Echoes from the Mist

by Advocate

  Kayla glared at him until Liv noticed that she was now walking alone and glanced back at her in question. The dark-haired woman gave her a little wave, and Liv shrugged and kept walking down the path, eager to see the inside of the large house. "No harm done." Kayla assured Brody, relaxing her hard stare only a little. "Yet."

  Mumbling a hasty ‘sorry’, Brody darted past both women and began leading the way to the Manor. Family or no, he could tell Kayla Redding wasn’t a woman to be trifled with. When he was safely ahead of them both, he launched into his well-practiced spiel about the grounds and the house itself.

  "Mother," Brody called as they entered the house. When there was no answer, he raised his voice and tried again. "Mother!"

  "Good Lord, boy!" a voice boomed. In walked Sylla Brody Cobb. "Why are you screamin’?" She took one look at Brody, noticed his wristwatch, and smacked him on the back of the head with an open hand. "We’re supposed to look authentic, bird brain."

  Brody rubbed the head sheepishly, but didn’t look surprised or disturbed by his mother’s behavior. Apparently, it happened quite often. "Yes, Mither." He slid off his watch but kept it in his hand.

  Liv smiled, thinking that Brody’s behavior reminded her of her little brother, Dougie, and that he’d have that watch back on his wrist the second he was out of his mother’s sight.

  "If you’ll excuse me, ladies." He bowed deeply at the waist.

  Both Sylla and Kayla rolled their eyes. Liv laughed.

  "I need to get back to my post." He nearly winked at Liv but thought better of it when he noticed Kayla watching him like a hawk. Everyone in the room heard his nervous swallow.

  "Let’s sit," Sylla told Kayla and Liv after the women had exchanged greetings.

  Liv wondered if Brody was adopted as Sylla led them towards a set of stairs. A quick look at Kayla, who was studying Sylla carefully, let Liv know she was wondering the same thing. Sylla was short, stout, big-boned woman with a big head, big butt and… Liv looked down… big feet. Her hair was worn in a tight bun and she had a smile her friends would call infectious.

  If she had friends.

  Or smiled.

  "I was quite surprised to hear from you, Ms. Redding," Sylla remarked as she began leading the women up a large oak staircase whose wooden steps had been stained a shade of brown so dark it was nearly black. They were on their way to a part of the Manor that wasn’t open to the public.

  As they climbed, Liv admired the gleaming, openwork banister that had been cut from solid hardwood and stained to match the steps. The scent of lemon wood polish and dust lingered in the air. The house looked remarkably well preserved, and despite its size it didn’t have that sterile museum-like quality, rather, it looked like a functioning home, with minor warts and all.

  Kayla cleared her throat and made a valiant attempt at being sociable. "Thank you for agreeing to talk with us." She relaxed a little when Liv took her hand and threaded their fingers together, silently praising her effort. "I was curious after discovering Cyril Redding’s marriage to Faylinn Cobb. I’m afraid it wasn’t very well-documented in my family."

  "That’s too bad," Sylla said gravely. "Family heritage is a very valuable commodity to the Cobb family."

  Kayla bristled at the implied slight. "I can see that. If I’m not mistaken, the sign out front set the value at four pounds."

  Liv gaped at her companion. "Kayla," she chided under her breath. "Be nice."

  "What?" Kayla mouthed silently with all the innocence she could muster. "She started it."

  But Sylla remained unfazed. "Och! That wasn’t my doin’. We’re only open three days a week and it was my husband’s idea that we wear these costumes." She let out a long-suffering sigh. "It was this or plow under the gardens." She shook her head. "Soulless highway robbers is what those gardeners are. Brody is to apprentice with one next summer. Thank the Lord."

  Liv had to smother her laughter with her hand. "Are you built on a graveyard?" she asked, remembering the brochure at their Bed & Breakfast that advertised a pub nearby that was supposedly haunted. "Seems like hauntings of all sorts are big business."

  Sylla snorted loudly. "No, dammit. And just our luck, too. Though the tourists do seem to enjoy our home, and we’ve done quite well this summer." At the top of the stairs the women rounded the corner, and Sylla abruptly stopped and bent over, her new position thrusting her large bottom straight up into the air.

  Kayla shivered inwardly and was certain she heard a faint ‘be nice’ repeated to her silently.

