Dead Souls Volume One (Parts 1 to 13)

by Amy Cross

  Part Ten

  I

  Her footsteps echoed through the gaping stone space as she made her way along the aisle, eventually reaching the church's altar. Turning, she looked back at the door.

  No-one.

  The place felt empty, the air undisturbed. Worse, she felt as if somehow she didn't belong, as if unseen figures were already judging her.

  “Father?” she called out.

  She waited.

  “Great,” she muttered, turning back to look at the altar. “The one time -”

  “Inspector Cavaleri!”

  Hearing a rustling noise nearby, Cavaleri turned just in time to see Father Henderson hurrying out from one of the back rooms. He had a paper towel tucked into his collar, and a bowl of salad in one hand.

  “I'm so sorry,” he continued as he joined her, while also wiping some stray lettuce from his chin, “I'm afraid I was in one of the back rooms, morselizing some feta and salad. It's been a very busy morning and I have to fit my meals in wherever I can. Lunch breaks can be rather difficult for those engaged in the Lord's work.”

  “I'm not here on official business,” she replied. “Well, not as such. It's rather delicate, though. I hope I can count on your discretion. It's... something personal.”

  “Of course, my child. What is -”

  “Can we do this in the confessional box?”

  He paused, clearly uneasy.

  “I need guidance,” she added. “I know I haven't been the most regular visitor, but... It's at times like this that I could really use some help.”

  “Of course,” he replied. “Please, follow me.”

  As she headed over to the box in the corner, Cavaleri couldn't help but wonder whether this was a wise move. She trusted Father Henderson implicitly, but she also knew that there was no way he'd condone her plan. Still, she felt the need to get her doubts out, and if this was the only chance, then at least she could tell herself that she'd made an effort. Besides, she needed to keep the old man occupied for a few minutes, so having him shut up in the confessional box was ideal.

  “I guess we can dispense with the formalities,” she said as she stepped into her part of the box and opened the partition. She could hear Father Henderson breathing on the other side. Part of her wanted to rush out and leave, but she forced herself to stay. “I know I haven't been to see you very often, Father. Maybe I should have come more, but I guess I let things lapse.”

  “There is always a place for you here, Isobel. You know that.”

  “Yeah,” she replied, feeling guilty as she looked down at her hands.

  An awkward silence fell.

  “You can speak freely,” the old man continued eventually. “Tell me what is on your mind.”

  “I've come because...” She paused. “What do you know of Edgar Le Compte?”

  “I -”

  “Be honest with me,” she added, interrupting him. “You've been the priest here for more than half a century. When you arrived on Thaxos, memories of Le Compte's grandfather were still fresh. People still lived in fear of him, they still remembered people who'd gone up to his mansion and never returned. You must have heard things that have been forgotten by the rest of the island.”

  “It's true that many people came to speak to me,” he replied. “I arrived in 1960, and the old Baron Le Compte had been gone, I think, for roughly twenty-five years. Long enough for most of the people here to still remember him, and for them to still fear his return. I have never experienced an atmosphere so strange as the one that greeted me when I stepped off the boat. It was febrile, almost a kind of collective madness. Fortunately, over the years I witnessed the gradual passing off that atmosphere. Thaxos almost went back to normal before...”

  Cavaleri waited for him to finish.

  “Before the Le Comptes returned?” she asked.

  “I cannot speak of the current Le Compte,” he replied. “I have not had the pleasure of meeting him yet. He hasn't been to the church.”

  “He won't, either,” she muttered.

  “My understanding is that the Le Comptes always tolerated the Christian church here on Thaxos,” he continued, “rather than welcoming it. That is their choice, of course, but it does rather serve as a symbol of the division that exists here.”

  “What about the crucifix?”

  “The...”

  Cavaleri waited, but she could tell that she'd surprised the priest. She was broaching a subject that was generally left unmentioned all across the island, even though everyone had some vague idea as to its truth.

  “I've heard stories,” she continued. “The Crucifix of St. Joan is said to -”

  “These are myths,” he replied, interrupting her. “People get confused over the years.”

  “But the Crucifix of St. Joan is still here, isn't it?” she asked. “It's okay, you don't need to confirm it. I already know. I've spoken to a few other people who were around in the 1950s and 60s, and a few of them mentioned the crucifix. To be honest, I kinda had to tease the details out of them, but sometimes this police badge comes in handy. According to legend, the Crucifix of St. Joan was said to be the one thing that could stop Baron Le Compte.”

  “If by stop, you mean -”

  “I mean kill.”

  She waited, but it was clear that Father Henderson felt deeply uncomfortable with the direction in which the conversation was heading.

