The Watchers
Page 47
‘Huh. What’s Monsieur Booty think?’
Rochat looked at Monsieur Booty.
‘What do you think, you miserable beast?’
Mew.
‘He likes it.’
‘So, do it.’
Rochat went back to work. Katherine finished packing and lay down on the bed, watching Rochat draw till her eyes grew heavy and sleep began to wash over her.
‘I’m going to miss being in your cathedral, Marc.’
‘You can come back and visit.’
‘And you’ll always keep your lantern shining at night so I can find my way?’
‘It’s my duty.’
Katherine pulled the duvet over her legs. Monsieur Booty saw the opportunity for another nap and hopped to the bed. She scratched the beast behind its ears.
‘And thank you for saving me from the evil wizard, Monsieur Booty.’
Mew.
She closed her eyes, listening to the sound of Rochat’s pencil moving over the paper.
Rochat stood over her, the bright lantern in his hands.
Katherine shaded her eyes, saw his crooked shape. His black floppy hat and coat sparkled with drops of rain.
‘Marc … what’s going on?’
‘I just finished the two o’clock rounds. The detectiveman is down on the esplanade.’
‘Is he coming up?’
‘Non.’
Katherine looked out of the open door of the loge. Rain falling thickly.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘I thought he was dead, but they only hurt him.’
‘What?’
‘The bad shadows, they hurt him.’
Katherine quickly unravelled herself from the duvet and rushed to the south balcony, she looked down over the railings. Near the fountain below the trees, a body in a bloodied shirt and trousers, face down on the soaking-wet cobblestones, a brown mackintosh tossed to the side.
‘Oh, Jesus, Harper.’
Rochat shuffled up behind her.
‘They cut him on his chest and stomach and he’s bleeding. That’s why I woke you up. I need you to hold the doors so I can bring him in the cathedral. I’m very sure he needs to hide too.’
Dull buzzing sounds through the darkness.
Tingles of awareness.
Breath, touch.
Opening his eyes, seeing a shadow taking form. Long black overcoat, black hat pulled down on his head.
Dead black potion pulsed through Harper’s blood.
‘Bloody half-breed!’
He lunged at Rochat, slammed him to the floor.
Katherine grabbed at Harper’s arms.
‘What the hell are you doing?’
‘He’s one of them!’
Harper drove a knee into Rochat’s chest and pinned him to the flagstones and tore the hat from his head. He grabbed his throat and squeezed. Rochat kicked his crooked legs, his face turning purple. Katherine pounded her fists at Harper’s back.
‘You’re killing him!’
‘That’s the bloody idea. Look at his eyes.’
Katherine pounded harder.
‘Stop it. What’s wrong with you?’
‘His eyes, you can see the dead black in …’
Seeing the faintest light. Flashing and fading.
‘… in his eyes.’
… his eyes, his eyes, his eyes …
Harper heard his own voice echo in the dark. He loosened his grip and Rochat crawled away, sucking at the air in wrenching gasps. Katherine rushed to him, held his shoulders.
‘Marc, can you breathe?’
Rochat coughed.
‘Oui.’
She shot a vicious glare at Harper.
‘You idiot, you nearly killed him!’
‘Did you see it, what happened, just now?’
‘See what?’
Harper shook his head.
‘No, it’s a bloody trick!’
He charged again, tossed Katherine aside. He pulled Rochat by his overcoat and dragged him over the flagstones, threw him against the stone balustrade. Harper leaned down, yanked Rochat upright.
‘Your father, which one was he?’
‘Monsieur?’
‘He was one of them, which one was he?’
Katherine pulled at Harper’s wrists.
‘Stop it, you bastard!’
Harper shoved her aside, silenced her with a killing look.
‘Stay back, Miss Taylor, or I’ll snap his neck here and now.’
Horrified tears welled in her eyes.
‘Please, Harper, it’s Marc.’
‘Who?’
‘Marc, you know who he is.’