  Sylla pulled off her pointy-toed leather shoes and stepped into an enormous pair of soft, fuzzy pink slippers. "No wonder Scotland’s population shrank in the sixteenth century," she huffed, straightening. "I’m convinced suicide brought on by chronic shoe pain was the likely cause." She moaned with pleasure when she wiggled her toes. "Much better," the matronly woman announced firmly. She lifted her skirts and began marching purposely down the red-carpeted hallway.

  They passed the library on their way to the drawing room, Sylla’s announced destination, and Kayla had to grab Liv’s arm and pull her the rest of the way down the hall to keep her from sneaking inside. The tall, book-laden shelves sang out to her lover with a siren’s call. "Okay, okay," Liv whined quietly as Kayla successfully directed her course back down the hall.

  "You can visit the library anytime you like, Ms. Hazelwood," Sylla commented without looking behind her. "I can show it to you before you leave if you like."

  Liv cheeks flushed as she and Kayla picked up their pace to catch up with their hefty hostess. Sylla’s powerful, rolling gait had propelled her nearly halfway down the very long hallway. "Umm.... Thank you. That’s very kind you."

  "Not really," Sylla answered truthfully. "I’ll do nearly anything to be able to keep my slippers on." She stopped. "Here we are." With an impatient hand, she pushed open the door and ushered Kayla and Liv inside.

  The room was fairly small but had ceilings that easily topped twelve feet. The paneled walls were made of quartered white oak and they framed tall, narrow, limestone windows and a large limestone fireplace whose materials had been imported from England when the house was built in the mid-sixteen hundreds. The furnishings, however, were clearly from the present day and looked as though they had been purchased for comfort more than style.

  Liv walked to the window and peered down to see Brody handing out tickets to a young couple with a baby in a stroller. The early afternoon sky had begun to cloud over again and she wondered idly if that was an everyday occurrence in Edinburgh.

  "Sit and have a bite. I made these myself," Sylla announced proudly as she plopped down on the edge of a padded sofa. She lifted a silver tray from a stand next to the couch and tugged free the cloth had been covering the treats.

  The room filled with the buttery aroma of shortbread, and both Liv and Kayla eagerly accepted a golden bar. Kayla nearly swooned. They were still warm from the oven.

  Sylla’s eyebrows jumped at the sounds of Liv’s appreciative moans.

  Kayla found herself growing aroused at the sound. God, I’m a pervert. She shook her head to clear it of naughty thoughts and addressed Sylla. She held up a piece of the cookie. "Do you sell these in your gift shop?"

  "By the pound."

  "We’ll take ten," Liv mumbled, her mouth still full.

  "Ten?" Sylla and Kayla asked, astonished.

  "What?" Liv cried.

  Kayla crossed her arms over her chest in disbelief. "Ten pounds?"

  "Okay, fifteen, but that’s my final offer."

  "Liv! This isn’t an auction," Kayla complained half-heartedly. Truth be told, all Liv had to do was ask and Kayla would pull down the stars. Hell, she’d wrap them in bows.

  Sylla almost looked as if she was going to smile at the purchase Liv had made, but instead she nodded knowingly. "They are good," she agreed. "Now, I’ve asked my husband to come up and tell you about Faylinn and her adventures in the American Colonies. He’s the real family historian and storyteller. Bes
ides, a Cobb tale is best not told by a Brody."

  Liv scooted closer to Kayla. "Sylla, I’m sure you’d do a good job."

  "True," Sylla allowed readily, without even a hint of modesty. "But all the same, Mr. Cobb will be up after he finishes showing that group of Japanese tourists our stables. We’ve several bonnie colts this year. But perhaps a short tale first, eh?" Sylla paused, and Kayla could see the wheels in her head turning as she came to a decision. "Kayla," she began, "you’ve been to Scotland before?"

  "Many times," the tall woman agreed.

  "But you haven’t, Ms… Liv," she immediately corrected herself.

  Liv answered, "No. Though what I’ve seen is beautiful. I should have come sooner."

  Sylla grunted her agreement and moved off the sofa to a recliner that faced Liv and Kayla. "Then I’ve got a story just for you." She lowered her voice and her accent seemed to increase exponentially. "Have you ever heard of Mary Kings Close, child?"

