***
A few minutes after leaving Ephram's store, Kate reached the harbor wall. Nearby, the ferry was already docked, waiting to take passengers back to the mainland.
Turning, Kate looked up toward Edgar's mansion high on the hill, and she couldn't help but wonder what would happen if she suddenly got onto the ferry and tried to leave. She kept telling herself that she was being foolish, that she was allowing the superstitions of Thaxos to creep into her mind, but at the same time she found herself wondering if there might be some way that Edgar had forced her to remain on the island.
“You coming onboard?” called out the ferry's deckhand.
She paused for a moment.
“First stop Parios,” he added, “and from there you can get a connection to Athens.”
“No,” she said finally. “Another day.”
As the deckhand began to prepare the boat for its return journey, Kate stay completely still, trying to feel the beat of her own heart. She watched as the ferry began to motor away from the harbor wall, heading for the horizon, and finally she realized that even if she could leave, she wasn't sure she wanted to get away from Thaxos, not now that she felt she was on course to make a significant discovery about the stones. She had enough money saved from her previous job, plus Edgar was paying her for the archive work, so she had the freedom to stay and work on the stones as a side-project.
Turning and heading back across the town square, she told herself that it was her decision to remain on Thaxos now, and that she was beholden to no-one. Still, she couldn't help but glance up at the distant mansion, and she couldn't shake the feeling that perhaps Edgar was up there at a window, watching her.
III
“It's a hell of a thing,” Doctor Young said as he held the crucifix up, admiring the way the midday sun glinted off its golden edges. “Whoever thought that a murder weapon could look so... beautiful?”
“It's not going to be a murder,” Cavaleri replied, sitting at her desk. “It's going to be an execution.”
“Without a trial first.”
“Do you really think I could get Le Compte into the dock?”
“That would be a sight to behold,” Doctor Young replied with a smile as he set the crucifix back down. “Edgar Le Compte, bound and shackled and forced to bow his head as a jury of his peers read their verdict. But no, I don't think for one moment that you'd have even the faintest chance.” He paused. “And anyway, a jury of his peers would be a terrifying sight.”
“When I was a child,” she replied, “I was told that the only way to kill a vampire was to drive the stake directly into its heart.”
Doctor Young nodded. “That seems about right.”
“But what is it about the Crucifix of St. Joan that makes it so dangerous to Le Compte?”
“That's a very long story,” he replied, “and I'm afraid there are gaps that even I don't fully understand. The things I know about Le Compte have been pieced together from things he's said, as well as rumors and legends. One thing I know for certain, though, is that there are very, very few ways to even hurt him. Believe me, many have tried, but few have succeeded.” He touched the spike of the crucifix with the tip of one finger. “If they'd been in possession of this thing, however, I think things might have turned out very differently..”
“And my...” Cavaleri paused, staring at the crucifix. “The other day, you said that killing Edgar Le Compte would free my sister from whatever the hell he did to her.”
“Absolutely.”
“But how can you be so sure?”
“I know a thing or two about Edgar Le Compte,” Doctor Young replied. “Those poor girls drowned almost a decade before he returned to Thaxos, but that doesn't mean he wasn't involved. The man's mind is capable of reaching out and affecting events far beyond his physical location. All he had to do was leave them down there in the depths, hidden from the world, before hauling them up shortly after he returned. And then he bit their necks, and the rest is history. He's very persuasive, so whatever he told them to do, I'm sure they'll do it. Until his influence over them is broken, at least.”
“But what will happen to her when Le Compte is dead?” Cavaleri continued. “Will she come back to us, or will she just... be gone again?”
“I can't say. Either is possible, but whatever happens, at least she'll be free of the miserable existence she endures now. All day and all night, she and her companion wait beneath the waves. I don't know exactly what Le Compte has in mind for them, but I don't doubt for one moment that it will be cruel. After all, you're dealing with someone who had no qualms about having them dragged beneath the surface and drowned. Just focus on the fact that anything is better than leaving her under his control.”
“I should go up there right now,” Cavaleri muttered, trying to stay calm. “He won't know what's hit him until -”
“He'd kill you before you got close enough.”
“Not if I -”
“He'd kill you,” Doctor Young insisted. “Trust me on this. He needs to be distracted, and there are various ways for that to happen. Right now, in fact, I'm working on a couple of possibilities. When a man weaves such a tangled web, he inevitably leaves enough threads for him to be tripped up.”
“How long do I have to wait?” Cavaleri asked.
“Not long.”
“But how long?”
“Have patience,” he replied, heading to the door. “When the time is right, I'll let you know. A day, maybe two. Believe me, things are moving behind the scenes with remarkable speed. All the pieces are falling into place, even as Le Compte sits up there in his mansion and tells himself that he can't be touched.” He stopped and turned to her. “The arrogance of Edgar Le Compte will be his downfall. That's always the case with men who get too big.”
“And why do you care so much?” Cavaleri asked.
“I don't like to see Thaxos being destroyed by a tyrant.”
“But you're a friend of Le Compte's,” she pointed out, “and Thaxos means nothing to you. Why would you go to all this trouble to help us?”
“Let's just say,” Doctor Young continued, “that Edgar Le Compte and I go back a long way. He might not even realize it, but he's done thing to me that can never be forgiven. He thinks I've forgotten, or that I've come to terms with his cruelty, but the truth is...” He paused for a moment, as if he was thinking back to some incident from his past. “He made an innocent woman die in the most painful way possible. He drew her suffering out for as long as possible, and when she finally died he beat her body in a fury, all because he'd wanted her to suffer some more. And he made me watch every moment, to 'toughen me up'. He thought I was a weak child.”
“But if -”
“That woman was my mother,” he added. “I think you can guess the nature of my relationship to Le Compte, can't you?”
Cavaleri stared at him for a moment, her lips poised to say something that her mind couldn't quite believe.
“Good,” Doctor Young continued. “There's no earthly power that can stop Edgar Le Compte. Believe me, I tried everything, but the man has enough money to pay off everyone on the planet. Courts, judges, police officers... That's why I decided to come and talk to you, Inspector. There's not enough money in the world to take the memory of your sister's fate from your mind, is there?”
“Do I have to drive the stake into his heart myself?” she asked, with tears in her eyes.
“Yes, I'm afraid you do.”
“But can't you -”
“No, it has to be you. It has to be someone who feels nothing but pure hatred for him.”
“Can't you do it? You said he killed your mother.”
“He did,” Doctor Young replied, but the truth is...” He paused for a moment. “The truth is, she was a weak woman, and although I despise him for what he did to her, there's the tiniest part of me that also respects him. And I can't risk the chance that he might use that fact against me. So it has to be someone with pure hatred in their heart, and don't take
this the wrong way, but I can tell that you fit the bill.”
She looked down at the stake, trying to find the strength in her heart.
“Don't worry,” Doctor Young told her. “It might seem impossible at the moment, but when the time comes... When you have the opportunity, and the bastard is standing right in front of you, it'll be the easiest thing in the world. And as his body falls to the floor, you'll know that you've done the right thing. Tell me, though... Are you a religious woman, Inspector?”
