She gave a tiny, nervous giggle. ‘There are no washing machines in these woods.’
‘And no heroes, either. We’ll stick together.’ He hugged her tight and felt little tremors running through her body.
And he thought: No, never again. I swear by all the saints in Heaven, I’ll never lose you. Not like Juliet, who drowned when it should have been me. Not like Christina, the ghost. And not like Grace . . .
And now Delphine. What would become of Delphine if he cared for her? No, he didn’t just care for her. There was no doubt in his troubled mind that he loved this beautiful, intelligent woman beyond all else.
Sensing his shift in mood she peered anxiously at his face. ‘Do you want to go back, David?’ she asked, mistaking his sombre expression for unease.
‘God, no.’ He was sure she would go on searching alone if necessary. Returning to the castle without her was not an option. ‘Let’s try leaving this main path,’ he said, glancing around. ‘There are lots of smaller trails, so we might get lucky.’
Delphine was reluctant to leave the original path to venture deeper into the woods, but she knew he was right. She, herself, had never wandered this far into the forest before – it was too dense and too easy to get lost in. She guessed whatever Petra and Peter had in mind, they’d want complete privacy.
Ash and Delphine veered off when the path next forked, taking the narrower branch to the right, proceeding with caution and care, trying to make as little noise as possible. Seen through the leaftops, the sky now had a darker hue, as if the blanket of cloud held plenty of rain which it didn’t yet wish to share with the world. It was creepy, the forest being so quiet, nothing stirring, no birds suddenly taking flight, no scuffle of undergrowth to betray a startled animal.
Ash’s legs were beginning to feel weary – they’d had plenty of exercise already that morning – but still he traipsed onwards, leading Delphine by the hand. Then she stopped dead and he regarded her in surprise.
‘Did you hear that, David?’ she whispered, holding on to his hand tightly.
He listened.
‘I don’t think . . .’ he began to say before a noise made him listen more intently.
It sounded like . . . like . . . a giggle. A girl’s unwary giggle.
Ash felt Delphine readying herself to call out again and he put a straight finger to her lips.
‘Wait.’ This time it was he who was whispering. ‘Let’s see if we hear it again.’
They did. Definitely a girl’s unselfconscious, schoolgirlish laugh. Which seemed to change to a long drawn-out sigh.
‘Let’s get closer,’ Ash murmured quietly. ‘We don’t want to attract any wildcats that might be around.’
‘If that is Petra,’ Delphine whispered back, ‘it won’t matter. She’ll make enough noise to attract them anyway.’
Ash knew the psychologist was right when a long deep moan came from somewhere ahead. And then a man’s cry, and for a moment the investigator thought the twins might be under attack. But no, he reasoned. That wasn’t fear in the man’s voice, it was ecstasy.
‘Come on,’ Ash said to Delphine urgently, making no effort to keep silent any more. ‘It’s the twins. We’d better get to them before anything nasty does.’
They pushed their way through undergrowth and low branches, going only a short distance before they saw a splash of bright colour that definitely was not vegetation. Hurrying their pace, no longer caring about the noise they were making themselves, they finally came to a small clearing.
And there were Petra and Peter.
The girl’s short, shimmering skirt was pushed up by her brother’s hands clenched around his sister’s hips, revealing pale, shapely thighs. The dark boots she wore emphasized the whiteness of her skin, her knees bent slightly to accommodate Peter’s thrusting between them as he pressed her back against a tree trunk. Her tiny white panties were puddled around one ankle, dragging in the mud and the dead, golden leaves that littered the forest floor. Her jacket was unbuttoned, as was the blouse beneath it.
Of Peter, Ash and the stunned Delphine could see only his humping back, skinny-legged jeans shoved down to his bent knees, his head pushed into his sister’s left shoulder. Petra’s face was plainly visible, her mouth open in enraptured bliss, eyes half-closed and glazed between the lids.
