by Amy Cross
***
“Edgar?”
Standing in the doorway, Didi watched as Edgar sat at his desk. He was working on his papers as usual, almost as if he'd spent the entire day doing the exact same thing.
“I'm sorry I'm back late,” Didi continued, making her way over to the desk. “I... I guess I lost track of time. Hard to believe in a place like this, but...”
Her voice trailed off as she waited for him to reply.
“I love you,” she said finally.
He stopped writing, but he didn't look up at her.
“You know that, right?” she continued, hurrying around the desk and dropping to her knees, before putting her hands on his leg. “Edgar, I'm worried about you. I'm scared. Listen, you need to...” Pausing, she realized that there was no way she could tell him the truth.
Slowly, he turned to look at her.
“I need to ask you a question,” she added, “and I need you to promise you'll answer it truthfully. It's a simple question, and I only need a one-word answer, but...”
She paused.
“Are you responsible for James Nixon's disappearance?”
He stared at her.
“Edgar?” she continued. “Please, I'm going crazy here. Just tell me, are you -”
“Yes,” he said suddenly.
“You...” Again, she paused. “Did you kill him?”
“You said there would only be one question,” he pointed out, “and I answered it truthfully. I think that's fair.”
“But... You can't just say that and not tell me what happened to him.”
“I can,” he replied. “Believe me, if I told you all my business, you'd be shocked.”
“Okay,” she continued, “but -”
“We should prepare for bed,” he added, interrupting her. “I have had a tiring evening, and I would like to expend some extra energy.”
“You want to make love?”
“If that's what you wish to call it.”
Getting to her feet, Didi forced a smile.
“I'll put on that little night-dress you like so much,” she told him. “The one with the -”
“Whatever you wish,” he replied. “I'll be up in a few minutes. I just have some things to finish down here. Go to bed and wait for me there.”
“Sure,” she replied, turning and hurrying to the door before stopping and looking back at him. “And Eddie... You are careful, aren't you?”
“Careful?” He paused. “What do you mean?”
“If someone wanted to hurt you... Could they do it?”
“People have tried in the past,” he replied, “and I'm still here.”
“Yeah, but...” She paused. “Okay, Eddie. I'll be waiting for you.”
Sitting at his desk, Edgar waited and listened to the sound of Didi running upstairs. His face was impassive and motionless, as if his thoughts were far away, but finally he got to to his feet. After briefly arranging his paperwork, he crossed the room and made his way out to the hallway, where he paused and listened to the silence of the house. Once he was certain that he would not be disturbed, he walked through to the next corridor, where he found Jacob waiting by the door.
“The meal is prepared,” Jacob said, holding out a tray containing caviar, chocolate, truffles and a glass of red wine. “Everything you requested, as usual.”
“Excellent,” Edgar replied.
“Should I carry it out for you, Sir?”
“No need,” Edgar told him, taking the tray. “You know I like to be alone before I retire to bed.”
“Very good, Sir. If that is all, I shall retire for the night. By the way, Ms. Didi was asking questions earlier. She seemed most interested in the store cupboard. I fear that my answers might not have been sufficient to satisfy her curiosity.”
“Is that right?” Edgar replied. “Thank you for letting me know. Don't worry, I shall take care of that particular problem myself.”
Carrying the tray out into the garden, Edgar stopped for a moment to admire the view of the setting sun. He could tell that somewhere on Thaxos, someone was interfering with his business, but he felt no particular need to investigate any time soon. If trouble was brewing, it would find its way to him sooner rather than later, and that would be the time to deal with the nuisance. For now, he made his way down the stone steps that led to the lawn, and then across the grass until he reached one of the benches that were dotted around the area.
“A lovely night,” he whispered, staring at the dazzling red and orange sunset. “I can almost feel the gears of the universe turning, but I don't suppose you'd understand that, would you?”
Looking over his shoulder, he allowed himself a faint smile. There was no-one to be seen nearby.
“I think you can hear me,” he added. “Even down there. After all, if I can hear you when you scream, surely you can hear me when I mourn the dead?”
Setting the tray down, he turned to the nearby stone wall. He reached into his pocket and took out a key, which he used to unlock a small metal panel on the side of the wall. As he pulled the panel open, he peered down into the dark hole within. From below, there was a faint scrabbling sound, as if someone was waking up.
“Feeding time,” Edgar said with a smile, before picking up the tray and carefully tipping all the food down the hole, following it up by pouring the wine. “Enjoy.”
“Is that you?” a pained, tired voice called up from the darkness.
Edgar paused.
“At least say something!” the voice called out. “Edgar? For God's sake, let me out of here! At least -
Slamming the metal panel shut, Edgar locked it before putting the key back into his pocket. He wasn't certain, but he felt that perhaps he could just about make out a scream coming from deep beneath the lawn. It was the scream of a madman, the scream of someone trapped in darkness and forced to endure unending misery;most of all, it was the scream of a man who was helpless to escape the tortures to which he was being subjected.
“Good night, Mr. Nixon,” Edgar said finally, before turning and carrying the tray back into the house.
IX
As the first rays of morning sun began to show on the horizon, a single figure made its way down the narrow path that led to the western point beach.
Kate couldn't help but glance over her shoulder every few steps. She'd forced herself to go swimming again, even though the last thing she wanted was to be alone on the beach again. At the same time, she'd spent a mostly sleepless night worrying about her experiences of the past twenty-four hours, and she had finally come to a conclusion: there had been no children on the beach the previous day; instead, she had suffered some sort of hallucination, possibly brought on by temporary oxygen starvation caused by her swim.
It wasn't the greatest theory in the world, and she wasn't even sure that it made total sense, but it was enough to put her mind at ease. After all, she knew one thing for certain:
Ghosts could never be real. There was simply no scientific basis whatsoever for the idea that ghosts could exist, and if there was one thing that Kate valued above anything else, it was science.
Once she'd slipped out of her clothes, she made her way to the water's edge. There were other footprints in the sand nearby. It seemed that four people had been on the beach at some point during the previous twenty-four hours, and one of them had been kneeling. Telling herself that it must simply have been some locals, Kate wandered past the footprints just as the morning tide was starting to wash them away. Paddling out to sea, Kate soon began to swim, and this time there was no mist around to make the scene feel strange.
Once she was twenty meters out from the shore, she stopped and looked back toward the beach. There was no-one else to be seen, just her bag and clothes resting on the sand.
Forcing herself to embrace the calm atmosphere, she swam a little further out. She figured that a normal person would be enjoying the peace and quiet, but all she could think about was the fact that this was precious time she could have been using
in the archive room. She was also tired, but sleep didn't appeal; after all, she was still worried that Edgar might come to her in her dreams, and after the events of the previous night, she was keen to avoid him for a few days. She still didn't like Didi at all, but she felt bad for kissing a man who was engaged to someone else. She almost felt as if she was no longer herself.
Just as she was about to turn and head to shore, she felt something brush against one of her feet. She paused, treading water, and moments later she felt it again: it was almost as if a hand was reaching up from beneath the surface, brushing its fingers against the sole of her left foot. Telling herself that it was simply a fish or a piece of flotsam, she began the slow swim back to shore.
Beneath the surface, two young faces stared up at her, waiting patiently for the time when they would be needed.