“I...” She paused. “I don't know anymore.”
“You don't know?”
“Sometimes I believe, sometimes I don't. I've always struggled, at least since my sister died.”
“Then this will help you to find out,” he replied. “Either way, you're doing the right thing. Whether you expect your reward in this life or the next, killing Edgar Le Compte will not be murder. It will simply be justice.” He smiled faintly as he checked his watch. “Gather some men over the next few days,” he added. “Just some local goons who can be paid to cause a scene. I'll be in touch soon, when everything is in place, and then we can proceed. It'll all be over so very soon, Inspector. That, at least, I can assure you.”
“And the crucifix -”
“It'll work,” he said firmly. “It's worked before.”
“On Le Compte?”
“On his father. So it's somewhat fitting that it should be used on Le Compte himself, don't you think? Two black heart, pierced by the same item. I look forward to laying his body to rest.”
“I just want to free Karya from that nightmare,” she told him. “Don't wait too long to get back to me, or I might just go up there to Le Compte's mansion alone and finish him off.”
Once Doctor Young had left, Cavaleri picked up the crucifix and examined it more closely. Roughly twelve inches long, and with a tapering spike at one end, it was made of pure gold, and unfamiliar letters were inscribed along the edges, in a language that she didn't recognize. Holding onto one end, she held the crucifix up and imagined driving it into Edgar Le Compte's chest, and although the thought didn't make her feel good at all, she felt that she had no choice. She was willing to sacrifice everything if it meant she could rid the island of the Le Compte curse.
After all, Doctor Young had told her this was the only way she could free her sister. And why, she asked herself, would Doctor Young ever lie to her? Glancing across the office, she spotted her shadow against the wall. Thinking of Karya again, she realized that her sister was the key: so long as she thought of Karya's suffering, she would be capable of finishing Edgar Le Compte as soon as she got the chance.
IV
“Gothos,” Kate muttered, reading from the inscription that had long ago been carved into the wooden panel. “Sangreth. Attaroth. Karakh.”
Although she had intended to go straight back to the mansion after visiting Ephram, she had somehow found herself making a detour to the stone circle on the island's north side, and now she was down in the subterranean chamber, examining the detailed panels that lined the walls. Reaching up, she ran her fingers against the lettering, trying to get some insight into the kind of people who might have once created such a place.
“Gothos,” she said again, although the word still sounded strange and unfamiliar. “Go-thos.”
She moved her finger to the next word, tracing the shape of each letter.
“Sangreth.”
Taking a step back, she looked at the nearest panel, which showed a set of small figures standing next to what appeared to be a large mansion, although it clearly wasn't supposed to be Edgar's home on Thaxos. Further back in the panel, there were mountains and then various sharp, jagged lines, which almost seemed to be large spiders. She tilted her head a little, trying to get a better idea of what she was seeing, but the entire scene struck Kate as being something out of a crazy science-fiction story. After a moment, however, she realized that there were some smaller carvings next to a few of the figures, and she leaned closer.
“Patrick,” she whispered, reading the name that had been carved in English next to the first figure.
Looking at the next figure, she saw another name.
“Cassandra.”
And then finally, there was a third figure, with another name carved into the wood.
“Edgar,” she read aloud.
She paused, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. A little further along from those three figures, there were some more, although these others seemed more twisted and thin, and another word was carved into the wood next to them.
“Cold,” Kate read.
Moving along to the next panel, she found that there was more English text carved into the wood.
“The cold hearts came from the north,” she read out loud, “and swore to exploit our divisions.”
Although she had no idea what the text meant, Kate couldn't help but wonder if it was meant to be some kind of story, perhaps part of a religious tale. The other thing that struck her as being strange was the fact that the text was on the panels at all. She had been down to the chamber a few times over the past week, and she was certain that there had been no small English letters carved into the wood. Then again, she figured that there was no way anyone would have come down and started carving the text now, so she must have just missed it the first time around.
She glanced back at the first panel.
“Patrick, Cassandra and Edgar,” she whispered. “That can't be a coincidence.”
She spent the next hour working her way around all the panels, examining each image in great detail, although she found no more English text carved into the wood. The images were enough to keep her preoccupied, however, since they seemed to show scenes from some great war: there were vast spiders towering over armies, and figures fighting other figures, and buildings burning to the ground. Kate couldn't shake the feeling that she was watching an epic tale play out, one that seemed to finally end in the last panel, which showed just a few figures standing atop a pile of the dead, while finally the spiders seemed to have been vanquished.
Once she had finished examining the images, Kate turned her attention to the stone altar in the center of the chamber. In contrast to the walls, the altar was completely untouched by any kind of carving, and the only mark of note was what appeared to be a faint bloodstain that had grown pale over the years. She ran her hand across the surface, trying to imagine what kind of horror once took place in the chamber, and for a moment she closed her eyes and thought of the screams that must have rung out. With her eyes still closed, she imagined a stereotypical scene of sacrifice: chanting figures wearing hoods, holding burning torches, while some terrified naked maiden was chained to the altar and a priest held a dagger above her bare belly.
Opening her eyes, Kate couldn't help but shudder at the thought of what might have happened. Then again, she told herself, it might have been something far less macabre, and more mundane. She'd been on Thaxos long enough to know that it was easy to get carried away with fanciful ideas. Noticing two holds on the side of the altar, she took a closer look and realized that they seemed to be keyholes, almost as if the altar was somehow designed to be opened.
“An interesting place, isn't it?” Edgar said suddenly.
Turning, Kate was shocked to see him standing by the doorway with a faint smile on his face.
“I...” She paused. “I had no idea you were there, I was just... I mean, I... I...”
“Please,” he continued, “don't be so alarmed. I knew you'd find this chamber eventually. After all, I hired you to explore my family's archive, and I knew from the beginning that you would be very good at your job. To be honest, I would have been extremely disappointed if you had not managed to get down here.”
“I was going to tell you about it,” she replied, trying to stay calm even though her heart was pounding. “I just wanted to know what I'd found first.”
“I've known about this chamber for quite some time,” Edgar continued, making his way to one of the pane
ls and admiring it for a moment. “In addition, there is a stone passage that leads directly from here to my house, although I suspect that you already know about that as well.”
“I...” Kate paused again, trying to work out how much she should tell him. “Yeah,” she replied finally, “I found the passage.”
“It's all very old,” he explained, turning to her. “As you might have worked out by now, this chamber was constructed centuries ago, and the stone tunnel was put into place around the same time that the mansion was built. The stones themselves would appear to be much older, although quite how old, I could not imagine. I've tried to work out where they came from, but other than determining that they are not from Thaxos itself, I have no idea. They don't match any samples from nearby ports, nor can I find any other stones in the world that have quite the same structure and consistency. It's almost as if they appeared out of nowhere.”
“I didn't realize you knew so much about this place,” she replied.
“It's my home. It would have been somewhat remiss of me not to have explored it fully.”
“I still don't know who built this place,” Kate continued, “or why. And there are markings on the walls, and text, that make no sense at all. Even some of the language seems to be completely unfamiliar, unlike anything I've ever encountered before. It seems to have no roots in anything I've seen. I even got a second opinion from a colleague back in London, but he was stumped too.”