  “It was said,” Cavaleri continued, “that staking Le Compte through the heart with any ordinary crucifix wouldn't be enough. It had to be that particular one, fashioned from gold that was mined right here on Thaxos in the days before the Le Comptes ever set foot here. Apparently the former Baron Le Compte kept possession of it himself for many years, but eventually it was smuggled from his house and passed into the possession of the church. He was mad as hell, as I hear it, but he couldn't enter a Christian house and retrieve it himself.”

  “We have many relics.”

  “This is more than a relic. This is a weapon, and right now it's in the one place where Le Compte himself can never go. Doesn't that strike you as a missed opportunity?”

  “I might remind you,” the priest continued, “that the whole idea of the stake being used to kill vampires is, in itself, simply ludicrous. One would have to believe -”

  “That Edgar Le Compte was a vampire,” Cavaleri added. “Yeah, I know. The truth is, I've kinda yo-yo'd back and forth on that one myself. The crazy thing is, lately I've been coming to believe it more and more. I've kept these thoughts to myself, obviously, 'cause I don't wanna be seen as some kind of whack job, but...” She paused again. “Something happened recently that made me change the way I view the world.”

  “Tell me, my child,” the priest replied, “so that I might put your mind at rest.”

  “Someone saw my sister.”

  There was another awkward pause.

  “I'm not getting into names,” she continued, “but someone saw Karya and Elizabeth off the western point. I told her she was imagining things, but from what she said... Other things have been slotting into place too. I don't want to go into detail, but I saw...”

  Another pause.

  “You saw what?”

  “Something on that beach,” she replied, thinking back to the moment a few nights earlier when Doctor Young had taken her to see Karya for herself. She knew she couldn't tell the whole truth, not now, maybe not ever, and certainly not to her family's priest. “All these things that I've been denying, the pressure's too much. Now that I accept them, everything makes sense. Even vampires.”

  “Vampires aren't -”

  “They're in the Bible,” she told him.

  “No, I'm afraid they're not. That's simply a myth propagated by -”

  “They're in there, Father,” she continued, interrupting him. “They're not mentioned by name, but they're there if you know where to look. I was looking it up last night. In Proverbs, there's mention of creatures with teeth that are like swords, and they suck life from the poor.
They're hinted at in Deuteronomy too. And then...” She paused yet again, barely able to bring herself to continue. “They're in the Book of Revelation,” she added finally. “More than once, actually. In fact, that's where they show up the most. Women who drank the blood of saints, and men who drained the blood of prophets. It's almost as if they're supposed to be linked to the end of the world.”

  “My child,” the priest replied, “I believe I know the passages you speak of, but I can assure you that those creatures were not vampires.”

  “They were,” she said firmly. “I can feel it in my bones, and that's why I want you to give me the crucifix.”

  “Out of the question.”

  “He's going to destroy this island.”

  “Isobel -”

  “I have to kill him,” she continued, trying to stay calm. “The rats, the deaths, and now my sister... He's turned her into a creature just like him. I have to free her, and free Thaxos, and if the only way is to get hold of that crucifix and drive it through his chest, then that's what I'm going to do.” She paused, trembling at the thought of what would come next. “I'm sorry, Father,” she added, with tears in her eyes. “If it makes me a sinner, then I've just gotta accept that. For the good of Thaxos, and for my sister, I have to get rid of Edgar Le Compte for good.”

  “What you are proposing is murder.”

  “You think that slipped me by?”

  “It's a crime!”

  “And as a police officer, I'm supposed to stop crimes,” she pointed out, her voice filled with emotion. “The thing is, I don't see any other way to save this island. Maybe I've gotta sacrifice a part of myself, the part that tries to be good. If I can do that and save the people here, then it doesn't matter what happens to me, does it? Just getting rid of the Le Comptes would be worth any horror that I have to endure.”

  “History,” the priest replied, “is littered with examples of people who committed atrocities because they had convinced themselves of the necessity.”

  “How many people have been to your church since Le Compte returned to Thaxos?”

  “Sadly, very few.”

  “Exactly. They fear him. They fear his retribution. No-one really talks about it, but that just makes it worse. It would be one thing if the locals were discussing their doubts freely and in the open, but each and every man and woman has simply made an internal decision to keep from angering Edgar Le Compte. I've read enough about the old days to know that this is how things were back then too, and I can't let it happen again.” She paused. “My sister has been turned into this... thing...”

  “Even if that were the case, you do not know for certain that Le Compte is responsible.”

  “Who else would it be?”

  “I cannot give you my blessing for this course of action,” Father Henderson replied, “and I cannot give you any assistance. The Crucifix of St. Joan is a treasured item that will remain under lock and key in this church, and nothing you say or do can persuade me to release it to you.”

  “Even if it's the only way I can stop Le Compte?”

