by Amy Cross
“Her psychic energy is spilling over,” Nixon replied. “It's a part of her powers, but she has no idea. She's still so raw.”
Flinching as she heard Estella crying out again, Kate began to limp toward the door.
“You won't help matters,” Nixon warned her.
“I know but -”
“What does she become?”
Stopping, she glanced back at him.
“In the future, I mean,” he continued. “One hundred years from now, what has happened to her?”
“Edgar!” Estella screamed in the distance. “Let me in, or I swear I'll...”
“Never mind,” Nixon added. “I think I can guess.”
Turning, Kate struggled on her crutches as she made her way along the corridor. Reaching the ballroom, she headed to the doors at the far end and looked out. At the other end of the garden, a priest was sheltering under the trees as torrential rain came crashing down. Instinctively, Kate reached out to open one of the doors so she could let him in, but without the key there was nothing she could do.
Suddenly Estella appeared on the other side of the rain-soaked glass, grabbing the handle before she saw Kate.
“I'm sorry,” Kate said, leaning on her crutches. “I can't open it.”
She waited for a reply, but Estella – soaked now, with her hair a tangled mess and her clothes dripping wet – simply stared back with shocked eyes that seemed to be slowly filling with pain and anger.
“I can't,” Kate continued, turning the handle again. “See? Edgar's had all the doors locked, and Jacob has taken the keys. I...”
She paused, waiting again for Estella to say something, but it was clear that the other woman's fury was building with every passing second.
“This isn't my fault,” Kate said firmly. “I didn't tell you to do any of those things! I didn't encourage Edgar, I didn't... Estella, I tried to do everything in my power to keep from getting in the way. I guess maybe there was nothing I could do. Maybe events were always fixed, maybe they had to end up like this. I just... Please, don't blame me. Even if you don't marry Edgar, that doesn't mean you can't have a happy life. What about Doctor Lassiter? I always -”
Before she could finish, a flash of lightning filled the sky, followed a moment later by a rumble of thunder.
“If I could do anything for you,” Kate continued, “I would. You have to believe me.”
Again she waited for a reply, and again Estella simply stared at her with anger in her eyes.
“Estella, please -”
“You will regret this,” Estella said suddenly. “I don't know how, Kate, and I don't know when, but one day you will regret the fact that you ever set foot on this miserable island. As for Edgar, tell him...” She paused, with tears running down her face along with rain. “Tell him that I shan't bother him any more. Tell him that he may burn or otherwise dispose of any possessions of mine that remain in this wretched house. He bought most of them for me, anyway, so it would seem inappropriate for me to keep them. Tell him I'm sorry he didn't have the decency to face me, and tell him...” Another pause, as if she was struggling for words. “Tell him I hope he's very happy,” she added finally. “Tell him not to worry about me. I shall be fine.”
“Estella -”
Turning, Estella began to walk away, making her way over to the priest and speaking to him for a moment, before leading him along the edge of the garden and down the steps toward the path.
Kate opened her mouth to call after her, but she knew it would be hopeless.
“Beware a woman scorned,” Nixon said suddenly.
Turning, she saw that he was standing in the doorway.
“Sorry,” he continued, “I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but...” He paused. “Well, no, that's not true. I did mean to eavesdrop. I think you should stay well away from Estella, Kate. She's always had a certain darkness about her, and now she's starting to develop these powers. I think you shouldn't for one moment underestimate the extent of her -”
“I won't,” she replied.
“Still, I -”
“You don't need to lecture me,” she added. “I've seen what happens in the future, remember? From the day I first came back to this time period, I've been hoping that maybe I could change certain things, maybe make certain people happier, but... I think, in the process, I just caused these things to happen.”
“Well that's one debate settled, then,” he continued. “Looks like you can't change the future, Kate. Whatever Thaxos is like in a century's time, it would seem to be locked in place.”
“Then we -”
Hearing a crashing sound from outside, Kate turned just in time to see that the storm – which had now grown to even greater heights – had uprooted a tree from the garden. Before she had time to react, Nixon grabbed her and pulled her aside, just as the tree smashed into the window and came crashing through, sending glass and wooden spinning through the air.
VI
“Father?”
Looking up from the notebook in which he'd been recording his day's work, Tom Graves saw that his daughter was standing in the doorway, soaking wet from the storm that still raged outside.
“Estella?”
He watched as she made her way to the table. Her dress was dripping water all over the floor, and her eyes looked sore and red, as if she'd been crying.
“Are you not Lady Le Compte by now?” he asked, closing his notebook. “I was under the impression that today was your -”
“There will be no wedding,” she said curtly as she took a seat. She tried to smile, but the effort proved too much. “Not now, not ever.”
“I see.” He paused. “I take it, then, that your time at the Le Compte mansion has come to an end?”
She nodded.
“And that you would like to come home and take your old room back?”
She paused, shuddering as if the idea horrified her, before nodding again.