“Indeed,” Edgar replied, fixing her with a determined gaze.
“To be honest, I don't even know where to start,” she told him. “With something like this, there's usually an obvious jumping-off point, but this time I can't really get a handle on anything. It's as if whatever happened on Thaxos was completely isolated from the rest of the world.”
“I can certainly believe that to be the case,” he replied. “From what little I know of my ancestors, I believe that they much preferred to live in isolation. In many ways I share that instinct, although obviously I recognize that this is not entirely possible in the modern world. That's one of the reasons I was so keen to hire you. If the past is to finally come to the surface, I would prefer that it does so in an ordered manner rather than being dragged haphazardly into the spotlight.”
“There's blood on this altar,” she pointed out.
Making his way to the center of the chamber, Edgar looked down at the stain for a moment.
“Indeed,” he said finally. “It would appear to be old, though. Perhaps half a century or more?”
“So maybe it was connected to your grandfather?”
“You think he killed someone here?”
Kate paused.
“It's okay,” Edgar continued. “Please, don't filter your thoughts. If you believe my grandfather was involved in such things, I would prefer to know. There are so many stories about him, and I long ago had to accept that most of them are true.”
“I think it's possible,” she replied. “Seeing as this chamber is linked in some way to your house, your grandfather and the rest of your ancestors would seem to be the most obvious suspects.”
“My grandfather was a cruel man,” he admitted. “Perhaps the cruelest man who has ever lived. In the basement back at my house, there are machines that he used on his victims. I would be glad to let you down there some time, so that you might get an idea of his ingenuity and creativity. He purchased most of the machines from the mainland and then made his own modifications. I'm told that he kept some of his victims alive for weeks on end, constantly pushing them just far enough that they wouldn't die. The locals claimed to be able to hear screams ringing out across the entire island. Men, women, even children were among his victims. Tell me, Kate, do you believe that such a man is beyond redemption?”
“I'd like to think that anyone can be redeemed.”
“But what about a man such as this?” he continued. “What about a man who tortured people with such glee?”
“I...” She paused for a moment. “I want to say that it would be possible, but the truth is, I think maybe there are some people who just can't be saved. If someone has that much capacity for cruelty, it's almost as if there's a kind of darkness in their soul that won't ever be removed. Maybe that makes me sound hard-hearted, but I think it's true. There's a limit to how much can be forgiven.”
“Perhaps you're right,” Edgar replied, with a hint of sadness in his voice, before turning to look at one of the nearby panels.
“I'm sorry if that sounded harsh,” Kate added. “I know he was part of your family, but...”
“But you think Thaxos is better off without my grandfather?”
“Well... Yes. I've heard enough about him to think the whole world is better off without him.” She paused as she realized that she might be pushing a little too hard. “I mean -”
“I understand,” he said, interrupting her. “Tell me, have you managed to make sense of these wooden panels yet?”
“Not really,” she replied, glad to be on a different subject. “There are some pieces of text in English with a few interesting names, but the rest -”
“I can read them,” he said suddenly.
“What do you mean?”
“The text that so baffles you,” he continued, walking over to the wall and running his fingers against a section of the writing. “I was taught how to read it as a child.” He turned to her. “I know the stories, too, that are depicted in these panels. Would you like me to translate them for you?”
V
“So you steal from churches now, do you?”
Turning from the file cabinet in the corner of her office, Cavaleri saw with alarm that Father Henderson had arrived, and that his face was flushed with anger.
“I don't know what you -”
“Don't lie to me, Isobel!” he snapped as he reached her desk. “Where is it? Return it to me at once and we can forget that any of this happened.”
“I really -”
“Don't lie to me!” he shouted.
She stared at him for a moment, shocked by the sheer level of anger in his voice.
“Sit down,” she replied finally, trying not to sound nervous. “I really don't have a clue what you're talking about, but -”
“The Crucifix of St. Joan is missing,” he continued. “Someone took it from the safe in my office. Do you think I'm a complete fool, Isobel? I can only assume that while you kept me busy with your sordid little confession, you had an accomplice breaking into the back of the church. I thought you were seeking spiritual guidance, I thought you actually wanted to be helped, but no, you only cared about getting your hands on that... that... thing!”
“I...” Pausing, she realized that there was no point pretending. She looked down at her desk, unable to meet the priest's gaze.
“He didn't just take the crucifix, either,” Father Henderson continued. “Oh no, while he was in there, he helped himself to cash and other items of value. Personal items too.”
“He wasn't supposed to do that,” she replied, genuinely shocked. “I told him to only take the...” She paused. “I'll get him to... I'll make him return anything that he shouldn't have taken.”
“Don't act as if you're surprised,” he continued, interrupting her. “When you associate with thieves and liars, you become one yourself. God knows exactly what you've done, Isobel Cavaleri, and He will judge you if you do not make it right! He sees into your soul and He hears your every thought, even the ones that you yourself refuse to hear!”
“I'll return the crucifix to you,” she told him, “I swear, but first I need it for a few more days.”
“For what foul purpose?”
“For...” She paused again, aware that she couldn't tell him the truth but equally aware that he'd see through any lie. “Just trust me,” she continued finally. “I'm a police officer, so just... please try to trust that I'm doing the right thing. Surely you know me well enough to realize that I mean well...”
“It's to be an honorable murder, is it?” he spat bac
k at her with obvious contempt.
She opened her mouth to reply, but no words came out.
“I remember when you were a child,” he continued, clearly struggling to contain his anger. “You were such a sweet, innocent young girl, but then after your sister died... I don't know how you ended up with the spirit of Satan in your heart, Isobel, but I've been watching you for years and I've seen your soul being darkened by sin. You turned away from the righteous path, and now you're hell-bent on some horrific purpose.”
“I'm doing what's best for Thaxos.”
“Thaxos needs good people!” he shouted. “It needs people whose hearts cannot be warped and twisted by evil! Why can't you be strong, Isobel? Don't let the Devil whisper into your heart and turn it black!”
“It's too late for that,” she replied. “It's not enough for good people to stand back anymore. Someone has to actually do something. Prayers are just words, Father. They're nice words and kind words and good words, but words alone are not enough to stop pure evil.”
“So you're going to kill Edgar Le Compte?”
“I...” She paused, unable once again to get the words out.
“Are you really prepared to spill his blood?” the priest continued. “It won't be quick or easy, you know. He'll be in pain. He'll beg for mercy. He'll bleed all over you. It will be horrific.”
She tried to reply, but the words still stuck in her throat. In her mind, she knew exactly what she planned to do with the crucifix, but she felt she could never explain things to Father Henderson. Of all the people on Thaxos, he was the last who could ever understand.
“Never mind,” he continued. “I can see it in your eyes, Isobel. Let me warn you, though, that this is one line that can never be uncrossed. If you go ahead with this abominable plan, the Devil will forever have his grip on your soul. Don't fool yourself into thinking that you can repent at a later date and all will be forgiven, and don't pretend that you're somehow sacrificing yourself for the good of the community. Murder is murder and sin is sin, and you will go to hell if you kill that man! No matter what he has done or what you think he has done, you do not have the right to end his life!”
