This Haunted World Book One: The Venetian: A Chilling New Supernatural Thriller

by Shani Struthers

  “My name’s Piero and this is my wife, Kristina. We’re glad to meet you.”

  She was hesitant and so was Rob, but quickly she remedied it and took his hand. “Hi, I’m Louise, and this is Rob. We’re pleased to meet you too.”

  The couple had finished their starters and, like them, were waiting for their mains. Pouring from his bottle of wine into Kristina’s glass and his own, he offered them some.

  “Oh, no thanks, we’ve got a bottle coming.” The minute she said it, Louise wondered if she’d appeared rude – perhaps sharing bottles of wine on the continent with strangers in a restaurant was the norm. It was very unlikely that such a thing would happen in England.

  The man – Piero – didn’t seem to take offence, he smiled and placed his bottle back on the table, just as the waiter reappeared with theirs. Quickly, she filled their glasses, making an effort to ‘join in’. As she did, Piero pulled his chair even closer to them, encouraging his smiling wife to do the same. Bewildered by their ‘friendliness’ she looked at Rob for confirmation that he was feeling the same. Rob, however, had a big smile on his face and looked only too pleased to be chatting to them. Trying to hide her disappointment, Louise smiled as well. They could still eat their meals quickly and be out in an hour or so – it wouldn’t hurt to be friendly too.

  The conversation at first revolved around local foods and wine, twin subjects she knew from experience were close to Italian hearts. They’d got chatting to local people in other Italian cities they’d been to and conversation usually started off in the same way. Very soon though, and just as their main dishes arrived, talk turned to more cultural matters, Piero, in particular, wanting to know what sights they’d seen in Venice so far. It turned out, that like Rob, he was an architect too. After some time discussing the merits of the city’s Gothic style architecture with its Byzantine and Moorish influences, Rob admitted that the only ‘official’ sightseeing they’d done had been in St Mark’s Square.

  “Ah, the coffee, tell me you didn’t have coffee there.” It was the woman who said it, Kristina, the first time she’d really spoken apart from murmuring a few agreements here and there. She couldn’t have said a better thing – Rob roared with laughter, Louise did too – the damage to your purse caused by having coffee in St Mark’s Square seemed to be widely recognised. As they began eating, Louise explained they preferred to get a feel for the ‘real’ Venice rather than focus on tourist routes.

  “Have you been for a ride on a gondola yet?” Kristina asked.

  “No, it’s not really for us, again it’s too touristy,” Louise explained. “We arrived by speedboat though. Rob booked a private taxi, so that’s our trip on the waters sorted I guess.” Talking about the taxi ride reminded her of the taxi driver and his reaction when she’d mentioned Poveglia. Rob must have noticed her frown, making the connection in his mind too. Don’t mention the island. She could hardly say the words out loud but she hoped her look said it all. She needn’t have worried. He didn’t bring the subject up. Piero did.

  “If you’re looking for different attractions, I know one. Have you heard of Poveglia?”

  Rob looked as stunned as she felt. The island, it was never far away.

  “Funnily enough,” Rob replied, reaching for his glass of wine and taking a sip, “we have. Well, Louise knows all about it, she read loads about it before we came here.”

  “Not loads,” Louise denied, “just a bit. I’m by no means an expert.”

  “You’ll know all about the fantasma then?” Piero continued. “Sorry, the ghosts.” Lifting his hands and jiggling his fingers, he accompanied his question with a “woo, woo.”

  Kristina laughed and shook her head. “Maybe no fantasma, but certainly, it is interesting.”

  In Louise’s opinion, what was interesting was finding two Venetians who didn’t flare up when talking about it. Considering the taxi man’s reaction, she had to ask, “Is Poveglia a sensitive subject? I know it’s got a tragic history, what with the plague and the asylum.”

  It was Kristina who answered. She pushed her plate aside, having hardly touched the food on it, and was quiet for a moment, obviously giving the question some thought. All three stared at her, as if she were an authority on the subject.

