The Grotto's Secret: A Historical Conspiracy Mystery Thriller (30 page)

136

María suppressed a deep sob along with the desire to lie in her mother’s arms and weep. Despite the terrible dagger cuts on her mother’s legs, she couldn’t give up now; she had to survive. To save them.

After sniffing, she inhaled deeply to clear the weakness rising in her chest. ‘You will walk. We have the rizado to heal those wounds. I will read the journal to find your remedy and we will get you walking again.’

Madre’s hand shot out and cupped María’s cheek. ‘Sweet little
mi querida
, always the strong one with so much faith.’

‘I learnt that from you, Mama.’ She glanced over her shoulder again. The tangle of burnt rope was almost off her wrists. ‘Hurry, Mama, hurry.’

Her mother picked for a few more minutes and the last strand broke, freeing María’s singed arms. She stared at the scarred mess for a moment. It would be an annoyance to do many things with crippled hands. Worse than all, she wouldn’t be able to write. Once again, that feeble maiden’s weakness threatened to consume her. María swallowed hard.

The deep lust for life, gained on her journeys with Padre, filled her with renewed determination. Never would she live in bounds. Never would she assign limits to the desires she had always strived after. No, she would write, even if every word filled her with pain.

María joined her mother, picking the ropes at her ankles. She ignored her raw fingertips and crunched on the inflamed agony. Every movement shot flashes of torment up her arms. After a few minutes they finally got her legs free.

‘Wait here, Mama. Let me check outside.’ María jumped up and raced to the door. Cautiously, she pulled it ajar with her fingertips and peered out. The young soldier was nowhere to be seen.

Just then the sun burst over the hills in an orange fireball, lighting the garden. María stepped out and raced around the house. Everything outside was as it should be. In the early dawn, the birds chirped and flapped in the nearby trees, while the animals brayed their impatience to be let out of their pens.

Today she could not attend their calls.

María ran back inside. With careful, precise movements to avoid knocking her wounded hands, María reached into her stone hole and retrieved a wad of notes. The completed herbal
manuscrito
lay hidden in the underground cellar inside one of Madre’s clay pots, but this was other rizado notes.

Flinching in pain, she stuffed the notes into her breeches. Everything she touched scraped her raw skin, magnifying the torment. It had to be ignored.

María knelt beside her mother. ‘Come, Mama, let us be out of here with much haste.’

‘María, take the journal and hide it at the grotto. Then come back for me.’

‘No, Mama, I am not leaving you here alone. The young soldier will be back in minutes to inflict more suffering.’

‘But María —’

‘Mama! Never will we surrender. Better we die trying to escape than die by giving up.’

137

Still pinning the devil to the experimental shelf, Olaf flexed his neck. Ever since she had tossed one of Willow’s experimental poisons over him, his face had started itching like hell.

Now his neck started stiffening. He wondered what had been thrown over him. His mouth still tasted disgusting. Strangely, he could taste something that reminded him of almonds, but this tang was too bitter.

While Willow had been trying to piece together compounds that could fit the rizado formula, he’d spent a lot of time experimenting with natural poisons. Most of the dead things lining the walls had experienced horrific deaths.

As Olaf shoved his elbow into the devil’s neck, he noticed his dragon had turned a bright cherry-red, with goose bumps bristling his favourite body art. His armpits started sweating. He felt beads of perspiration lining his forehead as well. The bright light gave him a throbbing headache and flashed and popped like paparazzi camera bulbs.

A sudden dizziness overwhelmed him. Excitement at the thought of teaching the devil the lesson she deserved made his heart beat faster. His breathing accelerated and he panted in time with his heart.

Then he frowned; he didn’t usually react this way. Sure, he got excited when the
animaal
stirred and needed to break free. But this bizarre behaviour confused him. Half of him wanted to lie on the floor and sleep. Mad, totally mad
.

So far he’d enjoyed fighting the devil, but he couldn’t understand his sudden weakness. Olaf’s vision blurred. He shook himself, trying desperately to maintain control.

‘Stacie’s head is too big, but I’m sure I can get other parts to fit into
a bottle.’