Although she wanted to argue with him, Cavaleri felt her strength ebbing away. She had known Father Henderson all her life, and she was shocked by his anger; at the same time, she knew she had no choice, so as she made her way back to her desk she focused on holding back her tears.
“I refuse to believe that you're a lost cause,” Father Henderson continued, his voice tense with emotion. “I always believe that any person can be redeemed, but the darkness has latched onto you, Isobel, and it will be difficult to shake it off. Let me help you. Let me guide you back toward the light before people die and -”
“People have already died,” she snapped at him, forcing back the tears. “Fernando Mediaci is dead because of Edgar Le Compte. Or maybe even because of me! I encouraged him to go snooping about on Le Compte's boat, and since then there's been no sign of him, so I'm pretty damn certain he's been killed and dumped overboard.” She grabbed a form and help it up for him to see. “This is a customs form that I've issued this morning to Le Compte, granting permission for that goddamn boat to come back to Thaxos. I need to go on-board myself and find out what really happened to Fernando.”
“But -”
“My sister drowned,” she continued, “and so did a friend of hers.”
“Long before Edgar Le Compte came to Thaxos.”
“You don't understand what he's capable of,” she replied. “You saw all the rats that infested the place. And what about Alice Marco? You attended her bed after she died, you saw she was gone, but she's alive again!”
“I...” He paused, and it was clear that this time he was uncertain. “I am not a medical man...”
“He brought her back to life,” she added. “He raised her from the dead, and now she's up there at his mansion. God knows what he wants with her. Maybe she's just some doll he can parade around for his own amusement, or maybe he needs yet another companion. He's building quite a harem up there, don't you think? Alice Marco, Kate Langley, plus that brain-dead little slut he brought from the mainland. I bet they have some fun evenings.”
“None of this is a reason to kill him. A man's life is sacrosanct.”
“Edgar Le Compte isn't an ordinary man,” she continued. “I don't know exactly what he is. I've got ideas, but I don't want to say them out loud. Whatever the truth, he has to be dealt with before more people suffer. Haven't you heard the stories about the way his grandfather ruled Thaxos? We're heading back to that kind of life, with screams coming from the mansion every night and with people being dragged up there for torture. If God spurns me because I take a stand against that kind of evil, then I accept his judgment.”
“You do not believe the Lord will guide us to safety?”
“I...”
An awkward silence fell.
“You do not believe?” the priest asked again. “You have lost your faith in God?”
“I think you should leave now,” she continued, trying not to think back to the sight of her sister's pale, ragged form on the beach. It was that sight, more than anything else, that had finally made her realize that words and prayer would never be enough to stop Edgar Le Compte.
“Isobel -”
“The world isn't as simple as you seem to think,” she added, interrupting him. There were tears in her eyes now, but she made no attempt to hide them. “Men such as Le Compte get away with their evil precisely because people like us stand back and trust in God or some other higher power to protect us. It's a nice fairytale, but it doesn't help. I grew up believing in God, Father. I went to your church every week and I listened to your sermons, and I trusted that you were right. But now? Those days are over. We can't waste any more time talking about good and evil. We just have to do whatever's necessary. When I joined the police, I swore to protect the people of this island, and that's exactly what I'm going to do.”
“Then I can only hope,” Father Henderson replied, “that God has mercy on your soul, and that he looks past the evil of your actions and sees that you were good once.”
“I'm not the villain here,” she told him, sniffing back more tears. “I'm doing the right thing.”
“That's funny,” the priest replied sadly. “I'm sure you're not the first murderer who managed to rationalize her actions before plunging a dagger into another man's chest. When I think back to the child you were once, Isobel, I weep at the innocence you have lost.”
Cavaleri watched as he headed to the door.
“You're a man of the church,” she called after him. “Everything I told you in my confession earlier... You're forbidden from sharing it with anyone. Don't forget that.”
“I know my duty,” he replied, not looking back at her. “I will not break your confidence. I will pray for you, though. I hope it is enough.”
“It won't be,” she whispered as he left the building. “The world isn't divided into good and evil. Sometimes good people have to do the most terrible things and carry that weight on their shoulders. The time for prayers is over. I have to make a stand.”
VI
“These images tell of a war,” Edgar explained, as he and Kate stood next to the first carved panel. “A great and fiery war that lasted many thousands of years. A war that engulfed whole worlds, whole civilizations. I do not think it is even possible for a human to comprehend the number of lives that were lost, or the pain in which those people died.”
“So it's fiction,” Kate replied, feeling relieved. “It's just a story.”
“The war had two stages,” Edgar continued, pointing at the part of the panel that seemed to show a large spider. “The first stage came when the spiders of Karakh, believing themselves to be wiser than any other creatures in existence, attempted to impose their beliefs on the other species. At the time, the spiders were rivaled only by the vampires of Gothos and the werewolves of Sangreth. The spiders were subtle at first, seeking to
gain influence through diplomacy, but when that failed...”
He led Kate to the next panel, which showed more spiders, this time with flames around them.
“The spiders thought they could enforce their beliefs through force. That's one of the problems with wisdom... It can be twisted and used to support almost any action. So they attacked in great number, seeking to crush those who opposed them. The werewolves ran, scattering themselves across the seven worlds, but the vampires stood and fought. There were times when they seemed doomed, but gradually they were able to develop new strategies. Many parts of the old vampire world were destroyed, but they made a final stand at their ancestral home of Gothos, and that's where they were finally able to defeat the spiders.”
He gestured for her to follow him to the next panel, which showed many small spiders.
“The exact nature of what happened is lost in the mists of history. A prophecy was involved, but matters were complicated by the emergence of two factors in the vampire world. According to legend, there are two main species of vampire. One species is warm-blooded, the other is cold-blooded. They had fought alongside one another during the war against the spiders, but once victory seemed assured, divisions began to show. The cold-blooded vampires had lost their home in the early days of the war and now they wanted to seize control of Gothos, which naturally was resisted. A vampire civil war erupted, and in many ways this was enough to make the war against the spiders seem like a mere skirmish.”
When they reached the next panel, Kate saw an image of thousands of bodies piled upon one another.
“Everyone had to become a soldier,” Edgar explained. “The poets, the writers, the men and the women, the laborers, the peasants, everyone. Even the newborn children were forced to fight. Blood flowed and flowed, but still Gothos stood. While this was happening, the spiders managed to regroup, sensing a chance to strike while the vampires were weak. The result was a bloodbath of unprecedented proportions. Chaos reigned, and it's said that the greatest vampire military strategist, a woman named Oncephalus, lost her mind when she tried to make sense of what was happening. Several of the other worlds took fright at what they saw and, fearing it might spread, sealed themselves off forever behind barriers that could never be broken. Still, to this day, some of those worlds remain lost to us. And then...”
He paused, as if the story was almost too much for him to bear.
“And then what?” Kate asked.
“And then the war ended.”
“How?”
He led her to the next panel.
“How else do wars end?” he asked, with great sadness in his voice.
“Peace?”