  “It is known as the world’s most haunted island,” she started, her voice slow, her tone deliberate. “Many people have died there over the centuries, the diseased, the murderous and the insane. The atmosphere, it’s bound to be… tainted. I have been several times, when I was younger. I think we Venetians may have a little fascination with it. I felt uncomfortable there but not frightened. What happened, the people who suffered, I feel sorry for them. I have respect, although there are many who haven’t.” Frowning, it was as though a shadow had darkened her features. “The walls are covered in graffiti, people consider it a fun place to be. They want to scare each other, return with lots of silly stories, trying to impress others with their bravery. I work in commerce but I have a deep love of history, like I said, a respect. That is the only reason I ever went there… to understand.”

  Whilst Kristina was speaking, Louise and Rob nodded their heads solemnly. Once she’d stopped, the air of earnestness continued, becoming slightly awkward.

  Louise was about to speak, perhaps even change the subject, when Piero, addressing Rob mainly, started talking about the architecture of Poveglia’s asylum and its combination of civil, religious and military influences, referring to it as an ‘architectural mongrel’ but one that was unique. “I don’t know if you are aware, but there are plans to regenerate the island,” he added. “How much longer it will stand I don’t know.”

  “Yes, I’d read—” answered Louise but Rob interrupted.

  “I’d love to go.”

  Louise stared at him; it was the last thing she expected to hear. “Rob—”

  “I mean, like you say, not only has it got a fascinating history, it’s a fascinating building too, and one that’s in danger of being knocked down. We should see it whilst we can.”

  “I really don’t think—”

  “Have you been there, Piero?” he asked.

  “I went there as a teenager too. It’s forbidden by law to visit, but people still do. Nowadays I think it’s mainly tourists, people like you who have read about it and become intrigued. In Italy, if you pay the boatman enough, he will take you.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of going…” Once again Louise attempted to speak but Rob had got the bit between the teeth and he wasn’t going to let it go. For what felt like the umpteenth time he spoke over her, causing her temper to catch alight, as easily as taking a match to paper. Forming her mouth into a tight line, she did her utmost to conceal it.

  “How far is it from where we are? How much do you think it’ll cost?”

  Piero shrugged. “It’s not far at all, not even an hour. As for the cost, it could be anything.” He paused. “Do you really want to go?”

  “Yes,” Rob replied, at the same time that Louise answered ‘No’.

  “There is nothing to be scared of,” said Kristina, focussing on her.

  “I’m not scared.” Now they were at it, as well as Rob. “We have a busy day tomorrow.”

  “Oh come on,” Rob cajoled, “we’ve seen loads already. Why don’t we do something different, see if we can find someone to take us? Don’t pretend you’re not fascinated.”

  “I’m not!”

  “You are! You’re the one who told me about it.”

  “So what? Being fascinated is not a good enough reason to go.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s… macabre.”

  “Macabre?” Piero quizzed.

  “So many people died there,” Louise explained.

  “It’s history,” he replied, shrugging again. “The Venetians try to brush under the carpet what happened, to make light of it. But I disagree, it shouldn’t be forgotten.”

  “It shouldn’t be treated with disrespect either.”

  “Louise,” Rob
seemed annoyed with her again, “nobody said anything about disrespecting the place!”

  “I know, but—”

  “I’ll take you.” Piero said the words so quietly that Louise thought she’d imagined them.

  “Sorry?” she said.

  “I’ll take you.” His offer was clearer this time, more confident.

  Rob’s eyes widened. “Really? How much?”

  Piero let loose a burst of laughter, waved his hand in the air. “No cost. We are friends. You’re here tomorrow, so let’s go then, mid-morning perhaps? We’re free. One thing though, there is no lighting on the island so we need to leave before sundown.”

  “Thank you, it’s very kind but—”

  Again Rob cut her off. “You’re serious? That would be brilliant! Absolutely brilliant! Are you sure though? It seems like one hell of a cheek.” When Piero frowned in confusion, Rob added, “An imposition, it seems like an imposition to take up your time.”

  “No, I offered. I’m happy to take you. We are happy, aren’t we, Kristina?”

