Hidden

by Shalini Boland

  ‘Is Doctor Wilson on his way?’ she asked.

  ‘Should be here any minute,’ Morris replied.

  ‘Good.’ Esther pulled the heavy covers back, leaving just a sheet over Maddy. ‘She’s burning up.’

  ‘Hello!’ a man’s voice called up the stairs. ‘It’s Doctor Wilson! The front door was open!’ A tall thin man in his sixties, wearing a dark grey suit, jogged up the stairs and walked across the landing towards Ben and Morris.

  ‘I was just heading out when I got your call. Is this where the patient is? Good to see you, Morris. Keeping well?’

  ‘Can’t complain, Doctor. You?’

  ‘Yes, I’m fighting fit. Esther, nice to see you. Is this our patient?’

  Esther turned her mouth up, in what, Ben supposed, was meant to be a smile, but it looked like the corners of her mouth were being lifted with two pieces of string. He guessed she wasn’t used to smiling.

  ‘She’s delirious and burning up,’ Esther said.

  The doctor examined Madison, while Ben and the others looked on.

  ‘Aha,’ Doctor Wilson exclaimed. ‘She has some lacerations on one of her wrists. That could be what’s caused the fever but I can’t be sure. They don’t appear to be infected but I’ll clean and dress them, give her a tetanus shot and a course of antibiotics. We’ll see if that does the trick. Whenever she feels too hot, cool her down with a damp sponge. Make sure the sheets are kept dry after any sweats she might have. Are you able to stay here, in the house? To keep an eye on her?’ he asked Esther and Morris.

  ‘There’s tons of space. You can choose whichever room you want,’ Ben said, before either Morris or Esther could respond.

  ‘Very good,’ said Doctor Wilson. ‘I’ll call back round this evening. Ring me if she gets any worse.’

  Over the next few hours, Maddy drifted in and out of consciousness, tossing and turning, crying out, whimpering, talking gibberish or just staring glassily into space. When Ben returned from school, he ran straight up to her room to sit with her and see how she was doing.

  At the end of day two, Maddy’s fever eventually broke, but she still didn’t wake. Instead, she fell into a peaceful uninterrupted sleep. At last, on the third day, she finally came through the haze of sleep and opened her eyes.

  Three and a half days earlier

  Madison lay in bed. She guessed it must be about one or two in the morning, but she couldn’t sleep. The wind whistled around the house, creepers tapped out of time on the windows and she tried and failed to get comfortable, turning from one side to the other.

  She was thinking about the dark-haired statue again, but couldn’t bring the image of his face to her mind. She concentrated, but it was no good. Maddy had forgotten what he looked like, which was crazy, as she had only seen him a few hours ago. She knew it was mad, but she felt she had to go and look at him now, to lock the image in her mind. She switched on her bedside lamp, pushed the covers back and walked across the wooden floor of her bedroom.

  Madison crept downstairs in her t-shirt. The creak of the stairs sounded monstrously loud in the silent house and she hoped she wouldn’t wake Ben up. She tiptoed across the cold flagstones of the entrance hall and into the kitchen. Once in the utility room, she slipped her feet into her trainers, squashing the backs of them down with her heels, and made her way down the narrow, winding cellar steps. In her sleepy haste, she had forgotten the torch and had to rely on a faint glow of light shining down from the utility room.

  She switched on the halogen, illuminating the familiar surroundings. Through the open window, she heard the rustling of leaves. A fox screamed and something clanked rhythmically in the wind.

  Madison perched on the side of the crate, gazing at the face of her angel. How could she have forgotten what he looked like? His strong features and square-jawed beauty never ceased to take her breath away. She put one of her hands on his forehead and combed her fingers through his thick, dark hair, her nails, grazing his cold, stone scalp. She felt sleepily content.

