Vengeance Child (31 page)

‘Still awake, Tess?' Her voice was gentle.

In bed a girl of around thirteen nodded. The face framed by wispy blonde hair wore the haggard appearance of someone who'd suffered. When she pushed back her fringe Victor noticed the girl's wrists were bandaged.

He turned to Jay. ‘This is Badsworth Lodge, isn't it? You're showing me a girl who's tried to commit suicide by cutting her wrists. And here is Laura at work. Is this what you want me to see?'

‘If you marry Laura, then she'll go away. She won't look after us any more.'

‘Then you really do love her.' Victor watched as Jay gazed with such pure affection at the woman. ‘I only said I was going to marry Laura to stop you from crashing those planes. Jay, I've no intention of marrying Laura. Do you hear me? We will not marry.'

Jay didn't respond. He listened in on Laura's conversation with the girl.

‘Tess, I know you didn't really want to hurt yourself.' Laura spoke in a soft whisper. ‘Now . . . I'm going to try very hard to make life happier here. To do that I've broken an important rule. My bosses will be mad if they find out. But I've bought this.' She moved the object that she'd carried into the bedroom so Tess could see it. ‘His name is Scraps. He'd been put into a rescue home because nobody wanted him. Lovely, isn't he?' Laura held the puppy so Tess could see it.

The girl's haggard face brightened instantly as she saw the bright eyes of the puppy look into hers. When she stroked a floppy ear his pink tongue darted out to lick the girl's fingers. If the wrist wound had bothered her before it didn't now, for the girl chuckled. ‘It's a tickly lick!'

‘Pets make people happy,' Laura told the girl. ‘It might be against the rules to keep a dog here but he's ours.' Although she laughed there was steel in Laura's voice when she added, ‘They will have to prise this dog from my cold, dead hands.'

Victor breathed deeply. ‘I thought Laura was special. Now you've shown me why.' The room grew blurred. Laura, the girl and the puppy receded to a speck of light. Victor grunted wryly, ‘Where now, O Shade? Or can I go home now?'

The world around him snapped into focus again. To his surprise he realized he was in the familiar surroundings of his living room. The television, however, was an older model. The evening sun shone through the window to reveal the same red sofa and a coffee table bearing neatly stacked wildlife magazines. Beside the magazines was a crisply folded newspaper.

Victor smiled. ‘That room hasn't been that tidy since . . .' The smile died.

A second later a woman came through the doorway into the room. Her thick black hair fell down over the shoulders of the green ranger fleece that she wore. Clearly she was in a hurry . . . a desperate hurry.

Victor glanced at the date on the newspaper. His blood ran cold. ‘I know what you're doing. You're showing me Ghorlan on the day she disappeared.' He shuddered to the roots of his bones. ‘Jay, there's no need to do this.'

Without turning to Victor, Jay said, ‘You've got to see what really happened.'

Forty-One

Victor knew it would be pointless to talk to Ghorlan as she moved about the living room. It would have as much effect on her as demanding answers from a character in a television drama. This is just a ghost of real events, he told himself. That isn't even Ghorlan. All he could do was bear witness to her phantom actions. She picked up the phone, dialled, then sighed. ‘Victor, must you have switched off your phone tonight?' She replaced the handset, pushed back her hair from her beautiful face then got busy. Quickly, she pulled a voice recorder from a drawer in the desk at the end of the room. She clicked her tongue in frustration when she saw that the battery power level was low. Clearly annoyed by being delayed, she opened a fresh pack of batteries, then switched them with the old ones in the Dictaphone.

Victor studied her face with growing perplexity.
Why is she so anxious? But then she seems excited, too, as if she's got to do something that's incredibly important.
Once more she dialled the telephone in vain. She made a tempestuous gesture with both hands as she called out, ‘Victor.'

He groaned. ‘This must be the last few minutes of her life. I found the fleece on the beach. But why did she go down there at this time of night? And what made her go into the water?' His heart ached beyond belief. ‘That last day I was giving a talk to students. That's why my phone was switched off.'

