Till Sudden Death Do Us Part

by Simon R. Green

  ‘Back to The Swan,’ I said. ‘First, because I think we need to sit down somewhere quiet and read the books Robert gave us, on the Bergin curse. We don’t know nearly enough about the details, and the background. If we take a book each and skip the boring bits, we should get through them fast enough. And second; we need to talk to Gillian and Tom again. I want to know why it’s so important that they get married tomorrow. Why can’t they wait?’

  ‘Marriages take a lot of planning,’ said Penny. ‘And involve a lot of people. It could be very expensive, as well as inconvenient, to call it all off at such short notice. But even so … to insist on getting married in a church where someone just got killed? That is seriously creepy.’

  ‘Gillian and Tom are keeping things from us,’ I said. ‘And I need to know what they are.’

  ‘Might not be anything to do with the murder, or the curse,’ said Penny.

  ‘It’s to do with something,’ I said.

  The evening was almost painfully quiet, like the whole town was waiting for the other shoe to drop. There was still no traffic on the road, not even a passing bus or taxi. The street was completely deserted, with not a sign of life anywhere, and there was a distinct chill on the air, as though autumn had come early while we weren’t watching. I stopped suddenly, and looked sharply around me. Penny stopped too, and peered quickly up and down the street. It was all very still, nothing moving anywhere.

  ‘All right,’ Penny said quietly. ‘What am I missing? I don’t see anything.’

  ‘Neither do I,’ I said. ‘I’m not hearing anything, either. But I can’t shake the feeling that we’re not alone. That we’re being watched, by unfriendly eyes.’

  Penny moved in close beside me. Not because she was worried, but so we could stand together if we needed to defend ourselves. Her eyes were flashing angrily, and her hands had closed into fists. I had to smile. I’ve always been able to depend on Penny to back me up.

  ‘Could it be the invisible demon?’ she said. ‘I really don’t like the idea of something I can’t see sneaking up on me. You said you’d know if it was around. Do you think it’s here with us, now?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘It just feels like something’s here. Something so close it’s breathing down my neck.’

  ‘Something bad?’ said Penny.

  ‘I don’t know! But … it’s like I’m afraid to take a step in any direction in case that’s the wrong thing to do.’

  I was so tense my back muscles were aching. My heart pumped painfully hard in my chest, and I had trouble getting my breath. I glared up and down the empty street, again and again, looking for something, anything, out of place. But there was nothing, nothing at all. Penny stirred restlessly.

  ‘Look, whatever it is, we can’t just stand around here. Let’s get moving. The hotel is just down the end of the street and round the corner. Come on, Ishmael; we can be there in a few minutes.’

  She put an arm through mine and urged me forward. The first step was hard, but once we were moving it got easier. We walked quickly down the street, striding it out. I thought our sudden movement might flush whatever was hiding into revealing itself, but the street remained empty. And slowly, I began to understand what had just happened. That feeling of some inhuman enemy watching wasn’t something on the street; it was something inside me. My old self, rising to the surface once again. Whatever chains had held it down for so long were finally weakening. It had manifested just long enough to look out at the world through my eyes; and then it sank back down again. But not because of anything I’d done.

  I didn’t tell Penny. I didn’t want her to be scared of me. Of what I used to be. Of the monster that had been hiding behind my face, all these years. It had always been my greatest fear, that Penny would be hurt because of me.

  We burst into the hotel lobby like travellers in peril, grateful to find themselves in a safe haven at last. We stumbled to a halt, and then leaned heavily on each other as we got our breath back. Nettie was still on duty at the reception desk. She sat up straight as we entered, one hand rising automatically to pat at her wig and make sure it was properly in place. She gave us a moment to recover our composure, and then hit Penny and me with her best professional smile.

  ‘Back so soon, dears?’

  I gave her my best everything’s fine nothing to worry about here smile. ‘We’d like to use the bar, if that’s all right.’

  ‘Of course; you go right ahead, dears,’ said Nettie. ‘You might as well make use of it; no one else is. But I’m afraid Albert won’t be there to serve you. He had one of his heads, so I said he could take a break until he felt better. And I can’t leave the desk …’

  ‘We just want to do some quiet reading,’ said Penny.