  “I am sorry, my child. I hope you see the error of your ways before it is too late.”

  “Then...” Sighing, Cavaleri realized that there was nothing left for her to say. She checked her watch and figured that, on balance, she'd probably kept him talking for long enough. “You have been my family's priest for as long as I have been alive,” she told him, “and I am sure you will continue to serve my parents. But from this moment on, I must go my own way. I only pray that one day you will understand why I have to do this, and that you might even ask God to forgive me. If that's the only thing you're able to do for me, it will be more than enough.”

  Getting to her feet, she stepped out of the confessional box. There was a part of her that longed for the priest to change his mind, but she'd known from the moment she walked through the door that he would most likely refuse. Figuring that there was nothing left for her to say, she made her way toward the door and out into the warm morning air. After glancing both ways in order to make sure that no-one was watching, she headed around the side of the church to a small back-road, where a local boy, Nathaniel Bones, was waiting.

  “Did you get it?” she asked.

  “What do you think?” he replied, holding out a piece of cloth and pulling the top aside to reveal the golden Crucifix of St. Joan: an eighteen-inch gold crucifix, plain in most respects but with various inscriptions running down the sides, and most importantly tapering to a sharp tip that could easily be driven into a man's chest. Not merely a symbol of faith, this particular crucifix clearly doubled as a weapon. “While you had the old man distracted with your confession,” Nathaniel continued, “I got in through the back window. The old idiot hadn't even hidden the key very well. I just slipped it into the lock and -”

  “That's great,” she said, taking the crucifix. “I don't need you to go into the details.” Reaching into her pocket, she took out a bundle of cash and handed it to him. “There's the rest of your payment.”

  “Are you sure he won't come after us?” Nathaniel asked. “I mean, it's not exactly polite to steal from a church.”

  “I have no doubt that he'll know I was behind this,” she replied, “but he won't link it to you. Anyway, by the time he's worked out what to do, I'll have already...” She stared at the crucifix for a moment, imagining its long, tapered spike being driven into Edgar Le Compte's chest. “Just remember what I said,” she added finally. “Never tell anyone that I paid you to do this. Even if everything guesses, I don't want it confirmed. I'd like... I'd like there to be at least some doubt, for my parents to cling to.”

  “It's your business,” Nathaniel replied with a shrug, before slipping the cash into his pocket and walking away. “Weird day, though,” he added. “I never thought a cop would pay me to rob a church.”

  Glancing over her shoulder, Cavaleri stared for a moment at Edgar Le Compte's mansion high up on the hill.

  “This has gone on long enough,” she whispered. “Whatever happens to me, I'm going to save the island.”

  II

  “She sleeps most of the time now,” Ephram whispered, as he and Kate stood in the doorway and watched Anna's bed. “Until a few days ago, she still wanted to get up, but now she seems to have accepted things. It's almost as if...”

  He paused for a moment, his breathing sounding a little labored, as if he was trying to hold back tears.

  “That doctor was right,” he added finally. “My grandmother is entering her final days.”

  “I'm so sorry,” Kate replied, keeping her voice low so as not to disturb the old woman. “Ephram, if there's anything I can do to help, anything at all -”

  “No-one can help,” he replied, ushering her out of the room and then pulling the door shut. “She's old, and old people die. It's the way of the world, and there's nothing any of us can do. I just hope that her final hours and days aren't spent in pain and misery. She deserves a peaceful, contented death after the long life she has led.”

  As they headed downstairs, Kate felt as if anything she said would just seem limp and useless. At the same time, she could tell that Ephram was in deep despair, and she desperately wanted to console him. She'd always felt that she lacked the personal touch, that she came across as awkward whenever she tried to be honest with someone, and this was no exception. Still, she was certain that she should say something, if only she could think of the right thing.

  “Soon,” Ephram continued, “I will have only Gertrude left.”

  “Gertrude?”

  “My chicken,” he replied with a faint, sad smile. “Not much compensation for a grandmother, but still... I will get more chickens, I suppose. They make a lot of noise, which would be useful. A silent house is a sad house. Plus, I could use the eggs.”

  “Can I ask you a personal question?”

  “You can ask. I might not answer.”

  “Why did you never have children of your own?”

  He glanced at her with an
expression that suggested he wasn't keen on the subject.

  “I don't mean to pry,” she continued, “but family is clearly so important to you, and I know how much you dote on Alice Marco, so it just seems... I was just wondering, that's all.”

  “I never met anyone,” he told her as he took his seat behind the counter. “Hard to believe, isn't it? I worked so hard, and I never left Thaxos, not even for a day. I kept expecting some beautiful, single woman to walk through the door and fall in love with me, but it never happened. I suppose some lives are like that. I can't complain, though. I have always been busy, and it's only now that I start to think about...” He paused, before striking the bell on the counter. “I have my customers! If I squint hard enough, I can pretend they're my children! I'm like the Mr. Chips of convenience retail!”

