Under the Cobblestones

by Aline Riva

  “Come down and talk to me about it,” she said.

  There was no reply.

  She listened, feeling a ball of tension building inside her like her guts were turning hard and twisting over as she heard nothing but the water running in the bathroom. Then it hit her, and she knew why the silence scared her so much:

  Oh god no, Zack had said, he had cut his wrists in the bath...

  “Zack!” she yelled, and she ran up the stairs and down the upper hall, went through the open bedroom doorway and then stopped sharply, breathing hard as she looked to the half open door to the en suite bathroom, where she heard the sound of running water and a cloud of steam was slipping out.

  “Zack!” she yelled again, and she made for the door just as he opened it sharply.

  “What's happened now?” he said, and sounded panicked as he looked at her through the steam that was rapidly escaping out of the bathroom.

  She blinked. He was fine. He had just been in the shower, and now he was out of the shower - and hadn't thought to grab a towel...

  “Sorry,” she said quickly, blushing as her gaze ran down his body, a very firm body that was barely veiled by the steam coming from the hot shower.

  “Sorry?” he wondered, and then he remembered he was naked.

  “I'll be out in a minute!” he said quickly, and stepped back inside. As the door shut firmly behind him, she gave a sigh as she shook her head, then she left the room, hoping when he went back downstairs he would still be able to look her in the eye...

  A short while later Zack was dressed and his hair was still damp from the shower as he grabbed a mug of tea, thanked her for it and briefly blushed.

  “You didn't have to worry about me,” he said as he kept his gaze down towards the steam that rose from the mug, “I've worked it out. You thought one scary dream and I was about to top myself over it.”

  “I'm sorry,” she replied, “But I didn't know what to think after the state you got into this morning. I know how real those dreams can be, and I know you get bad ones. I shouldn't have assumed the worst, I know you better than that.”

  And they stood there together in the kitchen as he sipped his tea then set it down on the kitchen table, then he finally met her gaze.

  “I don't usually walk out of the shower with nothing on -”

  “Really?” she said as sarcasm edged her tone, “That's weird. Most people shower naked.”

  And then she smiled, and he did too as he blushed again.

  “I didn't mean to flash at you!”

  “I'm not complaining,” she replied, “And you know what's really weird about it? You have a body exactly like Thornton. I saw him naked last night. He made love to Lillith.”

  He stared at her for a moment, and then he wished her words had not given him stirrings of arousal, because now, with all the crazy things that were happening, it meant this was not the time to be starting any kind of romance, even though he knew the attraction was there.

  “That's what you saw?” he asked, “Just the two of them...together?”

  “No,“ she replied, “He told her he had been informed he was going to die soon - and he said he wanted to do a deal with the Devil to keep him alive, using her virgin blood as a sort of sacrifice, so he had sex with her inside this pentacle he'd drawn on the floor in chalk.”

  He was staring at her again. For a moment the room swam as dizziness made him feel sick, then as his face paled, he drew in a sharp, quick breath before air was impossible to find.

  “What is it?” she said in alarm, reaching out to steady him as he swayed on his feet and then managed to regain his balance.

  “I told you, I saw through his eyes last night...it was the Devil...at his window, this man with horns... he told him he was going to die, said something about his time would come, his bones beneath stones... something about a hundred years...I don't get it, Sarah – if I really was Thornton, how can I be here, alive in 2016 if he was meant to be trapped under stone for a century? Assuming he died in 1912, that was one hundred and four years ago. If his soul is still trapped, I cant be walking around in another life as me, it doesn't make sense!”

  “Maybe not his soul, maybe his bones...maybe whatever deal he did with the Devil didn't involve his soul. Maybe it just meant an early death.”

  Sarah's suggestion made sense in some kind of vague way, and as he recalled Thornton's memory of the blood ritual that handed down the power, her turned over his hand and stared at his palm, half expecting to see an old scar open up and drip with blood – but his hand was unmarked by any kind of wound.

  “I think...” he paused, still looking at his open palm, “I...I'm not sure...it sunk to his bones...the power...it stayed there inside his bones...” he closed his hand then opened it again, then he rubbed his hands together as he wished he could get rid of the memory of Thornton's pain as the old wound had opened up as he knelt inside the circle.

  “I can almost feel it,” he whispered as cold crept about him unseen, ”I don't like this, Sarah!”

  Panic had crept into his voice, and she saw fear in his eyes as she stood there, hating to feel powerless to intervene.

  “I can see it...” he said, and he gave a gasp as cold earth covered the battered body of Thornton Ravencroft. The sky was dark and the rain had stopped falling and he was looking up from a deep hole that stank of mud and his own blood and...they were standing over the grave, looking down as more earth piled on top.

  Zack blinked and the scene was gone and he gasped for air as he slid to the floor and drew his knees to his chest and sobbed.

  “They buried me alive!” he wept, and as he continued to weep, Sarah knelt beside him, placing her hand on his shoulder as she promised him whatever he had seen was long gone, but it made no difference to Zack, who continued to sit there on the floor, weeping over a death he wished he had never recalled.