138

A bitter burst of bile shot into Kelby’s mouth. Fear squeezed into her chest and closed its iron fist around her heart. The bastard had killed Stacie! And he was about to do the same to her.

Gary had sent her here. Not to give up, but to take these journal notes to the authorities. ‘You’ve destroyed my family.’

‘Not everyone. I can’t wait to introduce the
meisje
to the dragon. Little girls dream of dragons.’

The abrupt realisation that Punch-bag had not harmed Annie revived Kelby. ‘Where is she?’

His eyes rolled up. As he blinked, his eyeballs protruded and his pupils dilated. His eyelids flickered a few more times.

Kelby followed his gaze. ‘She’s here?’ A hot wave of excitement surged through her veins.

‘Under lock and key.’ His eyes glanced in the direction of the underground tunnel.

‘What do you want with a little girl? She can’t harm you.’

‘For now, she’s an insurance policy.’

‘I’ll give you anything you want — everything I own. Please just let her go.’

His hand closed over her mouth. ‘
Je praat te veel!
You talk too much.’

139

Once again, María knelt beside her mother, and placed her hands under her back in an attempt to lift her. A searing bolt of pain shot through her body, tipping her forward. She stumbled and righted herself. Breathing deeply, she tried again.

Although she was far from the fire, it felt as if the flames still licked at her arms. Under the skin they played with her flesh making it feel as if her arms were still deep in the heat. María grunted and gritted her teeth to stop herself flinching. She didn’t want her mother to witness her agony.

‘It’s no use.’ Madre tried to sit up, but instead leaned to the side, like a tree falling in a storm. ‘María, we must heal your hands before you can help me.’

María tried again to lift her mother, but yelped in pain as a blistered layer of skin came off one of her arms. The smell of her burnt flesh was still so thick and rich she could taste it.

‘Stop! Ana-María de Carbonela! Listen to me.’

Startled by her mother’s tone, María stared at her.

‘You are wasting time. Take the journal and get a huge bunch of rizado, we will heal your hands and then you can help me.’

‘But if they come back, they will kill you and hunt me down.’ María stood her ground. ‘I will not leave you, Mama.’

‘
¡Por dios!
You are as stubborn as your father! If you refuse to listen, go fetch his tool bag.’

‘By my faith!’ María exclaimed as an evil thought struck her. Had Mama the same thoughts as she? No, Madre did not have a bad bone in her body.

Gently laying her mother back on the floor, she mumbled, ‘As stubborn as my father, you say?’

Madre frowned at her. ‘Pray tell. I see the look of mischief in your eyes.’

María dropped a light kiss on her mother’s turbaned head. ‘Yes, Mama. My
imaginacion
may save us after all.’

Knowing the young soldier would not be far from the house, María peered out and leapt across the cobbles. When she reached Padre’s workshop, she stopped and glanced down the track, half expecting to see the young soldier. He would be back any time now. Every minute counted.

Thankfully, Madre had refused to clear out Padre’s workshop. Padre had used a wide variety of tools to shape stone blocks and slabs into homes for the local poor villagers and the rich land owners. María knew his tools for shaping stone, such as his range of mallets and chisels of all shapes and sizes. He also had hammers, some to use with a chisel to split rock. Others were used to produce rubble.

María ran to the back of the workshop. With throbbing fingertips, she picked a long chisel with the thinnest, most pointed shaft, and Padre’s stonemason’s hammer. It had one flat surface with a long chisel-shaped blade. Many a time she had watched Padre use it to chip off small pieces of stone, without needing a separate chisel.

Armed with Padre’s tools in her aching hands, she raced back to the kitchen. Madre still lay on the floor, but strained to move.

‘Don’t, Madre. Lie where you are.’

‘Did you get the
Piedra
?’

‘What stone?’ María frowned, Madre must be in so much pain she now talked in riddles. ‘When the soldier returns we will pretend all is as he left.’

‘Why? You must escape before he —’

‘There is no time, Mama. Please do as I say.’ María slumped into her chair and coiled a piece of the shredded rope back around her ankles. At that moment, they heard heavy steps thumping onto the cobbles.

‘Mama, turn your head and do not look this way. I do not wish for you to see what I am about to do.’

For once, Madre obeyed.

