Deliver us from Evil (51 page)

then he turned back to me. "It is too late now," he whispered. His voice was angry and slurred. "For do not forget, Helen - it was you who persuaded me - you who looked at me with terror in your eyes, so that
I
might see what would greet me in every human stare, should
I
not flee, flee, flee my own desires across the world. So leave me, Helen, lest you tempt me to prove my own maxim true -
that will in us is overruled by fate."

I
stood frozen, paralysed by the force of his despair. And then suddenly,
I
felt someone seizing me by my hair and pulling me backwards.
I
screamed and, as
I
twisted, saw my former assailant risen to his feet. He had a dagger in his hand, which he held up to my throat.
I
kicked him as hard as
I
could; and as he cried out,
I
broke free of his grasp.
I
saw Lightborn reaching to the table for his own knife, but he was too late, for even as he lunged across the room his adversary struck at him, and
I
heard Lightborn scream as he fell to the floor - and then there was silence, and the whole room was still.

'Lightborn screamed again - a terrible, wailing curse.
I
ran to him, and cradled him in my arms. The dagger had entered his skull above the eye; and watery blood was seeping down his face. "The book ..." he whispered. Then he shrieked again, and his eyes began to glaze. "The book
...
Mortlake ..." His voice trailed away and
I
felt him slump in my arms.

'The three other men were all standing frozen in dumb horror.
I
ordered them to lift Lightborn and cover him with a sheet; then to carry him down to the river-front. So great was their terror and shock that they obeyed me without question; and so it was that
I
soon found myself, Lightborn in my arms, being rowed back down the Thames -back towards the house we had left that very night.
I
had not understood Lightborn's mention of "the book"; but
I
remembered his belief in the chance of immortality - and
I
found myself praying that we would discover it after all.'

'And your prayer was answered.'

Milady's lips twisted into a faint smile, in a manner of speaking.' 'How do you mean?'

She gazed through her window for a moment; then swung open the door and stepped out delicately on to the bank. Robert joined her, but she did not look round at him, staring instead across the river at the house. 'The Marquise had gone,' she said, 'when we arrived at last. There was only Dr Dee.' She laughed softly. 'He was not best pleased;

he kept telling me to leave him alone, to take Lightborn away. He did not want a murdered spy found in his house.' 'And the book? What about that?'

'Of course,
I
asked for it as soon as
I
could. Dr Dee fell silent for a moment. Then he shook his head and said it wouldn't help. The cipher still eluded him; he could not read the script. By now
I
was in despair.
I
knew that Lightborn was very near death.
I
asked Dr Dee to bring out the book; he did so. For a minute he flicked through the pages, shaking his head; then at last he sighed and slammed it shut again. Lightborn moaned, a terrible, dying sound.
I
reached for the book myself. Why,
I
didn't know - for
I
had never learned to read.
I
opened it, and
I
found . . .' She reached for Robert's hand. 'Lovelace
...
I
found
...
I
found that
I
could read it, after all.'

'You?' Robert stared at her in consternation. 'But ..." He shook his head. 'How?'

it was not ..." - Milady narrowed her eyes - 'not that
I
was reading it - rather . . . that the script was reading me. How can
I
describe it? - no -
I
can't - for it cannot be described. It was as though
...
as though
I
had passed into a different world where everything was water - which
I
could ripple and disturb.' She bowed her head. 'Strange,' she whispered. 'Deadly strange.'

'Deadly?' Robert frowned. 'Yet its power - you used it, surely, to save Lightborn's life?'

'He did not die, if that is what you mean.'

'He awoke recovered?'

'Save for the scar.'

'And the book? Milady - what happened to the book?' She smiled distantly,
I
was never able to read it again.' 'How do you mean?'

'The script .
..
when
I
looked at it again - the next day, and the day after that -
I
found that it meant nothing to me - just a jumble of swirls and scrawls upon a page.'

'How was that possible?'

Milady gave a delicate shrug. 'And yet,' she whispered suddenly,
I
could not regret it. For just as Lightborn had been snatched from the very gates of death, so
I
too . . .' - she swallowed - 'so
I
too had been changed.'

She paused; and her voice, so lovely and haunting, had sounded for a moment so sweet with pain as well
that Robert reached for her at
once, and clasped her tightly in his arms. 'Changed?' he whispered in Milady's ear. 'How do you mean?'

She shook her head dumbly, continuing to stare across the river; then turned at last, and buried her face against Robert's chest,
I
was no longer,' she whispered, 'the person
I
had been. What else can
I
say? My innocence, perhaps - it was that which had been purged. For
I
had felt what it might be to soar beyond the bounds of mortal knowledge, to grow the mistress of forbidden sensations and dreams. Lightborn's yearnings had mingled with my own. We had braved the shadow of Death together; and we were - we are - indissolubly bound.'

She breathed in deeply, pulling down hard on the edge of his cloak; then turned suddenly and broke from his hold. She spoke an order to the coachman, who hurried down towards a boat moored amidst the rushes, and sat ready with the oars. Milady took her own place in the prow, where Robert joined her, and the two of them then lay back in silence as the boat pulled out into the silver-flowing Thames.

