Dead Souls Volume Three (Parts 27 to 39)

by Amy Cross

  “I should go,” Estella muttered, getting to her feet as she continued to dry her eyes. She held the handkerchief out to him.

  “Hang onto it,” he replied, standing and accompanying her across the dusty square. As they passed the group of women, he couldn't help but hear them whispering to one another, as if they were feverishly discussing Estella. He'd heard them gossiping countless times before, of course, but he was still annoyed that they'd do it so openly. “Don't underestimate the shock you might be experiencing,” he continued. “I strongly recommend that you take it easy for the rest of the day.”

  “I will,” she told him. “I need to go and arrange the flowers, and the food, but then I'll go straight to the mansion. Oh, and I need to speak to the baker as well.”

  “Not today, you don't,” he replied. “All those things can wait until tomorrow. And Estella -” Stopping, he turned to her. For a moment, all he could do was watch as she continued to dry her eyes. “Are you really okay?” he asked finally.

  “I'm absolutely splendid,” she replied, still dabbing at her tears.

  “If you ever need to talk... I'd like to think that we're still friends, despite everything.”

  “There's no despite about it,” she told him, allowing herself a faint smile. “Thank you, you've been very good to me and I appreciate your efforts. I think I shall go back to Edgar's mansion now and, as you said, take a little rest.”

  “You never call it home,” he replied.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “You never say you're going home,” he continued. “It's always Edgar's mansion. Don't you see the place as your home?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “Then why -”

  “I shall go home,” she added, placing extra emphasis on the word. “There, does that satisfy you?” She held the handkerchief out for him again.

  “Keep it.”

  “No,” she replied, smiling through the tears as she tucked it into his breast pocket. “I don't think it would do for Edgar to find one of your handkerchief's about my person. They have your name embroidered on them, remember? I wouldn't want him to get jealous.”

  “Does he get jealous?”

  “Of course,” she replied. “He loves me very much, you know.”

  “I'm sure,” he said with a hint of sadness. He paused as an awkward silence fell between them. “So your wedding -”

  “I would have invited you,” she continued, interrupting him, “but I assumed you'd be too busy to attend.”

  He nodded. “I'm sure that will indeed be the case.”

  “Thank you again,” she replied, taking a step back. “You've been very good to me, and now I shall take your advice and go back to Edgar's mansion to rest. Good day, Paul... I mean, Doctor Lassiter.”

  He watched as she hurried away, and then he turned to see that the gaggle of gossiping old women seemed far more interested in Estella than in the dead body that was being carried out of the church.

  “Don't you ladies have something better to be doing?” he asked, making his way back across the square and – in the process – causing the startled women to scatter like crows.

  ***

  “So you're actually going, then?” Jennifer said as she stood in the doorway.

  “Why wouldn't I go?” Kate asked, washing her hands after peeling a small mountain of potatoes. “It's only polite.”

  “To accept an invitation to the dreaded mansion of the Le Comptes? That's not polite, it's crazy.”

  “I've been there before.”

  “And you made it out alive, clearly, but why tempt fate again?”

  “You could always come with me,” Kate replied, turning to her. “I'm sure Edgar wouldn't mind if I took someone else.”

  “And go into that place?” Jennifer paused, her eyes wide with shock at the idea, although she seemed to consider the possibility for a moment. “No way,” she added finally, shaking her head. “I make sure to keep well clear of that family. The last thing I want is to attract their attention.”

  “They're really not that bad.”

  “No? If you ask me, there's something weird about the four of them living up there together. It's unholy.”

  “What do you know about James Nixon?” Kate asked.

  “You're asking me? I thought you were the one who's all cozy with that crowd.”

  “I'm not cozy with them,” Kate replied as she began to dry her hands. “It's just... I guess Nixon's the one I haven't been able to figure out yet. I get why Edgar and Madeleine are up there, obviously, and Estella makes sense too. Nixon just seems to be loitering, though. He's a smart guy, and I think he's got a good heart, but he just seems to be hanging around as if he's got nothing better to do. I can't shake the feeling that he's waiting for something.”