  The statue suddenly sat bolt upright in its crate. It grabbed her arm with both hands and clamped its mouth onto her wrist, its grip like iron. Maddy was in shock, she couldn’t get away. She used her free hand to try to prise his fingers off, but they encircled her arm like a solid stone cuff. Its eyes were still closed. With horror, she realised its teeth had pierced her skin and were sunk deep into her wrist. But then, even worse, she realised that it actually felt nice ... It felt amazing and her body tingled, becoming light as air.

  Dizziness fuzzed her brain and she swooned. But almost immediately, it let go of her arm and snapped back down to its statue-like state. She was losing consciousness and then, like the shutters going down, everything faded to black.

  *

  Cold embraced her. She felt weak and stiff. Maddy opened her eyes and then had to close them again against the searing light. Where was she? She remembered something vaguely and tried to catch the edge of the memory, but it drifted off into another part of her mind and blackness followed again.

  *

  She woke some time later and now the coldness and numbness had completely taken over her body, along with an aching weakness. She remembered. The statue! No … Impossible. It must have been a vivid dream. But she knew it was true. It had happened. She inched open her eyes and forced them to adjust to the bright halogen light that bored relentlessly into her brain.

  She lay on the stone floor of the secret room. The sighing wind had stopped, replaced by the birds singing their morning song. Maddy carefully stretched out her body, testing each limb to see if she was okay. She was freezing, shivering uncontrollably. Her teeth chattered and her throat and eyes ached. Gingerly she tried to sit, but as she pushed herself up she winced as a stabbing pain shot through her wrist and she came over all light-headed.

  Maddy looked down at the source of the pain, viewing her wrist as if it was an alien entity that didn’t belong to her. She twisted it around to view the inner part and saw immediately what she had known she would find – two large messy puncture marks, with dried blood caked around them. She tasted bile in her throat and felt panic. She was weak and struggled to get to her feet. She leant on the crate and looked at him … at it. It looked like the same beautiful statue it had always been. It looked harmless.

  Madison staggered to the bottom of the cellar steps, but her legs were too weak to fully support her and when she finally reached the steps, she had to sit to regain her strength. After a few minutes she crawled upwards, screwing up her face in pain every time she had to lean on her wrist, exhausted at the mere thought of trying to make it all the way to her bedroom. But she craved the warmth and softness of her duvet and so she moved at her snail’s pace, inch by inch, through the kitchen, along the hallway, up the creaking wooden stairway, along the landing and finally, blissfully, into her room and her large, warm bed.

  She knew she should be thinking things, feeling things and doing things, but all she could manage was to close her eyes and sleep.

  *

  ‘Do you think she needs to go to hospital?’

  Ben’s voice sounded small and far away, but it gradually became louder and clearer.

  ‘It’s just … she’s been like this for ages now.’

  ‘Doctor said she’ll be fine. Exhausted from the fever. Needs to sleep it off.’ Esther’s voice cut through her brain like a cheese grater.

  Maddy lay there, unmoving with her eyes closed. Something had happened to her, something bad. She didn’t want to remember, but her memory rebelled, flashing up unwanted images. She remembered crawling up to bed, and now Ben and Esther were here in her room. She moved her hand under the covers to feel her wrist – it was bandaged. They must have seen! She opened her eyes.

  ‘There you go, Ben,’ Esther said. ‘She’s awake. No need for hospitals.’

  ‘Maddy, how are you? We was so worried.’ Ben leant over his sister, examining her face for any further signs of illness.

  Madison opened her mouth to sp
eak, but nothing came out. She mouthed the word water and Esther helped her to sit up, passed her a glass and helped her to drink.

  ‘You’ve been so ill, Mads. Talking in your sleep and everything. You’ve been asleep for three days. Three days! I mean, is that a record or something?’

  Maddy tried to take it all in. Three days? It only felt like this morning that she had crawled out of the cellar … The cellar! She had left the cellar door open and the halogen light on. The entrance to the secret room was uncovered. Had Esther been down there and seen the room? Worse still, had she seen what was in there?

