by Amy Cross
“Kate was a decent human being,” she continued, with anger in her eyes. “Where was God when she suffered and died, huh?”
“The Lord moves in mysterious ways.”
“So do I,” Madeleine replied. “Let me show you.”
Father Prior took a step back, holding up his Bible for protection.
“None of this will help,” Nixon said firmly.
“Something isn't right about what's going on here,” Madeleine replied, turning to him. “I can feel it in my guts.”
“Of course it's not right,” Nixon muttered. “It's never right when a good person dies.”
“I'm talking about more than that,” Madeleine continued, edging closer to him. “Edgar suddenly vanishes without saying where he's going, and then Kate drops dead even though she seemed to be getting better? Come on, Nixon, how dumb do you think we all are? The pieces don't quite fit together properly, there's something going on in the background that you're not telling us!” She stopped next to him. “I can see it in your eyes. You're hiding something. Where's my brother?”
He shook his head.
“You don't know?”
“Madeleine, please -”
“Or you won't say?”
She waited for a reply, before turning to look down at the coffin.
“I'm not sticking around for this dumb ceremony. Kate's dead and cold in the ground, so nothing anyone says can change anything.”
“Madeleine -” Benjamin began.
“I need to be alone,” she continued, pulling away from him. “It's okay, I'll be back, but something's not right here and I need to figure it out. I need to go somewhere and think. I refuse to accept the idea that Edgar has just wandered off and left us all to deal with this!” She took a few steps back. “I'm sorry,” she added, before turning and hurrying away.
“Madeleine!” Benjamin called after her.
“Let her go,” Nixon said calmly.
“But if -”
“Let her go. It's for the best.”
“What aren't you telling us?” Benjamin asked him. “Madeleine isn't the only one with suspicions. Where's Edgar?”
“Away on business,” Nixon replied, his voice trembling slightly. “Perhaps Father Prior is correct, perhaps we should focus on the ceremony for now and try to find some -”
Hearing footsteps nearby, he turned just in time to see that Estella, too, was rushing away from the lawn, apparently too shocked to stay a moment later.
“Well,” Nixon continued, “that settles it. We need to get on with the ceremony before anyone else runs off in an emotional huff, don't we?” He forced a smile. “Kate would have wanted a proper burial, a Christian burial. She was that type of human, so...” He turned to Father Prior. “We're ready to begin when you are.”
Clearly shocked by the scene he'd found, Father Prior nevertheless stepped toward the grave and opened his Bible. A light rain continued to fall as he began the ceremony, and a cold wind blew in from the sea, but finally everything was finished and Kate's coffin was slowly lowered into the grave. Between them, Nixon, Benjamin and Jennifer took turns with the shovel, until eventually the grave was filled and they stood back, staring in disbelieving horror at the sight before them.
“And now,” Nixon muttered under his breath, “it begins.”
Part Forty-Nine
I
“Mary!” Susannah called out, stopping at the edge of the rocks and squinting slightly as she looked at a dark shape slumped on the beach. “Come and look at this!”
“What is it?” the second little girl asked, hurrying over to join her before stopping as soon as she saw the shape. She squinted slightly, trying to get a better view in the early morning light. “Is it...” She paused. “It looks like a person.”
Susannah swallowed hard.
“Didn't you find a dead body once before?” Mary asked.
“It's not a dead body,” Susannah said firmly.
“It looks like one.”
“It's not. It can't be.”
“Well, then...” Mary paused, scrunching her nose up a little. “Go and look.”
Susannah shook her head.
“Go on,” Mary continued, nudging her arm. “If you don't want to get too close, take a stick and poke it. That's what sticks are for.” Looking around, she spotted the perfect stick and picked it up, holding it out for Susannah to take. “Poke him with this and see if he's alive.”
“He's probably just drunk,” Susannah replied.
“So go and poke him.”
“You go and poke him.”
Mary paused, watching as a light breeze ruffled the prone figure's clothes. “But you and Anna Kazakos found Evangeline's body a while back,” she said finally. “You're used to doing things like this.”
Susannah shook her head.
“Fine,” Mary muttered, taking a few cautious, faltering steps forward with the stick in her right hand, “I'll go and poke him, but I'll tell everyone at school that you're a coward.”
“We should fetch someone,” Susannah replied. She still couldn't quite believe that the shape on the beach was a dead body, but she was starting to feel the darkness of the world closing in all around, bringing a sense of nausea to her belly. It was as if the natural world had begun to recognize the horror on the beach and had turned to look. The trees, the hills, even the sky itself all seemed to be looking down at the macabre scene.
Edging closer to the body, Mary watched for any hint of life, but she was starting to think that maybe something was very wrong after all. She began to make her way around the body, still hoping to spot a whiskey bottle or some other sign that the body was just a drunk guy. She'd found her father passed out enough times to know that adults often drank too much and fell asleep in unusual places. Finally, spotting a hint of movement near the body's head, she stopped and stared.
“What is it?” Susannah called out.