140

Olaf cupped the devil’s mouth to shut her up. He had no idea why he needed a desperate pee. Anxiety never did that to him. Maybe the throbbing in his groin was a hard on? More than likely.

Oh, he’d make sure the devil got a hard jousting. He needed to relieve his frustration somehow. What it was, he couldn’t focus on right now. He needed to slip back into the forest. ‘This fighting is getting us nowhere.’ He jiggled his jaw from side to side. All it wanted to do was lock up.

The devil stared at him. For a few seconds her eyes roamed around her forehead, juggling above and below each other. Then a third eye appeared. Olaf shook his head and focused his vision. Only two eyes again. In the right place this time. He drew his strength into his biceps. ‘See this.’ He indicated the dragon. ‘You ever been fucked by a dragon before?’

The devil’s eyes widened.

‘I have.’ His voice dropped to a whisper, ‘It’ll turn you into an
animaal
.’

Olaf felt his strength returning. His mind flashed to the forest and the carnal pleasures he had despised for so many years. Eventually, he had embraced them, and used them for his own tainted desires. Many a time he needed to be the forest
animaal
. The more he thought about it, the more his body energised.

‘When the dragon gets horny, there’s no stopping him.’

Suddenly, the devil fought against him. With all three of her eyes watching him.

141

María held her hands behind her back; one armed with the chisel and the other with the hammer. She tried to calm her breathing. Whatever happened, she must not alert the young soldier. She hung her head to stop her racing heart.

The young soldier kicked the door open and marched to her side. He reeked of sweat while his clod-laden boots sent a damp, earthy smell up María’s nose.

‘Where is the well?’ He bellowed in her face, spitting his foul breath onto her cheeks. ‘You are a lying witch!
¡Diablo!
’

María waited. Her head hung low over her pounding chest.

The soldier leaned over and yanked her hair. María launched herself into the air, both arms thrusting up. She lunged the chisel into the soldier’s chest and slammed the hammer over his head.

He fell against her, gripping his chest and groaning in anguish. ‘
¡Diablo!
You witch!’

As the sunlight burst into the window, blinding her, a fuse kindled inside María. Without thinking, she shoved the soldier off her and clubbed him again with the hammer. Hundreds of tiny sparks of pain shot through her hands. But María ignored them; she had only their escape to worry about.

One last feeble groan spilled from the soldier’s lips as he slumped on the floor beside Madre. María bent over him. A pool of dark blood oozed out of his head. She knew that sign. Although she loved animals, she had had to kill them for food. The same colour blood as of a slaughtered animal now seeped from under the soldier’s lifeless body.

María spun around to Madre. ‘Mama! We must go. Now!’

Madre nodded and lifted her arms. She didn’t look at the soldier.

María helped her mother use every ounce of her strength to haul herself to her knees. ‘Here, grab hold of me. Hold me around my shoulders. Lean on my back so I can keep my hands free.’

Madre nodded and lifted her arms. María and Madre spent the next few minutes grumping and groaning as they tried to get into a comfortable position to walk away from their home. Keeping her hands free, María used her elbows and hips to shunt her mother into position. She insisted her mother lean on her so she could drag her.

‘María, wait, you must get Padre’s precious stone.’

María ignored her mother’s remark. ‘Please, Mama, we must go.’

Before they had taken one step, María realised it would take hours, maybe days to get to the grotto. It was usually a short walk, but with her burnt hands and Madre’s tattered legs they would be lucky to get to safety before the men returned.

‘Here, Mama, hang on me. I will drag you, like a mule dragging a plough.’

‘Except I am a useless plough!’

‘We will mend your plough, Mama. That is what you have always done. You have put our community of people back in order when their bodies have come apart. You have taken care of any ailment you have met as an adversary. Now we will do the same for you.’

Madre smiled and took one last look around their kitchen. In a rasping whisper, she asked, ‘Do you have any writing hidden there?’

María followed her mother’s gaze to her hiding place in the stone alcove beside the fire. ‘No, it is in the cellar with the journal.’

Determined to get out of there, María stepped forward with her mother hanging from her shoulders like a ragged drape. ‘
¡Vamos!
Let’s go.’