When she caught sight of the investigator and psychologist standing at the edge of the clearing, her eyes opened fully in surprise, yet she didn’t call out or bring the lovemaking to an embarrassed halt. Instead, she kept on thrusting herself against her lover so that he would sink further into her, bringing her exquisite joy to its natural orgasmic closure. And all the while, until the final, draining spasm, her open eyes were locked on Delphine’s.
Already feeling like a voyeur, Ash turned to the psychologist, who was obviously sickened by the brazen display. Ash remained speechless; it was Delphine who screamed at the copulating twins.
‘Petra!’
Only then did the girl alert her brother. She emitted another giggle.
Her twin froze, and at least had the dignity to pull away and stand, quickly zipping up his jeans and buckling his belt before turning to stare almost fearfully at the psychologist and her companion. He didn’t seem to know quite what to do next, and smiled sheepishly (but not ashamedly, Ash noted).
As the girl was deliberately and slowly pulling up her panties, obviously putting on a show, Ash looked away, curious about the clearing they were in. Pouting because of Ash’s apparent lack of interest, Petra did up the buttons of her blouse and jacket, while Delphine took long strides towards the twins without bothering to disguise her disdain, forgetting one of the first lessons of her profession: never let the patient be aware of the psychologist’s disgust, no matter how repugnant the client’s confessions might be. From the corner of his eye Ash saw Delphine and smiled to himself at the psychologist’s stern, schoolmarmish, reprimand.
‘Petra, we had an agreement before I brought you here,’ she was saying. ‘You promised me you and Peter wouldn’t do this any more.’
Intrigued to see what would happen next, Ash turned to watch the trio. Delphine was close to the twins, Petra’s face turned away from her. Peter had the good grace to look red-faced at the ground.
‘I thought you brought me here to stop me topping myself.’ Petra replied crossly, still avoiding the psychologist’s steely gaze. The young girl’s face was set in a sulky moue.
‘We’ll have to talk about this later,’ Delphine told them both. ‘Peter, I’m particularly disappointed in you.’
‘Maybe it’s our parents you should be disappointed with,’ the angry retort came back from the good-looking but petulant youth. He buttoned up his jacket. ‘Come on, Petra. She’s no right to talk like this to us.’
‘But, Peter,’ Delphine cried, ‘I’m only trying to help you. Both of you.’
‘If enjoying yourself is a crime, then the law should be changed,’ Petra put in moodily, scowling at Delphine.
‘It isn’t just that you’re committing incest,’ the psychologist tried to explain. ‘The consequences could be horrendous.’
‘What?’ Peter sneered scornfully. ‘You’re scared we’d produce a mutant like the one you’re always trying to hide from everybody?’
Delphine was nonplussed for a moment. ‘You shouldn’t speak of him in that way,’ she said after a few beats. ‘He’s no more a mutant than you or I, but his illness has made him a recluse. And anyway, I’m not going to stand here and talk about another patient with you. He’s entitled to his privacy.’
‘Then why don’t you give us ours?’ Petra said quickly and angrily.
‘Oh, Petra, you know why. You both know we can’t let you do this.’ Delphine’s voice was soft now, as if she pitied the twins.
Ash decided it was time to step in. ‘Look, I don’t know if you’re aware of it, but there are dangerous animals roaming these woods. They’ve already been on the rampage; it’s why this area is out of bounds.’
&n
bsp; ‘What kind of animals?’ asked Peter, looking worried. He turned to his sister. ‘I told you I’d heard wildcats had got into the estate,’ he hissed.
‘You’re right – wildcats,’ Ash said. ‘And it seems they’re killing and maiming anything they come across. So I suggest we all go back to the castle, right now.’
‘Cats don’t bother me,’ Petra said scornfully.
‘These would,’ Ash told her drily.
Delphine cut in. ‘I think it would be safer if we all left together.’
‘We don’t need you to protect us,’ Petra grabbed her brother’s hand. ‘Come on, Peter, if they want us gone, let’s go!’
‘Wait!’ Delphine tried to stop them, but they were off, running with the energy of youth.