  That statue was alive and dangerous. It hadn’t killed her, but she was sure it could easily have done so. She thought of all the times she had sat millimetres away from it and she shivered. But it had felt incredible when her wrist was in its mouth … No, don’t even go there.

  ‘… Maddy. Mads? Are you listening? I was just saying ...’

  ‘Leave her be now, Ben. She needs rest.’ Esther led Ben out of the room.

  ‘Sleeping again? She will be okay won’t she?’

  Maddy tuned out and fell back into a deep dreamless sleep.

  Chapter Eighteen

  1881

  *

  Harold awoke in his tent. His throat burned and his head felt as though someone had sawed through it with a rusty blade. He opened his dry, swollen eyes and looked up, expecting to see Victoria. Then he remembered. Could it have happened? Please God, let it have been a nightmare.

  Refet walked into the tent. The young guard sat cross-legged next to Harold and held a tin cup of water to his cracked lips.

  ‘Did it happen?’ Harold croaked, sipping at the deliciously cool liquid.

  Refet nodded twice and lowered his eyes. ‘I am sorry.’

  His wife was dead. She had been stolen from him. But his children … ‘Leonora! Freddie,’ Harold cried. He suddenly remembered the rest - what his children had become. He felt Refet’s hand on his shoulder. Thoughts came to him of the legend of the demons. But it was impossible.

  He had to know where his children were. Did Refet know of their strange awakening? Or had they remained unconscious, their condition undetected?

  ‘We have put all bodies into wood ... uh how you call them?’

  ‘Wooden coffins,’ Harold said quietly.’

  ‘Yes, cor-fins.’ Refet lowered his eyes. ‘They all in first cave near the ground. You take home.’

  Harold nodded and breathed a long sigh of relief. Refet did not realise all was not as it seemed. The dim light must have prevented the guards from seeing the changed nature of the children. They should all be safe below ground. He would go down and see if they still lived.

  He hoped they were all risen from the dead and that he would be able to hold his dear wife once more. He tried to sit up, but to move his body, was to feel sharp needles piercing his skin and bones. He groaned with the shock of pain.

  ‘Stay, stay,’ Refet said. You must get well. You have been ill with fever.’

  ‘I must see my family,’ he wheezed.

  ‘They not go anywhere. You must stay. Rest.’

  ‘But you do not understand …’ Harold tried to sit up again, but this time he almost passed out.

  ‘I know you want see, but first you rest,’ Refet said. ‘You sleeping three days, but maybe you need more.’

  ‘Three days!’ Harold ignored the shards of pain in his head and pushed himself up. ‘But they need me, I must go to them!’ He tried to stand and instantly fainted.

  Harold drifted in and out of consciousness for two more days before waking again in the middle of the night. This time, the pain was a dull ache throughout his body. Refet slept at the foot of his bed, his deep, regular breaths filling the tent. He was a good man, Harold thought as he pulled on a pair of crumpled breeches and crept past him.

  He walked shakily to the ventilation shaft. Two guards sat at its mouth and he motioned to them to lower him down. They looked at each other with worried expressions, but Harold insisted and they eventually complied. The rope cut into his chest and he felt dizzy and sick. He forced himself to continue and not shout to the men to pull him back up. Once at the bottom he had to sit for a minute until he felt strong enough to stand.

  The coffins lay in the small chamber. Eight of them. Harold guessed the three containing the guards’ bodies had already been transported back to their families, unless they too were changed.

  He prised open the lid to the first one. In it lay the five-day-old corpse of his beloved Victoria. She was quite, quite dead and Harold felt the hot sweat of nausea sweep up from his gut to his scalp. He staggered over to the corner of the room and dry-retched. He did not vomit, but his body shuddered and heaved and his hands shook uncontrollably.

  He pulled himself together and tried not to think of the body as anything to do with the vibrant, wonderful woman who used to be his wife. He replaced the lid and sat in the slimy darkness. All hope of being reunited with his beloved was gone forever. He had lost her. But he could not afford to give into his misery now. He had to check if there was still a possibility his children were … if they were … alive?