  Liv shook her head. "I’ve seen lots of things with ‘close’ or ‘wynd’ in the name but I—"

  Sylla waved a dismissive hand in front of her as though she was shooing a pesky fly. "They’re alleyways between buildings. A ‘wynd’ is a path with an opening at both ends, while a ‘close’ only has an opening at one. Some are so narrow your shoulders scrape the sides as you walk. Now…" She smoothed her dress. "You know that Edinburgh is one of the most haunted cities in the world?"

  Liv looked at Kayla in question but Kayla was forced to nod. That had been her experience.

  "Ay, it is," Sylla assured her audience. "Make no mistake about that. And I’m going to tell you one of our most famous tales, and why so many tortured souls haunt our fair city."

  Both Liv and Kayla leaned forward, resting their elbows on their knees.

  "Before I tell you about Mary King’s Close I need to tell you a little about Edinburgh in the 1660s, the decade before Faylinn Cobb’s birth. Edinburgh was a growing city, even then. It was also a walled city and the large sunken area in front of Waverly Train Station was Nor’ Loch, a filthy cesspool," Sylla hissed.

  Liv opened her mouth to.…

  "Tch." Sylla held up an imperious hand and Liv’s mouth snapped shut. "I’m getting to that. Because Edinburgh didn’t have much room to expand outward, it expanded upward. And we had skyscrapers seven storeys high and packed with living bodies even then. It was a time before modern waste disposal and the streets of the city served as its reeking sewers. People would dump their putrid waste, human and otherwise, out the windows and let it drain down the buildings and into the street."

  Kayla and Liv’s expressions turned sour.

  Sylla nodded solemnly. "Exactly. Imagine…" her voice dropped again and Kayla and Liv were forced to inch a little closer. "Imagine, if you dare, the vile stench of a hot summer’s day. It’s enough to turn the strongest of stomachs. Now, most of this foul matter eventually drained down into Nor’ Loch, the low point of the city, which also happened to be the water supply that was used for drinking and bathing and so on."

  Liv shuddered. "Ewww."

  "In the year of our Lord sixteen and forty-five, the plague came to Edinburgh. Rats brought it. Or to be more precise, fleas on rats. Rats became infected when the fleas bit them. The vile little rodents eat garbage and human waste; the streets were teaming with them. Do you know what happens when someone contracts the plague, Liv?"

  Liv swallowed. "They die?"

  "Oh, yes, they die. But it’s how they die that makes it so remarkable. At first it seems as though they’ve caught nothing more then a cold. They get the chills, a fever, and cough a bit, nothing too serious. Until the second day.…"

  Kayla wrapped her arm around Liv’s shoulders when she felt her partner grow more tense as the tale progressed.

  "On the second day, tiny red dots appear all over the poor soul’s body. Then they can’t hide it. Everyone knows! And they run at the sight of you. ‘Plague bearer!’ they shout. ‘Carrier of the Black Death!’ Tumors form in your armpits and your groin, growing by the hour, dark circles ring the victims eyes." Sylla’s hands flew to her chest. "You begin to vomit blood and your stomach twists with maddening cramps. Enormous, festering boils cover most of your body and fill to breaking point with hot, thick pus. And break they do, sending more disease-filled fluid over your skin, creating more and more boils." Sylla finally took a breath.

  So did Liv.

  "Then the boils turn black as death itself, and soon your body is as splotchy as a rotting corpse. That’s why it’s called the Black Death." Sylla’s tone turned more conversational. "You’ve probably heard that term used before."

  Liv nodded dumbly, green eyes wide.

  "In that year of Pestilence, the people of Edinburgh were dying by the thousands and the dark streets now stank with the foul odor of rotting flesh as well as waste. The City Council tried everything to stem the tide of death. It thought pets might spread the disease and ordered all the city’s cats and dogs killed." Sylla sighed. "Of course, dogs and cats killed rats, and without them the rat population swelled and the disease claimed more and more lives. Why—" She looked up at Kayla, who quirked a slender eyebrow, letting Sylla know it was time to bring her tale to a rousing end.

  The older woman cleared her throat. "Back to Mary King’s Close. It’s a dark, narrow alleyway that still exists to this very day. The plague hit the tenements there especially hard. The City Council was desperate. It had to do something or they would all perish. Nearly half the population of Edinburgh had already fallen victim. Mary Kings Close was known to harbor a great many sinners, and had been hit especially hard by the disease."

  "You mean Catholics," Kayla snorted.