Ash knew that, in his present condition, he would never catch them up, but Delphine was in far better shape. He turned to her and held her by the shoulders. ‘You go after them, Delphine. There’s something here I want to look at.’
She shook her head fiercely. ‘There’s no way I’m leaving without you. Can’t we wait for the guards?’
‘It’s so hidden away, I have a feeling it’s not meant to be found, especially by outsiders. The guards might not be too pleased with me.’
‘What is it, David?’ Her beauty was not diminished by her frown. He saw she was determined to stay by him no matter what had caught his interest.
‘Okay,’ he said with a resigned sigh, ‘come with me, but remember, try not to make much noise. We don’t want to attract the wildcats.’
Taking her hand, he led her across the small clearing to another one, which could just be seen between the trees and undergrowth. She grasped his hand in fear. He wished he could make her see sense, but there was no doubt that he felt better in her company. They crept forward and Ash cleared the undergrowth that was in their way. He was astonished by what they found in the larger clearing, where the grass was cut neatly short and there were plants and colourful flower beds around the yew-bordered perimeter.
Embedded in the grass were a series of foot-wide metal plaques. All were set in tidy rows, equally spaced, in strict symmetry. Rows and rows of them.
Directly across from where they stood was a narrow dirt track, rough, but accessible in a car.
‘David,’ Delphine whispered, in awe rather than trepidation.
He moved closer, taking her with him.
‘I think it’s a garden of remembrance,’ he told her quietly. ‘This is where Comraich brings its dead.’
55
‘My guess is that every dead guest of Comraich is cremated, and their ashes laid to rest right here, within the estate,’ said Ash.
He watched as Delphine moved to the first row of metal plates and knelt to read one.
‘But . . . but look, David . . .’ she said, pointing down at it, ‘there isn’t a name, or even a date.’
He knelt beside her and ran his fingers over the six numerals embossed on the bronze plaque, then glanced at the others close by. ‘Seems like they all have a row of six numbers on them.’
‘Then perhaps it isn’t what you think it is after all.’ Delphine was searching a wider field, squinting to sharpen her vision.
Oh, it’s what I think it is, all right, thought Ash as he carefully wandered among the memorials, assiduously avoiding treading on any out of respect, even though there was just plain charcoal and ash beneath the metal. Reducing dead bodies to basic chemical compounds, gases and bone fragments by high-temperature vaporization wasn’t his idea of a celebratory send-off, but then, he supposed, being shut in a box in your best suit wasn’t exactly fun, either.
Delphine had caught up to him. ‘I’ve never seen this kind of thing before,’ she told him nervously.
‘Well, there’s usually a choice when you’re cremated. Your ashes can either be planted like these, with a commemorative plaque, or they can be immured in a solid wall, scattered over a rose garden, buried at sea – whatever you like, within reason. I doubt any of these . . .’ he waved his arm around to cover the area ‘. . . had much say in the matter, though.’
The investigator had noticed that the closer he and Delphine got to the rearmost rows, the less worn the metal was, the sharper the inscriptions. These were obviously the latest additions, although the numbers continued to puzzle him.
Then another thought came into his head. Uncannily, Delphine had the same idea.
‘The numbers . . .’ she said excitedly.
‘. . . are codes,’ Ash finished for her.
He reached into his coat’s deep pocket to pull out a dogeared notebook and a pen. He began to copy the numbers on the plaques, laying them out as they were in the field.
Delphine chewed her lower lip in thought. ‘They must have a file on every person laid to rest here for their own records. It has to be run like a business . . .’
‘A business that raises millions every year for Comraich and, of course, for the Inner Court itself. And think of the information and secrets brought here by guests—’
‘All those skeletons in all those cupboards—’
‘Blackmail,’ Ash said. ‘Some of those skeletons might even bankrupt major companies. Hell, they could probably bring down governments, if the IC chose. Influence. No wonder the Inner Court is big on that word. Influence is their power.’
‘So that’s why – ’ she stopped abruptly, as though she’d shocked herself.
