by Amy Cross
She stared at him, still not sure whether she could reveal everything.
“Tell me!” he said firmly.
“What if we change the future?”
“Simply by giving me a few details? Come on, Kate, this is important. I need to know, I need to start linking possibilities together. You can trust me, I won't do anything stupid with the information.”
She paused. “Yes,” she said finally, even though she was worried she might be making a terrible mistake. “Yes, he's there, but he didn't mention any of this. He didn't even act like he recognized me.”
“He probably knew he had to be careful around you,” Nixon replied. “From his point of view, he'd probably been waiting for you to show up, but from your point of view it was your first meeting. Damn it, these things get complicated, don't they? What about Madeleine? Is she still there?”
“She came back just before I left.”
“Back? Back from where?”
“Edgar had her -”
“No,” he said suddenly, “don't tell me. We should stick to the key things, and I don't think Madeleine's part of that.” He paused. “What about Quillian?”
“There was no sign of him.”
“And Ashalla?”
“Nothing. But I swear to you, Edgar is alive and well in the future. Well, alive and more or less well. I mean, is he ever really well? He seemed troubled, but I guess that's his natural state.” She paused. “He has this creature,” she added finally, “in the future, in an altar in the chamber beneath the stones. I was told she was the love of his life, the only woman who had ever truly captured his heart. In fact, you're the one who told me.”
“You mentioned all of that once before,” Nixon pointed out, “but it makes no more sense now than it did then. There's no creature in any altar, and I can't imagine why I'd tell you that Edgar had some great, long-lost love.”
“I saw it,” she told him. “It was a poor, miserable wretch, barely able to walk.”
“You didn't learn its name?”
She shook her head.
“Your very presence here poses a threat to the time-line,” he continued. “I've had a chance to think about how you might be affecting things, and the truth is, we can't possibly know how actions today, even seemingly insignificant actions, could have a massive impact on the future. I think we'll just have to muddle through as best we can, and hope that nothing major happens. Then again, I don't know if we'd even know if we changed something. Reality might reorganize itself around us, and we'd be none the wiser.” He sighed. “I get a headache just thinking about it.”
“Edgar's still on Thaxos in the twenty-first century,” she told him. “I don't know how, but I know he's there.”
“So he gets out of this,” Nixon replied, with a faint sigh of relief. “Whatever happens, however bad it gets, we know that he survives. Theoretically, if we just sit back and do nothing, fate will sort itself out.”
“But -” Pausing for a moment, she tried to think of all the other things she remembered from the future. Finally, with a sudden flash of shock, she realized there was one thing she hadn't considered. “Oh no,” she whispered, turning to look over at the desk by the window, where Edgar's papers lay undisturbed. Among those papers, she knew, were the designs and plans for the new war memorial, the same memorial that had been the last resting place for a skeleton. Slowly, she turned back to Nixon. “There's someone who isn't going to make it.”
***
“Madeleine!” Nixon called out as he hurried along the corridor. Reaching one of the doors near the end, he knocked frantically. “Madeleine, are you in there?”
Hearing footsteps on the other side, he waited impatiently until finally the door swung open.
“What do you want?” Madeleine asked, sounding tired and drained.
“Where's Benjamin?”
“Benjamin?”
“This is important!” Pushing past her, Nixon looked around the room for a moment. “Where is he?”
“He's in town, I guess,” she replied. “To be honest, we had... I don't know if you'd call it an argument, exactly, but we had a pretty heavy discussion. We're taking some time apart to think about a few things.”
He turned to her, with a hint of fear in his eyes.
“Why?” she asked. “I can hear it in your voice, you're worried. What's going on? Is Benjamin in trouble?”
***
“Hello, brother.”
Looking up from the copper plates he was working on, Benjamin saw Joshua standing in the doorway with a bottle of beer in his hand.
“Drinking already?” he replied with a resigned sigh. He knew what his brother was like, and the question wasn't really a question at all, it was more of an observation.