“Gothos, the ruler of the warm-blooded vampires, had some time earlier come up with a solution involving a great weapon and a prophecy, but he could not bring himself to put it into action.”
“Why not?”
“It is said,” Edgar continued, “that he refused to burn so many children. However, one vampire saw that this was the only way, that the entire vampire race had to be cleansed, and he took it upon himself to do whatever was necessary in order to end the war. Some might say that he was cruel, but others believe that he did what had to be done, and that without his actions the war would have consumed everything. The children would still have burned. His name was Patrick, and he single-handedly ended the war. Every other vampire died, although some persisted in other worlds and were eventually able to return once the prophecy had been completely fulfilled.”
“And how was the prophecy fulfilled?” Kate asked. “In the story, I mean.”
“The last vampire, Patrick, had a child who became the first of the new vampires,” he explained, showing her another panel. “And then Patrick died. Once this had happened, some of the older vampires were able to find ways back to the world so that they could inhabit corporeal bodies again. Memories of the war linger, more strongly in some than in others, but the vampire race itself is now weak. Gothos the man is dead, and Gothos the place has been destroyed, and there is no order to the vampire world, no unity, no leader. On the other hand, the cold-blooded vampires are believed to have been completely destroyed, and the spiders...”
Reaching down to the floor, he picked up a small spider that had been busy spinning a web.
“These spiders are de-evolved versions of the great spiders. They live on in this form, and their punishment is the knowledge that they were once so much more powerful. It is said that each spider remembers past of the war, but no spider remembers the entire story. They are left to spin their little webs, hopelessly lost in their own shattered memories. And that is how things were left. The vampires persisted, albeit in a weakened bloodline, the spiders were reduced to bugs, and the werewolves retreated to the shadows. Meanwhile, the other worlds have mostly severed their links to the moral realm, preferring to keep their distance in case another war erupts. The great library, the worlds of the Grandapams and others, have only a few bridges left now. The entire course of history was forever changed by the vampire war.”
Kate watched as the spider crawled across the palm of Edgar's hand.
“But if -”
Before she could finish, he clenched his fist tight. Seconds later, a delicate trickle of blood ran out from between two of his fingers.
“Disgusting creatures,” he muttered, as he wiped the remains of the spider on the wall. “I refuse to allow this in my house at all. If I had to choose between rats and spiders on Thaxos, I would choose rats every time. At least one can reason with a rat. A spider, on the other hand, has the size of a gnat but the ego of a warrior, and that is not a good combination. Whenever I see one, I think of the horrors they unleashed.”
“So this legend about vampires,” Kate continued, “is part of some kind of... culture or religion that you were exposed to when you were growing up?”
“I suppose you could say that.”
“I've never heard any of it before,” she added. “I mean, I'm well versed in a lot of the legends that have been passed from generation to generation across Europe, and there are usually some common elements to all of them, points of intersection, but this crazy vampire story... It seems so insular and self-contained.”
“Do you not believe that some of it might be true?”
“Vampires?”
“Perhaps they're just very good at hiding themselves,” he continued. “Very, very good.”
“I think we can pretty safely say that vampires don't exist,” Kate replied, unable to stifle a faint smile. “From a biological as well as a historical standpoint. The same goes for most of the other things you mentioned just now. Werewolves, giant spiders, other worlds with bridges and....” She paused, waiting for Edgar to admit that he was just trying to trick her, but she couldn't help noticing a look of concern in his eyes, almost as if he was haunted by some dark memory. “So you were raised to actually believe all of these things?” she asked eventually. “All this stuff about a vampire war was taught to you as actual history?”
“I was raised...” He looked away for a moment, before turning back to her. “It would take too long to explain how I was raised, and something tells me that you wouldn't believe it anyway. Let us simply say that my childhood was rather unconventional, and that I saw and experienced things that left a lasting impression.”
“But your ancestors believed these stories?”
“Why would someone create a chamber such as this and fill it with art depicting events that they knew to be untrue?”
“Vampire cults aren't that uncommon,” she continued. “They've definitely existed throughout history, but they've all tended to be quite ephemeral and short-lived. There's never been a major, unified movement that has created one core tradition. That's the main reason why they're always remained on the fringes.”
“Or perhaps there has,” Edgar replied, “and you just haven't been aware of it. As I suggested before, it something is capable of hiding itself so well, there is simply no way that you would ever know it had ex
isted.”
“I guess that's possible,” Kate admitted. “I'm willing to accept that there might be gaps in my knowledge, in everyone's knowledge. That's completely rational and reasonable.” She stared for a moment at one of the panels, which showed what appeared to be hundreds of children and spiders burning.
“But you can't believe in vampires?” Edgar asked finally.
“Not unless I meet one in person and get to shake his hand.”
“And I suppose he'd have to show you his teeth, just to prove the point.”
She turned to him.
“I think he'd pretty much have to bite my neck and then transform into a bat. Sorry, my evidence threshold is pretty high. Maybe I should start wearing garlic, though. Just to be safe.” She looked over at the final panel, which Edgar hadn't explained to her yet. “What about that one?”
He looked at the panel for a moment, before turning back to her.
“I'm afraid I don't remember what that panel means,” he said, with a hint of hesitation. “I must apologize, but it has been quite some time since I was down here, and I don't quite recall...”
His voice trailed off.
Walking over to the panel, Kate saw that it was painted almost entirely black, save for a curled-up figure in the center, almost as if someone had been buried deep in the ground.
“I would prefer it if this chamber is not made public knowledge,” Edgar said after a moment. “I know that a few people are already aware of its existence, but I would not like the people of Thaxos to know. Some things, I feel are simply better left in the shadows.”
“Would you allow a full archeological dig down here some day?” she asked.
“I... I'm not sure what purpose that would serve.”
“This is a site of immense historical interest,” she replied. “If I could put together a small team, we could work without causing any disruption, and nothing would be damaged or removed. I'd be in charge, and we wouldn't drag your family name into it at all. We'd use imaging technology to look below the chamber, and to check behind the walls, look inside the altar -”
“Why would you want to look inside the altar?” he asked quickly, as if the idea alarmed him.
“Just to check,” she replied. “Maybe it's stone all the way through, or maybe...” She looked over at the altar for a moment. “It could contain something important.”
“I will consider your request,” he told her, “but for now, I would rather leave this chamber undisturbed. You are free to come down here, of course, but an archeological expedition would be too much.”
“If you're worried about your family's name being -”
“I'm not worried about that,” he replied. “I simply wish to avoid disruption. I want to make Thaxos my home, to settle here and to feel comfortable. For that to happen, I need things to settle a little. I hope you understand.”
“Sure,” Kate replied, even though she was secretly frustrated by the fact that Edgar was blocking her plans, and she was already trying to work out a way to carry out her own study without his knowledge. “It's your property. If you don't want it to be disturbed, then that's your choice. I understand if you're worried about the past coming back to haunt your family name.”
“I'm not worried about the past,” he told her. “Why should one worry about something that cannot be changed?”
VII
“Karya!” Cavaleri called out as she stood on the shore, watching the deep blue sea for any sign of her sister. “Are you there? It's me! It's Isobel!”