  “He's been up there for as long as I can remember,” Jennifer told her. “He was Edgar's friend when they were children, I think.”

  “It's hard to believe they were ever children. Doesn't Nixon have family of his own?”

  “Beats me. Why don't you ask him?”

  “Maybe I will,” she replied.

  “Over dinner?”

  “That would seem to be a good moment,” she said, as Anna came running through and tugged on her mother's arm.

  “What about you?” Jennifer asked, reaching down and tousling the girl's hair. “Do you think Kate should go up and visit the big scary house on the hill?”

  Anna turned and stared at Kate for a moment, before shaking her head.

  “I'll only be gone for a few hours,” Kate replied. “If I'm not back by midnight, don't start worrying. I know from experience that Edgar's dinners can last a while.”

  “Are you and Mr. Le Compte friends?” Anna asked.

  “Friends?” Kate paused. “Now that's a complicated question.”

  “I don't like him,” Anna replied.

  Kate smiled. “A lot of people don't.”

  “He hurt my daddy.”

  “No,” Jennifer said quickly, “he didn't.”

  “But -”

  “Why don't you go and play?” Ushering Anna to the door, Jennifer seemed uncomfortable suddenly. “I'll start making dinner soon.”

  “I know it's not really my place to ask,” Kate said a moment later, as Jennifer returned to the kitchen, “but -”

  “There was an accident,” Jennifer told her, heading over to the sink. “It was nothing to do with Edgar Le Compte or any of those people. It was a boring, everyday accident. Not everything on Thaxos has to be dramatic.” She grabbed the pile of potato peelings and set them into a bowl of water. “Anna gets confused sometimes.”

  “What was his name?”

  “He...” She paused. “Adam,” she said finally. “His name was Adam.”

  “How long ago did you lose him?”

  “Long enough that it's not fresh anymore.” She poured a few glugs of vinegar into the bowl. “And not long enough that I feel like talking about it so much.”

  Spotting the thick scars than ran along Jennifer's arms, Kate considered asking about them before realizing that she'd perhaps pried too much for one day.

  “If you're really going to the mansion,” Jennifer continued eventually, “I'd be grateful if you could bring the stalls in first. I need to start making dinner for Anna, and then I have to get her ready for bed 'cause I'm going out for a few hours later.”

  “Where?”

  “Nowhere.”

  “I could stay behind and -”

  “Anna will be fine,” Jennifer replied. “I get the impression that where you come from, kids can't be left alone for a little while. Things are different here. Besides, she'll be fast asleep. She won't even know.”

  ***

  Hearing a knock at the door, Doctor Lassiter looked up from his paperwork and saw to his surprise that a man was standing in the doorway. He paused for a moment, genuinely shocked, before getting to his feet and making his way across the room so he could shake the man's hand.

  “
I didn't think I'd ever be seeing you down here again,” he said. “Please, come and sit down.”

  “It's not a social call,” Jacob replied, taking off his hat. “I came to make discrete inquiries about a matter concerning a member of the household.”

  “Baron Le Compte sent you?”

  “Baron Le Compte does not know that I'm here,” Jacob said cautiously, “and I would prefer it if he did not find out.”

  “He certainly won't hear anything from me,” Lassiter replied, leading him over to the desk. “Please, Jacob, take a seat. I've got to admit, when I heard that you'd gone up to work for the Le Comptes, I assumed that we wouldn't be seeing you in town again. My predecessor, Doctor Clarke, told me that Baron Le Compte doesn't exactly give his staff any free time.”

  “He's a most gracious employer,” Jacob replied, stopping next to the chair but clearly reluctant to take a seat. “I have come, however, on a matter that is highly personal to another member of the household. I trust that not a word of our conversation will ever leave this room?”

  “Not a word.”

  “Then I must ask...” He paused. “If one were seeking to ascertain whether or not a young woman was with child, what would be the quickest, most accurate... and least obvious manner of doing so?”