“Well...” He took a deep breath. “This house is always open to you, Estella, you know that. I must say, it'll be good to have someone else about the place for a change. Since your mother died, I've felt rather lonely, rattling about on my own.” After a moment, he reached across the table and put his hand on hers, but she immediately pulled away. “Estella, what -”
“There's no need to go into details,” she replied. “It has simply become clear to me that marrying Edgar would not be the best course of action.”
“So it was your choice?”
She paused, and for a moment a faint twitch seemed to cross the left side of her face. “Yes,” she said finally.
“Forgive me for asking so many questions,” he continued, “but... Is there any chance of a reconciliation? I can't exactly imagine Le Compte coming to the window and attempting to serenade you, but are you sure that your engagement is over?”
“Very sure.”
“But -”
“Very sure, father. The decision has been made, and there can be no going back. I suppose... I suppose this is for the best.”
“Might I ask what prompted -”
“No,” she said firmly, “you may not. I would rather not dwell on such things. I trust you'll understand.”
“Of course.” He paused, as if he wasn't sure what to say, before getting to his feet and briefly putting a hand on her shoulder and then heading to the stairs. “It's a great pity your mother isn't here tonight. She'd know what to say.”
“I doubt it,” Estella whispered darkly. “She'd be loving every second of my downfall.”
“I have to get to bed,” he told her, “but you can find clean sheets for yourself, can't you? I think your mother left some in the cupboard upstairs. And...” Stopping, he looked back at her. “If you've nothing else planned for tomorrow, I suppose you can give the place a clean. I tried on Saturday, but to be honest, I just couldn't get it done. I hate to sound old-fashioned, but I think perhaps that's a woman's job.”
She nodded.
“Good night, then,” he said, before headi
ng upstairs.
Sitting alone at the kitchen table, Estella stared straight ahead for a moment. Her mind was filled with thoughts of Edgar up at the mansion, undoubtedly having a great time now that nothing was keeping him from consummating his relationship with Kate Langley. For a moment, she saw them in her mind's eye, naked and wrapped in one another's arms, making love on Edgar's bed. She knew she shouldn't torture herself with such thoughts, but deep down there was some dark, wounded part of her soul that actually enjoyed such things. She imagined Edgar kissing Kate, and entering her, and moving his kisses down to her chest.
On the windowsill next to Estella, a houseplant wilted and died in the space of just a couple of seconds.
“I will make you pay,” Estella whispered finally, her eyes filled with pure anger. “Both of you. I will make sure you cannot enjoy one moment of your time together.”
***
As the storm continued to rage, a lonely figure pushed against the wind, making his way past the cantina and toward the edge of town. Making his way along the coastal path that wound down toward the island's southeastern tip, he had to stop a couple of times and take shelter as the wind became particularly strong, and finally he reached the expanse of land around the lighthouse.
High above, the lighthouse's great lantern was unlit.
As soon as he got inside, the figure stopped and removed his coat. He was still soaking wet as he made his way past a table filled with candles, but he stopped as soon as he saw a figure slumped in a chair by the fireplace.
“Joe?” Joshua Wood called out, shocked to see that the lighthouse keeper was still around. “Are you... Are you okay?”
The figure didn't move.
Making his way cautiously over to the fireplace, Joshua stopped as soon as he saw Joe's face. The old man's eyes were staring straight ahead, and he'd been torn open from his collarbone down to his groin, with blood having spilled out all over his legs and onto the floor. Most of his internal organs had been removed, although a few tattered pieces had been left smeared against the inside of his chest, some of them crushed between his broken ribs.
“What can I say?” a familiar voice asked nearby. “I was hungry after all my exertions last night.”
Turning, Joshua saw to his horror that Quill was standing nearby in the shadows, naked and covered in blood.
“I prefer a more delicate meal,” Quill continued, stepping forward, “but sometimes, when one is in need of a quick boost, it can be rather refreshing to simply fall upon one's prey and feast.”
“They're looking for you,” Joshua replied. “All of them. The Kazakos woman is alive again, and whatever happened up at the mansion last night, I think you might have pushed Edgar too far this time. You'll be lucky if he doesn't come storming down here soon to tear your head off.”
“Too far?” He smiled. “I haven't pushed him nearly far enough.” Stepping over to Joe's corpse, he reached down and scooped out some more bloody tissue from the old man's chest cavity. “Have you heard anything about poor Madeleine? I can't help thinking that she's probably in a rather poor state right now. The last time I saw her, she was a gibbering wreck on the floor of her bedroom, suffering the agony of having her eyes burn in her skull.”
“People hate me,” Joshua told him. “They think I've fallen in with you, and that now I'm somehow tainted. It's almost as if I've betrayed the island.”
“That sounds unfortunate.” Sniffing the pieces of Joe in his hand, he finally slipped them into his mouth. As he chewed, a few trickles of blood ran down his chin. “Whatever will you do now?”
“I need to get out of here.”
“You'll need money for that.”
“You -”
“When the time comes, I'll happily let you go. When my work here is done. Until then, I'm going to need you around.” Looking over at the door for a moment, he listened to the sound of the storm outside. “This building has a function, does it not? It's supposed to warn approaching ships of the rocks that run along the island's southern shore.”