She waited, but there was still no sign of her sister. She had already spent several minutes calling Karya's name, hoping against hope that she might be able to see her again. She wanted to tell her that everything was going to be fine, to promise her that she'd soon be freed from the curse that had been placed upon her by Edgar Le Compte. With her parents having left Thaxos, Cavaleri had become accustomed to being alone on the island, but now she desperately wanted to see her sister again.
“Karya! I want to -”
Suddenly feeling a cold chill on the back of her neck, she turned and saw the young girl standing several meters away, staring straight at her.
“Karya!” she called out, hurrying toward her.
“Don't come any closer,” the girl replied.
“Karya, it's me.”
“Don't come closer,” the girl said again, more firmly this time. “Please, Isobel. It's for your own good. I don't know what... I'm not sure if I...”
Stopping just a meter or so from her sister, Cavaleri got down onto her knees. She stared at Karya, and for the first time she was able to see the true horror of the girl's form: her skin was white and pocked, and her sunken eyes were ringed with dark patches. She was still wearing the same dress from all those years ago, but whereas it had been her new dress on the day that she drowned, now it was tattered and rotten.
“Is it really you?” Cavaleri asked, with tears in her eyes.
“Is it really you?” Karya replied. “You look so old.”
“I grew up.”
“I didn't,” Karya continued, her voice sounding pale and weightless, almost as if she was struggling to inject any emotion into her tone. “I just... sank...”
“I know who did this to you,” Cavaleri told her. “It's okay, I know exactly who did it and why.”
“How does that make things okay?”
“Because I can stop him!”
“But it's already done,” Karya pointed out. “Look at me.”
“There's a way to fix things,” Cavaleri continued. “This man, this terrible, awful man, has come to Thaxos and destroyed everything. He did this to you, and he brought misery to the island, and everyone's too scared to stand up to him, but I'm not going to let him win. Do you understand? I've found a way to stop him.”
“Why would you want to stop him?”
“Because then things can be undone,” she replied. “I've spoken to someone who knows about these things. There's a chance, a good chance, that you'll be...” She paused, as she tried to understand how her sister could ever return to normal now that her body appeared to be decaying. “Karya, I know it seems impossible right now, but there are ways for things to be put right. There are things we can do that will bring you back.”
“It's so cold under the water,” Karya replied. “I know people come to Thaxos for the sun, to swim in the heat, but when you spend so many years down there at the bottom... I freeze.”
“And that's why this has to end.”
“I see people sometimes,” Karya continued, “swimming above me. I look up at them and I want to touch them. Sometimes I do touch them... I reach up and I let my fingers brush against their feet. I'm always very careful, though, to make sure that they don't see me. If they saw me, I'd have to...” She paused. “I know what I'd have to do. I almost did it the other day, when a woman saw Elizabeth and me on the beach. I should probably have killed her, but something held me back.”
“You have a good heart,” Cavaleri told her.
“I don't have a heart at all,” the little girl replied, tilting her head slightly.
“Yes, you do,” Cavaleri continued. “I swear, I didn't believe in these things until recently, but now I see the truth. Edgar Le Compte is a monster -”
“Edgar is my friend,” Karya replied.
“No!”
“He talked to me,” she continued, although she seemed to be struggling a little, almost as if she couldn't quite remember everything. “When he... when he came and woke me, he told me that he had an important job for me. I was scared at first, but I listened and it began to become clearer. I don't think you should hurt him, Isobel. He's not like anyone else I've ever met, but he's a good man.”
“He's not good,” Cavaleri told her. “He's the cause of everything bad that has happened at Thaxos over the past few months, and that's only the beginning. I know you can't possibly understand -”
“I have to guard something for him,” Karya replied, interrupting her.
“Guard something?” Cavaleri paused. “What do you have to guard?”
“Elizabeth and I have to guard it,” Karya continued, holding her left hand up so that Cavaleri could see the palm. “No-one is allowed to get hold of this. Edgar said that if someone steals it from me, everything will be ruined. Elizabeth has one too, but she can't show you now. She's busy.”
“What are you talking about?” Cavaleri asked. “There's -”
Before she could finish, she noticed that the skin on Karya's palm seemed different somehow. Leaning closer, she saw that there appeared to be a shape under the skin, and finally she realized that it was a key.
“Did he put that inside you?” she asked, shocked by the sight.
“It didn't hurt,” Karya explained. “Elizabeth has one too. They're two keys to the same thing, and when the time is right, Edgar wants them back. He said it won't be too long now, but he doesn't know exactly when everything is going to be ready. I think he's very impatient, though. Until then, he says we're being very important and very good. I don't want to make him angry.”
“Can I see the key?”
Karya shook her head.
“Why not?”
“I can't take it out. He made me promise. Please don't ask me to do anything that might make him angry.”
“What does it open?”
“I don't think I'm allowed to tell you.”
“It's me, Karya. It's Isobel.” She paused, hoping to remind her sister of their time together as children. “Don't you remember when we used to share everything?”
“It's the key to a box,” Karya said hesitantly. “I haven't seen the box, but it's made of stone and it's big, big enough to hold a...” She paused. “It's underground, in a big room under the stones. Edgar had a special word for it... It's an altar.”
“An altar?”
Karya nodded.
“Why would an altar need a key?”
“It's not just an altar,” Karya continued. “It's also a tomb.”
“And where is this place again?”
“Under the stones on the north side of the island. I think someone really important is buried there, and Edgar wants to get them out but he can't do it yet. Whoever it is, it's someone who's been there for a long time, because he said he'd missed them very much and... He said it was someone he loves, but he also said that certain things have to happen in the right order, so he has to wait.”
“Wait for what?”
“For the things to happen, silly,” Karya added with a smile. “It's romantic, really, if you think about it the right way.”
“And then he's going to dig that key out of your hand?”
“It really won't hurt,” she replied. “It didn't hurt when he put it in, and... I shouldn't be telling you these things. He told me not to tell anyone, but I didn't realize you were going to come and talk to me.” She lowered her hand. “Please don't tell him that I showed you. Please, Isobel, I don't want him to be mad at me!”
“Don't worry, I won't tell him. And after a few more days, it won't even matter if he's mad at you.”
“I should go,” Karya replied, walking past her and heading toward the water.
“No, wait!” Cavaleri shouted, getting to her feet and hurrying after her. She reached out and grabbed Karya's shoulder, but the girl instinctively turned and hissed at her, baring her sharp fangs with such venom that Cavaleri stumbled back and fell down onto the sand.
“I'm sorry,” Karya said after a moment. “It's not my fault, I just can't... I can't control myself. Please don't ever come too close to me, Isobel. I can't promise that I wouldn't do something bad. I have thing anger now, it's inside and normally it's cold, but when it comes up to the surface it gets hot and then...”
Her voice trailed off, and finally she turned and waded out to sea, getting deeper and deeper until she disappeared beneath the surface.
“Karya!” Cavaleri called out. “It doesn't have to be like this! I'm going to get you back!”
She waited, but all she saw was a few ripples on the water's surface where her sister had been a moment ago.
