Dead Souls Volume Three (Parts 27 to 39)

by Amy Cross

  “He must have been dead,” she continued. “I mean, you were certain. How could you be wrong? If you think someone's dead, you should at least give them a poke to make sure. Tickle them, blow smoke up their ass, whatever, but -”

  “I saw his body,” Edgar replied, finally turning to her. “I held his corpse and dragged it through the rubble. He was dead.”

  “But now you think he's here on Thaxos?”

  “I can sense him. As soon as I realized that he was the only person who could have made these carvings, everything else fell into place.”

  “Seems like a pretty big coincidence,” she pointed out cautiously. “So big, in fact, that... Well, I guess maybe it's not a coincidence, is it?”

  He shook his head.

  “He's come after you?”

  “When the vampire civil war ended,” Edgar continued, “it was left to a friend of mine, Patrick, to carry the mantle of the species and create a new strain. Most of the other vampires died off, but a few of us found ways to hide. I thought that only warm-blooded vampires survived, but now...” He paused again. “If even one of them is still alive, the war isn't over -”

  “It is over,” she said firmly. “You said it yourself! If one straggly cold-blood has washed up on Thaxos, that doesn't mean anything. Go down there into town, find him, and kill him!”

  She waited, but Edgar showed no sign of getting to his feet.

  “Edgar? What are you waiting for? Go and finish him off!”

  “It's not that simple.”

  “Of course it's that simple,” she continued. “You have a duty to do this. After everything you just told me about Sepphos, how can you live with the knowledge that one of those things is still alive?”

  “You don't understand.”

  “Edgar -”

  “You don't understand,” he said again, more firmly this time, as if he was on the verge of anger.

  “Then explain it to me,” she replied. “Help me to understand, Edgar. Maybe...” She paused, before reaching out and putting a hand on his shoulder. “Don't make me act like a hissy little bitch to get information from you, I'm kinda tired of that schtick. The other day you said that you trusted me, so trust me now. Tell me what we can do to get this stinking cold-blooded vampire off our island.” She waited, still hoping that her brother would tell her what he was thinking, but he seemed to be sinking deeper and deeper into his own thoughts, almost as if he'd forgotten that anyone else was around. “If you can't do this alone,” he continued, “there's no shame in -”

  “I need to think,” he said suddenly.

  “I'll stand with you.”

  “I just need time to think.”

  “But if -”

  “And I need to be alone,” he added. “Leave me for now. I just need to work out what I should do next. Once I've done that, I'll let you know if there's anything I need from you.”

  “Edgar -”

  “Go!” he said firmly.

  Sighing, she got to her feet. “This isn't the way to deal with this,” she told him, shining the flashlight down at his face. “I never thought I'd see the day that my brother, the great Baron Edgar Le Compte, decides to sit cowering in a muddy hole in the ground instead of going to face the bastard who almost broke him. If this Quill guy is the same guy I saw yesterday in town, he's nothing much to look at. He was even limping, so he's not at full strength. You could take him on and finish him with just your little finger, Edgar, he's nothing compared to you!”

  He shook his head.

  “Then you're more pitiful than I realized,” she added, turning and heading toward the exit. She stopped and glanced back, only to see that Edgar was lost in his thoughts again, and then she headed along the tunnel until she emerged next to the stone circle.

  Sighing, she looked at the town, far below on the shore.

  “If one Le Compte won't stand up and fight, I guess the other one will have to take over.”

  III

  “Anna?”

  Standing at the bottom of the stairs, Kate looked up toward the first floor, waiting for some kind of reply.

  Silence.

  “Anna?” she called out again, heading into the kitchen and looking out at the yard for a moment. All she saw were chickens, pecking at the ground around their coop.

  Sighing, she turned and hurried up the stairs before making her way into the little girl's sparse, barely decorated room.

  “Anna?” she said cautiously. “Are you in here?”

  She waited.