“Oh, brother, it's almost midday.” Stepping into the room, Joshua looked down at the plates for a moment. “There's nothing wrong with having a beer or two at lunch, you know. The world isn't going to fall apart just because a few of us get a little looser. Personally, I find that I'm sharper after my midday pint. You should try it some time. Hell, of all the people I know, dear brother, you're the one who'd most benefit from un-clenching now and again.”
“You're a disgrace,” Benjamin muttered.
Joshua smiled. “Yeah,” he said finally, heading over to one of the other workbenches, “I suppose I am.” Reaching down, he picked up a knife that Benjamin had discarded earlier. Running his finger against the blade, he winced a little as he realized that it had been recently sharpened. “I fought against my disgraceful nature for the longest time,” he continued, “but sometimes a man just has to accept who he is instead of fighting it all the time. I think I reached that moment of realization around the age of... Hmm, let's say the age of five.” He paused. “I've known since I was a child that there was something wrong with me, that I was a bad person.”
“Is that your answer? Are you just going to wallow in self-pity?”
“I can be a good man,” Joshua continued, staring at the blade. “I can, truly. Honest, faithful, kind... I have that potential, I just can't do it here on Thaxos. I don't know why, but this place brings out the worst in me, and I don't think I'm the only one who's affected that way. If I can just get to somewhere else, with a little money in my pocket so I can start out, I know I can be good.”
“Anyone can be good when the circumstances are ideal,” Benjamin pointed out. “The real test is what happens when the chips are down.”
“I just have to get away from Thaxos,” Joshua replied, as if he wasn't even listening to his brother anymore. “Quill says he'll give me the money I need, but first I need to prove myself to him. I believe him, too. Despite all his faults, Quill is a man of his word.”
“And how do you prove yourself to a man like Quill?” Benjamin muttered, clearly unimpressed. “Drown a few puppies? Steal from the church? Knock some old ladies over and steal their belongings?”
“I think something more direct would suffice,” Joshua said quietly, turning to look at the back of his brother's head for a moment, before setting the knife down. “Fortunately,” he continued, “I think there are some things that even I wouldn't stoop to. You should be thankful for that. It was touch and go for a while.”
“Oh, I'm very thankful,” Benjamin replied bitterly. “I'm thankful for your wonderful advice, too. You put a seed of doubt in my head, and now I don't know whether I can put things right with Madeleine.”
“Well,” Joshua said, taking a sip of beer as he headed over to the door, “I probably did you a favor there. You don't want to get mixed up any further with that whore. She's no good for you.”
“What did you call her?” Benjamin asked, pushing the stool aside and getting to his feet.
“You heard me.” He paused for a moment. “Forget it. I don't want to get into an argument with you, brother, not today.” He glanced at the knife on the workbench. “I think I need to get out of here,” he added, turning to walk away. “This situation isn't good for me.”
&nb
sp; “No,” Benjamin said firmly, hurrying over to him and grabbing him by the shoulder, before turning him around. “I've put up with more than enough of your snide comments about Madeleine, but you've gone too far this time. I want you to take it all back right now, or so help me God I'll...” His voice trailed off, but there was real anger in his eyes.
“You'll what?” Joshua asked, with a faint smile. “Knock me out?”
“Take back what you said, or as far as I'm concerned, I no longer have a brother.”
Joshua stared at him for a moment. “Can you really cut me loose like that?”
“With surprising ease.”
“You always were a little cold,” Joshua replied. “Do you know what it was like to grow up in your shadow, knowing that you felt superior to me in every possible way? Knowing that everyone saw things that way?”
“Save the sob story,” Benjamin told him. “Are you going to take back the things you said about Madeleine or not?”