  ‘Oh, that’s nice, dear. Help yourself to a drink if you want; just leave the money on the bar top. I wouldn’t bother the till; it doesn’t like strangers. It isn’t that fond of people it knows …’

  We left her still chattering and went into the bar. It was completely empty. No Albert, no customers, nothing.

  ‘There’s something sad about a bar with no one in it,’ I said. ‘Not unlike a church no one can be bothered to attend.’

  Penny looked at me. ‘Why would that upset you? You’re not religious.’

  ‘I’m not,’ I said. ‘But I like to think other people are. And bars should definitely have people in them. That’s what bars are for.’

  ‘Do you want a drink?’ said Penny.

  ‘Not just now.’

  ‘Then I won’t either.’

  We sat down at the first table we came to, and I fished the two paperback books out of my jacket pockets.

  ‘Which do you want?’ I said.

  Penny immediately made a grab for the one with the Gothic romance artwork. The Bergin Curse, by Jason Grant. I took the other; A Bloodline Of Murder, by Paul Hoch. Both books looked very well read, as though Robert had been through them from end to end more than once. Looking for clues, or loopholes. Penny and I settled ourselves comfortably, and started reading.

  My book was more interested in journalism than sensationalism, concentrating on what facts there were, and keeping the jumping to conclusions to a minimum. It started by covering the original murders very thoroughly. On the 15th of July, 1783, on a pleasant day of more than usually calm weather, most of the better-off in the county gathered to witness the marriage of Elizabeth Bergin to Joseph Heartley. Two very well known and very well thought of young people. It was a delightful day and a lovely ceremony; until the spurned Susan Glenn burst into the church and attacked the happy couple, hacking them to death with a butcher’s knife. Half the congregation surged forward to drag her away from her victims, but they were too late. Covered in blood and laughing hysterically, Susan Glenn spat in the faces of those who held her, defying any of them to put right the awful thing she’d done.

  She was hanged on the orders of the bride’s father, Nathanial Bergin; though it wasn’t recorded that anyone objected.

  In the seventy years that followed, the grooms of four more Bergin brides died suddenly on their wedding nights. Details on these deaths were somewhat scarcer. After that, the Bergin line produced only sons, bringing the unexplained murders to an end. The legend of the Bergin curse grew down the years, mostly thanks to local people who saw it as a way to bring in the tourists. But interestingly, the Bergin curse wasn’t the only supernatural event attached to the town of Bradenford. The book spent some time detailing a series of bloody deaths that occurred in and around the town, at roughly the same time as the first Bergin murders. Several men and women were torn to pieces, their deaths attributed at first to a wild animal, and then … to a werewolf. No one was ever caught, or even accused, and in time the murders just stopped. Lacking the romantic underpinnings of the Bergin curse, the werewolf story was soon forgotten outside the local area.

  The book’s author didn’t try to link the two stories together; he just seemed to be commenting on the fact that people in Bradenford h
ad a taste for supernatural stories.

  I put the book down, and thought about it. Could the invisible demonic killer have its basis in a werewolf; never caught in the act because it was able to disappear back into its unsuspected human host? But then, why would a werewolf target just the husbands of Bergin brides? None of the other werewolf killings seemed in any way connected to the family. And after all, a bride and groom wouldn’t have been likely to invite anyone into their home on their wedding night. Unless it was family … I shook my head. Accepting the werewolf story just complicated the situation. I looked across at Penny.

  ‘How are you doing?’

  She tossed her book onto the table. ‘It’s a bit hard going. Reads more like a novel than a history. One of those cheap Gothic melodramas, dripping with mood but lacking in plot, featuring a heroine with absolutely no common sense. The author all but accuses Elizabeth Bergin of bringing it on herself, for accepting a proposal from a man who’d already dumped one woman. He also hints very strongly that Joseph Heartley only married Elizabeth Bergin for her money.’ Penny frowned. ‘There’s no evidence in the book to suggest that Susan Glenn really was a witch. Just a lot of contemporary gossip, and after the fact myth-making. But of course back then any woman on her own was fair game, and could be accused of witchcraft for all kinds of reasons.’