  Kate smiled, but she couldn't help but feel desperately sorry for him. Whereas she'd decided to never have children because she felt she'd be a bad mother, she could tell that Ephram would have been a wonderful father.

  “And you?” he asked.

  “Me what?”

  “You have no children.”

  “I...” She took a deep breath, shocked by the question, until she realized that it was only fair that he should ask her in return. “I was with someone once,” she told him, “but it didn't work out, and since then I've just been focused on my work. It's not too late, though. I could always meet someone and...” Her voice tailed off for a few seconds. “Maybe it's like you said,” she continued. “Some lives are like that. I can't just drag some man off the street and force myself to have feelings for him, purely so I can have kids.”

  “You don't feel that urge to become a mother?”

  “I...” Another pause. “I have my work, and that's more than enough to keep me busy.”

  She picked up a tin from a nearby shelf, only to find that it was some kind of processed meat. She had no interest in the tin, but she felt the need to at least pretend that it had caught her attention, if only to interrupt what was becoming an increasingly awkward conversation.

  “Huh,” she said finally, putting the tin back down. “So I went out to the stones on the north side and I did some poking around. It's an interesting site.”

  “Did you find anything of note?”

  “Maybe.”

  She walked over to the window and looked out at the little courtyard.

  “Be careful up there,” Ephram continued. “I've heard stories. I don't know that I believe them, but... They say people have vanished up by those stones. Not just once or twice, either. No parent in their right mind ever allows their child to go there now.”

  She turned to him.

  “Then again,” he added, “a place like Thaxos has plenty of dumb stories.”

  “Such as?”

  He shrugged.

  “What about ghosts on the beach?” she asked.

  “Ghosts?”

  “Nothing,” she replied. “I mean... I don't believe in ghosts. I just thought I saw some little girls the other day, over by the western point. I called Inspector Cavaleri out and she said it was nothing.”

  “Her sister drowned out there, you know.”

  “Her sister?”

  “She didn't tell you?”

  Kate paused for a moment, thinking back to her conversation with Cavaleri a few days ago. She'd been certain that the Inspector wasn't being entirely honest, but still, she'd never suspected that there could be a more personal connection.

  “Let me tell you something about Isobel Cavaleri,” Ephram continued. “She is a good woman at heart. A true, honest, kind woman. When she was a young girl, she'd come into my store to fetch things for her parents, and she had perhaps the sweetest smile I've ever seen. And then one day her sister was lost, and I never saw that smile again. Poor little Isobel just seemed to curl up at the edges and disappear into her own mind. I used to see her sitting by herself down by the harbor, just staring at her own shadow as if she was thinking about what she'd lost. It's a terrible thing to watch a child lose hope, but that's what happened. She learned at an early age that the world is harsh and cruel.”

  “She seems a little... on edge,” Kate replied.

  “I was pleased when I heard that she was taking over as our local police officer,” Ephram continued. “It seemed like a good use for her skills, and she has done a wonderful job, but something is still dark in her soul. She thinks a lot about her dead sister, I can tell, and she still grieves. I think sometimes she maybe even still looks at her shadow and loses herself in thought.”

  “I can't imagine what it must be like to lose someone like that,” Kate replied.

  “She's a good woman,” Ephram added, “but good women, like good men, are capable of doing bad things. If a person's soul expands in one direction, it also expands in the other. I worry about her, that she might go down the wrong path, but there's nothing I can do.” He paused for a moment, before forcing a smile. “And how is Alice? I keep expecting her to come into town, but her parents say she refuses to leave Le Compte's household. What is wrong with her?”

  “I'm not sure,” Kate replied. “She just seems determined to stay close to the mansion.”

  “Has Le Compte said something to her? Are you sure he's not using her in some way?”

  “Using her?”

  “It just makes no sense. She should be here in the town, with her people, not up there with him. Whatever hold he has over her -”

  “It's not a hold,” Kate said, interrupting him, “she just...” For a moment, she found herself thinking back to the evening when she attempted to take a boat away from the island. Her heart problem had first truly manifested itself when she stepped onto the boat, and she couldn't help wondering if Alice had experienced a similar issue whenever she'd attempted to stray too far from Edgar's influence. “I'm sure she'll come back soon,” she added finally. “It's not as if Edgar could be doing anything to make her stay.”

  “Don't be so sure about that,” Ephram replied darkly. “I've heard stories about that man, not least from my grandmother. When he wants something, he'll do anything in his power to get it. Don't ever assume that he has limits, because he doesn't. As far as he's concerned, the rest of us are just pawns in his own private game.”