  “Crap,” she muttered, trying not to panic. “She has to be somewhere, she can't have -”

  Just as she was turning to head back out of the room, she heard a bump from under the bed, followed by a shrill clucking sound, and finally a chicken ran out, shaking feathers across the floor.

  “Gertrude!” Anna's voice shouted, as an arm shot out from under the bed and tried to grab the chicken, but to no avail: Gertrude hurried out of the room and half-ran, half-fell down the stairs.

  Getting down onto her hands and knees, Kate bent to look under the bed, and finally she saw Anna's terrified face staring back at her.

  ***

  “No-one knows how to look after a child when they start,” Doctor Lassiter said as he pressed a cold stethoscope drum against Kate's chest a short while later. “It's not something we're programmed with. You have to learn, and one of the main ways to learn is by making mistakes. Just try to make your mistakes as small as possible.”

  “I can't do it,” she replied, glancing at the half-open door. “I don't know the first thing about any of this.”

  “You'll get used to it.”

  “She's terrified,” Kate continued, wincing at the cold metal as the drum was moved across her chest. “She knows something's happened to her mother, but I haven't worked out how to explain it yet. She's so young, how can I tell her that...” She paused. “I mean, I can barely even believe it myself.”

  “Children are more resilient than we realize,” the doctor continued, taking the drum away. “And so are you, Ms. Langley. I can't find anything wrong with you.”

  “The pains were more here,” she continued, putting a hand on her belly. “They were really sharp and persistent.”

  “Indigestion?”

  She shook her head. “It was like... I don't want to sound melodramatic, but it was like blades churning in my gut. I really thought for a moment that I was going to collapse.”

  “As far as I can tell,” he replied, setting his stethoscope down, “there's absolutely nothing wrong with you. The only thing I can think of is that it was some kind of passing bug or food-poisoning incident. Your heart-rate's fine, your blood-work's good, and you'll doubtless be pleased to know that you're not pregnant.” Heading around to the other side of his desk, he made a few notes on a pad of paper. “Sometimes we just get little pains here and there. Fact of life.”

  “This was more than a few little pains,” she told him as she buttoned her shirt back up. “This was agony, and it lasted for a few minutes. It just kept coming and going. It was exactly the same feeling as being stabbed.”

  “And how do you know that?” he asked, glancing at her with a smile. “Have you ever been stabbed?”

  “I -” She thought back for a moment to that night at Edgar's mansion, when the Crucifix of St. Joan had been driven through her chest. “Well, I mean, I'm just guessing...”

  “There's nothing I can do for you,” he continued, “other than tell you to come back if it happens again. I can't treat the memory of an illness.”

  She watched as he made some more notes.

  “Are you in love with Estella Graves?” she asked finally.

  Lassiter paused, before glancing at her again.

  “I'm sorry,” she continued, climbing off the examination table, “I know it's none of my business, but I was talking to her earlier and -”

  “What did she say?” he asked, a little too eagerly. “I mean... Did she...” His voice trailed off.

  “Sh
e mentioned you,” Kate replied. “In fact, she's mentioned you a few times lately. Maybe I'm wrong, but I feel like, when someone's in love, they tend to mention that person's name regularly, almost as if they like the sound of it coming from their lips. Estella never misses an opportunity to mention that she knows you, or that she's talked to you, or to bring up some memory of spending time with you. I've started to keep track of it lately, and I swear to God, she talks about you more than she talks about anyone else, including Edgar.”

  “Well, I...” Pausing, he seemed acutely embarrassed and uncomfortable. “Estella and I go back a long way. We're the same age, we grew up on the island at the same time, we went to the same school -”

  “On a place like Thaxos, I imagine it's natural to marry someone you've known since childhood.”

  “One doesn't have much choice.”

  “So I guess you and Estella spent a lot of time together?”

