by Amy Cross
“Are you in trouble?” Anna asked.
She shook her head.
“Tell Kate I'm here,” Jennifer continued as she was led into the police station. “Anna, tell Kate to look after you while I'm here!”
“So sad,” Quill muttered as he guided Jennifer through the main office and then through to the cells at the back.
“Please,” she said, stopping as soon as she saw the bars, “you can't put me in there.”
“I have no choice,” he replied, opening the door. “Oh, wait... This is where your husband died, is it not? In this very cell.”
“Please,” she continued, “I'm begging you.”
“Get in, Mrs. Kazakos.”
She shook her head.
“You're not afraid of ghosts, are you? Or of history repeating itself?”
“I can't go in there,” she told him. “You don't understand, my husband died in that cell!”
“And you don't understand,” he replied, grabbing her arm and then pushing her into the cell, before swinging the door shut and turning the key in the lock. “You don't have a choice in this matter, Mrs. Kazakos. You'll stay in here until I've decided what to do with you, and the truth is... I think soon it'll be time to find a noose. Don't worry, though, I'll see that your daughter is taken care of. Most likely, she'll be taken to an orphanage on the mainland.”
“No!” she shouted, reaching through the bars as he removed the key and walked away. “Do anything you want to me, but you can't send Anna to an orphanage! Please, you have to listen to me! It was self-defense! Ask Edgar Le Compte! He'll tell you everything!”
***
“What kind of message is this?” Edgar whispered, running a fingertip against the carved image. “What are you trying to tell me? That you know who I am? That you know what happened during the war? There's no-one left alive who knows the whole story, there's...”
His voice trailed off for a moment as he felt himself tiring. Having been working non-stop for so long, he knew he was in danger of cracking, but he felt determined to push on, to get to the truth. Still, his eyes closed for a moment, long enough for a flash of the past to invade his thoughts:
He remembered standing on the ridge of Oculus, watching fires burning in the valley.
Opening his eyes again, he forced himself to focus on the task at hand. He continued to examine the carved image, which he was certain now had been created using some kind of knife. As his thoughts began to drift again, however, his eyes closed and another flash of memory returned:
He remembered following Patrick and Cassandra through the Unholy Gate, hearing the screams of newborn cold-blooded vampires in the distance. The others hadn't looked back, but he'd been weak, he'd turned and seen the flames rising from the next.
With a start, he opened his eyes again, realizing that he was in danger of falling asleep and drifting into memories of the war. He blinked a couple of times, trying to focus, but he soon began to dream again:
He remembered leaning closer to the pitiful cold-blood. “How do you want to die?”
“Quillian,” the creature replied.
“What?”
“That's my name. I know your name, so you should at least know mine. And don't worry, I have no doubt that you're going to kill me. After all, I'm at a disadvantage, and everyone knows that cold-bloods and warm-bloods always kill one another on sight. That's just the way things have to be these days, isn't it?”
Opening his eyes, Edgar felt a shiver pass through his body at the memory of that wretched beast. Now that those memories had begun to stir, however, he felt them flooding into his mind:
“Among my people,” Quillian had told him all those years ago, “it's considered traditional for a man to torture his own finds. Since I was technically the one who located you first, it falls to me.”
Later, when he'd escaped and Cassandra had arrived, he'd found Quillian in the ruins of the city:
“I will bring this wretch back to life just so I can kill him again!” he shouted.
“He's gone, Edgar.”
“He has to suffer!” he screamed, with tears of frustration in his eyes as he stared down into Quillian's dead face. “After everything he did to me, he has to know what it's like to feel true pain! I have to torture him for a thousand years, and that's only the beginning!”
Sitting back suddenly, forcing the dreams from his mind, Edgar stared at the carving for a moment. A dark thought was starting to rise through his chest, tugging at the edges of his mind, but at the same time he told himself that it was impossible, that there was no way Quillian could have survived the war, that he'd held the creature's dead body in his own hands and torn him apart. Yet...
Yet there was only one person who could know so much about Edgar's role in the war, and who might ever want to bring his nightmares back to life.
“It can't be,” he whispered, dropping to his knees. “It can't be, he's dead. It can't be him...”
***
“Let me out of here!” Jennifer screamed in the distance. “You have to listen to me! It was self-defense!”
“Do I look like I give a damn?” Quill whispered with a smile as he leaned back in his chair, admiring his new office for a moment.
“Please! You have to understand, I didn't kill Evangeline!”
“Of course you didn't,” Quill continued, keeping his voice low so that no-one could possibly overheard him. “I'm the one who tore her heart out, so I really think that matter is settled. Still, that's not the most important thing.” Looking over at the window, he could see the Le Compte mansion in the distance. “The important thing is revenge,” he added darkly, “and that, I think, is all coming together rather nicely.”
Part Thirty-Five
I
“So this is where the reception dinner will take place,” Estella continued breathlessly, hurrying across the ballroom, “and the band will be over there, and then the wedding itself -”
Stopping by the doors at the far end, she looked out at the fountain, and then at the spot a little further on, where the patio met the trees. Light from the morning sun caught her eyes, and for a moment she seemed lost in her own mind.