  Kristina looked as puzzled as Louise felt by his offer but she agreed nonetheless. “Perhaps one more time it would be good to visit. Where’s the harm?”

  Feeling as though she were caught in a vice, Louise tried to appeal to Rob. “The thing is, I’d really like to see more of the actual city before we fly home. Maybe we could talk about this, between us I mean, take a number or something and let Piero know.”

  “Sure, sure, take my number,” Piero said, retrieving a business card from his wallet. Piero Benvenuti, Architetto. “It’s no problem. Call me tomorrow, but early, let me know.”

  “Well, I’d love to accept,” Rob said, taking the business card and handing it to Louise to put in her bag. “As for my wife, don’t worry, I’ll work on her.”

  Chapter Nine

  “How bloody dare you!” Louise yelled. “What do you mean ‘you’ll work on me’? Like I’m some sort of doll without a mind of my own.”

  How she’d kept from exploding after Rob had delivered that particular gem, she’d never know. But she’d sat there, a smile plastered on her face, as the conversation had continued over coffee and liqueurs, the waiter serving a round of grappa on the house, clutching at her glass so tightly she’d been amazed it hadn’t shattered in her hands. Around them the restaurant had emptied and finally they’d called it a night, their newfound friends kissing them on both cheeks, as was the Italian custom, before disappearing from sight. They had walked a short way too, to where the archway was, when she came to a grinding halt, unable to keep a lid on her fury anymore.

  “The things I said, my reasons for not wanting to go to the island, you just dismissed them completely. You talked over me at every opportunity—”

  “I didn’t, I­—”

  “There you go again, let me bloody speak!”

  “All right, all right, go on then,” he replied meekly.

  “That couple seem very nice, I’m not denying that, but we don’t know them. It’s a bit odd that they want to take us to Poveglia isn’t it?”

  Laughing, Rob put one finger to his mouth. “Shush, I wouldn’t say the ‘P’ word too loudly around here.”

  “This isn’t funny!” Besides which, there was no one to hear them, the lane was empty.

  She walked a few more paces and then stopped again, determined to have her say, right here, right now. “Look, you go if you want to, but there’s no way I am.”

  “Why not? It’ll be fun.” His voice was slurred; he was definitely drunk, little wonder given what they’d consumed.

  “Because… it doesn’t feel right, that’s why.”

  “’Cos you’re scared they might be axe murderers?” His laughter was such a maddening sound. “Or is it the island itself that terrifies you, the fantasma?”

  She drew closer to him, hissed under her breath. “I am not scared.”

  “Then let’s go, it’ll be an adventure, something unusual.”

  She was stunned. “So what we do, going away for weekends, working so hard, it’s all a bit ‘usual’ for you is it? You need a few cheap thrills to spice things up.”

  He turned deliberately coy. “You’re offering me cheap thrills now are you, Lou, in this alleyway, a bunk-up against the wall? Don’t mind if I do!”

  She slapped him around the face – hard.

  “Hey!” he yelled, one hand cradling his cheek. “What did you do that for?”

  “Don’t cheapen me!”

  “What… when… I was joking for God’s sake!”

  “Yet another one that’s not funny.”

  No longer laughing, he was almost growling. “What the fuck’s wrong with you? Sometimes I really do wonder.”

  Exhaling dramatically he started to walk, but she wasn’t done with him yet. She grabbed his arm and threw him against the hard stonework of the wall. He started to laugh again, unable to help himself it seemed, finding her oh so amusing.

  “Louise, stop it. Let’s just go to the hotel and get some sleep.”

  “You never listen to me, do you?”

  He held his hands up in submission. “All right, all right, we won’t go.”

  “I’m not talking about that.”

  “Look he’s an architect, like me, not a mad man.”

  “I said I’m not talking about that.”

  Rob looked puzzled. “What are you talking about then?”

  “About the fact you don’t listen to me, ever.”

