by Amy Cross
***
The storm was still raging as Edgar climbed the steps from the basement, finally emerging in the rain and looking around at the ruined remains of his mansion. The fire had destroyed almost everything, and it pained him to see such devastation. He made his way toward a pile of rubble that had fallen next to what was left of an old wall, and after a moment he realized that he was standing on the site of his old study. Turning, he looked toward another pile of old rocks and realized that he could just about make out what was left of the library. All the books were gone, turned to ash by the inferno, and he knew that most of them were irreplaceable, gone forever.
The idea of losing things, of losing them with no hope of ever getting them back, was new to him. He'd never considered that the house might be destroyed, but now its ruins lay all around in the darkness.
Slowly, in the sky above, the storm began to weaken. Rain still fell, but the worst of the tempest was now passing away from the island, heading back out to sea, and he knew that in a few hours' time there would be fresh morning light, allowing the night's carnage to be seen properly. In a way, the cold light of day would be worse, and there was a part of him that wanted night to last forever. Stepping forward, he realized that while he waited for Kate to recover, he'd need to find a way to keep his mind occupied. He also wanted to find a way to stop dwelling on the night's events with Doctor Young, since he still deeply regretted the fact that he'd been forced to kill his own son. The boy had been a fool, filled with anger and resentment, but still he wished that there had been some other way.
“Ashalla,” he whispered, looking down at the dark ground and imagining the great cold-blooded vampire god down there somewhere, twisting and churning, waiting to rise. “Is there any way to stop you? I sent the Crucifix of St. Joan away with Didi, I had no choice, but now I feel it would have been wiser to have kept it. Maybe it would have helped or -”
Stopping suddenly, he realized he could hear something moving nearby. He turned, but there was no sign of anyone. All he saw were the dark shapes of stones and rocks, and damaged walls, silhouetted against the night sky.
“Hello?” he called out.
The only reply came from the wind as it blew across the scene.
“Whoever you are,” he continued, “I would -” Stopping suddenly, he realized that he recognized the presence. He took a step forward, certain now that someone was watching him from a safe vantage point, someone whose mind had become separated from its body. Someone whose presence he hadn't felt for a long time, not since the moment when he'd consigned her to the depths of a cave near one of the beaches.
He waited.
“Estella?” he said finally. “After all this time, are you finally out of that pit? How did you -” He stopped, before realizing the truth. “Of course. When I cast you down there, I told you that you must remain for as long as I lived. I suppose that by temporarily allowing myself to appear dead, I gave you the loophole you needed in order to return.”
As if to answer him, the wind blew through a damaged window, whistling in the process and almost forming words. It was as if Estella was trying to tease him, to offer a not-quite-answer that would linger at the edges of his perception.
“You cannot possibly believe that you have unfinished business here,” he continued. “You have had almost a century to consider your mistakes. Please, do not compound them with others. A lot of time has passed and I am willing to show a little mercy now. I am older, perhaps wiser, but don't expect too much. If you interfere, you will be punished. It would be better for you to allow yourself to go with the storm. Travel with it, let it take you where it will. If you remain here on Thaxos, you will only suffer more misery.”
The wind picked up for a moment, as if it was angry.
“I understand now,” Edgar added. “There is great irony, Estella, in the knowledge that you yourself were the one who caused Kate to be sent back in time. Granted, someone or something was manipulating your powers, but still, without your interference... A self-fulfilling prophecy was at play all the -”
Before he could finish, a strong gust of wind dislodged a small, sharp piece of rubble from one of the nearby walls, whipping it through the air until it glanced against Edgar's cheek, cutting him. With blood running down his face, he turned and looked into the darkness, but there was still no sign of anyone.
“It is your rage,” he continued, “that will be your undoing.” He paused for a moment. “In that, at least, perhaps we are similar, but... At least I know now what I must do.”
III
“I think it's starting to pass,” Ephram said as he ushered more survivors into the cantina. “The storm's moving on.”
“How many are dead?” Lucy Stewart asked, with a piece of fabric pressed against the wound on her shoulder.
“Too many,” Ephram replied. “Five or six at least, maybe more.”
“You know what caused this retribution, don't you?” she continued. “It's the Le Comptes. The Lord has finally chosen to show us that he sees our weakness. For as long as the Le Comptes are on Thaxos, none of us will be safe.”
“Lucy -”
“And you're the worst apologist of them all,” she added. “Everyone knows you're close to Kate Langley, and that she's linked to Edgar. When judgment arrives, Ephram, you'll not go unpunished.”
“So what do you want to do, huh?” he asked, finally snapping. “Go marching up to the ruins of that mansion? Fine. I have pitchforks for sale in my store, but in the morning I'll give them away for free. First come, first served, so gather your little posse and head up there, for all the good that it'll do!”
She opened her mouth to argue with him.
“Now get inside,” he added, spotting figures racing along the dark street. “I'm busy, but there are plenty of other people inside who'll gladly tell you why you're wrong.”
