by Amy Cross
"I mourned your passing," I tell her. "I was ready to gain revenge for your death. I would have torn the city apart. I went to kill Harrison Blake, to rip his heart out and tell the world of his evil. I was willing to lay down my life in order that your murderers would be punished".
"You have no idea how much I wanted to tell you that I was still alive," she replies. "I knew it would haunt you to believe that I had died, but at the same time I had no choice. Mr. White was watching us, and I felt certain that the only way to persuade him of my death was to make him see the true anguish in your eyes. My heart broke a thousand times, my darling, but it was a necessary evil. Everything is for the child now. Don't you see? Even if our own lives are doomed, we must protect the child".
Staring into her eyes, I realize that - rightly or wrongly - I am once again allowing myself to be seduced by her words. From the moment she first inveigled her way into my heart, Henrietta has held sway over me, and once again she is poised to twist my thoughts and lure me along the path she has selected. Perhaps if I were a stronger man, I would be able to resist her siren call, but whenever I look into her eyes I see the true Henrietta, the woman I love and who requires my help and protection.
"For the child..." she says again, on the brink of tears.
"For the child," I reply.
"Let us hope," she continues, "that he or she is able to grow up free from any knowledge of the game at all. Let us hope that our child never learns that we were involved in such horrific events. If this child can be healthy and happy, then everything else will have been worth the agony. I no longer care for my own skin, Jonathan. I was once craven and unholy, but since I felt the child in my belly, I have changed. Tell me you can see it in my eyes, my darling. Tell me you can see that the cruelty and evil has left my soul!"
I stare at her for a moment. "It was never there to begin with," I say eventually. "You were never evil, Henrietta".
"We must go to the heart of the game," she replies. "It will be a dead place right now. We must get there before there is anyone to protect the core. If we can destroy the game from within its heart, we can try to get away. We must go far from here, to another land, to a place where our names have never been spoken. We must raise the child far from the game's reaches".
Putting my arms around her, I pull her close. I never thought I'd have the chance to speak to her again, and I still fear that she might be snatched from me at any moment. Perhaps I'm a fool for accepting her claims, and for overlooking the fact that she murdered her husband and a maid, but I feel as if pure love is driving me onward. I don't fully understand the nature of the game, but I am certain that it must be destroyed, and I'm willing to place my life in Henrietta's hands. The child must be protected at all costs, and if we must venture into the heart of the game, then it seems we have no other choice.
Elly
Today
"Come on," I mutter, "pick up".
It's just after lunchtime, and I've finally managed to persuade a nurse to fetch my cellphone from my trousers. I guess I should be grateful for the fact that the phone managed to survive the journey from Mr. White's apartment, and that it's still got some battery left. I'm trying to get hold of my mother, but so far her phone just seems to be ringing and ringing. I know what she's like: she's fanatical about having her phone with her all the time, so I don't get why she'd not be picking up. Then again, now that she's with that Bob Stokes guy, I guess there's no way of telling exactly what she might be getting up to. Finally, realizing that she's obviously far too busy to answer, I wait for he answerphone to pick up.
"Hey," I say eventually, surprised at how weak I sound. "I'm..." I pause, realizing I don't want to worry her too much. "It's me. I'm okay, but I was just wondering if you want to meet up? I don't know, I feel like I left things pretty abruptly last time, and..." I pause again as I feel myself edging closer to tears. "I just wanted to -"
With no warning, the answerphone cuts off.
"Fuck you," I mutter, realizing that I've now left a half-baked message. My mother's bound to get worried when she hears it.
Sitting alone, I try to work out who to call next. There's a part of me that wants to get in touch with Mark, even though I'm fairly certain he's not going to want to talk to me. Seeing as my mother's out of the question, I figure there's probably just one person left, so I bring up Jess's number and wait for her to answer.
The call goes straight to her answerphone.
Feeling as if I'm going to go crazy if I don't manage to speak to someone, I go through the rest of the contacts on my phone, determined to find someone I can call. Eventually I realize I have the number for Sheila, a girl from Bristol who knows Jess, so I bring up her number.
"Hey," she says, picking up almost immediately. "Elly? Is that you?"
"Hey," I reply, feeling a little uncomfortable. "How are you doing?"
"Okay, I guess," she says. "Everything's kind of crazy, though. Have you heard anything from Jess?"
"No," I reply, immediately feeling a twinge of concern in my chest. "Why? Is she okay?"
"I don't know," she replies, "no-one's seen her. The last anyone heard, she was coming up to London to visit you".
"She left a few days ago," I tell her.
"That's what we figured. She was pretty clear about when she'd be coming back, and she had an exam, but she missed it. It's totally not like her. I called her parents and they haven't heard from her either, so it's kind of..." Her voice trails off for a moment. "I don't know. Do you think we should be worried?"
I sit in silence, trying to work out what's happening. The last time I saw Jess, she was hurrying out of Mark's apartment after our evening became a little heavy. I knew at the time that she was kind of freaked out by everything, and I'd been planning to call some time soon and straighten things out. It never occurred to me, though, that she might not have just gone straight home. Although I try to shake the fear, I'm immediately filled with a sense that something must be wrong. Call it paranoia or call it a sixth sense, but I swear to God I can feel in my gut that something bad has happened to her.