  ‘Is there anything in your book about werewolves?’ I said.

  Penny looked at me. ‘If there is, I haven’t got to it yet. Werewolves? Really? Aren’t things complicated enough as it is?’

  ‘I thought that. And anyway, a werewolf would have torn the Reverend Allen to pieces, not killed him in such a cold and calculated fashion. I still can’t see why the vicar was targeted in the first place.’

  ‘Maybe the point of it was to intimidate Gillian and Tom into calling off their wedding,’ said Penny. ‘But … why would anyone go to such lengths to do that?’

  ‘We need to talk to the happy couple again,’ I said, getting to my feet. ‘You wait here a moment.’

  ‘Is it OK if I skip to the end of this thing?’ said Penny.

  ‘It’s your book,’ I said.

  I went back into the lobby, and Nettie perked up immediately. Apparently I was the only interesting thing happening that evening.

  ‘Anything I can do to help, dear?’

  ‘Could you phone Gillian and Tom in their room, and ask them to come down and join us in the bar?’ I said. ‘It’s rather urgent.’

  ‘Of course, dear. Not a problem.’ She reached for the phone, and then stopped. ‘Or is it a problem? Is this anything I should be concerned about?’

  ‘It’s just some last-minute wedding details that need sorting out,’ I said. ‘There’s always something …’

  ‘Of course, dear,’ said Nettie. ‘The whole town’s looking forward to the wedding tomorrow. One of our own, marrying a television star! And I’m looking forward to hosting the wedding reception, at the church hall afterwards. It’s a pity the guests won’t be staying in the hotel overnight, but … We’ll put on a nice buffet for them; locally-sourced produce, all of it; even if it is just stand up and fingers.’

  I looked meaningfully at the telephone, and she stopped talking and picked it up. I went back into the bar and sat down opposite Penny.

  ‘Gillian and Tom will be here soon.’

  ‘Why do you always put her name first?’ said Penny.

  I raised an eyebrow. ‘Have you met them?’

  Penny nodded. ‘How much do you think we should tell them, about what we know that they don’t?’

  ‘Like what?’ I said.

  ‘Well, the demon and the werewolf, for starters. Robert’s back history with Black Heir, and the Hazard Asylum,’ said Penny. ‘Any of which could be connected to the Reverend Allen’s murder.’

  ‘I think the key words there are “could be”,’ I said. ‘There’s no point in worrying them unnecessarily. I’m more interested in what they know that we don’t.’

  ‘But …’

  ‘We have no evidence that anything unnatural is going on here,’ I said.

  ‘But don’t they have a right to know all the possibilities, if their lives are in danger?’ said Penny.

  ‘The only real possibility of an outside threat comes from Robert’s past,’ I said. ‘And when it comes to talking about Black Heir, that has to be his decision. There must be a reason why he never mentioned any of that to his daughter.’

  We both looked round quickly as Gillian and Tom entered the bar, along with Robert. Penny and I rose to our feet, and there was a brief flurry of smiles and handshakes.

  ‘I couldn’t just sit around on my own, doing nothing,’ Robert said gruffly. ‘I’ve been trying to talk these young idiots into postponing the wedding. Everyone would understand. But, they’re having none of it.’ He looked at the paperbacks on the table, and nodded slowly. ‘I’ve been talking to them about that, as well. There is a sort of epilogue to the legend, though you may not have got to it yet. If the bride and groom can survive long enough to get married, and make it through the wedding night unharmed, then the Bergin curse will be broken forever. Though that’s never happened, so far.’

  ‘You didn’t bring the best man and bridesmaid with you,’ Penny said to Gillian and Tom. ‘I was looking forward to meeting them.’

  ‘The message only said you wanted to speak to us,’ said Gillian. ‘So we didn’t disturb them. You’ll see them tomorrow, at the wedding.’

  ‘If we get through tonight,’ said Tom. ‘My nerves are so on edge …’

  Gillian smiled at him. ‘When we get back to our room, I’ll do that thing you like.’

  Tom brightened up. ‘The thing I really like?’

  ‘Well, I like it too,’ said Gillian.