Ignoring her continued protestations, he hurried out into the rain and made his way past the front of the cantina, until finally he saw two figures rushing toward him through the darkness. After a moment, he realized to his immense relief that Inspector Lazare and Suzanne had returned.
“What happened to the church?” Lazare asked, clearly shocked.
“The roof gave way,” he explained. “I suppose there was just too much water collecting up there. Father Westengen and a few other people were killed in the collapse, but we got everyone else here to the cantina. I think the storm is actually starting to die down now, so hopefully the worst is gone.” From nearby, there was a dark, ominous creaking sound. “It sounds like the church is still in danger of further collapse,” he added.
“Where's my mother?” Suzanne asked, stepping forward. “Is she okay?”
“She's injured but she'll be fine,” Ephram replied. As Suzanne hurried inside, he turned back to Lazare. “We have no doctor here, no-one to tend to the sick.”
“What about Doctor Young?”
“Over there,” Ephram said, pointing to the two dark shapes slumped on the cobbles nearby. “Madeleine Le Compte's assistant is there too. They were both killed violently. I don't know exactly what happened, but it certainly wasn't the storm that ended their lives.”
“More murder,” Lazare muttered darkly. “What is wrong with the people of this island?”
“Did you find Kate?” Ephram asked. “Please, if she's out there in this weather...”
“We found her in the chamber,” Lazare continued, “but then...” He paused. “I'm not entirely sure what happened next, but there were forces at work up there and now we have no idea where Kate has gone. We were hoping she might be back down here with you.”
“Lord have mercy,” Ephram replied, making the sign of the cross on his chest. “We can't let anything happen to her. She has to be out there somewhere!”
“Ephram -”
“I'm going to my store,” he continued, stepping past Lazare. “Maybe she went back there. She and that Nixon man were doing something in the workshop in my yard, it's possible that th
ey're there right now. If not, I'll try everywhere I can think of. I refuse to give up until I know she's okay!”
“I'll come with you.”
“No,” Ephram replied, “you have another job to do. Our priest is dead, so you need to go into the cantina and tell everyone that they're going to be okay. They need strength and courage right now. Then you need to sweep those corpses off the cobbles on the other side of the town square. We can't let people see them in the morning. There'll be blood, too, although most of that should have been washed away. And then, after all that, you need to re-establish contact with the mainland and get them to send help. We can't deal with this crisis alone.”
“I understand,” Lazare told him, “and you're right. But when you find Kate, bring her here so the rest of us know she's safe.”
As Ephram hurried away, Lazare looked over at the dead bodies on the far side of the square. Finally, realizing that they'd have to wait, he stepped into the cantina and then stopped as soon as he saw all the sick, injured people. He'd never seen so much suffering in all his life, but the entire place was filled with people who had lost everything.
“Help us,” an old woman whimpered nearby, reaching a hand out to him. “Please, you have to help us.”
“I -” Lazare began.
“There's only one person who can help us,” Lucy Steward hissed, hurrying to the door. “I'm going back to the church. I'd rather be in those ruins, than in this sinful cantina!”
“It's not safe out there,” Lazare told her.
“In the house of the Lord?” She stared at him for a moment. “You can't stop me, and you can't stop anyone who wants to come with me.” With that, she turned and hurried out into the rain, and a few seconds later she was joined by several other figures, all rushing out of the cantina.
***
“Kate!” Ephram shouted as he hurried into the store. “Kate, are you here?”
He tried the light-switch on the wall, but the power was still out. Making his way across the dark room, he reached the foot of the stairs and looked up.
“Kate! Are you in here?”
Sighing, he turned and headed to the kitchen, before opening the back door. Looking out into the yard, he saw that the chicken hutch had been destroyed. Water had pooled, with the bodies of dead chickens floating around.
“Oh no,” he whispered, with tears in his eyes, “please...”
Hearing a clucking sound, he turned and saw that one chicken had survived. Wedged into a gap in the wall, the chicken was clucking frantically, clearly panicking.
“Gertrude!” Ephram said finally, with a faint smile. “You survived! You -”
Suddenly the whole building began to shake, knocking him to the ground. Struggling to get up, he realized the island seemed to be shuddering, as if something far below was starting to shift.
***
“It's the Le Comptes who are to blame for all of this,” Lucy Stewart shouted as she led a small group of islanders back to the ruins of the church. The ground was still trembling beneath their feet, but they didn't let that slow them as they picked their way through the rain and finally reached a clear patch in the ruins. “By harboring that filthy, ungodly family, we have brought this ruin down upon our heads!”
“Then what can we do now?” asked one of the others. “How can we repent?”
“By undoing our sins,” she continued, making her way through the ruined church. “If we show the Lord that we understand how we displeased him, then he might show mercy and let us live. Otherwise, this whole island will surely sink into the sea, and we shall all drown.”
“But he's...” One of the other islanders stepped forward. “The Le Comptes are so powerful, and there are so few of us. For generations, our families have lived in their shadow, unable to get rid of them. Perhaps we would be better to flee Thaxos and leave it to them. At least that way, we can start new lives elsewhere, and this island can sink if that is -”
Before he could finish, the ground shook violently again, and this time the rubble around them seemed to shift.