“And the wedding itself,” she continued, with a sense of great anticipation in her voice, “will take place over there.” She paused, as if the thought was too huge to truly contemplate. “That is the spot where, in just a few days' time, I shall become Lady Estella Le Compte of Thaxos, wife of... the great Edgar. My God, people laughed at me when I first spoke of such things, I remember Paul Lassiter's face when he heard the news, but soon they'll see! Little Estella Graves from Thaxos, all grown up to become... Lady Estella...”
Lost in thoughts of billowing dresses and grand banquets, she allowed herself a faint smile before suddenly remembering that the big day was still a little way off. Turning, she saw that Kate was finally catching up.
“Are you okay?” Estella asked. “You seem a little... off.”
“I'm fine,” Kate replied, joining her at the door. “It seems like you've got this whole thing planned out.”
“You're not feeling ill, are you? You should go and see Doctor Lassiter if something's wrong.”
Kate shook her head.
“Not even...” Glancing down at Kate's belly for a moment, Estella thought back to the previous night, when she'd attempted to use magic on a small doll. She felt certain that her experiment had worked, but she was keen to get details. “No stomach pains, anything like that?”
“A few twinges,” Kate replied. “Why? How did you know?”
“Just a guess. From the look on your face.”
“So how much of this wedding is going to be conjured up by a click of Edgar's fingers?” Kate asked, heading out onto the patio, “and how much is going to be... Well, you know...” She turned to Estella. “How much is going to be real?”
“Why, it's all going to be real,” Estella replied, stepping past her. “What a silly question!”
“You know what I mean. Whe
n Edgar has a party, he usually -”
“This isn't a party,” Estella continued, interrupting her, “it's a wedding.” Heading to the fountain, she dipped her left hand in the water for a moment. “It's going to be completely real, every moment. Granted, things like the band will be provided by Edgar in his usual inimitable style and I suppose some of the guests too, but the actual wedding itself will be absolutely real in every conceivable way. I don't know why you'd even ask.”
“So who's coming?”
At this, Estella paused for a moment, before turning to her.
“I just meant -”
“I know what you meant,” Estella continued, before recovering her smile. “To be honest, Edgar and I spoke about the matter and decided that we'd rather have a small event with people who really matter to us. After all, family is the most important thing, don't you think?”
“I couldn't agree more.”
“So there won't be that many people coming from off the island. Just a handful, really, a few of Edgar's friends. Or maybe even... Well, we don't need people to come.”
“And what about your friends?”
“My friends?” Estella paused. “Well, I already invited you, silly.”
“Don't you have other friends?”
“I know plenty of people, but... We don't want to crowd things, do we? Besides, once I'm married to Edgar, I won't have time for many social activities. If I had lots of friends, I'd just have to go through them one by one, getting rid of them and the whole thing would be very political and tiresome. When a woman marries, she must dedicate herself to her husband, and abandon frivolous activities.” She forced a smile. “As for family, well, recent events mean that... I don't suppose there'll be many people coming up from the town. I was going to invited Doctor Lassiter, but I think maybe...” She paused, as a hint of uncertainty entered her countenance. “Well, I'm sure he'll be busy. Besides, it wouldn't do to have him here.”
“You think about Doctor Lassiter a lot, don't you?” Kate replied.
“What's that supposed to mean?”
“Just that -”
“Doctor Lassiter and I were friends once,” Estella continued. “We still are, really, but you know how complicated things can become. There was a time when...” She paused again. “Well, it's all in the past. The only thing that matters now is the future, and that's why I don't think there's much point inviting people from the town to come up for the wedding. They represent the past. Edgar represents the future.”
“What about your father?”
“I shouldn't think he'll come.”
“When did you last see him?”
“At my mother's funeral.”
“Not since then?”
“Well, I've been busy!” Estella continued, making her way around the fountain and heading to the spot where she expected the wedding ceremony itself to take place. “I'm not going to let my mother's selfish acts ruin my big day. The woman always hated it when other people had even an ounce of fun or happiness, but now that she's dead she can't drag me down any further, I simply refuse to allow it! This is my home now, and I can't trouble myself with thoughts of the town. Why, I'm sure I'll have forgotten about that dusty little place before too long.”
“But your father -”
“He has an invitation,” she added, as she spotted Benjamin Wood making his way out of the house and heading toward them. “He knows he can come if that is his wish. What am I supposed to do, drag him here against his will?”
“Hey,” Benjamin said as he reached them, “have you seen Madeleine this morning?”
“No,” Kate replied, “we haven't had that pleasure yet.”
“Did you hear the news?” he continued. “About Jennifer Kazakos? I can't believe it. In fact, I don't think I do believe it. Something's not right.”
“What news?” Kate asked, with a hint of panic. “I've been up here at the house since yesterday.”
“She's been arrested,” Benjamin continued. “This is going to sound crazy, but they're saying she killed Oliver Tarud and Evangeline Mediaci.”