Joshua thought about the question for a moment. “No,” he said finally, “I'm not. Perhaps I was a little harsh, but nothing I said about her was a lie. She is bad for you, and it won't end well if you hang around her for much longer. She doesn't really care about you, she can't, it's not in her nature. Maybe she can pretend for a while, maybe she's even fooled herself, but she can't change her nature. I almost feel sorry for her, but no, I won't take back my comments. I'm right, you'll see.”
“Then you can go to hell,” Benjamin replied, taking a step back, “and from this day on, there's nothing between us. I don't have a brother anymore.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
“Well, I'm impressed that it's so easy for you. And here am I, holding back from certain actions precisely because I still care about you.”
“Don't do me any favors,” Benjamin sneered.
“I guess this is goodbye, then,” Joshua replied, turning and heading through the door. “Give my regards to your miserable whore of a girlfriend, if you ever see her again.” He took a couple more paces, before suddenly being grabbed from behind and slammed into the wall with enough force to knock the air from his lungs.
“You just can't stop, can you?” Benjamin asked. “Do you want me to beat you into the ground?”
“Maybe I do,” Joshua gasped. “Maybe this moment has been building since we were kids. Seriously, tell me you've never once fantasized about bashing my head in!”
“Do you think I hate you?” Benjamin replied, letting go of Joshua's collar and taking a step back. “I don't hate you. I pity you. I pity the fact that you're letting your life rot away, filled with nothing but excuses and resentment.”
“That's what Thaxos does to people!”
“Don't blame this place. It's just an island, like any other.”
“Like any other?” Joshua began to laugh. “Listen to yourself. You've spent so much time with the Le Comptes, you've forgotten how twisted Thaxos has become. I told you it wouldn't work, not hanging around so much with that Madeleine woman. She's a monster like the rest of them.”
“You're trying to goad me, aren't you?” Benjamin replied. “You really want me to throw the first punch.”
“I want you to do something!” Joshua shouted. “I want to get off this goddamn rock and I want to go somewhere I can be good, but I don't have the money to leave! Not unless -”
Benjamin waited for him to finish. “Not unless what?” he asked finally.
For a moment, Joshua heard Quill's voice in his thoughts:
“I want you to prove yourself to me... I'm telling you to kill Benjamin Wood.”
“Maybe it wouldn't be so bad,” he said after a moment, stepping past Benjamin and grabbing the knife from the workbench. "Maybe things that happen on Thaxos stay on Thaxos, and once I leave this pathetic rock, there'll be no guilt, only opportunity.”
“What are you talking about now?” Benjamin asked.
“I'd be doing you a favor, really. I'd be saving you from any more involvement with that bitch from -”
Before he could finish, Benjamin lunged at him, slamming him into the wall. For a moment, Joshua began to turn the blade of the knife toward his brother's chest, before holding back at the last moment.
“I can't do it,” he whispered, shocked by the realization that he'd reached his limit. “I just can't.”
“You can't what?” Benjamin asked. “Apologize?”
“I have to get out of here,” Joshua replied, trying to pull away. “Leave me alone!”
“Or what?” Holding his brother's arm, Benjamin tried to drag him back.
“Go to hell!” Joshua shouted, pulling Benjamin by the shoulder and then slamming him down. He watched in horror as his brother's head struck the edge of the workbench with a sickening thud, and he saw a splash of blood fall through the air as Benjamin crunched down to the ground.
And then, suddenly, silence fell.
Joshua simply stood and stared, with the unused knife in his right hand.
“Benjamin?” he said finally, his voice trembling with fear. “Brother?”
Stepping around to the other side of his brother's motionless body, Joshua looked down and saw a large, deep wound on one side of Benjamin's forehead, just below the hairline, with blood slowly seeping out and running down to the ground.
“Benjamin, are you okay?”
He nudged his brother's shoulder with his boot.
“Benjamin, say something.”
Kneeling, he felt for a pulse with his shaking hands, but finding nothing he got back to his feet. For a moment, all he could do was stare at the horrific scene.