  "Ay, they were mostly Catholic." Sylla shot Kayla an annoyed glance for the interruption. "In an effort to stop the spreading doom, the entrance to the close was boarded shut and guards were posted there. No one was to go in or out. Ever. All this was done with four hundred men, women, and children still inside. Their cries for food, water, and mercy rang out for days and days until finally all went silent. And every single wretched, pitiful soul perished in abject misery."

  Kayla frowned at Liv’s suddenly unhealthy pallor. "Enough," she warned Sylla.

  "Fine." Sylla brushed a piece of non-existent lint from her skirts. "I was finished anyway," she said, adding a touch of martyrdom for flair.

  Subtly, Liv gave Kayla’s hand a reassuring squeeze. "I’m fine, Kayla." Liv turned back to Sylla. "What happened next?"

  She smirked at Kayla before continuing. "The plague continued, of course. The City sent two butchers into Mary Kings Close and they dismembered the decaying bodies and removed them from their urban tomb. Slowly, the plague burned itself out and then vanished, disappearing just as mysteriously as it came." Sylla’s voice took on a woeful quality. "But the tortured souls of Mary Kings Close haunt Edinburgh to this very day."

  "Oh." Liv rubbed her eyes, somewhat dumbfounded. She had no idea how to respond to that story. "That was… an… well, it was interesting and—"

  "Was it really?" Sylla suddenly grinned broadly and Kayla had to use every ounce of her will power not to recoil at the sight. "Wonderful!" She clapped her hands together gleefully. "Do you think I should spend more time on the pus and blisters?"

  Liv stared at Sylla in wonder.

  But Kayla thought about the question. "No. I’d say that was just about right. Some do, some don’t. But you might mention that when an infected flea bites a human, it regurgitates a speck of adulterated blood into its victim, passing along the disease. "

  "Regurgitation. Excellent!" Sylla looked directly at Liv. "I’m moonlighting as a guide for one of our city’s many ‘ghost walks’. We go right past Mary Kings Close and I’ve been practicing my story. Folks do love to hear about ghosts and pus. But best of all, I can wear my Nikes under my costume. Anyway…" she pushed up to her feet, "I’ll go and find my husband, Mr. Cobb, and wrap up your twenty-five pounds of shortbread. I can’t imagine what’s keeping him."r />
  "Fifteen pounds," Kayla clarified.

  "Right. That’s what I said. Twenty pounds." And with that, Sylla Cobb sauntered out of the room, whistling a happy tune as she mentally calculated the sale.

  When she was out of sight, Liv rested her head in her hands and laughed weakly. "Oh, my God, Kayla. That has to be one of the most demented people I have ever met."

  Kayla chuckled softly and leaned back. She stretched her arms high over her head. "I’d agree with that assessment. And when she smiled…."

  Liv’s whole body shook and she wrapped her arms around herself. "Ugh. I know. It was the most unnatural facial expression I’ve ever seen on a human." She exhaled a long slow breath and pinned Kayla with an inquiring stare. "You knew what she was going to say, didn’t you?"

  "I went on one of the ghost walks a few years ago. It was fun, I suppose, but highly unscientific."

  "You sound like Spock."

  "The baby doctor?"

  "The Vulcan."

  "Oh." Kayla’s eyebrows lifted and unconsciously felt her ears to see if they were too pointy. "Are you calling me a geek?"

  "Pretty much," Liv said amiably.

  "Okay. I was just checking."

  "I just thank God Sylla’s gross tale was fiction." Liv’s face twisted in disgust. "That was horrible."

  Fiction? Oh, boy. "Ahh.…" Kayla chewed her lip. "Listen, Liv—"

  Liv shook her head. "No, no, no. You listen." She waggled her finger at her lover. "I don’t care about the truth. I just don’t want nightmares. I’m very talented when it comes to harnessing the power of denial. Just ask my high school boyfriend. Now, repeat after me: It was just a story…." She smiled impishly. "And I love you more than a pig loves slop, Liv."

  Kayla’s eyebrows jumped. "Only if you say the same to me – except that you have to love me more than shortbread cookies."

  "Don’t push your luck."

  Kayla burst out laughing. "I’ll do my best."

  "Thank you," Liv said sassily.

  "It was just a story. And I love you way more than a pig loves slop."

  Liv kissed her friend on the cheek then nuzzled the soft skin there. "Now isn’t this nicer than talking about pus?"