Harper looked at Rochat, almost recognizing the face. Then seeing it again, the faintest light shining deep within his eyes.
‘No, it’s got to be a trick, it’s part of your cover.’
‘I don’t know what that means.’
‘Stop lying to me!’ Harper grabbed the lapels of Rochat’s overcoat, shook him hard. ‘Your father, what was his name in the world? He would’ve told you his name. The name men gave him, from the Book of Enoch, what was his name?’
‘I don’t read well, there was an accident when I was—’
Harper slammed Rochat into the balustrade.
‘You’re lying. Tell me his name, you know his name! Azazel, Samyaza? Which one was he?’
Rochat quivered with fear.
‘His name was Papa, he was an architect, he was trying to save the cathedral from falling down.’
‘Bollocks! He showed you the dead black in his eyes, didn’t he?’
‘I don’t know what that means.’
‘You do know, you know everything, you’re a fucking half-breed!’
… half-breed, half-breed, half-breed …
Rochat seized up trying to speak, Harper shook him harder.
‘Tell me!’
Katherine fell on Harper’s back, grabbing his shoulders.
‘You son of a bitch! You’re scaring him to death!’
‘Your father showed you the dead black in his eyes, didn’t he?’
‘Papa showed me how to draw people and things.’
… draw people and things, people and things …
Harper heard Rochat’s terrified voice echo away.
… people and things, people and things, people and things …
‘What did you say?’
‘Peopleandthings, nodeadblackinhiseyes, peopleandthings.’
Harper released him, he fell back on the floor.
‘You draw things, you draw people?’
‘Papashowedmehow, Papashowedmehow.’
Katherine slid over the flagstones. She took Rochat in her arms.
‘Jesus, you’re trembling.’
Harper backed away into the shadows, listening to the lad’s words echo through the dark like a frightened prayer.
…. papa showed me how, papa showed me how …
Katherine turned on Harper.
‘What’s wrong with you, you bastard? What is this?’
‘His father could draw.’
‘So does Marc, so the fuck what?’
‘We can’t draw a picture, write a poem, a piece of music … not even the enemy. His father was a man.’
‘Of course his father’s a man. Have you totally lost your mind?’
… lost your mind, your mind, your mind …
Harper leaned against the cold stone wall, watching and listening to the woman with the lad in her arms. Rocking him, comforting him with a tearful voice.
‘It’s all right, Marc. I’m here, you’re safe now.’
… you’re safe now, safe now, safe now …
The echoes finding Harper in the shadows. He saw a burning lantern on a cardboard box spreading a cloud of soft light through the darkness. Saw a cot next to the cardboard box, wool blankets and his beat-up mackintosh in a heap. A small framed photograph, a box of unlit candles next to the lantern. Down on the flagstones, a bowl of reddish water, shreds of bloodstain
ed cloth, bandages and scissors. He looked up and saw a mass of darkened stained glass slowly taking the form of Christ on the cross.
‘Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani.’
‘What? What are you saying?’
Harper looked at Katherine and Rochat.
‘Where the hell am I?’
… where am i, where am i, where am i …
‘In the cathedral, monsieur. On the tribune behind the organ.’
‘The cathedral. How did I get here?’
‘I found you on the esplanade next to the fountain. I thought you were dead but they only hurt you.’
‘You helped me?’
Katherine said:
‘Yeah, Marc found you and Marc carried you up the tower and took care of you. You’d be fucking dead if it wasn’t for him, you fucking bastard.’
Harper felt the back of his head at the base of the neck. Felt as if someone drove a nail into his skull. He looked down at his chest and saw he was wearing a loose dark blue jumper. He pulled at the collar, saw neat bandages across his chest, felt the pull of stitching strips underneath.
‘You did all this, mate? You fixed me up?’
‘Oui.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Volontiers, monsieur.’