***
“Jennifer!” Kate called out, hurrying into the police station a short while later. “Hey, where -”
Stopping suddenly, she saw a man sitting at the main desk. As the man glanced up at her with a thin, weathered face, Kate felt a shiver pass through her body, as if she was face-to-face with something that came with some hidden, extra presence.
“Can I help you?” he asked calmly.
“I'm here to see a friend,” Kate said cautiously, feeling as if something wasn't right with the situation. She glance around, half expecting the shadows to move, but the stone-walled room seemed particularly hushed and still. “I... I'm sorry, I heard this rumor that a friend of mine, Jennifer Kazakos, has been brought here.”
“I see,” Quill replied, setting his pen down. “Yes, Ms. Kazakos is in the cells. Are you her lawyer?”
“No, I'm...” Again, Kate paused. “There's been some kind of a mistake. Jennifer Kazakos didn't kill Evangeline Mediaci.”
“And you say that with what authority?” Quill asked.
“I know her!”
“Well then I must release her at once!” he replied. Silence followed, as he simply stared at her. “Or not. I take it that you and Ms. Kazakos are friends?”
“I rent a room from her,” Kate continued, approaching the desk with caution but stopping as she realized that the entire room was preternaturally cold. She couldn't put her finger on the problem, but she'd spent enough time on Thaxos by now to understand that it was always worth paying attention to her instincts. “I work for her sometimes.”
“And how long has this arrangement been in place?”
“Long enough.”
“How did you come to meet Ms. Kazakos?”
“Am I under suspicion?”
“You're Kate Langley, are you not?” Quill asked, getting to his feet and grabbing his cane, before making his way slowly around the desk. As he reached her, he held out his right hand. “I've heard a great deal about you. I hope you won't feel awkward if I tell you that the people in the cantina are very interested in the manner of your arrival on Thaxos. As am I, actually. Tell me, did you present your papers to Inspector Tarud?”
“My papers?”
“One cannot simply come to an island such as Thaxos without papers. A passport, documents confirming your status with your home government, these things are important, especially in a time of war. Your accent suggests that you're British, but of course accents can be faked and although the war is coming to an end, there are still dangerous elements at large. Why, I could lock you up this very instant on suspicion of being a spy sent by the enemies of this glorious country. The people of Thaxos would most certainly support me. They want to feel safe.”
“I...” She paused. “Everything was dealt with.”
“I see.” He stared at her for a moment, with his hand still held out toward her. “Well, I shall just have to trust that Inspector Tarud discharged his duties.”
Shaking his hand, Kate looked toward the door that led to the cells.
“If you live in the same building as Ms. Kazakos,” Quill continued, “then why have you only just realized that she's here? Should you not have noticed she was missing at first light?”
“I was up at Edgar Le Compte's mansion during the night,” she replied.
“You and Le Compte are close?”
“We're friends. I told you -”
“Yes, I know.” He limped over to the door, wincing a little as if the effort of walking was painful. “I'm interested in anyone who is an acquaintance of Baron Le Compte. From what I know of the man, it's rather difficult to get close to him. Tell me, would you consider yourself to be a good friend of his?”
“I don't see what -”
“I imagine he considers friends to be a mark of weakness,” Quill continued, taking a set of keys from a hook on the wall. “After all, if one cares about other people, one can be mani
pulated and tricked into doing things that one would ordinarily manage to avoid. On the other hand, if one only has to consider one's own feelings and one's own needs, one can act more freely. I can see why a man such as Edgar Le Compte would prefer to remain isolated, so that he has no-one to worry about other than himself.”
“Can I see Jennifer?”
“You don't want to talk about Baron Le Compte?”
“I want to see my friend.”
“This way,” Quill replied, leading her out of the room. “Visiting hours aren't for a little while, but I'm a kind man and I don't mind bending the rules, even in such a serious situation.”
“You have to know that Jennifer isn't the person you're after,” Kate continued, following him. “Why the hell would she kill Evangeline? It doesn't even make any sense!”
“I am yet to settle upon a motive,” Quill told her, “but there is another victim to consider. I have also charged Ms. Kazakos with the murder of Inspector Oliver Tarud.” He glanced back at her with a faint smile. “Do you also believe your friend to be innocent of that killing?”
“I...” Kate paused, realizing that Tarud's death was a completely different matter.
“Visitor!” Quill called out as they rounded the corner and reached the cells. Banging on the bars, he took a moment to unlock the door leading into the room, before limping inside. At the far end, Jennifer was on the floor of a small cell, having evidently slept without a bed. “Ms. Kazakos, someone is here to see you!”
“Jennifer!” Kate called out, hurrying past Quill and heading to the iron bars at the far end of the room. “I only just heard!”
Turning to look at her, Jennifer seemed dazed for a moment, before sitting up. There was tiredness in her eyes, as well as fear, but also a hint of resilience.
“I'll leave you to talk,” Quill said. “Take your time, Ms. Langley. I'll be in the office if you need me.”
“What the hell is going on?” Kate continued, putting her hands on the bars and watching as Jennifer slowly, stiffly got to her feet. “What are you doing in here?”