  The day had started well for Kyle, who had woken beside the woman he loved, and then she had kissed him and he had returned her kisses, but then he had got out of bed, wanting to make love to her but not feeling able to, because it was on his mind again, that thought that had haunted him ever since the illness first struck: Blood tests were coming up soon, and those tests ruled his life. He spent months worrying about the result, and then after the all clear came back, he would be okay for a while, until the next test date loomed closer...

  He was still thinking about it as he stood in front of the bedroom mirror and ran a comb through his hair, then he stepped back and as she wrapped her arms around his waist and gave him a gentle squeeze, he suddenly didn't feel so alone with his dark thoughts any more.

  “Stop it,” Sally said to him, “You'll be fine.”

  He turned around to face her, resting his hands on her hips as he looked into her eyes.

  “I sometimes wonder if this illness really was a warlock's curse,” he admitted, “Every Lord Brackenby has died from it. I'm still here, but for how long? And sometimes when I look at you...” he paused, taking in her kind expression and thinking again how beautiful she was, “When I look at you I wonder if you really want to spend the rest of your life with a man who can't ever father children.”

  She gave a sigh.

  “Remember when you got ill and I said all that mattered was you getting better? Well, I meant that! I know people in the village have enjoyed their gossip about me, saying I must have married you for your money but we both know there was no money back then – the business was going to the wall because you were ill.”

  “And you stepped in and turned it around,” he reminded her, “Top paid glamour model with a business degree, I got the best of both worlds with you!”

  And she smiled and so did he.

  “Please,“ she said as she fondly reached out and ran her hand over his hair, “Stop this, Kyle. I love you. I won't change my mind about that now or ever. And maybe if you want to think you fell ill because of a curse, it might be better than living in fear of bad family genes,” she added, “Just reme
mber curses run out of steam in the end. Maybe you're the one who broke the spell.”

  “Maybe I have,” he replied, and as she saw hope in in his eyes instead of fear, it warmed her heart.

  “So stop worrying,” she said again, and then she kissed him, and he smiled warmly, feeling as if Sally's words had managed to chase away his fears, at least, she had chased them far enough to a distant corner of his mind, so he could get on with another day without feeling swamped with fear of dying.

  “I'm going over to the office to take care of the paperwork,” she said, “And before you ask, no I don't need any help – you need to relax, you've been through enough and I don't want your anxiety getting the better of you because of paperwork that I can easily handle.”

  “I thought I might go over to the cottage and see my mate again,” he told her.

  She smiled on hearing him say that, feeling relieved that finally, after illness and depression and worry had all got the better of him, at last her husband was not shutting the world out any more – she had heard all about the fun he had with his new friend Zack, and she recalled the day they had first met, and how she had noticed how well the two of them had hit it off, it had been so good to see her husband finally starting to socialise again after all he had been through.

  “I think you should do that,” she said to him, “And while you're over there, after I've finished up with the office work for the day, I'll have a look through our old filing system and see if I can find any old cuttings related to that warlock mystery you're getting into.”

  “I hadn't thought about the old files!” he exclaimed, “That's a good idea! I don't think anyone has been through that lot since my grandfather ran this place!”

  “Have fun with your new mate,” she said to him, and she kissed him fondly and then she watched as he walked out of the bedroom.

  Sally stood by the window and pulled back the net, she waited for a moment and then looked below and waved back as he waved to her, then she watched as he got into his car and drove away from the house. For the first time in a long while, she dared to feel optimistic – perhaps this new friendship with Zack was exactly what he needed to help him find the courage to start living again – even if they did both seem intent on searching for the bones of a long dead warlock...

  After a fast drive through the familiar country lanes, Zak parked his gleaming white sports car outside the cottage and then got out and went up the path. He knocked on the door but got no answer, and so he went around the back, and on finding the back door open, walked into the kitchen.

  And Zack was on the floor wiping his eyes as he held on to Sarah's hand and she spoke softly to him.

  “What's going on?” said Kyle, and they both looked around at him.

  “You need to sit down, we have to talk,” Sarah told him, “You need to catch up...”

  “Fine,” Kyle said, feeling bewildered at the scene he had just walked into, “Where do you want me, on the floor, or at the table?”

  “Table, smart arse,” said Zack, and suddenly he sounded stronger, and he accepted Sarah's help and got up from the floor. His face was tear stained and as he looked at Kyle, and then his voice trembled as he spoke again.

  “There's been some weird shit happening here. And I mean, really weird...”

  An hour later, the three of them were still in the kitchen, but now at the table, where over mugs of tea Zack and Sarah explained their theories on the nightmares and the vivid dreams, and Kyle listened intently.

  “And that,” Zack finally concluded, “Is what's happened so far. I don't know if I'm his reincarnation, or if he's haunting me – but Sarah's having dreams too and they are pretty damned real to us.”

  Kyle was still turning over all he had been told.