“It's coming from below,” another islander said, reaching down and placing a hand against the ground. “It's as if something is down there, something that's moving and coming to the surface.”
“The wrath of God,” Lucy Stewart continued. “That's what this is, we have to -”
Suddenly the ground shook again, more violently this time, and a great creaking, splitting sound could be heard. Grabbing hold of a broken piece of wall, Lucy and the others turned just in time to see that the ground a few meters away was starting to break open, with chunks of rock and soil falling down into a slowly-widening chasm. If anything, the tumult beneath the church seemed to be getting stronger with each passing second, and the chasm was now several meters from one side to the other. It was as if the entire island was starting to split into two halves.
“Lord have mercy!” one of the islanders screamed, as the ground beneath their feet cracked and tilted, starting to tip them directly into the crack.
“No,” Lucy whispered, staring with wide-eyed horror at the darkness opening up beneath her feet. “It can't be...”
As the crack widened, she stared down into the darkness and realized, deep in her soul, that she could sense something staring back up at her. It was as if something cold and cruel was reaching up and prodding at the edge of her mind, trying to understand her, trying to work out what she was. She knew she should pull back and try to get to the others, but at the same time she couldn't stop staring into the chasm. Whatever was down there, it was too far to see, and slowly she began to feel as if her mind was being torn open. Strands of darkness were slipping through her thoughts, teasing them apart and exploring every facet of her being. Dropping to her knees at the edge of the chasm, she let out a gasp and then began to sob, until finally she screamed.
“Lucy!” one of the islanders shouted, reaching a hand out toward her. “Get away from there!”
Barely able to hear anything, Lucy held her head in her hands as she felt her mind being cracked open. She tilted forward slightly, until she was on the verge of falling down into the chasm, but still she felt some great, cold consciousness reaching up and exploring her thoughts.
“What are you?” a voice asked finally, echoing through her mind.
“I...” She tried to answer, but the pain was paralyzing her body.
“I have never encountered something like you before,” the voice continued. “You are so weak, yet I feel there is potential for strength somewhere in your soul.”
“Please,” she stammered, as blood began to run from her nose and mouth, “don't... Please, leave me... alone...”
“Are there more of you?” the voice asked. “I have been sleeping for so long. Someone woke me many years ago, but now...”
“Please...”
“Where am I?” the voice boomed, a thousand times louder in her head. “What is this place?”
“Lucy?” one of the islanders asked, unable to hear the voice. “Are you okay?”
“Lord protect me,” Lucy whispered. “Please, Lord, deliver me from this evil...”
“I find you confusing,” the voice continued. “You are unlike anything I encountered in the war. I need to study you more closely.”
“Please -”
Suddenly the ground beneath her feet gave way, tipping Lucy directly into the chasm. She screamed as she fell, but she was powerless to keep from tumbling into the darkness below.
“Lucy!” several of the other islanders shouted, but it was too late.
She was gone.
IV
“Madeleine? Are you here?”
Stopping next to the ruins of the lighthouse, Edgar looked around for a moment. Rain was still falling, though not as intensely as before, and the ground had stopped shaking, at least for now.
Hearing footsteps nearby, he turned and saw a figure silhouetted against the night sky.
“Madeleine -”
“Let me get this right,” s
he replied, her voice tense with anger. “You thought the best thing would be to send me off to an asylum. After everything that happened, after all the madness and chaos, after Benjamin died in my arms, you decided to have me dragged away, kicking and screaming, to Tor Cliff. Seriously, Edgar?”
“I did what I thought was best.”
“Really?” Stepping toward him, she finally emerged into a patch of moonlight. Dressed in rags, she was still bruised and bloodied, while her body had become painfully thin over the years. “Look at me, Edgar,” she continued. “Look at what I've become. It's going to take me a little while to get back to my former, beautiful self.”
“I was -”
“You were wrong!” she shouted, stepping closer. “You were wrong, Edgar! There's no other way to look at it, there's no excuse that you can use! You were wrong!”
He paused. “Yes,” he said finally. “I was wrong.”
“And -” She frowned. “I'm sorry, did you just agree with me?”
“I was trying to protect you,” he continued, “and in doing so, I made several grave mistakes. I can only...” He paused again, as if he was trying to summon the strength to say the next words. “I can only ask you to forgive me, Madeleine. I can only pray that you have that generosity in your soul.”
“Well, I...” She seemed shocked for a moment. “Of all the things I thought you might say to me, dear brother, that is definitely not one of them. She stepped closer, until they were finally face to face again after so many years. “Do you have any idea what it was like at Tor Cliff? The people who ran that place were monsters. They've have kept me there forever, but fortunately I had a little help to escape. Abby Hart showed up, then there was this Dronigan creature... My mind was pulled apart, strand by strand, and I had to put it back together all by myself, sitting alone and naked beneath a cherry tree. The process took a long time, and to be honest, I had a few bits left over at the end, but...” She shrugged. “I'm sure it'll be fine.”
