The Colour of Death (31 page)

Fox wasn’t looking at the view, though, or even thinking about his vertigo.  His total focus was on what lay at his feet.

Chapter 45

Watching Fox leave had been heartbreaking.  Sorcha had felt as if all her hopes were leaving with him.  As she wondered what lay in store for her, she consoled herself that at least he was safe.

“You did well, Sorcha,” her father said, after Fox had gone.  “Remember, you’re one of the family and we look after our own.”  As Delaney walked away he turned to the Wives.  “Keep an eye on her.”

Sorcha ignored them and as soon as the lunch bell rang walked briskly toward the refectory, immersing herself in the crowd hurrying to lunch.

“Wait,” said Zara as she and the others followed.

Sorcha didn’t look back.  She allowed the crowd to sweep her along, carrying her away from the Wives.  They tried to keep up but the crowd pulled them further apart.  Just before she entered the large barn, she turned and pointed to the small block of restrooms at the back of the refectory.  Zara’s face lit up with relief and she nodded when she realized where Sorcha was heading.

Knowing she had only a few minutes, Sorcha hurried into the women’s block and locked herself in one of the restrooms.  The six-foot by four-foot room had a toilet and a basin.  The walls went all the way to the ceiling but the door stopped inches from the floor, leaving a gap.  She pulled off her white robe, revealing jeans and T-shirt, and hung it on the door hook, arranging it so the hem was not only visible through the gap but also obstructed prying eyes.  Then she stepped on the toilet and tried to pull open the narrow window, but it had been bolted so it would only open an inch.  Frantic, she searched the small room.  In the cupboard under the sink she found two rolls of toilet paper, a can of Lysol and a metal nail file.  Looking at the window, she realized the file wouldn’t help dislodge the bolt and even if it could the window was probably too narrow to squeeze through.  Then she felt the floor move under her right foot.  Bending down, she noticed that two floorboards by the basin, secured with two screws, were loose.  She managed to unscrew them with the tip of the nail file, and then pull up the boards.  The space was tight but she squeezed herself down the hole.

“You OK in there?” she heard Zara say outside the door.

“Leave me alone.  I’ve got cramps.  I’ll need a few minutes.”

“It’s just nerves,” Zara said.  “You don’t need to be anxious about Esbat.  It’s going to be fine.  We’ll all help you.”

Easy for you to say, you witch
, Sorcha thought, as she eased herself as quietly as she could through the floor.  In the space beneath, she crawled on her belly until she emerged from under the back of the block.  Her first impulse on finding herself outside was to run for the forest.  But what then?  Delaney’s land was in the middle of the wilderness and stretched for miles.  She had no food, directions or transport and her father would send people after her.  She felt the back pocket of her jeans, where she had put the iPhone Fox had given her.  If she managed to reach civilization and get a signal she could summon Fox.  But she would still be lost from herself — with no memory of her true identity and past.  If she left now she might never know what her father’s Great Work entailed and the part she was expected to play in it.  She might never know the reason why she had originally fled, or what had happened to her mother.  She reached for the locket around her neck, feeling its loss as keenly as a missing limb.  Her father had told Kaidan to return the locket to her mother in the tower.  When Sorcha had asked if she was still in there the Seer had laughed:  “Your mother will
always
be in the tower.”

What did he mean by that?  What had happened to her?

She had to find out, Sorcha realized, and she had to get her locket back before she left this place.  But how?  As the last chimes of the lunch bell caused colors to dance before her eyes an idea came to her.  It could work.  Everyone would be at lunch for at least an hour.  Filled with fresh purpose, she felt her fear subside.  Sticking close to buildings, trees and any cover she could find, she moved quickly across the deserted settlement.  Leaving the harsh glare of sunlight, she stepped into the shadow of the tower.

