Dead Souls Volume Three (Parts 27 to 39)

by Amy Cross

  “Your wedding is supposed to be at the end of the month.”

  “I will have resolved this situation by then.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Do not doubt me, Kate. Not even for a moment.”

  Sighing, she realized that there was no way she could get through to him, no chance of changing his mind. As he got back to work, she told herself that he was becoming consumed by the mystery, and that he wouldn't rest until he'd identified whoever was responsible for the situation. Heading back out of the chamber, she began to walk toward the town, before stopping and looking back at the stone circles. She hated to think of Edgar down there, working frantically by himself, but she knew there was no way to save him from himself. If his tormenter was seeking to drive him to madness, so far he seemed to be succeeding.

  Piece by piece, Edgar was losing his mind.

  IV

  “No!” Estella shouted, sitting up suddenly. “I didn't mean to -”

  Stopping, she looked around the room, filled with panic, before realizing that she'd been dreaming. She'd imagined her mother rising from the coffin, accusing her once again of housing some hideous demon in her soul. Trying to get her breath back, Estella told herself that the whole thing had simply been a terrible nightmare, and that she'd simply have to become better at keeping her emotions in check. In that regard, at least, she felt that she had a lot to learn from Edgar.

  Just as she was about to roll over and try to sleep some more, however, she noticed that an envelope had been slipped under the door to her room.

  ***

  “I wondered when you'd find the note and come down,” Nixon said, pointedly not looking up from his book as Estella entered the library. “When I slid it under there, I could hear you muttering to yourself in your sleep. To be honest, it sounded like -”

  “It's rude to listen to another person's dreams,” she said firmly. “Didn't anyone ever teach you that?”

  “Well, yes, but you were rather shouting it out.”

  “What was I shouting?”

  “Oh, this and that.” He closed the book and made his way over to the desk at the far end of the room. “You were apologizing, mostly. Apparently you feel bad about something, and I have to be honest, I've always seen you as a rather innocent, butter-wouldn't-melt type of person. Still... It's clear that you feel a heavy burden lately.””

  “Nonsense.”

  “It's only natural to -”

  “What do you want, Nixon?” she asked. “I was up all night, I'm very tired.”

  “I've been thinking a little more about our chat,” he continued, “and something's bothering me. If you truly have been carrying a latent disposition toward witchcraft, you'd still need some kind of shocking event in order for that disposition to be awakened. It's not like puberty, it doesn't just start of its own accord. Tell me, Estella, has anything of a... traumatic nature happened to you lately? It would have to be worse that your encounter at the Tenderling. It would have to be something bigger and more terrifying.”

  “I don't know what you're talking about.”

  “You found the priest's body, didn't you? I seem to recall hearing something about the old man dying in his church.”

  “Unfortunately, that is so,” she replied cautiously. “And yes, I was the one who found him. It was most distressing, really. I'd only gone to talk to him about -”

  “Alright, that part doesn't interest me. I'm more concerned about your hands. To be honest, I noted a while ago that you began wearing gloves the whole time. At first I thought it must be some kind of fashion statement. I know the female mind can be a little peculiar, so I figured gloves must be all the rage, but I've begun to think otherwise. Assuming that the gloves followed shortly after you realized you were different, I'm thinking that the priest's death more or less coincides with the whole mess. The dates just seem to add up. Am I right?”

  She stared at him for a moment, trying to work out how she could deflect his unwanted attention, before realizing that she'd have to meet the situation head-on. “You're quite the detective, aren't you?”

  “Just putting the pieces together as best I can.”

  “I came to you for help.”

  “And I'm giving you help, but I need to know the whole story, not just a few glimpses here and there. You've been letting me in, Estella, but only on your own terms. I think it's time for you to tell me everything.”

  She made her way across the room, stopping when she reached the wooden rail-ladder on the far side. “Edgar can know none of this,” she said finally, turning to him. “He thinks he's marrying a nice, normal human woman, and I don't want him to learn otherwise. It's absolutely vital that he never discovers the truth.”

  “You're asking me to keep something very important from my only real friend.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  He paused. “Okay. If it's in his best interests, I guess I can perform the necessary mental gymnastics to justify a few deceptions.”

  “Something has changed,” she told him. “I can feel it, deep in my soul. When I found Father Gregory, there was something else in the church with us, some kind of presence. The police, and Doctor Lassiter... None of the others had any idea that it was there, but I swear I'm not imagining things. Whatever it was, it seemed to brush against my mind and leave behind some part of itself. I think that's what my mother saw when she looked at me the other day, just a few hours before she...” She paused, feeling as if the subject was still too raw. “To be honest, I think she killed herself because she knew the truth about what I've become, but I don't know that truth myself. Not yet.”

  “How have your powers manifested?”

  “Small things. My hands, mainly. It seems as if I'm capable of burning things, bringing death, just with a touch.”

  “With every touch, or can you control this power?”

  “I can't control it at all. It seems stronger when I'm upset, but lately that doesn't help, I'm angry most of the time. Edgar refuses to...” Her voice trailed off for a moment. “This isn't about Edgar, though. It's about me. I just want to get rid of it, I want to go back to being normal, I want to go back to how things were before Kate -”

  He waited for her to finish.