“That's right, but -”
“In order to keep from arousing suspicion, perhaps you should activate the light.”
“And then what?” Joshua asked, wincing as he saw Quill scooping more meat from inside Joe's body. “I don't get it, you had Edgar's house in the palm of your hand last night, you could have finished him off. Why did you let him live?”
“I'm a patient man,” he replied. “If you had dreamed of revenge, like me, for so very long, you would want to take your time too. You'd have dreamed up fresh ways to torture the man you hate. I'm weak now, after last night's exertions, and I need to rest. If Le Compte finds me before I've recovered, I might be in danger. For now, I will simply let him experience the misery of his sister's fall, while I wait for the next stage of my plan to come to fruition. Even now, in this very town, there is one who will assist me.”
“I thought I was the one who was going to assist you?” Joshua asked.
“There are certain things you can't do,” Quill replied, with a faint smile. “Trust me, I have planned ahead, and soon Edgar Le Compte will face a betrayal so great, it will tear his heart in two.”
“And then you'll kill him?”
“Me?” Quill smiled. “I'm not the one who's going to kill Edgar Le Compte. There has long been a prophecy concerning his death, and prophecies cannot be broken. Why else do you think I had the great Ashalla bring Kate Langley back in time to this period? I'm merely taking great pleasure in shepherding the key figures into the right places.” Reaching down, he scooped more blood out of Joe's body and drank, before turning to Joshua once again. “The prophecy has always been clear. It is Kate Langley who will kill Edgar Le Compte. I simply hope to bring that day about as fast as possible.”
***
On the stroke of midnight, Edgar Le Compte stood at the water's edge and watched as a small wooden boat approached. Standing at the rear of the boat was a figure wearing a dark shawl, and she climbed up as soon as the boat was alongside. When she pulled her shawl away, pale moonlight caught her horrified eyes.
“Edgar,” she said, with a hint of shock in her voice, “I got your message and came as fast as I could, but... Is it true?”
Stepping toward her, he looked down at the bundle in his arms.
“Edgar, whose is it? Is it yours?”
“No,” he replied, watching as the tiny, premature child gasped and wriggled in its blanket, clinging desperately to life. “It is my sister's.”
“But Edgar -”
“I didn't call you here to counsel me in such matters, Cerulesis. I called you here because I need you to take the child away from Thaxos.”
“What about Madeleine? Does she want the child to leave?”
“She believes it to be dead,” he said darkly, still staring at the child's face. “It should be, by all rights, but it has Le Compte blood in its veins and therefore it refuses to bow to the inevitable. Its growth might be stunted, and there might be madness in its mind already. Either way, it is better for Madeleine if she never knows that the child survives.”
“But -”
“She can have others, perhaps. One day. But no good will come of a mad mother looking after a mad child. For the sake of them both, this is the best option.” He paused for a moment. “It was either this, or kill it as soon as I had torn it from her belly.”
“Let me,” Cerulesis replied, taking the child gently from his arms. “Does he have a name?”
“I believe Madeleine always planned to call her first-born son Jonathan, but -”
“Then Jonathan it shall be.”
“I think that would be unwise. The child must never -”
“Let him have his name,” she hissed. “Let him have that, at least, of his mother's.”
“You must take him far from here,” Edgar continued, “and ensure that he never knows of his lineage, that he never suspects. He might be difficult to raise, and I am sorry, but you always swore to help me if I ever needed such
a favor. After everything I once did for you -”
“I will of course do as you ask,” she replied, watching as little Jonathan Le Compte squirmed in his blanket. With tears in her eyes, she turned back to look at Edgar. “Sometimes, you do things with the purest intentions, Edgar, but you end up making terrible mistakes. I hope this is not one of those times.”
“In the unlikely event that I ever change my mind,” he replied, “I shall let you know. However, I do not think that will happen. The child must never come back to Thaxos, and Madeleine must never, ever know that he survived. As far as she is concerned, he died when I removed him from her body, and he was burned.”
“But Edgar -”
“Leave,” he said firmly. “Please, let us get this over with.”
She opened her mouth to reply, but finally she realized there was nothing else to say. Turning, she made her way back to the boat and carefully carried the child on-board.
“And Cerulesis,” Edgar continued after a moment. “Raise him well. Even if he is never to learn where he came from, I would like to think that he enjoys a good life. I have enclosed an envelope with him, containing further instructions, should they ever be needed.”
She nodded, as the boat began to turn and head back out to sea.
Edgar stood for a while, watching as the boat made its way further and further toward the horizon, until finally it could no longer be seen. He remained in place for a moment, and although he was by no means a man given to emotion, he felt for a few seconds as if tears might yet reach his eyes. Quickly banishing such thoughts, he turned to head back to his house, although at the last moment he stopped and looked out to sea once again, imagining the child being carried away.
“Forgive me, Madeleine,” he whispered finally. “This is for the best, it's the only way to protect you. I only pray that you never, ever find out what I have done.”