  “Tabitha Brackenby did used to use brews made by the cunning man,” he said, “I remember my grandfather told me about that. He said she used to rely on them quite heavily – and she always stunk of brandy. Apparently he was quite sneaky with his magical tonics – most of them were herbal brews with a liberal dose of booze in them. But people in those days believed in it, if they thought it was magic, they believed it would work. I know Frederick was very angry when he found out and he told his wife she would never have dealings with the warlock again. Apparently she found her own magical brew after that – used to sink a bottle of cognac often, I guess to block out what a horrible man she was married to.”

  “So this is true about Thornton making brews up for Frederick's wife?” said Zack.

  Kyle nodded.

  “That part is definitely true. I couldn't tell you if he did have an affair with Lillith, or what happened to him, but I do know that the story about Tabitha is accurate.”

  Zack leant on the table and looked intently at him.

  “I know you said you heard stories about the old days, and I know these stories can change as they pass down through the generations – and this is going to sound strange – but did you ever hear anything about stones or stonework? Because it was very clear in the dream I had, mentions of stones and bones. He's under something, Kyle. They buried him alive too, I saw it. I saw through his eyes.”

  Kyle gave a heavy sigh as he briefly closed his eyes, and then he looked to Zack and Sarah as sadness shaded his gaze.

  “I do like to think there's an afterlife,” he replied, “I mean, I could be finding out any day if there is or not. Ever since my illness I've been very aware that I could die before my time and I really do want to think there's more to it, I want to believe everything you've told me. But if my great great grandfather did something as terrible as burying a man alive, I want this to come out in the open – I won't have the bones quietly moved, I want real justice for Thornton. It makes me sick to think an ancestor of mine could have done something so vile.”

  “I'm glad you feel that way,” Zack replied, “I mean, if I was him, those are my bones!”

  Kyle's hazel eyes widened at the thought.

  “And it would make perfect sense that the wheel has turned full circle,” he agreed, “Here we are now, in more enlightened times – Lord of the Manor and Thornton all over again...and this time, we're good friends. What ever this leads to, I'm on your side all the way, you've got my word on it.”

  And he held out his hand and Sarah watched as the two men shook hands over the table.

  “And I also have an idea,” Kyle added, and as his eyes sparkled, Zack smiled too.

  Half an hour later, the afternoon sun was high in the sky as Zack's car stopped outside the local churchyard, parking next to the white sports car that had beat him to the destination. Sarah got out of Zack's car and closed the door and leant against it looking amused as Kyle checked his watch and looked playfully at Zack.

  “I knew I'd beat you to it!” he teased.

  “I always wanted a car like yours,” Zack said, “But I sunk my savings into the cottage.”

  “Never mind,” Kyle replied, “Let's talk about cars later. I want to show you some old graves.”

  And then he walked through the church yard gateway and they followed him up the main path, past old headstones, and then took a path that veered left and led to the shady part of the graveyard, where over by an old wall, stood a large impressive headstone that bore an angel with its head bowed in prayer. The stone simply stated Brackenby, and the grave itself was covered over with a marble slab, which bore many names of members of the Brackenby family, including Frederick, then Tabitha, and later on, Lillith, whose name was then Wilkinson-Brackenby.

  “I'm not being buried here when I go,” said Kyle as he looked down at the grave, “I'm going to be cremated. I want my ashes scattered in the woodland.”

  And the thought of his friend meeting an early demise was suddenly too much to think about.

  “Will you stop talking like that!” Zack said, “You're okay, Kyle!”

  “For now,” Kyle replied, “We both know that won't last forever.”

  “Actually,”Sarah added, “You need to shut
up about dying. You're in remission. There's no reason to think that's going to change.”

  “You haven't been through it,” Kyle replied, and as the summer breeze blew through the churchyard and rustled the leafy boughs of trees softly, there was a haunted look in his eyes.

  “I came close to dying from a rare form of blood cancer that seems it be isolated to my family bloodline alone,” he replied, “And every other Brackenby who has fallen ill with it has died. I'm the only survivor. I don't have any odds to compare with. It's scary, I can't help feeling like the bloody sword of Damocles is hanging above me every waking hour!”

  Sarah could tell he was getting worked up, so she just agreed with him.

  “Okay,” she replied, “But I still think you should chill about it.”

  “And I think we should stop squabbling over your family tomb,” Zack added, “Why did you bring us here, Kyle?”

  “This is where it ends,” Kyle replied, “But maybe there's a clue in here somewhere. We know Frederick died within a few years of the curse being laid – the curse was said to be poison to the blood of every first born son of Brackenby lineage. But Frederick didn't have a son. He only had a daughter – Lillith. She kept the family name when she married. She got married after Thornton vanished.”

  “Well she probably did eventually,” Sarah said, “Women had a lousy time of it in those days - especially wealthy women, they were often forced into marriage to please their families.”

  “But Lillith was too strong for that, “ Kyle reminded her, “She was well into her twenties, an eligible woman who would have had proposals thrown at her all the time – her father would have wanted to have her married off in her teens - if she would have agreed. But she didn't. She went against the trend and didn't marry early in life – but she married after Thornton vanished.”

  “Well they didn't run off together,” Zack replied, “Believe me, I know what I saw about his nasty end.”