Ghorlan rushed back to the desk again, she opened a notepad, then picked up a pencil. Before she started to write, she checked the wall clock in exasperation. Victor thought he caught the words: ‘Can't or I'll miss him.'

Victor glared.
Miss him? Miss who? A man of course.
He grimaced as emotion threatened to overwhelm him. ‘Please don't show me what happens next,' he murmured to Jay. ‘I don't want to see.'

Ghorlan headed toward the door, then paused before leaving. She seemed torn between rushing to her rendezvous and one last task. After glancing at the clock again she dashed back to the telephone. ‘Please, Victor, have your phone switched on.' She hit the speed-dial key. Once more she sighed as she heard the recorded message. ‘OK, never mind . . . I'm still going through with this.' The record message tone sounded. Quickly, Ghorlan said, ‘Never mind, Victor. I'll catch you later.' After that, his wife raced out of their home for the last time.

Despite what he knew about the impossibility of interacting with anyone in this world he sped after her. At the top of his voice he cried out, ‘Ghorlan! Ghorlan!' Her name rang out into the forest. Victor came to his senses as he ran amongst the trees. He knew he was back in the present again on Siluria; even so, he couldn't stop calling out for his dead wife. ‘Ghorlan . . .'

Gales laughing through the branches mocked his grief. Ahead of him lay the castle. There was no sign of Jay. Once again, Victor Brodman was completely and utterly alone.

Forty-Two

In the gloom-filled forest Laura glimpsed Jay running through the trees. He ran with a herd of Saban. The animals' blue eyes were like sparks of a flame.

‘Jay,' she called. But he vanished into the undergrowth without showing any sign he'd noticed her.

The cloud brought an early dusk. Heavy drops of rain began to smack against the leaves. Tree trunks groaned as the breeze tugged at them. Laura pushed on. Her legs ached; she longed to sit down to catch her breath. But time was running out. When – if! – she found Archer she'd then have to find Victor. The second stage of this disease would addle his senses. In that state he might be capable of anything. And she knew he blamed Jay for the epidemic. Ahead of her stood the castle walls. Even though much of the fortress's interior lay in ruins, the walls were intact. She knew Archer had been fascinated by the castle. There was a chance he'd wandered up here to play in its grounds. Moments later, she broke free of the forest. Raindrops burst against her head. A cold trickle ran down inside her collar sending shivers across her flesh.

The big twin gates to the castle were locked. Standing ten feet high they proved a formidable barrier. Without keys she'd need a long ladder to have even a chance of gaining entry. Wasn't there a small side door? She paused, trying to remember whether it lay in the section of wall that lay to her left or to her right. Storm-force winds howled through the battlements as, shivering, she chose the right-hand flank of the wall. It ran like some bleak cliff face, more than twenty feet high, to a corner tower, then turned at a right angle. In this half-light it made for a gloomy, monstrous place. Laura devoted her remaining energies to searching for the door. Within seconds she'd found it, then came a heart-dropping disappointment.

‘Locked.' She turned the iron handle, tugged, pushed, then kicked at the old timbers. ‘I don't believe it.' The solid slab of oak was fixed tight into its frame. It didn't budge an inch. ‘Archer! Archer!' But if the doors were locked how could the boy be in there? Damn. She'd have to return to the village. Maybe she could find people to help search for him. Then, again, so many of the islanders were either sick or looking after sick relatives. And Victor, himself, might be comatose by now. Laura ran her fingers through her sopping wet hair.

Gusts of gale-force wind tugged at her clothing like vicious claws. A vulnerable child that depended on her wandered the island in a storm. The island was under quarantine, so the police couldn't help. The islanders themselves were dying . . . So wrapped up was she in despair that she ran by it without recognizing what it was. She'd staggered a dozen paces before she realized something strange projected from the castle wall that sat on its grassy mound.

Turning, she peered back through the rain.
Am I imagining this?
For there, projecting three feet from the stonework, and some six feet above the ground, was a slender metal pole. At the end of the pole a triangular pennant in yellow. Laura stared. The pole wasn't fixed to the wall. It protruded through what appeared to be a ventilation block. She took a step toward the pennant as it fluttered. Now she could see that the ventilation block was set in modern-looking masonry, which formed a bricked-up archway the size of a garage door.