Harper took a slow breath as a wave of pain shot through him, dragging images through his brain. Syringes of dead black potion, killing knives, jagged-edge saws, slaughter. The still-blinking eyes. Two souls lost for ever. He held his stomach, buckled over.
‘Oh, bloody hell.’
… bloody hell, bloody hell, bloody hell …
‘Does it still hurt, monsieur?’
Harper looked up, saw it again. The delicate light flashing and fading deep within Rochat’s eyes.
‘Yes, it still hurts. Do you know the time?’
‘The bells rang four times and you woke up.’
‘Four?’
Katherine wiped tears from her face.
‘Yeah, Harper, four o’clock. Time for you to tell us what the hell’s going on.’
Harper shrugged.
‘It’s impossible.’
‘What’s impossible?’
‘Our kind … it was forbidden.’
… forbidden, forbidden, forbidden …
‘What’s forbidden?’
‘The lad’s a half-breed.’
‘He’s crippled, you fucking idiot, and you almost strangled him to death.’
Harper rubbed the back of his neck again. His mind scrambling back. Pumped full of dead black potion. Enough to crush your eternal being and flip you into one of them. Then you’re dumped at the cathedral to kill the half-breed hiding in the tower. Almost did, but something brought you back, boyo … something …
‘The lad’s eyes.’
‘What about them?’
‘There’s no black in his eyes.’
‘No, his eyes are green, like yours.’
‘Like mine?’
Harper looked at Rochat.
The light in his eyes growing even brighter. A light unseen by men, a light seen only by … no bloody way … Harper’s mind scrambled back further, to the cop in the cashmere coat. Retinal luminance recognition should return in a day or two, Mr Harper.
‘Holy Christ.’
He looked again at the photograph on the cardboard box. Saw a handsome man, a man who taught his son to draw living things, a man with blue eyes and black hair, standing with his arm around a beautiful young woman, a woman with the brightest green eyes.
‘“Blessed and attractive eyes. How came her eyes so bright?”’
… so bright, so bright, so bright …
Katherine waited for the sound of his voice to fade.
‘Tell me they drugged you, Harper, because you’re babbling like a lunatic. What’re you talking about, what can’t be?’
‘All of it.’
Harper rose from the cot and hobbled over the flagstones. He picked up the lantern from the floor and moved towards them. Katherine pulled Rochat close to her.
‘Stay away from us, Harper, stay the fuck away.’
‘I’m not going to hurt him, Miss Taylor.’ He looked at Rochat. ‘I’m not going to hurt you, mate.’
‘I know, monsieur.’
Harper lowered to one knee.
‘Can I ask you something?’
‘Oui, monsieur.’
‘The photograph next to the cot, that’s your mother?’
‘With Papa on the Plains of Abraham.’
‘That’s in Quebec City, isn’t it?’
‘Oui, it’s on the same line as Lausanne.’
Harper had to think for a second.
‘You mean the forty-sixth latitude of the planet, yeah?’
‘Oui, that’s how I came to Lausanne.’
‘Right. Your mother, she’s beautiful.’
‘Merci.’
‘You look like her, in the eyes.’
‘Maman said I have Papa’s face and her eyes.’
‘Do you remember your mother?’
‘I see her in beforetimes.’
‘Beforetimes, right.’
‘Do you know about beforetimes, monsieur?’
‘Yes, I know about beforetimes. When you go there and you see your mother, what do you see in her eyes?’
Rochat fell very still, not breathing, almost sinking. Katherine stroked his mop of black hair.
‘What is it, honey, what do you see?’
‘Maman told me it was a secret.’
‘You can tell me, honey.’
Rochat looked up at her.
‘I see a pretty light.’
… a pretty light … pretty light … pretty light …
The words echoing against the ceiling of curving stones.
Harper spoke softly, not wanting to chase the sound away.
‘When do you see the light in her eyes?’
‘In the days before Maman says goodbye and goes away. She says she wants to give it to me so the angel will know who I am.’
‘An angel. Did she tell you which angel?’