  “Someone at the house is pregnant?”

  “It is possible.”

  “Well, you could start by bringing her down here to see me.” He paused again, seemingly concerned. “Is it... I mean, I just... Is it Estella?”

  “No,” Jacob replied. “It is not.”

  A faint smile of relief crossed Lassiter's face. “Then... It must be Madeleine?”

  “The young woman in question is not, herself, aware of the potential situation,” Jacob told him. “I have merely observed certain things that make me wonder and I would like to discretely confirm or disprove my suspicions without raising any alarm.”

  “How far gone do you think she is?”

  “I couldn't say. She doesn't appear to be showing any outward signs other than a little nausea in the mornings.”

  “That can kick in quite early,” Lassiter replied. “If you don't want to raise the matter with her or bring her to see me, all you can do is wait. Pregnancy can bring a lot of complications, though. I wouldn't advise trying to get through it without regular medical check-ups.”

  “Of course not,” Jacob said, “I just... I would prefer to avoid alerting His Lordship to the matter. For now, anyway.”

  “Going behind your master's back, are you?”

  “I merely wish to do what is best for the household.”

  “Then just keep an eye on her,” Lassiter replied. “Women know their bodies, she must have suspected something is up even if she hasn't vocalized her concerns. Try to make her understand that she can speak to you in confidence, and be ready to help her if the time comes. I can imagine that having Edgar Le Compte as a brother can complicate matters.”

  “I shall endeavor to be ready for whatever she might require,” Jacob told him. “And now I must get going. I was sent into town on some very specific errands, and I still have to prepare for His Lordship's dinner tonight.”

  “Having one of his famous parties, is he?” Lassiter asked. “What I wouldn't give to score an invitation. I've heard such tales...” He waited for a moment, as if he hoped that Jacob might tell him to attend. “Of course I don't expect to be invited,” he added finally. “I mean, who am I? I'm just the local doctor, and it's not as if Le Compte himself ever has need of my services...”

  “Good afternoon to you,” Jacob replied with a faint, knowing smile.

  Lassiter watched as the old man made his way to the door.

  “Who's the father?” he asked after a moment.

  Jacob stopped and turned back to him. “That, I do not know.”

  “Whoever he is,” Lassiter continued, “I hope the poor man knows what he's let himself in for. That's if he's still alive. I wouldn't be surprised if Madeleine Le Compte eats her mates when she's finished with them.”

  “She is a sweeter young woman than many give her credit for,” Jacob told him. “Since her parents died...” He paused for a moment, as if suddenly realizing that he might have said too much. “Once again, Doctor Lassiter, I would remind you that your advice is very much appreciated, and that no word of our conversation can be allowed to leave this room. I'm afraid that lives might depend on it.”

  “You have my word,” Lassiter replied. “I just hope you're wrong. I'd hate to imagine the life of a baby born into that household.”

  IV

  “Curse him,” Madeleine muttered as she stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror. “Just because he wants to have one of his parties, why does everyone else have to run around getting ready?”

  She admired her gown for a moment, before turning to the side and running a hand across her belly. Feeling the faintest of bumps, she paused and took a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds before letting it out and seeing that the bump had returned.

  “Huh,” she continued with a frown. “I really need to cut down on the ice-cream.”

  Hearing a knock at the door, she rolled her eyes, assuming that either Edgar or Nixon had come to check on her.

  “What do you want?” she called out. She waited a moment, before adding: “Come in!”

  As the door eased open, Jacob entered, carrying a drink on a silver tray.

  “Oh,” Madeleine said, a little flustered, “I'm sorry, I thought it was my brother.”

  “I took the liberty of preparing a very nutritious appetizer for you,” he explained, setting the tray down and passing it to her. “I hope this is acceptable.”

  “What's in it?” she asked, sniffing the glass.

  “The juices of various fruits and -”

  “I need something stronger,” she replied, handing the glass back to him. “It's been a while since I got properly drunk. Can you fix me up a gin and tonic? Make it a double.”