“I'm going to get you back!” she shouted, with tears flowing down her cheeks. “I swear to God, no matter what else happens, I'm going to get you back!”
VIII
“Dear Lord,” Father Henderson said as he knelt in the church, “I ask you now to show your infinite mercy and take care of a woman who has been ushered from the path of righteousness. Isobel Cavaleri has been seduced by darkness, but she is at heart a good and honest person who merely requires a little help. I have failed her, Lord, and it seems that I do not know how to bring her back to the light. I pray that you will find a way to deliver her safely from darkness before it is too late, and before she -”
Hearing a creaking sound nearby, he turned and looked along the aisle. The door at the far end was still closed, and after he waited for a few more seconds, the priest returned to his prayer.
“She has suffered greatly,” he continued, “but she -”
Again he heard the creaking sound, a little closer this time, but when he turned to look there was still nothing to be seen. He waited again, convinced that someone had entered, but there was no-one.
“Hello?” he called out.
Silence.
Turning back to continue his prayer, he closed his eyes again.
“Dear Lord, I can only -”
Before he could finish, he felt cold air on the back of his neck, as if someone was breathing on his flesh. Opening his eyes, he realized that the air all around was starting to turn cold, but something forced him to keep looking straight ahead. He could sense a presence standing behind him, something powerful and strong, but at the same time he was certain he couldn't hear anyone breathing. No matter how hard he tried to tell himself that it was all in his head, however, he already knew deep down that he wasn't alone. After a moment, he realized that his heart was now filled with something he had not felt for a long time: fear.
“Who's there?” he asked.
“Do you remember me?” a voice replied. It sounded like a little girl.
“I...” He paused. “What is your name?”
“I knew you wouldn't remember me,” the little girl continued. “It's been so long. You must have so many people coming here all the time. Or maybe you do remember me and you just don't want to admit it. I could understand that, if you're very scared.”
“I don't... I don't know what you mean.”
“I'm Elizabeth,” she replied.
“Elizabeth?” Again he paused as he tried to work out what she meant. He had known a few Elizabeths over the years, but there were no children of that name on Thaxos, not anymore. “Elizabeth who?”
“Elizabeth Keller, Father.”
“Elizabeth...” A cold shiver passed through him as he realized where he had heard that name before. “What kind of demon are you?”
“I'm not a demon,” she replied. “I'm Elizabeth Keller.”
“Elizabeth Keller died ten years ago.”
“I know.”
He took a deep breath, even as the air all around him seemed to be getting colder and colder. He felt as if the low temperature was radiating from the figure standing just over his shoulder.
“If you don't believe me,” the girl continued, “why don't you turn and look?”
“I do not need to look,” he replied. “I know in my heart -”
“You're scared.”
“I know in my heart -”
“You're scared and you're trying to hide it,” she said, interrupting him. “You could just turn and look at me if you weren't scared, but you are. There's no point denying it. I can feel it from here. Your heart is beating faster, and you're filled with doubt, and you're worried that if you turn and look at me you'll be forced to accept the truth about me. I understand why you're trying to hide all of this, but it's so obvious. You're terrified.”
“I do not need to look at a demon to know that one is in my presence!” r />
“I'm not a demon,” she replied. “I don't even know if demons exist. I exist, though. I'm right here. Please turn and look at me. You're only delaying things, and time is already running out.”
“Dear Lord,” Father Henderson said after a moment, closing his eyes, “I beseech you to -”
“He won't help you,” she said suddenly. “I don't know if He exists either, but if He does, I don't think He's going to do anything. It must be so funny, being in charge of a church on a place like Thaxos where... Well, believing in God doesn't really seem to help very much, does it? Not here, not now. I don't know why that is, but everyone knows it's true. You should just turn and look at me. Face your fear.”
“I do not fear you,” he replied. “I pity you. You are nothing more than a demon that has come to trick me. You should be ashamed, using the name of an innocent dead girl in your attempt to score a few cheap points.”
“I drowned,” she continued. “Karya and I went swimming, and we both drowned. You probably spoke at our funerals, even though there were no bodies. Now I'm here because I was sent to give you a message.”
“There is no message that I would want to hear from one such as yourself.”
“You don't have a choice.”
“I do not listen to the words of demons!”
“The message isn't in words. Only boring messages are delivered using words. Proper messages are delivered using actions. That's what Baron Le Compte told us, anyway.”
“Then what are you doing here?” he shouted, finally turning to look straight at her. He gasped and pulled back as he saw her sunken, partially rotten eyes staring back at him from a pale face. Her hair, which when she was alive had been beautifully full and blonde, was now straggly and thin, while her hands were hanging by her sides with overlong nails having grown from her fingertips. The most horrific part of her appearance, however, was the fact that her skin seemed to be torn in places, with dark red chunks of meat showing through.
“See?” she said with a faint smile. “I told you it's me, Father. I know I'm not as pretty as I was the last time you saw me, but it still is me. You can tell that, can't you?”
“Keep away from me,” he stammered, taking the crucifix from around his neck and holding it toward her. “I command you to leave this place! This is a house of God!”
“I know,” she replied. “I used to come here a lot, remember? My parents used to bring me. They were very religious. Every Sunday, we had to come down here and listen to you talk, and I always had to wear my best dress, which never made much sense to me. Why did God care what kind of dress I was wearing? Anyway, I didn't always like it, but I wasn't in a position to complain, and I started to find it funny after a while. You always spoke as if you really believed what you were saying.”
“You are not welcome here! Get out of this church immediately!”
“I'm going to leave soon,” she told him, “and I probably won't come back. I was supposed to be here with Karya, but she had to go and talk to someone else, so I came alone. I think I can deliver the message without any help.”
“I am not listening to you,” he replied. “You are a creature of Satan, and your words have no power over me. My faith is -”
“If you let me give you the message,” she said, interrupting him again, “I can leave. Wouldn't that be best for everyone? Or are you scared of the message?”
“Leave!” he shouted, his words echoing through the church.
“First the message,” she told him, taking a step closer.
“You cannot be here!” he replied, holding the little wooden crucifix up to her face. “You are a creature of the Devil!”
“I don't know what books you've been reading,” she said, “but those things don't work like that.” Reaching up, she used her frozen right hand to take hold of the crucifix and slip it out of his grasp. She examined it for a moment, as if it was something strange and alien that she'd never seen before, and then she dropped it to the floor. “If you truly have faith,” she continued, “then you wouldn't need things like that. Faith resides within the soul, not inside some dumb little cross. What's wrong? Don't you have faith in your own faith?”
“Do not dare to lecture me about faith,” he replied. “I have served God for half a century and I know more about faith than you could ever even dream! I have studied His words and His deeds, and I know for certain that he would never permit an abomination such as yourself to exist.”
“What does that word mean?” she asked. “What's an... abomination? And why am I one? It doesn't sound very nice.”
“If you do not leave this place immediately,” he stammered, “I will be forced to cast you out and send you spinning back down to whatever part of hell you call home! Do you not think that I have ways to force demons from the house of the Lord? Are you really so arrogant? Get out immediately or I will make you suffer!”
“I'll give you the message now,” she told him calmly.