The steel rod jerked up and down.
It's not the breeze making that happen.
Laura scrambled up the low mound to the wall. There were no other openings. Just a single block pierced with holes. Through one of them someone had pushed a slender rod with its fluttering pennant.

The moment she stood on tiptoe to try to see through the holes a frightened voice rang, ‘Laura! Laura! I can see you!'

‘Archer! Are you all right?'

The storm drowned out most of the boy's reply, but she made out the words, ‘Stuck here . . . cellar . . .' Then a heartfelt, ‘Please, Laura, get me out. I don't like it . . . dark . . . she might come out again. She'll hurt me.'

Frantic with alarm, Laura called, ‘Archer! Who's in there with you?'

The pounding rain obliterated his answer. Quickly, Laura reached a decision. ‘Just stay where you are, Archer! I'll get you out. It might take a few minutes, so be patient, OK?'

He shouted again. Even though she couldn't make out individual words she all too clearly heard his fear. Once more she tried to see through the ventilation holes. They were way too narrow. What was more, it seemed as if there was no light in whatever place Archer had found himself. She tried to slip her fingers through the holes below where the pole emerged, but the depth of the block prevented her from even wiggling her fingers through at the other side to reassure Archer. All she could do was call out not to worry, she'd be back soon to free him.

Rather than weave her way through the forest, she ran back to the main castle gates. From there a lane ran back along the island to the village. The first thing she was saw when she rounded the corner was Victor.

He approached the castle, calling out as he did so. There was such sorrow in the cry. ‘Ghorlan . . . Ghorlan, where are you?'

The rain blurred his image so much he'd become a ghost of a man. Laura ran to him, then grabbed his shoulders. He gazed right past her.

‘Ghorlan!'

‘Victor. It's me, Laura. Snap out of it.'

‘I saw her,' he muttered. ‘I was on the ship . . . the
N'Taal . . .
all those people, they didn't stand a chance. I-I held on to the baby . . . I really tried.
Ghorlan!
Where did she go?'

Fiercely, she shook him. ‘Victor. Victor! Listen to me. Remember who I am. Remember what you're supposed to be doing. Victor, give me the name of the boy you're looking for.'

He stared as if she babbled a language he didn't understand.

‘You're not well, Victor, but I know you can still hold it together. What you've got to do is to want to help me. Then you can start thinking clearly again. Use your willpower, Victor. Want to be well enough to help. You can do it.'

He studied her features. It was as if he saw someone familiar, only he couldn't quite place the face.

‘Victor. Who am I?'

As the rain streamed down his face he shook his head.

‘Remember this.' She grabbed his hand, then held it to the side of her head. ‘Can you remember when you stroked my face, and what you said about the line of my jaw?'

‘Soft. Like apple blossom.' He blinked. ‘Laura?' His eyes sharpened. ‘Laura, where's Jay?' He twisted round. ‘Jay was here a minute ago. My God . . . he showed me you. You were at Badsworth Lodge. A girl with bandaged wrists. You had a puppy.'

‘Scraps.' She grinned with relief. And, dear God in heaven, it felt such a big, stupid grin. But it was so good to see the man back to his old self. Even if it might only be temporary. ‘But he's grown into a big old pooch now. The dog with the bottomless pit for a stomach. The children love him.'

‘They love you, too.' He rubbed his face. ‘The ship. I stood on the deck. I was there when it sank. At the end the refugees weren't frightened. They were furious. Their anger! It was like standing inside an exploding bomb.' He began to walk. ‘We must find Jay. I think I'm starting to make him understand. We've got to persuade him to realize that what he's doing is wrong.'

‘Victor.' She caught his arm. ‘I've found Archer. Somehow he's got himself trapped in the castle. There's an old dungeon or something.'

‘Archer will have to sit it out. Jay's our priority.'

‘Victor. Archer's terrified.'

‘Jay is the cause of all this mayhem. If we can—'

‘No, listen to me. Archer says there's someone in there with him. He's frightened they will hurt him.'