'And the Marquise?' Robert whispered at length, gazing round at the house. 'When did she ...'

'Make us into creatures like herself?' Milady hugged herself. 'Very soon afterwards. It was not difficult for Lightborn to persuade his superiors to pretend that he was dead. It offered him the perfect cover for his mission - except, of course, that he never followed it through. We travelled as far as Paris, and met the Marquise there. The result?' She smiled, and reached up to touch the diamonds in her ears,
I
became a lady - my Lady of the Dead.'

'And the book?' Robert pressed. 'Did you tell the Marquise you had read it? Did you tell her what it had done?'

Milady's smile broadened. 'Why do you think she is searching for it now?'

'And what do you think? Might it still be found?'

Milady shrugged,
I
ordered Dr Dee, before we left, to have it burned; for
I
knew it to be a thing of danger - and tempting, oh, so tempting. That was why
I
could never have destroyed it myself. And what
I
felt..." - she paused - 'maybe Dr Dee felt as well.' She smiled distantly. 'But do not ask me, Lovelace - ask yourself instead. What would you have done? Would you have destroyed such an instrument of promise? Look into your own soul.'

Her eyes glittered, as though tempting him to answer. Robert was relieved when there came a sudden bump from behind them, as the prow of the boat drifted up against the bank. He clambered out, then offered Milady his arm; and together they climbed in silence to the house. But by the doorway she paused suddenly, and reached up to Robert's ear. 'Sweet Lovelace,' she whispered, 'you must be very careful now. Do not trust the Marquise. For remember - if she discovers that you want the secret book too, she will look on you not as an ally, but as a foe.'

In the hours that followed, Robert was careful to heed Milady's warning. He found the Marquise still as shrivelled and lined as she had been before: her skin yellow, her hair dirty white and clumped in sparse tufts across her chin and oozing scalp. Only in her stare did she seem recovered, for her eyes were no longer glazed, but darted and flickered like the tongue of a snake; so that even as she sat hunched in her chair, she gave the impression of a ceaseless, ravenous mobility.

Robert gave her the flasks of
mummia.
The Marquise poured herself a glass, and drained it in a single gulp; then stared at Robert intently, suspicion and interest intermingled in her eyes. 'Report to me, then,' she said at length, 'how the Pasha fares, and the stories he had to tell.' Robert did so. The Marquise sat with hands folded, listening intently, probing with occasional deftly-aimed questions, until at last Robert's narrative drew to a close and she nodded, as though in satisfaction. 'You will understand, then,' she whispered hoarsely, 'my own interest in this book. For many years, while the original lay in the Pasha's hands,
I
was content to wait - for one does not lightly provoke the Pasha's wrath. But now he is .
..
weakened.' She smiled horribly, and touched her withered face. 'My own need too, you will see, has grown somewhat. So
I
would hope -
I
would trust - you will bear my interest in mind.'

Robert rose to his feet, and bowed. 'Of course, Madame.'

The Marquise curled back her lips, baring her jagged teeth in a smile. 'Naturally,' she continued, '
I
would not like you to think that
I
suggest that as a threat.
Quid
pro
quo
,
Lovelace - a favour will earn a favour; help will earn help.'

Robert stared at her in surprise. 'Help, Madame?' He narrowed his eyes. 'Help with what?'

She laughed. 'Bring me the book, Lovelace, and then you will find out.'

'Even the shyest of prick-teasers, Madame, know that temptation must be seasoned with a glimpse of naked flesh.'

The Marquise's eyes glittered as she studied him; then she nodded

shortly.
'Ma
chere,'
she whispered, beckoning to Milady,
I
gather you have lately been sick with plague-stained blood?'

'Yes,' Milady frowned, 'thank you, but
I
am quite recovered now.'

'What was it cured you?' the Marquise asked. She tapped the bottle of
mummia.
'Might it have been this?'

Milady's frown deepened. 'Yes, but. . .'

'Fascinating.' The Marquise hissed out the word.
'Fascinating.'
She grinned horribly. 'So it would seem that Tadeus' argument was indeed correct.'

Robert felt a shadow fall across his heart at the very mention of Tadeus' name. 'Tell me,' he whispered, 'what this argument was.'

The Marquise's grin grew thinner. 'The fruit of his observations and experiences in Bohemia. It is contained in this volume, which he presented as a token of his respect to myself.' Reaching for a book from the table by her chair, she flicked through the pages. 'Remember this?' she asked. She turned the book round. There was a drawing in ink upon the page; Robert did indeed remember it, for the Marquise had shown it to him once before. Now as then, it served to chill his blood. It was a drawing of the Evil One - of Azrael.

'So you see,' the Marquise hissed, closing the book again and putting it aside, 'there are books of secrets that
I
already possess.' She glanced at it again; then reached out to touch and stroke Robert's stomach. 'If you would share it with me, Lovelace - you know what you must do.'

Robert gazed at her in silence, then brushed at her hand to remove it from his stomach, it might concentrate my mind,' he said at length, 'to have just a hint of what the secret might be.'

'A terrible one.'

'You astonish me,' replied Robert coldly. 'Surely you can tell me something more than that?'