“I think he...” She paused. Although she couldn't see the figure's face, since he was on his side and his head was turned away toward the nearby lighthouse, she could tell that something was moving, as if the head was trembling slightly. “Hello?” she said cautiously. “Are... Are you alright?”
She waited.
Nothing.
“Hello?” She took another step forward, before holding the stick out and gently poking the figure's waist. “Can you hear me? Are you drunk?”
She waited, and this time she realized she could hear a faint clicking sound coming from the figure's hidden face, along with something being torn, like fabric.
“Poke him again!” Susannah called out, still not daring to get any closer.
Mary dug the stick into the man's ribs a little, hoping that he'd finally stir.
“Again!” Susannah told her.
“He's not moving,” Mary replied, taking a step to the side as she craned her neck, trying to see a hint of the man's face. Something still seemed to be moving under his head, but she was starting to feel more and more that whatever it was, it wasn't actually part of him.
“Go closer,” Susannah continued. “You've got the stick in case he wakes up.”
Swallowing hard, and not wanting to seem like a coward, Mary took another step around the body. She could still hear the tearing sound, and finally she spotted something small and orange moving on the sand next to the man's face. She stopped and took a deep breath as she realized that there was a crab pulling a strip of flesh from the face, which was already bloody and damaged after having apparently been picked at by other scavengers. A moment later, another crab scurried out from under the man's coat, carrying a severed finger in its claws.
“Mary?” Susannah called out, seeing the color drain from her friend's face. “What is it? What's wrong?”
Mary stared in horror for a moment, before finally dropping the stick and screaming.
II
“Already dead?” Quillian asked with a frown. “Are you sure?”
“I saw her with my own eyes,” Estella replied
, holding a cup of tea in her hands but not drinking it, instead just savoring the heat. She was in shock, but she couldn't quite fathom whether she was elated or horrified. In truth, she was bouncing from one extreme to the other, reliving the events of the past few hours over and over. “She was in a coffin, and Nixon had already examined her and done everything possible. I didn't entirely trust him, of course, but I was able to take a look myself and...”
Her voice trailed off as she remembered Kate's calm, dead face.
“And?” Quillian said after a moment.
“And she was truly dead,” she continued. “Her hearts, both of them, had stopped. I don't think I've ever seen anyone look so peaceful, not in all my life. She was cold, though, and I could tell that her body had already begun to break down and decompose. It's not possible to fake something like that. They asked me to try to bring her back, the way I brought Jennifer Kazakos back, but...”
“Did you try?”
“I explored the possibilities,” she replied. “I searched for some hint of her soul, but there was nothing.”
“And if there had been,” he continued, “would you have resurrected her?”
Estella paused, staring down at her cup. “I've been asking myself that question ever since. I went up there to kill her, but I don't know if I would have actually done it in the end. I used to like Kate, before she...” She swallowed hard, remembering the very first night that Kate had turned up at the mansion, and the look in Edgar's eyes. “No,” she said finally, with a new sense of steel in her resolve, “I wouldn't have resurrected her. For all her pleasantness at times, she ruined my life. With her gone...”
“This doesn't change anything,” Quillian told her. “You understand that, don't you?”
She nodded.
“Edgar Le Compte must still be punished,” he continued, “and he must not find out that Kate Langley is dead.”
“You don't think he deserves to know?”
“You want to deliver the news personally, do you?” he replied, with a smile. “You think it would be like a dagger to his heart.”
“At least he could start to move on.”
“That's what I'm worried about,” Quillian told her. “Edgar only submitted himself to this torture because he thought he was buying Kate's safety. He's down there in the basement right now, putting up with all the pain and suffering we deliver to him, because he thinks he's ensuring that we leave Kate alone. If he learns that Kate is dead, his anger will grow, and I'm not sure I can contain him, not yet. My body is taking too long to heal, it's faltering, I'm starting to think that I need to come up with another way to heal. Either way, we need to wait until I'm stronger.”
“But then we can tell him, can't we?”
“Why do you care so much?”
“I just think he should know.”
“So he can get used to the idea and come running back to you?”
“Of course not.”
He laughed. “I can read you like an open book, Estella. You still harbor lingering hopes that one day you and Edgar Le Compte will be reunited. It's tempting to call you an eternal romantic, except that I don't think there's very much romance involved, is there? It's just some kind of rich fantasy of some perfect world where you're happy ever after.”
She shook her head.
“You're even lying to yourself,” he sneered. “If you don't have the stomach for what we're doing here, you should walk away. You're only useful to me if you can stay the course.” He paused, waiting for a reply. “I intend to torture Edgar Le Compte for many years. Decades, maybe even centuries. Over and over again, stripping him down and pushing him to the brink of madness, maybe even over, and then starting all over again. I will never tire, never flag, never lose my taste for his blood and screams. Are you going to be here for all of that?”
“I don't know,” she replied.
“Or will you leave?” he asked. “Will you decide one day that you've had enough? Is this just a hobby for you? I could understand that. I could understand the desire to go and start a new life far from all this madness.”
“I don't know,” she said again.
