t believe he was dialling the charm to its highest setting. He winked at her. ‘I don’t suppose you do ghost tours, do you?’

The girl giggled, looking under her false eyelashes at Mick and twirling her ponytail. ‘No, but the boss will be in on Thursday if you want to ask him anything.’

Alice looked at the Latin words again. A bound demon. A coincidence? Even if the book brought them here in mischief, the past never disappeared. Beneath the kitsch and neon, tremendous sorrow was infused into the mortar of these old walls. The book wasn’t the only thing that could tell a story.

‘We’re coming back on Thursday,’ she whispered to Mick as they said goodbye.

‘And next time, we’ll bring a crowbar. We can break in, ignore the till, and go straight for three rusty old keys whose doors have long since been knocked down. I like it.’

They left the diner, stepping into heavier rain, and after the cheap Bedlam Experience, it was like a soothing balm on jagged nerves.

‘I can’t believe you gave her the eye.’

‘I did not.’

‘You winked at her.’

He put his arm around Alice, pulling her in tight. ‘No. I had a twitch in my eye.’ 

I write under the pen name Katherine Black and I have 17 books published. All on Kindle Unlimited. I’d love it if you’d try one.

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