Chapter 46

The three human corpses lying at Fox’s feet were in various stages of decomposition.  Taking a handkerchief from his pocket he covered his mouth and nose.  Two of the bodies were male adults:  one in an advanced state of putrefaction, the other virtually a skeleton.  The body attracting the birds, however, was that of a middle-aged woman, naked except for a pair of hoop earrings.  She was freshly dead and Fox realized that the man had probably removed the bones from the platform and buried them to make space for her.  The weathered treetop, encrusted with bird droppings, was stained black with old blood and viscera.  Stifling the urge to gag, he walked to the edge, turned into the breeze and gulped fresh air.

In the valley below, he could see Delaney’s settlement in the distance nestled neatly in the bend of the river.  A bell began ringing and ant-like figures started moving toward the refectory.  Fox realized it must be lunch.  As he watched the Indigo Family obediently heed its Pavlovian call, he realized they would know nothing of the corpses discarded in the forbidden woods.  The exposed bodies and buried bones reminded Fox of what an Indian patient had once told him about the way the Parsi people dealt with their dead.  As Zoroastrians, Parsis believed that the body was impure and shouldn’t be allowed to pollute the earth after death through burial or cremation.  Instead, the deceased were brought to a ceremonial ‘tower of silence’, traditionally located on an elevated mountain plateau, and left exposed to the animals and elements.  When the bones had been picked clean and then dried and bleached by the sun, they were buried in pits of lime.  Delaney’s cult, which indiscriminately borrowed from various spiritual traditions ranging from Christianity to witchcraft, appeared to have adopted elements of the Parsi way of death.  Unlike the Parsi ritual, however, there was nothing spiritual or ceremonial about the way these bodies were dumped in the landfill site below.  A society can be judged by the way it deals with its dead and, despite Delaney’s obsession with all things spiritual, certain members of his cult appeared to have nothing but contempt for their dead.

Two large vultures settled on the woman’s body and he kicked them away.  As they retreated he noticed something that made him kneel and take a closer look at her corpse.  The stiffness of the body and the tight grimace on the face were typical of rigor mortis.  Rigor — when the adenosine triphosphate that enables energy to flow to the muscles drains from the body — normally sets in a couple of hours after death and lasts up to eighteen hours.  This told Fox that the woman had died any time from yesterday evening to early this morning.  What interested him more, however, was the bruising around her neck.  He had seen the familiar pattern before, at several crime scenes.  The woman had been fatally strangled with a ligature.  Suddenly, he was less concerned about how Delaney and his cult dealt with the dead and more with how they treated the living.

Looking out toward the settlement, Fox used his binoculars to search for the large man who had buried the bones, wondering again why he had seemed familiar.  Could he be the same man he’d confronted in the dark at Tranquil Waters?  Fox searched the path leading out of the forest but couldn’t see any sign of him.  He then scanned the deserted settlement.  A sudden flash of movement made him shift his gaze toward a small outhouse attached to the back of the refectory.  He steadied the binoculars and tightened the focus.  A figure was climbing out from under the crawl space.  It looked like Sorcha.  She was in jeans and a T-shirt.  No sign of the white robes she’d worn earlier.

What was she doing?

He watched as she got to her feet, crept along the back of the building and peered around the corner, checking the path was clear.  He had been right.  She
was
in trouble.  Mesmerized, he watched her turn to the forest, the obvious escape route, and for a second he thought she was going to make a dash for it.  Then she checked herself and instead began moving in the opposite direction:  toward the tower.

Why?

Another movement signaled Fox’s eye and he realized someone else was watching Sorcha.  The big man was leaving the cover of the forest and riding down the path into the settlement.  The man slowed behind a tree, then dismounted and moved stealthily around the perimeter toward Sorcha, following her every move, a lion stalking its prey.

Forgetting the corpses and his vertigo, Fox jumped down onto the platform below, stepped into the lift and urgently pressed the ‘down’ button.

Chapter 47

As Sorcha crossed the deserted settlement, her mouth felt dry and her palms damp.  The sound of her pumping heart made flashes of color dance before her eyes.  She again considered running to the forest but knew escape would be futile on foot.  She looked over at the horses.  Zara had said she was a good rider but she would have to ride bareback and the guards in the gatehouse would stop her before she got out of the corral, let alone crossed the bridge.  Her attention was drawn inexorably back to the tower as if her mother’s locket were calling her.  She wasn’t sure what scared her more:  discovering something so shocking it brought all her memories flooding back, or discovering nothing.  She quickened her step, keen to get inside before Zara and the others noticed she was gone.  She almost smiled when she realized it would be the last place they would look.