"Elly?" Sheila continues. "You still there?"
"Yeah," I reply. "I just... I thought she'd headed home".
"Her parents are pretty laid back, but they reckon they're gonna call the police if she doesn't get in touch by the end of the weekend. It's like, they know she can be kinda sketchy, and they totally know it wouldn't be unlike her to go off with some guy for a while, but at the same time..." She pauses. "Well, it's just a bit odd, right? You'd think she'd at least bother to reply to messages. I mean, did she say anything to you? Did she do anything weird?"
"No," I stutter. "I mean..." I take a deep breath as I realize there's no way I can explain everything right now. "I have a few numbers I can try," I say eventually. "I can maybe see if I can track her down. There are some people in London, I guess she might have gone to see them". I don't say it, of course, but in the back of my mind there's the fear that Mark is somehow involved with all of this. "It's okay," I add eventually. "I'll sort it out. I'll see what I can do". Without waiting for her to reply, I end the call.
Sitting in silence, I find myself starting to worry about Jess. After all that business with his ex-girlfriend Chrissie, I've been wondering whether I can entirely trust Mark. Jess came dangerously close to becoming involved in the game the other day, and although I want to tell myself that there's no way Mark would ever do anything to hurt her... I can't. It seems extreme, but I can't shake the fear that maybe Mark decided Jess knew too much, especially after my heart attack. Would he, or Mr. White, really go to such an extreme that they'd actually kidnap Jess or hurt her? Then again, I guess there's another option: what if my heart attack led Mark to consider other options? What if he's brought Jess into the game? I try not to imagine him seducing her with the same moves he used on me, but I can't deny that it's a possibility.
Looking down at my phone, I realize that I've only got one option left. Bringing up Mark's number, I t
ry to work out what I'm going to say to him. I can't exactly accuse him of doing something to Jess, but at the same time I feel as if I have to know what I'm facing. The fact that Mark wasn't waiting by my bedside until I woke up is, itself, a bad sign. It's as if he's already washed his hands of me, in which case I should probably be grateful that he bothered to bring me to a hospital at all. He could just as easily have dumped me by the side of some road, or left me to die. As all these thoughts rush into my mind, I realize that I really don't know Mark very well at all.
Taking a deep breath, I hit the Call button. The phone rings, and as I wait for him to answer, I feel my chest start to tighten. Figuring I might be taking a risk with my heart if I subject myself to this stress, I almost cut the call, but finally I force myself to continue. I'm still not entirely certain what I'll say if and when he answers, but I know I have to face him sooner rather than later. I'm in a kind of limbo, suspended between my old life and my current life with Mark, and I need to know what's really happening. If I've accidentally led Jess into danger, I'll never forgive myself.
After a moment, the call goes to his answerphone, and I disconnect.
"Fuck you," I mutter, realizing that whatever he's doing, Mark is clearly cutting me out of his life. I think back to all the things we did together, and I start imagining him doing the same things with Jess: the trip to Zurich; the sex session with Mr. White observing; the nights out at expensive restaurants. Within seconds, I'm a seething ball of jealousy, and I've managed to completely convince myself that I've been screwed over. He obviously wants to -
Suddenly my phone starts ringing, and I see that Mark's trying to get through. After a moment's hesitation, I accept the call.
"Hello?" I say tentatively.
"Elly, how are you doing?" he replies. "I'm sorry, I was in a meeting and my phone was at the bottom of my briefcase. I was planning to come and see you as soon as I'm done, but how are things going? Dr. Abernathy called and said you were out of immediate danger. He said you'll be okay as long as you have plenty of rest".
"Yeah," I say cautiously, wondering whether I can trust him. "I need to see you," I add. "Soon. There's something I need to ask you. It's important".
"Of course," he replies. "I'll be at the hospital in a couple of hours. I'm on the other side of London and the traffic's probably going to be pretty bad, but I'll get there as fast as possible. Is there anything you want me to bring?"
I pause for a moment. He sounds so sincere and genuine, and it's tempting to believe that he actually cares. Then again, I feel as if I've already let him fool me a few too many times, and eventually I realize that his attempt to act like everything is normal has actually made things worse.
"Bring Jess," I say eventually.
"Jess?"
"Bring her".
"Your friend? How... I don't know where she is. Can't you -"
"Don't bullshit me".
Silence.
"I want to know the truth," I continue, feeling myself starting to fill up with a kind of icy determination. "I want to know what you've done with her, and I want to know what happened to Chrissie. I want to know everything. If you don't tell me, I swear to God I'll go straight to the police and tell them everything".
Jonathan Pope
1901
"Stop," Henrietta says suddenly, reaching out and placing a hand on my chest.
Standing in complete silence, I stare in the darkness ahead. Although I have neither seen nor heard anything to cause concern, I cannot help but notice the look of fear in Henrietta's eyes. Since she is more at home in this strange and barbaric world, I feel I must demur to her senses and let her guide the way.