“Don't think you can change this,” he continued, stepping closer to her. “Don't delude yourself into believing that one day you can undo those chains and carry him away from here. There will be no mercy, no change in the judgment that I have handed down. Edgar Le Compte must suffer for the rest of time, and I won't let anything or anyone stand in my way. Not even you, not even -”
Before he could finish, he started coughing uncontrollably, and it took a moment before he was able to regather his composure.
“How sick are you?” Estella asked.
“Never mind that. What matters is that I have a job to do, and after everything I've gone through to get to this point, there's no way I'm going to let you stop me.”
“I understand that,” she replied, holding back tears. “I just...” She paused again. “When this is over... When you're done with him...”
“It will never be over,” he said firmly, “and I will never be done with his miserable corpse.”
“You can't torture him forever!”
“Can't I?”
“Surely you have an endgame?”
“The only way Edgar Le Compte gets out of this is through death,” Quillian said firmly. “Do you have any idea how long it took me to get to this point? Do you know how hard I worked to manipulate events so that Edgar would surrender to me? I have no intention of ever letting him go.” He turned and took his cane, before starting to limp away. “He's a mess down there. Clean him, don't clean him, it's up to you, I don't need your assistance. If you're starting to get sentimental, Ms. Graves, perhaps it would be better if you washed your hands of the whole thing and left him well behind. Leave Thaxos, even.” He stopped at the door and turned to her. “You're not like me. Anger hasn't consumed your soul, at least not yet, so my advice to you is to forget that Edgar Le Compte even exists. Get out of here, and soon. Go far away from Thaxos and never think of the place again. Otherwise, you're liable to become just another one of the monsters here.” He paused. “Like me.”
***
“And how are you this morning?” Estella whispered a short while later, as she dabbed a warm, damp cloth against Edgar's torn chest. “How is the pain?”
She waited for a reply, but Edgar's eyes were closed and he hadn't acknowledged her since she'd arrived a few minutes earlier. Candles were flickering nearby, casting dancing shadows across his bare body, and she watched for a moment as beads of water ran down over the ridges of his torn, blood-stained muscles.
“Things are changing so fast,” she continued, wiping blood from his collarbone. “You have no idea, Edgar, how difficult it can be to keep up, especially after your little game yesterday. I barely slept last night, I still think about Portia and the other children, I know they were just part of that fantasy world you put into my head but...” She paused, with tears in her eyes. “They seemed so real. Tell me, were they pure illusions, or did they have even an ounce of self-awareness? They felt like real children.”
Again, she waited, but again Edgar offered no reply.
“I wish you'd talk to me,” she told him, “I need your advice.” She waited, still hoping that he'd respond. “But listen to me. How foolish I am! You would never give me advice, would you? You hate me.” Again, she waited. “Don't you, Edgar? Don't you hate me? Pure hatred that fills your soul, or...”
Her voice trailed off for a moment. The only sound came from water as it dribbled off his naked body.
“Or is there a chance?” she whispered. “There have been developments, Edgar. Things have happened, not by my hand, but by the hands of others. The landscape of Thaxos has been subtly altered, so perhaps you would make different choices if you were out of here. Perhaps you would recognize that I can give you things that others can't.” She leaned closer to his face. “Is that a possibility, Edgar? Could we get past all the mistakes that we've made? Maybe in time
, all those awful things might actually bind us closer together rather than tearing us apart?”
She waited, and this time she saw his lips moving slightly, and she heard the softest of whispers.
“It's me,” she said with a faint, sad smile. “I'm here, Edgar. Tell me what you want.”
He whispered again, but his voice was still too weak for her to hear.
“Tell me,” she continued, leaning closer. “Speak to me, Edgar. I want to know what's on your mind.”
“I love you,” he whispered.
She opened her mouth to reply, but the words caught in her throat.
“I love you, Kate,” he continued. “I'm doing this for you.”
She paused, before she felt darkness creeping through her chest once again, clawing at her ribs from the inside and filling her with a slow, rising sense of pure, cold fury.
“Where are you?” Edgar whispered, with his eyes still closed. “I'm reaching out to find you, but there's nothing. My mind has searched every inch of this damnable rock but I can't find you. I know you're here, I know you wouldn't leave, but somehow you're staying hidden from me.”
“You...” Estella paused, before placing a hand delicately on his chest. “I'm here, my love.”
“Kate?”
She paused again. “I'm here,” she continued, her voice trembling with fear. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” he whispered. “I'm doing this for you, Kate.”
She swallowed hard. “Edgar, I'm not -”
Before she could finish, he lifted his head and opened his eyes. His features were ravaged now, almost beyond recognition, and there was a hint of madness in his eyes, as if the days and nights of torture had finally brought fresh cracks to his already-damaged soul.
“I'm doing this for you,” he told her, his voice faltering slightly. “To keep you safe.”
“For me?” She paused, with tears in her eyes as she realized he was hallucinating, that he was seeing Kate in her place. “Why, Edgar...” She forced a smile. “I had no idea that your love for me was so deep and strong.”