  “Before Kate Langley arrived on Thaxos?”

  “That's not what I meant.”

  “You see her as a threat.”

  “We're not talking about Kate,” Estella replied, taking a deep breath as she tried to regather her composure. “We're talking about whatever has been happening to me.”

  “I rather think there's a link,” Nixon told her. “You're angry about Kate. You like her, you thought she'd be your friend, but now you feel she's peeling Edgar away from you one day at a time, and you might well be right. The worst part, I imagine, is that you know she isn't even doing it deliberately. There's just something about the pair of them, they fit together so perfectly.”

  “You see it too?”

  “Only a fool could miss it. I understand why you're angry, Estella. Is that why it's so important to you to bring the wedding forward? You feel that once you've managed to get Edgar down the aisle, you'll have a better chance of keeping hold of him?”

  “Won't I?”

  “A man like Edgar?” He smiled. “I don't think any cage can hold his emotions.” He watched as she made her way to one of the other shelves. “Maybe you should just accept the truth,” he continued. “Maybe Edgar and Kate are destined to be together and you're preparing to fight a war you can't possibly win.”

  She turned to him, with an expression of horror in her eyes.

  “Maybe they're perfect for each other,” he added, heading over to her. “Maybe it's true love, and no force in the universe can keep them apart. Maybe, compared to all of that, you have nothing to offer. Maybe it's just a question of when, not if, Edgar will cast you aside.”

  “Stop,” she said firmly.

  “He loves Kate. He can't help himself.”

  “Stop,” she said again,
her voice trembling with anger as tears began to run down her cheeks.

  “He'll marry her,” Nixon continued as he reached her, “and they'll have a lovely, happy family, just like the one you'll never -”

  “Stop!” she shouted, lunging at him and grabbing him by the shoulders. Before she could say another word, however, she felt a burning sensation in her hands, and she saw to her horror that her gloves were burning. Unable to react, unable to pull away, she simply stared as her hands began to burn through the shoulders of Nixon's jacket, before finally he grabbed her by the wrists and pushed her away.

  “Fascinating,” he said calmly. “I pushed you on purpose and look how you reacted.”

  “Edgar will never leave me for Kate,” she spat at him. “Never!”

  “Calm down, I was merely testing you.” He held up an old, leather-bound book. “There's not exactly a manual for new witches, but this comes close. A few hundred years ago, a very powerful Irish witch tried to write down some guidance for those who'd come after her. Her book contains guidance and advice, as well as specific information about how to master certain elements of your new powers. I thought it might be useful for you.”

  “I don't want to master them,” she said firmly, “I want them to go away. Does the book mention that?”

  “I don't believe so, no.”

  “Then it's useless to me.”

  “Edgar -”

  “Edgar loves me,” she said firmly, interrupting him. “You might not see it, but then why would you? You've never been in love, you've never known what it's like to want a family. Edgar truly, deeply loves me and we're going to be together forever! We're going to have a family together!”

  “I'm sure.”

  “I've seen them!” she hissed. “In my dreams!”

  “Dreams aren't real,” he pointed out, “but let's not talk about this now, I don't need to see you angry again.” He turned and made his way to the desk. “The test worked, Estella. It proved that anger brings your powers out.” Stopping, he glanced back at her. “I'm sorry about the things I said, by the way. They were designed merely to provoke you, I hope you won't take them too much to heart, even though... Well, nothing I said was a lie.”

  Looking down at her hands, Estella saw that her gloves her been burned to tattered rags, exposing her undamaged flesh below.

  “I think it's amply clear now,” Nixon continued, “that those gloves were simply a temporary measure. You could buy a thousand pairs, but they won't help you, not when you get truly angry.”

  “Then I shall not allow my emotions to run unchecked.”

  “Are you joking? In a place like this, with a man like Edgar?”

  “I'm stronger than that,” she told him. “I can keep myself under control.”

  “For the rest of your life?”

  “For the rest of my life.”

  He stared at her. “You know, I think you might almost be able to pull that off. Almost. The truth, though, is that no-one could manage such a thing.”

  “You underestimate me.”

  “Tell Edgar the truth.”

  “No.”

  “Why not? If you have these powers, why hide them? Are you ashamed?”

  “I don't want to be a...” She paused, as if the word horrified her. “You know. One of those things.”

  “A witch?”

  “I just want to be... me.”

  “You could make a lot of your troubles go away if you learned to control your powers a little better. Burning things with your hands is one thing, but that's child's play compared to some of the things a witch can do. I think you're failing to see the bigger picture here, Estella. You're on the threshold of becoming something wonderful, something that in many ways is as great and powerful as a vampire or a werewolf. Doesn't that excite you? Meanwhile, I could help you, I could study you -”

  “Is that why you're interested?” she asked. “You see me as a specimen?”