  “There was a...” Again, he seemed uncomfortable. “To be honest, there was a time when we were a little more than friends. I don't know what the world is like where you come from, Ms. Langley, but here we take things very slowly. Estella and I used to go for walks together all over the island, and we'd talk about the future. We never discussed marriage or anything like that, or feelings, but I suppose you could say we had a kind of unspoken understanding that things might be headed that way. Maybe I should have been a little firmer, maybe I should have made a move, but I thought there was no rush. I was worried that if I moved too early, she'd think I was being rash.”

  “And then?”

  “And then she ran off with Edgar Le Compte.”

  “Just like that?”

  He smiled, but it was a sad, slightly melancholy smile. “You must understand something about Estella. She always, always had a thing about social status. She always wanted to rise above her upbringing. When we were children, she wanted to move to the mainland and enter high society. Eventually she realized that she could never do that, and for a while I think she began to accept the idea that she'd have to settle for a more mundane life. I was away a lot, for medical school, and I felt as if Estella was getting used to the idea of marrying the local doctor.” He paused. “I don't even know why I'm telling you all of this, but... When I came back to work here, I was finally ready to propose to her.”

  “So why didn't you?”

  “Her head had been turned. She'd always looked up longingly at the house on the hill, and then suddenly she met the great Edgar Le Compte one day. He was just back from war, a little damaged, a little bloodied, and...”

  “And she broke things off with you so she could go off with him?”

  “There was nothing to break off with me,” he replied. “As I said, it was just an unspoken understanding, nothing formal.”

  “Did you fight for her?”

  He shook his head.

  “Why not?”

  “Because this is real life! People don't do that sort of thing, and anyway...” He sighed. “I know Estella better than I know myself. Trust me, Doctor Paul Lassiter could never compete with Baron Edgar Le Compte. Estella is wonderful and sweet and kind, but societal status is her weak spot. I'd be second or third best.”

  “Not if you love each other.”

  “It's over.”

  “But you still think about her?”

  “Is there anything else I can help you with, Ms. Langley? I have other patients waiting out there.”

  “I think she still loves you,” Kate replied.

  “Is this some attempt to get her to come back to me so that Edgar Le Compte is free?” Lassiter asked. “Forgive me for being direct, Ms. Langley, but are you trying to get the competition out of the way?”

  “Of course not,” she replied, horrified by the suggestion, “I just... The closer we get to the wedding, the more I worry that she's doing this for the wrong reasons.”

  “People marry for the wrong reasons all the time,” he replied, heading to the door, “but sometimes they end up happy.”

  “Is that what you think will happen with Estella and Edgar?”

  “I hope so. For her sake.”

  “Where I come from,” Kate continued, “people marry for love.”

  “That sounds a little idealistic,” he replied. “The year is 1918, Ms. Langley, and Europe is still trying to claw itself out of a war that might never end. Maybe in a century from now people have so little else to worry about that they can devote their lives to love and happiness, but right now, marriages sometimes have to take place for more pragmatic reasons. Edgar Le Compte can give Estella the life she wants, the life she deserves... I'm sure that over time they'll learn to love one another properly.”

  “And you?” she asked, joining him at the door.

  “I'm a doctor,” he reminded her. “I'll find a nice girl from the island and settle down.” Glancing out into the waiting room, he watched for a moment as Anna sat obediently and fiddled with her hands. “Don't worry about Estella or about me,” he added finally, turning back to Kate. “Worry about that little girl, and about her mother.”

  “Can you speak to Quill for me?” she asked. “Maybe he'd listen to you.”

  “It's a justice matter.”

  “But maybe you can help prove that Jennifer didn't kill Evangeline.”

  “I don't think for a moment that she did,” he replied, “but what about Tarud?”

  Kate paused.

  “I can see it in your eyes,” he added, waving for one of the other patients to head into his office. “Ms. Langley, you're fighting to clear the name of a woman you know to be guilty. In the case of Inspector Tarud, at least. The look in your eyes is proof that you know you can't win.”