"I heard nothing," I whisper eventually.
"There are different types of silence," she replies, still staring straight ahead, "just as there are different types of emptiness. You would do well to learn to tell them apart from one another".
As I wait for Henrietta to continue, I glance over my shoulder. We're deep beneath the city, in a series of subterranean passages that lead to the heart of the game. Although I have been into part of this complex before, I do not know my way around, whereas Henrietta seems to have the entire map in her mind. Originally built by the founder of the game, Benjamin Edgewood, these underground passages are part of a labyrinthine network of tunnels, designed to deter even the most determined of intruders. Snaking around and past the other tunnels that exist beneath the city of London, these passages offer the only route to the game's beating heart.
"We can continue," Henrietta says suddenly, "but tread carefully. I can't be certain that Mr. White did not have time to set any traps".
"The man had no idea his death was imminent," I reply as we continue to walk. "I saw his face as he was shot. He thought he'd won. If anything, he was letting his guard down. There's no way he'd have foreseen the need to guard against either of us. He believed us to be dead".
"That man could never be so easily fooled," Henrietta replies. "I guarantee you, my darling, that he will have had his suspicions, even after he believed us both to be dead. Harrison Blake was a powerful and manipulative man. Do you really think he could have risen to a rank in government if he was gullible or naive?"
"But the whole point of the game is that no-one else knows about it, is it not?" I ask. "Apart from Mr. Blue, Mr. White and Lady Red, its existence is hidden from every other living being on the planet, with the brief exceptions of the girls who are unfortunate enough to be drawn into its clutches. Surely anyone else who learned of the game's existence would be swiftly dispatched?"
"We're here," she says, ignoring my question as we round the next corner and reach a large iron door. Pulling a key from her pocket, she swiftly gains us admittance to what turns out to be a large square room that appears to have been carved directly out of the rock. Now that we're several miles beneath the city, it's noticeable that the air is colder and more still, while the walls feel a little damp.
"There's nothing in this place," I reply.
"Patience," she says with a smile as she pushes the door shut behind us. "We're directly beneath the river, on the very edge of the Underworld itself. Sometimes, if one stands completely still in these passages, one can hear screams from deeper still. It would certainly not be wise to spend too much time down here, lest one should find one's sanity beginning to lapse".
"So why are we here?" I ask, walking ahead of her. "If the heart of the game is nothing more than an empty room, what is there for us to do?"
"We must step into the shadows, of course," she replies with a smile, hurrying past me and making her way to the far corner. "You must be a little more observant, Jonathan. Sometimes, there are ways forward that one would not ordinarily notice if one were too keen to reach a conclusion. For example..." She disappears into the shadows, and after a moment I realize that her footsteps are continuing to move away. "Come on!" she shouts. "There isn't much time!"
Hurrying after her, I find that the shadows conceal a small, dark passageway that leads through the rock and, finally, into a small room that seems strangely familiar. It's almost impossible to believe that after such a long journey beneath the city, we seem to have reached the space in which I stood once before with Henrietta, back when she first showed me some of the secretes of the game. Looking up, I see the oil painting of Benjamin Edgewood that I first admired more than five years ago.
"You must remember this," Henrietta says, hurrying over to a wooden cabinet. "Do you happen to recall what I told you about it?"
"You said that it contains the history of the game," I reply, walking over to join her, "and also the prize".
Opening the cabinet, she takes out a small wooden box.
"The prize?" I ask.
"I have always wondered what might be found in this box," she says, her voice filled with tension. "There have been various theories over the years, of course. Some believe that it contains a key. Others believe that it might be empty, as if it's some kind of joke. Then there are those who thin
k that it contains something far more unusual, such as the secret to eternal life. I even heard one person claim that the Holy Grail itself might be in some way linked to this place. Not that I believe such things, of course. Benjamin Edgewood was many things, but he was not a magician. Still, I don't doubt that..." Her voice trails off for a moment. "Hold this," she says suddenly, passing the box to me.
"It's very light," I reply.
"There's also this," she continues, removing a larger box from the cabinet. Flicking the clasp open, she pulls the side away to reveal a human skull held in a glass jar. The skin is shriveled and dry, but it's clear that the head once belonged to a man. "This is him," she says after a few seconds. "My dear, you are looking upon the face of Benjamin Edgewood himself. It has been more than a hundred and fifty years since his passing, but his head remains preserved. Can you imagine what he'd say if he could see us now? If he discovered that the game had indeed lasted for so many years?"
"You said we were here to destroy the game," I say firmly. "As much as I wish to learn the history of this place, I also wish to get out of here alive".
"You're quite right," she replies, placing the larger box back into the cabinet. "I'm sorry," she continues. "It's just that I've been around the game for so long, and I never thought that I'd end up being part of its destruction. I revered these items for so many years, and I truly believed that I would never live to see the prize revealed. Now, though, I realize that I have no choice but to become the instrument of its destruction. So much pain and fear has emanated from this place, destroying the lives of hundreds of men and women. Now it's going to end, and we must be grateful that lives will be spared in years to come".