“Be gone!”
“You're funny,” she replied. “I thought you might be funny, and I was right. You were funny in the old days, too, when you used to give all those sermons. It was almost like you actually believed the things you were saying.”
“May God have mercy on your soul,” Father Henderson replied, his voice trembling with rage and fear. “Taking the body of a sweet and -”
Before he could finish, Elizabeth opened her mouth wide and bared her fangs while letting out a faint hissing sound.
“What are you?” the old man asked, moving back.
She stepped toward him.
“No,” he continued, “this is not possible. What kind of -”
As the words left his mouth, the girl lunged at him, sinking her teeth deep into the side of his neck. Although he tried to push her off, the priest immediately felt his body starting to weaken and he could do nothing except fall back flat against the floor as blood flowed out from his jugular. He placed his arms on the girl's shoulders, still trying desperately to push her away, but his body began to judder as his heart skipped several beats, and finally his eyes opened wide and he stared up at the figure of Jesus above the church altar. Opening his mouth, the old man tried to say one final thing, but all he could do was gasp as he felt his own warm blood running down the side of his neck. Finally, his body fell limp as he died.
Above them both, the wooden figure of Christ stared out across the church.
For several minutes, Elizabeth remained on top of Father Henderson, ingesting some of his blood while spilling most of it onto the floor. When he was done, she sat back, with a dark crimson patch all around her mouth and on the front of her tattered dress. She stared down at the dead old man, marveling for a moment at his wide-eyed stare and at the fact that he had been so easy to kill. Feeling his warm blood flowing through her ice cold body, she felt for a moment as if she could almost remember what it had been like when she was alive. For a fraction of a heartbeat, she found herself missing the old days, specifically her parents, as the old man's hot blood filled her completely. She remembered what it had been like to have warm blood flowing through her veins, and she wanted that memory to last forever.
Eventually, however, the warmth of Father Henderson's blood was lost, and her own body fell cold again. All thoughts of her earlier life were now gone.
“That was the message,” she said finally, still able to taste the old man's blood. “You allowed something very important to be stolen from this church, and that was a big mistake. You've made things much more complicated for Baron Le Compte, and that means he has no further use for you, so he decided to have you punished. I think it was a bit mean of him, but if this is what he wants...”
She paused, before reaching down and wiping some more blood from the wound on the side of Father Henderson's neck. Licking the blood off her finger, she felt its warmth against her tongue, but the sensation lasted for only a few seconds.
Turning and heading to the door, the young girl began the long walk back to the beach. For no
w, her job was done. All she left behind was the old man's crumpled and drained body, waiting to be discovered by whichever poor soul happened to enter the church next.
IX
“Hey, you in there! Mediaci, wake up! Your ship's getting ready to sail!”
Opening his eyes suddenly, Fernando sat up and looked across at the door. He'd been fast asleep, lost in a dream about home that even now was falling from his memory. Late afternoon sunlight was showing through the edges of the blackout curtain that covered the window, and outside there was the chatter of a port town at work.
“Are you in there?” Tomlin shouted, pounding on the door again. “That goddamn boat is heading off! You wanna go with it or not?”
“Wait!” Fernando called out, climbing out of bed and hurrying over to unlock and then open the door. He found Tomlin standing outside.
“The boat,” Tomlin continued breathlessly. “Le Compte's boat. I swear to God, man, it's setting sail.”
“When?” Fernando asked, rushing back to the bed and immediately starting to get dressed.
“They put all the paperwork in about twenty minutes ago. Seems like they didn't have much warning, either. According to the documents, they're heading back to Thaxos. They were gonna sail immediately, but I delayed them for an hour so I could come and tell you. I mean, you wanna go with 'em, don't you?”
“Yeah,” Fernando muttered, slipping into his shoes before grabbing his jacket and racing out of the room.
“You need to hurry,” Tomlin added, hurrying after him. “I threw some extra forms at 'em, but knowing that lot, they won't be delayed for long. You'd better run. Don't wait for me, I'll only slow you down.”
“Thanks for letting me stay!” Fernando called back to him.
“No problem! And let me know how it goes, okay? You know where to find me! I'm always here in Parios, day in and day out. I'll be here 'til I drop off my perch!”
Racing out the front of the house, Fernando almost collided with the car parked nearby. Pushing off from the side of the vehicle, he ran along the street and then around the corner, at which point he left the pavement and ran straight across the intersection, dodging several slow-moving cars that were just pulling out of the port's main car park. Edgar Le Compte's large black boat was already visible up ahead, with smoke coming from the main funnel above the engine room, and as Fernando pushed his way past the queue at the main ticket office he was already worried that he might not get back onboard in time.
When he reached the harbor-side, he saw that the main gangplank was still down. After glancing around to see if any of Le Compte's men were nearby, he ran straight up and into the boat, before slipping behind one of the bulkhead supports and stopping to catch his breath. The metal floor was vibrating, which meant that the engines had already been started. Seconds later, he heard a nearby banging sound, followed by the noise of the main hatch being slammed shut. He watched as two of Le Compte's men walk away into the bowels of the boat, and then finally he felt the vibration in the floor pick up a notch as the engines were set to full power. The entire boat seemed to shudder for a moment, before Fernando felt the familiar judder of a large vessel setting sail.
He waited, listening to the hums and rattles of the vessel, before finally he made his way over to a nearby door. Looking through, he saw that there was no-one nearby. He made his way up the steps, then up another set, until finally he reached the upper deck, at which point he hurried to the control room and found that the glass in the side door was still broken. He stepped inside and saw that just as before, the ship's wheel was turning despite the fact that there was no-one around. It was almost as if some invisible hand was steering the boat. As if to confirm this suspicion, the engines changed pitch and Fernando looked over at the nearby console just in time to see one of the switches flicking itself to a new setting.
“Here we go again,” he muttered under his breath, taking a step forward and watching as all the instruments on the main panel seemed to operate themselves. “Another voyage of the -”
Before he could finish, he suddenly became aware of a shape in the corner of his field of vision. Turning, he saw to his shock that there was a man standing in the doorway, staring straight at him. Wearing a smart-looking blazer, the man had an aged, deep-lined face and a curiously impassive expression. It was almost as if he'd come face to face with a ghost.
“I...” Fernando started to say, genuinely stunned to find that anyone had noticed him. “This... I just...”
“My name is Captain Christopher Hamilton,” the man said in a clipped, refined English tone. “I'm the captain of this vessel. I was wondering if you would like to join me for a light dinner tonight?”
“I...”
“We rarely have visitors aboard, and the journey is likely to take quite some time, so the company would be very much appreciated.”
Fernando continued to stare. Checking over his shoulder for a moment, he saw no sign of the rest of Le Compte's men.
“Please,” the figure continued, “I have already made the necessary arrangements. My men have laid on a hot meal along with a selection of fine wines from my personal collection, and you would be most welcome in my private dining room. I was going to invite you during the previous leg of our journey, but I'm afraid that time rather got away from me.” He stood aside and gestured for Fernando to go through into the heart of the boat. “I imagine,” he added, “that we have a great deal to discuss.”