  “No, but -”

  “All I care about is being with Edgar,” she continued, “and making a life with him. Believe me, for a girl who was brought up in the dusty little streets of Thaxos, that's kind of a big deal. I assumed I'd have to marry some foolish local man and settle down to a life of drudgery and poverty, I never dared dream that I might...” She paused. “Well, I suppose I'm starting to get a little off-track, am I not? You promised you wouldn't tell Edgar about any of these things that have happened to me. I hope very much that you'll keep to your word.”

  “A werewolf never breaks his promises,” Nixon replied, heading to the shelf and slipping the old book back in its place. “Promise you'll come to me, though, if I can help in any way. I'm not convinced that you'll be able to control -”

  “I will come to you,” she said, forcing a smile. “Truly.”

  “And until that day comes,” he replied, “I'll keep worrying about you. I admire your resolve, Estella, but no-one can deal with something like this. You can't suppress these powers, not forever.”

  “Yes, you've made your view perfectly clear,” she told him. “Thank you.” She waited as he left the room, and then she stared at the desk for a moment before slowly turning to look at the book on the shelf. After a few seconds, she heard Nixon's words ringing in her thoughts:

  “Maybe Edgar and Kate are destined to be together... You could make a lot of your troubles go away if you learned to control your powers a little better.”

  “I'm not that kind of person,” she whispered. “Besides, Kate... She would never... She's a good person and a loyal friend, there's no way she'd...”

  She paused, before making her way across the room and carefully taking the leather-bound book from its spot, and then opening it to find that it was filled with handwritten text. She leafed through the pages, glancing at sections that described not only the history of witchcraft, but also advice on how to master certain powers and abilities. For a few tantalizing seconds, she allowed her thoughts to wander, and she imagined how easy life would be if suddenly, in the blink of an eye, Kate simply disappeared. A rush of relief washed through her soul at the idea of everything going back to normal. All it would take would be one moment of evil, or perhaps not even evil: after all, Kate wouldn't necessarily have to die. She could simply be sent back to wherever she'd come from, out of harm's way.

  “No,” she said finally, closing the book and setting it down. “I can't, it wouldn't be right.”

  She took a step back, horrified by the realization that she'd come so close to committing such a horrible act, and then she turned to hurry out of the room.

  Suddenly she heard a bumping sound and turned, and she saw to her horror that the book had opened of its own accord. She glanced around, but there was no sign of anyone else nearby, so she made her way cautiously to the book and looked down, only to see that the pages had opened at a section that began with a penciled sketch of a curious type of flower she'd spotted a few times on her walks across the island. In fact, she'd even seen some growing near the fountain in Edgar's garden.

  “Nightsorrow,” she whispered, picking the book up and starting to read.

  V

  “But you were seen leaving the cantina with Ms. Mediaci,” Quill replied, as he stood in the workshop. “By all accounts, she was rather distressed and you were calling after her.”

  “It was nothing like that,” Joshua replied cautiously. Realizing that he'd begun to subconsciously wipe his hands on the front of his shirt, he forced himself to slip them instead into his pockets. “We had a drink, that's all, to remember old Mrs. Graves. Then Evangeline said she had to go, but I thought she was still upset so I went after her. I thought it was, you know, the gentlemanly thing to do.”

  “You're a gentleman, are you?”

  “I try my best.”

  “You were heard calling her name in the street.”

  “Like I said, I was worried about her.”

  “And did you catch up to her?”

  Joshua paused for a moment. “No, as it happens, I did
n't. I looked for her for a while, but there was no sign of her. Eventually I figured she'd just gone home, and to be honest, I didn't feel much like going and knocking on her door so... I went home.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  “Well, actually...” Another pause. “The truth is, I was a little drunk by that point, and I ended up falling asleep outside. In an alley, as it happens. So when I say I was a little drunk, maybe it was slightly more than that. I'd definitely had a few beers.”

  “So your memory of last night might be muddled?”

  “There are a few black spots,” he replied, “but that doesn't mean... I hope you're not suggesting for one moment that I'm the one who...” He waited, as he began to realize that the situation looked bad. “It's one thing to forget which way you stumbled through the street at night,” he continued, “but I sure as hell didn't hurt anyone! I know I've got a bit of a reputation, but I'm not a killer!”

  “Calm down,” Quill replied, “no-one has accused you of that.”

  “Not yet,” he said firmly, trying not to panic, “but if you're starting to head in that direction... Do I need a lawyer?”

  “Absolutely not,” Quill told him. “The truth is, I am absolutely certain that you have nothing to do with Ms. Mediaci's death, or with Inspector Tarud's. I simply felt the need to speak to you, since you would appear to be the last person who saw her alive. Apart from the killer, obviously.”

  “I hope you find the son of a bitch,” Joshua replied, “and hang him from one of the posts in the town square. We still have the death penalty on Thaxos, you know.”

  “I'm aware of that.”

  “She was a lovely girl,” Joshua continued. “Bright, innocent, beautiful...”

  “You found her alluring?”

  “Everyone did. She had that quality about her, you know? The truth is, I...” He paused. “Never mind, it doesn't matter now. There are other girls on this poxy little island. Anyway, I was probably kidding myself. Evangeline always had eyes for my brother, she'd never have transferred her affections to me. Maybe I'll just -”