‘The one who would come to the cathedral.’
Harper lowered his head in a long and perfect silence, till an unbelieving whisper crossed his lips.
‘What the bloody hell have we done?’
Katherine waited a moment.
‘Harper? What’s going on? What’s wrong with Marc? What did they do to him?’
‘Nothing’s wrong, Miss Taylor, he’s fine.’ Harper looked at Rochat. ‘Aren’t you, mate?’
‘I’m very tired, monsieur.’
‘Me too. Look, when I woke up, when I tried to hurt you, that wasn’t me.’
‘I know, monsieur. Maman told me the bad shadows make people hurt each other. Did the bad shadows make you want to hurt me?’
‘Yes, they gave me a drug that made me want to kill. But it’s over now.’
Harper hobbled to the cot, sat down.
‘Monsieur?’
… monsieur … monsieur … monsieur …
‘Yes?’
‘Did I only imagine you on Escaliers du marché?’
‘No, you saw me. I couldn’t talk to you just then. But that’s not going to happen any more.’
‘D’accord. Will you stay in the cathedral now and help the angel find her way home?’
‘Yes, mate, I’ll stay.’
‘Merci.’
Katherine kissed Rochat’s forehead.
‘Shhhh, Marc. Enough, go to sleep.’
‘I heard the timbers.’
‘What, honey?’
‘I heard the timbers.’
Five deep bells rolled through the belly of the nave. Rochat closed his eyes and fell asleep in Katherine’s arms. The bells swelled and faded away.
‘Hush now. Marie just rang to tell you everything’s OK.’
… everything’s OK, everything’s OK …
Katherine heard the cot creak. She saw Harper getting slowly to his feet. He picked up the wool blankets and hobbled towards her.
She tried to swallow Rochat in her arms.
‘I swear to God, you ever hurt him again and I’ll kill you.’
‘I believe you would, Miss Taylor. And I wouldn’t blame you.’
He bent down, laid the blankets over them. He grimaced in pain as he straightened up and hobbled back to the cot. He looked at Katherine, as if seeing her for the first time.
‘What are you looking at?’
‘Your hair.’
‘What about it?’
‘It’s black.’
‘I dyed it.’
He looked down, saw a pair of second-hand trainers on his feet. He picked at the ragged jumper.
‘And all these clothes?’
‘Your shirt was in shreds, covered in blood. You were in your bare feet. Marc got the sweater and shoes from the lost-and-found box.’
Harper shook his disbelieving head.
‘Lost-and-found box, perfect.’
He fell quiet. She listened to him breathe. Ragged and in pain.
‘Harper, what happened?’
‘Sorry?’
‘Tonight, what happened?’
He took a slow breath.
‘I was ordered to abandon the both of you in the cathedral.’
‘Abandon us? Why?’
‘Still a bit of a blur. I’m guessing I was in the way.’
‘Of what?’
‘I wish I knew.’
Katherine watched him hold his sides.
‘Someone died tonight, someone was killed, that’s what happened, isn’t it?’
Harper looked at her.
‘Two people. A man and a woman.’
‘Who were they?’
He didn’t answer.
‘Harper, tell me. Did I know …’
‘Stephan. You knew Stephan. The woman, you didn’t know her. Her name was Lucy Clarke.’
‘Who is she?’
‘She was from East London, she worked in a casino.’
‘Did you kill them?’
‘What?’
‘You said the killers gave you a drug that made you want to kill. Did you kill them?’
‘No. It was Komarovsky and his goons.’
Katherine shuddered. ‘They were murdered because of me?’
‘No, Miss Taylor, because of me.’
‘You?’
‘They saw me talking to Stephan at LP’s. They saw me talking to Miss Clarke.’
Katherine felt a flash of fear.
‘The killers are coming here, aren’t they?’
‘Yes.’
‘Can we call someone for help? Swiss cops maybe?’
‘It was a bloody Swiss copper who ordered me to abandon you.’