  Any amusement in his eyes – whether genuine or forced – fled. He had cottoned on to the true meaning of her words and his expression held a warning: Don’t go off on one; don’t get hysterical. He never actually said it but the intimation was there – always. Even if there had been people around, the lane packed, she doubted she’d be able to stay calm. Perhaps he was right: she was mad. Certainly, standing there, underneath the archway, madness blinded her.

  “I know we can’t have children—”

  “Oh for God’s sake, Lou—”

  “Just listen to me! I know we can’t have children, that IVF hasn’t worked for us, but there are other ways.”

  “We could steal one you mean?” His eyes were steely as he said it.

  “We could adopt.” The last word she spat at him.

  “You know my feelings on that.”

  “Your feelings, not mine!”

  “Louise, I’m not doing this here.” As he pushed away from the wall, she blocked him.

  “It doesn’t matter where we are, you won’t talk about it. ‘Not now’ you say, and come up with some excuse: you’re busy at work, the phone’s ringing, there’s a programme on TV you’re dying to watch, anything to fob me off. Not anymore. I want to adopt.”

  Settling against the wall, he uttered one word. “No.”

  “Why not, why the hell not?”

  “Louise,” – anger was rising in him too she could tell – “we either have a kid of our own, or we… accept the situation. And I thought that’s what we’d done: accepted it. Decided to live a great life, just the two of us, pursue our careers, travel, have fun—”

  “We can’t spend our lives running!”

  “We’re not running, we’re taking back control. What’s wrong with that?”

  Everything, she wanted to scream. Everything’s wrong with it! Instead she forced herself to speak steadily. “Tell me why you won’t adopt.”

  “I…” He shook his head, faltered.

  “Tell me!”

  Still there was silence, he wasn’t even looking at her – he was looking away.

  “Rob!”

  “Because… I’m happy with the way things are, I’m happy with it just being us.”

  And there it was: the truth. He was happy. Who cared about anyone else?

  Her voice when she spoke was venomous. “I hate you sometimes, do you know that, Rob Henderson? I hate you with every bone in my body! I wish we’d never come here, I wish we were back in England, or I was back in England, you can do what the hell yo
u like. I don’t care anymore. You’re an emotional coward, a selfish bastard. You bury things instead of facing them, and you want me to do the same, put on a happy face, smile and be content. But I can’t, I’m not content. I’m not the one who’s infertile either. I got pregnant once, before I met you, but I miscarried. I kept it secret from you, but not any longer, you need to know, you’re to blame for everything. It’s all your fault.”

  So many emotions, from anger and disbelief to deep, deep hurt, played across his face as she spoke. And the words, once spoken, couldn’t be retracted. She didn’t want to retract them, did she? She didn’t know. Her mind felt so clouded, as if time really had slipped away, reality too, as if they were on some dark but dramatic stage, and any minute the audience was going to clap at a fine portrayal of a marital breakup, were going to roar in fact, to stand and cheer their performance. The sound would be deafening, it would bring the house down around them, the house… the one over the archway. She didn’t want to look. Had carefully avoided looking on their way here tonight. But now she couldn’t resist.

  Who are you? The words formed in her mind of their own volition. What do you want with me? Her gaze was drawn upwards. She hadn’t noticed a curtain at the window the first time she’d seen it, but there were curtains now – they looked like lace, the fabric thin, so delicate and swaying slightly. Was there someone behind them, reaching out, parting them? If she continued to look would she see a hand – more than that, a figure?

  She looked away. “Rob?” He was gone again, but where? She hadn’t seen him leave. “Rob!” She turned on her heel, scanned the distance in front of her. It was empty.

  Nonetheless, she darted forward, propelled herself underneath the archway, frantic to be away from there. Where was he? Was she the only one left on the stage? No. She wasn’t alone. She knew that. She hadn’t been since arriving in Venice.

  “Rob!” Her throat was starting to hurt from all the shouting she’d done. How come she hadn’t seen him go? Too busy looking upwards, that’s why; entranced.

  A flash of someone in the distance, not dressed in white – thank God – but tall and dark, someone she knew. And she did know him, his flaws and his attributes. And he knew her flaws too. Yet still he was happy. He’d said so.