‘What, Delphine? What aren’t you telling me?’
‘David, every guest here is given the “truth drug”, sodium pentothal, to make them confess everything they know regarding colleagues and enemies alike.’
Ash was horrified. ‘You were aware of that and didn’t say anything?’ He hadn’t meant it to sound like an accusation, but what else could it be?
‘I didn’t realize, David.’
She stared into his eyes, and the hurt he saw in them made him want to bite off his tongue.
‘I mean, I knew what was happening, but when I expressed my doubts I was told it was done as a kind of detoxification of the individual’s mind, and that no records were ever kept. As a psychiatrist, Dr Singh was responsible for that. He sometimes gave me information that might help me enable patients to overcome their inner demons, or resolve their anxieties, but that’s all.’
Having scribbled a good selection of code numbers, Ash stood and capped his pen, putting both it and the notebook back into his jacket. He faced her, now expressionless.
‘David?’ she said, as if appealing to him to believe her.
He grinned and pulled her into his arms. ‘I’m a pretty good judge of people,’ he told her gently. ‘Although I have made some mistakes in my time.’
His mind seemed far away. He held her tightly and nuzzled his face into her raven-black curls. ‘Not with you, though, Delphine. Everything I feel about you is good.’
She rested her head against his chest and he could feel her relief. But she could feel his heartbeat begin to race as his grip tightened even more. Her body stiffened with apprehension.
Outwardly calm, his voice low and even, he said, ‘Delphine, I don’t want you to look round or make any sudden moves, but you remember that dirt track we saw . . . ?’
Mystified, she started to turn her head, but his voice was sharp, though still low in tone.
‘No,’ he said. ‘Don’t look now, but there’s one of those wildcats standing in the middle of the track watching us.’
She did as he asked and kept the side of her face tight against his chest. He felt her tremble and she sucked in a breath.
‘What are we going to do?’ she asked in an unsteady whisper.
‘Well, it’s a pretty mangy-looking specimen, about as big as a medium-sized dog, and at the moment it’s just curious. Looks as if it’s been in one hell of a fight . . . Uh-oh.’
‘What?’
‘It’s been joined by another.’
Delphine stirred her head, lifting it from Ash’s chest, but continued to avoid looking behind her. T
hen she became even more rigid in his arms.
‘David,’ she whispered, frightened.
He’d already guessed what she was going to tell him.
‘There’s another three prowling by the bushes.’
Ash risked a look and almost swore when he caught sight of the three predators. Their gingerish hair was matted, patchily caked in dried blood. One was limping heavily. All three were prowling back and forth, sizing up the two humans, assessing the risk to themselves.
Pretty bloody minimal, Ash thought. How did you fight off a pack of blood-crazed creatures that were as large as dogs, especially when you had nothing to defend yourself with? The creatures made no sound, merely observed them.
He looked again at the dirt track and saw with mounting horror that three more cats had joined the pair already there. It was as if they knew they had plenty of time, and were relishing the contact that would soon come. Ash felt that he and Delphine were being treated like trapped mice, and part of the fun was the anticipation of the kill.
Another solitary cat appeared from the undergrowth that ringed the wide burial place, its green, slanted eyes looking directly and wickedly into the investigator’s.
This is not good, Ash told himself.
When Delphine spoke, it was difficult to catch her soft, quavering words.
‘David, what are we going to do?’
‘Maybe they’re just curious,’ he said, doing his best to sound reassuring.
He felt her shiver.
‘They’re probably just toying with us,’ he quickly added. ‘You know, cat-and-mouse stuff.’
‘Cats always kill the mouse in the end.’
He could find no answer to that, and he noticed several of the wildcats had crept up to the boundary line of the neat rows of plaques.
‘Seems pointless, just standing here waiting,’ he coaxed her, ‘so how about we walk off slowly, very slowly, give ’em nothing to get excited about.’
‘Ailurophobia,’ she responded.
‘Sorry?’
‘Fear of cats, that’s what it’s called. Ailurophobia.’