“I can't...” he stammered, finally taking a step back. “I didn't mean to. If you can hear me, it was an accident, I swear. I never...” Looking down at the knife, he was suddenly disgusted by the sight of the clean blade glinting in the low light. “I never would have actually done it,” he continued, “I was just fooling around. You believe me, don't you?”
He waited, but Benjamin remained completely still.
“God forgive me,” Joshua said after a moment, dropping the knife and hurrying to the door, leaving his brother motionless on the floor.
III
“Edgar?”
Reaching the bottom step, Estella paused for a moment. The lighthouse's basement was pitch-black, although she could just about make out several unlit candles on a table nearby. Setting down the bowl of warm water and the towel she'd brought, she made her way over to the candles and found some matches, but just as she was about to strike one she realized she could hear the faintest whisper from over her shoulder.
Turning, she looked into the darkness.
“Edgar?” she called out again.
Silence.
And then, finally, a faint clinking sound, like metal chains shifting slightly.
Turning back to the matches, she struck one and lit the nearest candle. There was a little light now, just enough to cast her flickering shadow against the nearby wall, and she decided that perhaps it would be enough. Although she told herself that she was simply being efficient, at the back of her mind there was a fear that if she lit the other candles, she might see too much. She wanted to help Edgar, of course, but at the same time she didn't want to see his injuries in all their hideous glory. Hesitating for a moment, she began to arrange the towel before realizing that she was delaying things. Finally, she took the bowl in her hands again and turned, and this time she could just about make out the shape of a man on the far wall, hanging loosely from a set of chains.
She opened her mouth to call his name again, but at the last moment she held back.
Stepping forward slowly, she swallowed hard. For all the hatred and resentment she felt for Edgar, she felt an equal amount of love and compassion. There was a part of her that wanted to hurt him some more, but there was another part that wanted to cut him down and get him away from Quillian, and yet another part that simply wanted to talk to him, to give him the strength he'd need in order to
get through the ordeal. More than anything, she wanted him to repent, to admit he was wrong and to ask for forgiveness, and she knew that if he did ask, she'd give it to him. With each step that took her closer, she felt her mind spiraling out of control with constant, conflicting thoughts until finally she got close enough to see more fully the damage that Quillian had inflicted.
The sight was so shocking, she almost dropped the bowl of water.
Edgar was naked, his wrists shackled to a pair of manacles that hung from chains. His legs were shackled too, but there was no need for that since his knees were buckled, leaving him hanging against the wall. Thick, deep wounds had been carved into his muscles, leaving glistening slits that slowly leaked blood even several hours after Quillian's most recent attack had ended. The edges of those wounds were split and ragged, as if in places the skin had been peeled back to expose the sinewy meat beneath, with flecks of pure white bone visible in places. His right shoulder, in particular, looked to be completely dislocated, with the arm jutting out at a painful angle, while a little further down there was a series of lashes that had run deep enough to expose a section of his bare ribcage. Below that, his lower belly had been partially shredded and lashes from the whip had left thick bands of cuts across his hips, groin and thighs, while rivers of blood had run down his body, some dry now and some still trickling slowly to the floor.
Her eyes wide with shock, Estella could do nothing for a moment but stare.
“Edgar?” she whispered finally, as a tear ran down her cheek.
Setting the bowl and towel down, she waited for him to respond. Quillian had told her that Edgar would most likely be unconscious for a while yet, but she still wasn't certain. She stepped closer and to the side, finally gaining sight of his face. His eyes were closed and his cheek had been split open, with blood and sweat matted into his dark hair. There was more blood running from his nose and mouth, but it was clear that he was in no state to respond to anything. A mortal man would have died of such wounds long ago, but for a vampire they were merely a source of great pain, and Estella knew that despite the horrific sight in front of her, the truth was that Edgar's body was undoubtedly already starting to heal, knitting together the damage so that Quillian could do it all again.