  ‘That should help pass the time,’ said Tom.

  Robert cleared his throat loudly, to remind them he was still there. I invited everyone to sit down, and we all drew up chairs around the table. I put the two books back in my pockets, for later. Everyone was looking at me expectantly so I dived right in.

  ‘Do either of you have any enemies?’ I said bluntly to Gillian and Tom. ‘Anyone who might not want your wedding to take place?’

  ‘No,’ Gillian said immediately.

  Tom nodded quickly. ‘That was the first thing Robert suggested, but before this I would have said we didn’t have an enemy in the world.’

  I glanced at Robert, but he didn’t say anything.

  ‘Why is it so important that the wedding has to go ahead tomorrow?’ said Penny. ‘Why not just live together, until you can make new arrangements?’

  ‘I said that!’ said Tom. And then he looked quickly at Gillian. ‘I know you have your heart set on this …’

  ‘No,’ said Gillian. ‘It’s a fair question. Do I have the right to put you in danger, just to fulfil a fantasy I had as a teenager?’

  ‘If this is what you want …’ said Tom.

  ‘I’m not so sure I do, now,’ said Gillian. ‘The dream’s been spoiled. We could forget the whole idea of getting married …’

  ‘Absolutely not,’ Tom said firmly. ‘We are getting married tomorrow, as planned. The more everything conspires to stop us, the more determined I am not to be stopped. I know how much this means to you, it’s all you’ve talked about for months; and I won’t have you cheated out of it. You are going to have your dream wedding and I won’t let anyone or anything spoil it for you.’

  Gillian beamed at him. ‘Isn’t he wonderful?’

  They clasped hands across the tabletop. And while they were lost in each other, Robert caught my eye.

  ‘If I could just have a quick word in private, Ishmael?’

  ‘Of course,’ I said.

  We got to our feet. Gillian and Tom looked at us sharply.

  ‘What’s this?’ said Gillian. ‘Secrets?’

  ‘Just something we need to get sorted out between us,’ said Robert. ‘Won’t be a minute.’

  ‘Why can’t we hear what it is?’ said Tom.
>
  ‘Because it’s private,’ said Robert.

  He led the way to a table on the far side of the bar. As far away from the others as we could get without actually leaving the room. He sat down with his back to Gillian and Tom, who were still staring after us curiously. I sat down facing Robert.

  ‘All right,’ I said quietly. ‘What is it you want to talk about that can’t be said in front of your daughter, or the man she’s going to marry?’

  Robert looked searchingly at my face, studying it carefully, as though hoping to find some sign of age or change that had escaped him before. And when he couldn’t, he just sighed briefly and sat back in his chair.

  ‘You look exactly the way I remember you. As though not a day has passed. Whatever you’ve got, I want some.’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘You don’t.’

  He wasn’t convinced. ‘I got old, and you didn’t.’

  ‘You have a family, and I don’t,’ I said.

  ‘Family …’ said Robert. ‘It’s always about family. I thought I’d left all the weird stuff behind me when I retired from Black Heir. I never told Gillian anything about the life I used to lead, and I’d be obliged if you wouldn’t mention it either. Helen and I decided a long time ago that we didn’t want Gillian to know anything about that side of the world. So she’d never have to worry about it.’

  ‘We might have to tell her, at some point,’ I said.

  ‘If we do, I’ll decide when and how much,’ said Robert.

  ‘As you wish,’ I said.

  ‘I haven’t told the police anything about what I used to do,’ said Robert. ‘Because I don’t trust them to keep it to themselves. They know I’ve got connections, and that’s all they need to know. But … I can’t ask Black Heir for help. They’ve always made a point of never operating in the public eye. You’re my last hope, Ishmael.’ He looked down at his old hands, clasped together on the tabletop. ‘Helen and I broke off all contact with Black Heir, once we retired. To make sure Gillian would never know about the kind of nightmares we used to deal with. We wanted her to have a normal life. So we didn’t keep in touch with any of our old friends, not even people we’d been close to for decades. And we made it very clear we weren’t interested in hearing from anyone, under any circumstances. A bit cold, perhaps, but family has to come first. Did you keep in touch with anyone, after you left?’