As she reached the tower, she detected a movement in her peripheral vision.  Then a faint malodor tainted the air.  She turned just as Kaidan’s massive frame appeared around the curve of the tower.  Before she could react, he grabbed her with his left hand and slammed her so hard against the wall the force expelled the breath from her lungs.  In his right hand he carried a rifle.

“What are you doing here, sister?” he hissed.  “Why aren’t you running away, back to your precious doctor?”

“I want my locket back,” she rasped.

He glanced up at the tower.  “You want to go inside?”  The smile left his face, replaced by a contemptuous scowl.  He parted the wall.  What makes you think you can handle what’s in here when you couldn’t handle it before?  What’s changed?”

As Sorcha caught her breath she studied the face of the killer she had run from in her nightmares and glimpsed in death echoes.  Delaney had said she and Kaidan were half-siblings but she could see little likeness.  His build was bigger and heavier, and his eyes and facial expression were coldly blank, as if all humanity had fled.  Confronting her nightmare in the flesh was strangely liberating.  After the terror and confusion she had endured over the last few weeks, she realized there was nothing more to fear.  She leaned forward until her face was inches from his.  “I don’t know what’s changed because I can't remember what happened the last time I was here.  I’m guessing I saw something unspeakable and I need to find out what it was so I can reclaim my memory.  Did it involve my mother, or the Great Work, or you, Kaidan?  If it involved you I’m not surprised I ran away, knowing what you did in Portland.”  She spat at him.  “You may be my half-brother but you’re sick.”

Something flickered in those dead eyes as he wiped her spit from his face.  “Don’t judge me.  You know nothing about me.”  He spread his arms, indicating the deserted settlement.  “You’ve lived all your life in these sunlit fields with the other indigo cattle, in perfect ignorant bliss, free of any responsibilities.”  He jabbed his own chest.  “I’ve lived only in the shadows.  You’ve no idea what the Seer’s asked of me, the sacrifices I’ve made to help the Great Work.  It may be an honor and a privilege but you wouldn’t believe the things I’ve seen.  The things I’ve done.”

“You didn’t have to do them.  You always had a choice.”

Kaidan’s eyes sparked into life and his face colored.  “You still don’t understand.  This is our destiny. 
Your
destiny.  I’ve proved I’ll do almost anything to fulfill his dream but because I failed him once he now doubts me.  You’ve done nothing but he now thinks you’re as important as me.”  He shook his head in disbelief.  “You return with no memory, the slate wiped clean, and he believes you’re ready to participate in the Great Work.  Even though you ran away the very first time you were tested.  Have you any idea what’s expected of you?  How far he wants you to go?  How far he
needs
you to go?”  He sighed, leaving the rifle against the wall and grabbed her in his arms.  She tried to break free of his grip but he was too strong and pulled her toward the door.

“Get your goddamn hands off me.”

“You want to see in the tower?  You want your precious locket back?  You want to know what happened to your mother?  You want to know why you ran away?  Come on.  I’ll show you everything.”

Gripped in his arms, squeezed against his hard body, inhaling his smell, she was suddenly overcome by an indistinct but powerful sense memory.  She couldn’t remember the event, only the visceral terror and revulsion it had invoked, but she instinctively knew it had involved Kaidan. 
What had happened in there?  What was he going to show her?
  Her newfound fearlessness gave way to panic.  It was one thing to steal into the tower alone.  It was something else entirely to be dragged in by a killer.  She fought harder but his large arms only tightened their grip around her body.  Controlling her panic she focused all her efforts on the middle finger of his right hand.  Closing her eyes, she snapped it back with all her force.  The instant he cried out and loosened his grip she kneed him as hard as she could in the groin.  As he bent double she reached for the rifle and, holding it by the barrel, brought the stock crashing down on his head.