  “It's my knees again,” said Muriel Wetherly as she shuffled between them, heading into the office. “You'll have to give me something for them!”

  “Come back and see me if your chest pains return,” Lassiter told Kate, before following Mrs. Wetherly inside.

  “Can we go now?” Anna called out to Kate. “Where's my mother? I want to see her.”

  ***

  “Is this longsummer wort?” Estella asked, holding a collection of flowers out toward Nixon.

  “Why do you want to know?” he asked, as he made his way toward the kitchen.

  “Simple curiosity. After the wedding, I intend to take an interest in the garden while I wait to become pregnant. I know Edgar could hire someone from the town, but I think it would be fun do the work myself. The house is so lovely but sometimes I think the grounds could be made nicer. I've already been mapping out some of the work I want to get done, but... Well, I need to know the names of everything out there, don't I?”

  Nixon glanced at the flowers for a moment.

  “That's longsummer wort, alright,” he replied, leading her into the kitchen and over to the sink. “It's a hardy perennial, very common on Thaxos. It blooms for six months of the year, hence its name.”

  “Thank you,” she replied, turning and heading to the door.

  “It's also used by witches,” he added.

  She stopped and glanced back at him.

  “It's integral to several of the spells in the book I showed you yesterday. In fact, one might even say that it's one of the most important elements of Thaxos witchcraft.”

  “Might one say that?” she asked. “Really? Well, I had no -”

  “What are you planning?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Just practicing your flower arrangements, are you?”

  “I told you -”

  “I know when you're lying, Estella.” He paused. “No-one could develop the kind of powers you've developed, and not test them to see how they might be useful. Plus, I happened to be in the library earlier, and I saw that several books on witchcraft are missing. Of course, the other books have been shuffled along in a crude attempt to hide the gaps, but I know every shelf of that library inside out and I can assure you, some very interesting and specific titles have been removed.”

  �
��I was just curious, that's all.”

  “Have you tried anything yet?”

  “I'm just reading the -”

  “So I didn't spot you picking nightsorrow yesterday?”

  She stared at him for a moment. “Are you accusing me of something, Nixon?”

  “I'm asking what you're up to.”

  Again she stared at him, as if she'd been caught in the act and wasn't sure whether to admit the truth or keep lying. “I'm just picking flowers,” she said finally. “It's a perfectly innocent past-time.”

  “You're not wearing your gloves.”

  She looked down at her bare hands. “So? Must I always -”

  “And yet the flowers haven't burned.”

  “What's your point?”

  “It's almost as if you've learned to control your powers,” he pointed out. “If I didn't know better, I'd speculate that you've been reading those books and you've already worked out how to keep from killing everything you touch. Now, I don't want to give you a big head, Estella, but if that's the case...” He paused. “It takes quite a powerful witch to teach herself these things simply by reading a few old books one night. I'm almost tempted to say that you have above-average control of your powers, which is a rather alarming thought.”

  “Poppycock,” she replied, trying to smile but not quite managing.

  “Well, it -”

  “Is this all you do every day?” she continued, stepping toward him. “Is this your idea of a good life? Spending all day, every day loitering in someone else's house, reading someone else's books, and just making little comments on the lives of the people around you? For a werewolf, Nixon, I'd say you're rather cowed.”

  “I'm perfectly happy.”

  “So you're not scared of anything?” she asked, stepping closer. “You're not, for example... hiding from something?”

  “I have no idea what you mean.”

  “I've noticed the way you react whenever someone knocks on the door,” she continued. “You always seem just a little anxious. I've also noticed that on days when the ferry is due to arrive on Thaxos, you go out and sit in the garden, so you can see the harbor. Now, with your excellent vision, I imagine you can make out all the people coming off the ferry, even though they're so far away. If I didn't know better, I'd suggest that perhaps you're hiding from someone, and it's someone you think will one day track you down to this little island.”