  “I...” He glanced at her belly for a moment, before looking at the glass he'd prepared. “If I might say so, M'am, I'm not sure that -”

  “Trust me,” she continued, “I really need some help to get through this evening. Besides...” She glanced at the door, as if to make sure that they couldn't be overheard, before turning back to him. “I need to slip out a little later, Jacob. Just for an hour or two, but it's terribly important. I'm hoping Edgar will be so enraptured by that Langley woman, he won't even notice. If he does ask, however, just tell him I'm in the garden or in my room, anything to get him off my back.”

  “Might I ask where -”

  “No,” she replied, “you might not. I'm sorry, Jacob, but I have to keep some things to myself.” She patted him on the shoulder. “Now, about that gin and tonic...”

  ***

  “This is absurd,” Edgar muttered, stalking through to his study. “I told the chef -”

  Stopping suddenly, he saw that Nixon was sitting at his desk, holding some of the papers that he had been perusing earlier.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Edgar asked.

  “You said you were studying paperwork relating to the estate,” Nixon replied with a frown, not looking up from the papers. “The last few days, you've been glued to these documents, but they're nothing to do with the estate, are they? Why are you suddenly so interested in the ancient history of the island and its -”

  “I didn't give you permission to pry into my affairs,” Edgar snapped, hurrying across the room and snatching the papers from Nixon's hands. “This is my desk and my -”

  “I know, I know,” Nixon replied, getting to his feet. “I shouldn't have stuck my nose in, but still... Something's up, so why don't you cut to the chase and fill me in? You know you'll end up telling me eventually. I'm something of an expert on matters pertaining to regional history, so why don't you take advantage of my brilliance? Not many people have a resident genius so close at hand.”

  “Humble as ever, I see,” Edgar said darkly
.

  “Some of these other papers,” Nixon continued, “relate to vampire mythology. For a man who once swore never to bother with the past after he returned from the war, you suddenly seem fascinated by...” He picked up one of the pieces of paper and examined it for a moment. “Ashalla. Now there's a name I haven't heard for a long, long time. Remind me again, who or what was Ashalla? A cold-blooded god, if I recall correctly? One of the Five Citizens of Narm? That's right, Ashalla was the one who was said to tear the heads off warm-blooded vampire babies and drink directly from their necks, was he not?”

  “You are, as ever, remarkably well-informed.”

  “And it's said that anyone who looked directly into his burning red eyes would be immediately and irrevocably turned insane with absolutely no hope of recovery.”

  “That is what the ancient texts say,” Edgar replied. “A whole chapter of the Book of Gothos was dedicated to cataloging Ashalla's cruelty.”

  “Ah yes,” Nixon continued, “I remember now. Ashalla was supposed to have risen from the ashes of Narm to launch a massive counter-offensive during the war, only to be turned to dust when Oncephalus and Cerulesis leaped directly into his heart. Cerulesis survived, some say, but Oncephalus was driven so completely mad that she disintegrated right there and then. I suppose some of these stories become exaggerated a little over the years, but still... That's one fearsome old god, isn't it? Good job he's long gone.”

  Edgar picked up one of the papers and examined it for a moment.

  “He is long gone,” Nixon added cautiously. “Isn't he?”

  Taking a glass of brandy from the desk, Edgar made his way over to the window and looked out for a moment, watching as the setting sun cast dancing ripples of light across the Mediterranean.

  “I consulted my father,” he said finally. “The other night, I was so convinced that he must have been responsible for Kate Langley's arrival, I removed the Crucifix of St. Joan from his heart and I demanded to know the truth. I was so certain he was behind it all, but now I realize...” He paused, before turning to Nixon. “I cannot discount the possibility that a much greater force is involved. As you have said many times lately, time travel is so absurd, we both thought it to be impossible. Nevertheless, I began to trawl the history books, looking for anything that might hint at such a thing. I truly didn't expect to find so much as a scrap of evidence, but finally I located a single line in an ancient text that referred to a creature that was able to slip from one time to another.”