  Harold got to his feet and opened the next box, preparing himself for another awful sight. In it, he saw Alexandre. But this was Alexandre as he had never seen him before and not in a stomach-churning, decaying-corpse way. Before he died, Alexandre had undoubtedly been a handsome youth, but now … now he appeared almost luminescent in his beauty. Pale and flawless.

  Harold was transfixed. He nervously put his hand on the boy’s shoulder and tried to shake him awake, but his body felt rigid and hard, like stone. Alexandre did not move a millimetre. He did not even appear to be breathing. There was no doubt then. Something supernatural had occurred and the only explanation was that he had become one of the demons. But surely these kind vibrant children could not have become demonic.

  ‘My children,’ he whispered. ‘Are you too like this?’

  He set about opening each of the coffins. Marie-Louise and Didier were undoubtedly as dead as his wife, but all five children were transformed into these amazing sculpted creatures. None of them woke or twitched a muscle. Harold desperately tried to shake Leonora awake, but she would not rouse.

  He fumbled around for a sharp stone and dragged it across his fingertip. His blood dripped onto his daughter’s lips, but still she did not stir.

  He finally replaced the lids and called up to the guards to lift him out of the cavern.

  Later that morning, after sleeping a while longer, Harold awoke, washed and dressed. Refet smiled to see the Englishman up and about. Over the past few days he had made it his duty to ensure he was cared for properly and had whatever he needed.

  ‘Refet,’ Harold said as they ate lunch together. ‘I do not believe I have thanked you properly for your part in what happened the other night. I would surely be dead, if not for you. Thank you. I am in your debt.’

  ‘You are welcome,’ Refet said. ‘But I did nothing.’

  ‘No, you are too modest. You are a brave man of excellent character and I know Isik would have been proud of you.’

  ‘He was like father to me,’ Refet said. ‘I still not know what happened down there.’

  ‘Did you not then discover anything of what occurred that night?’

  ‘No one want look there. Too frightened. They say … the blood demons.’

  ‘Do you know of this legend?’

  ‘I did not know the full story which Bayan Sahin told. But everyone here has always known of the legend of these creatures.

  ‘What did they do?’

  ‘They killed people. They evil.’

  ‘Did they ever transform people? Make people like them?’

  ‘Yes. They change some. Maybe to make bigger numbers of their kind. Why you ask? You think demons kill you family?’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘I too think maybe.’

  Harold looked at Refet, trying to work out how much to tell him. He decided to stay silent
on the matter for the time being,

  ‘I thank you for the part you played, my friend.’ Harold repeated. ‘I thank you from the depths of my soul.’

  ‘You too are my friend,’ Refet said, putting his clenched fist to his heart and clasping Harold’s arm. ‘I wish could take your sorrow and throw in river.’

  ‘Yes, that would be good,’ Harold replied. ‘But I am afraid no river will ever wash away this pain.’

  *

  Before leaving Turkey, Harold approached Refet with a request.

  ‘Refet, my friend, please do not feel obliged to say yes, but I have a proposition for you.’

  The young guard listened.

  ‘I may need some help on my journey back to England and then, once home, I will have need of a trusted employee to help me with something most sensitive and secret. I should like to offer you a job, for life, with me in England.’

  Refet said nothing, but waited for Harold to continue.

  ‘I have a large, beautiful house and there is another decent-sized property on the edge of my land that you could have as your own.’

  Refet waited, but then when it was clear Harold had finished talking, he spoke.

  ‘This sounds like good … chance for young man like me, but forgive me, Harold, Sir, I not think you tell me whole truth. You must tell me what secret you hide.’

  ‘Yes, Refet, you are right. I have not told you everything, for in truth I do not know how you will react to this news and I need to know I can trust you not to betray my family. Do not take that as an insult, for I know you are a trustworthy man. It is just ... well ... what I am about to tell you may cause us to disagree.’

  ‘I not understand. But I never betray you. You have my word.’