The Prince of Mist

by Carlos Ruiz Zafón

  The voice seemed to come from far away, the words impossible to decipher. She stood in the centre of the room, motionless. She heard the voice again. Whispering. It was coming from inside the wardrobe. For the first time since she’d arrived at the beach house, Irina was afraid. She stared at the door of the wardrobe and noticed there was a key in the lock. Without thinking twice, she ran over and hurriedly turned the key to make sure it was properly locked. She stepped back and took a deep breath. But then she heard the sound again and realised it wasn’t just one voice but several, all whispering at the same time.

  ‘Irina?’ her mother called from downstairs. ‘Irina, could you come down and help me for a minute?’

  Never had Irina been so willing to help her mother, no matter what the task was that awaited her. She was about to leave the room when, suddenly, she felt an icy breeze on her face. It swept through the bedroom, slamming the door shut. Irina ran towards the door and struggled with the knob, which seemed to be stuck. As she was trying in vain to open it, she heard the key in the wardrobe door slowly turning behind her. Irina stood against the door of her room, too afraid to look. She closed her eyes tight, and her hands were shaking. The voices, which appeared to emanate from the very depths of the house, seemed much closer now. And this time they were laughing.

  *

  ‘When I was a child,’ Roland explained, ‘my grandfather told me the story so many times that over the years I’ve often dreamed about it. It all began when I came to live in this town, many years ago, after my parents died in a car accident.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Roland,’ Alicia interrupted, guessing that, despite his friendly smile and his willingness to tell them the story about his grandfather and the ship, revisiting these memories was probably harder for him than he cared to show.

  ‘I was very young. I barely remember them,’ said Roland, avoiding Alicia’s eyes, for he knew she was not going to believe his white lie.

  ‘So what happened then?’ Max insisted.

  Alicia looked daggers at her brother.

  ‘Granddad took care of me and I moved into the lighthouse cottage with him. He was an engineer and he’d been the lighthouse keeper on this stretch of coast for years. The local council had given him the job for life because he’d practically built the lighthouse with his bare hands, back in 1919. It’s a bizarre story, you’ll see.

  ‘On 23 June 1918, my grandfather boarded the Orpheus, but he travelled undercover. The Orpheus wasn’t a passenger ship, but a cargo ship with a bad reputation. Her captain was a drunken Dutchman who was corrupt through and through and used to rent the ship out to the highest bidder. The Dutchman’s favourite clients were usually smugglers who wanted to cross the Channel without a lot of questions being asked or any official paperwork being involved. Still, with time business had begun to fall off and the Flying Dutchman, as my grandfather called him, had to find other shady deals to pay off the gambling debts he had accumulated. It seems that on one of the nights when his luck was down – which was most nights – the captain lost his shirt in a card game to someone called Mr Cain. This Mr Cain was the owner of a travelling circus. As payment for his debt he demanded that the Dutchman take his entire company on board his ship and transport them secretly across the Channel. Mr Cain’s so-called circus had more to hide than a few simple sideshows and they needed to disappear as soon as possible. Illegally, of course. The Dutchman agreed. What else could he do? Either he accepted or he lost his ship.’

  ‘Just a moment,’ Max interrupted. ‘What did your grandfather have to do with all this?’

  ‘I’m getting there,’ Roland continued. ‘As I said, this Mr Cain – although that wasn’t his real name – had a lot to hide. My grandfather had been following his trail for some time. They had some unfinished business and my grandfather thought that if Mr Cain and his minions crossed the Channel, his chance of catching them would evaporate forever.’

  ‘Is that why he went on board the Orpheus?’ asked Max. ‘As a stowaway?’

  Roland nodded.

  ‘There’s something else I don’t understand,’ said Alicia. ‘Why didn’t he just call the authorities? He was an engineer, not a detective. What sort of unfinished business did he have with this Mr Cain?’

  ‘May I finish the story?’ asked Roland.

  Max and his sister nodded.

  ‘Right. The fact is that he did board the ship. The Orpheus set sail at noon and the captain hoped to reach his destination in the dead of night, but things got complicated. A storm broke out just after midnight, sending the ship towards the coast. The Orpheus crashed against the rocks submerged near the cliff and sank in a matter of minutes. My grandfather’s life was saved because he was hiding in a lifeboat. Everybody else on board drowned.’

  Max gulped.

  ‘Do you mean to say the bodies are still down there?’

  ‘No,’ Roland replied. ‘The following day, at dawn, a fog swept over the coast. The local fishermen found my granddad, unconscious, on this beach. When the fog lifted, a few of them went out in their boats and searched the area around the shipwreck. They never found any bodies.’

  ‘But, then …’ Max said in a low voice.

  Roland gestured to Max to let him continue.

  ‘My grandfather was taken to the town hospital and was delirious for days. When he recovered he decided, as a token of his gratitude for the care he’d received, to build a lighthouse on the cliff top and prevent a similar tragedy from happening again. In time, he became the lighthouse keeper.’

  The three friends fell into a long silence after Roland had ended his story. At last, Roland looked at Alicia, then at Max.

  ‘Roland,’ said Max, trying to find words that would not upset his friend, ‘there’s something in this story that doesn’t quite add up. I don’t think your grandfather has told you everything.’

  Roland remained silent. Then, smiling faintly, he nodded a few times, very slowly.

  ‘I know,’ he murmured. ‘I know.’

  *

  Irina felt her hands go numb as she tried, unsuccessfully, to force open the door. She turned round, gasping, leaned against it and pushed with all her might. She couldn’t help staring at the key that was slowly turning in the wardrobe lock.

  At last the key stopped moving and, as if pushed out by invisible fingers, it fell to the floor. Little by little, the door creaked open. Irina tried to scream but she couldn’t find enough breath even to whisper.

  From the darkness of the wardrobe a shape emerged. For a second she felt as if her heart was going to stop from sheer panic. Then she sighed. It was her cat. It was only her cat. She took a deep breath and knelt down to pick it up but then she noticed that behind the cat, at the back of the wardrobe, there was something, or someone, else. The cat opened its jaws, issued a deep, horrifying sound like the hiss of a snake, then melted into the darkness with its master. A smile filled with light appeared and two glowing eyes like liquid gold settled on hers as the voices pronounced her name in unison. Irina screamed and threw herself against the bedroom door; this time it gave way and she fell onto the floor of the hallway. Without losing a second, she hurled herself down the stairs, feeling the cold air of the voices on the nape of her neck.

  *

  Andrea Carver was walking through the front door when she heard the scream. She looked up and watched in horror as Irina jumped from the top of the stairs, her face frozen in fear. She called out, but it was too late. The child came tumbling down, step after step, like a dead weight. Andrea Carver rushed towards her daughter and cradled her head. A tear of blood ran across Irina’s forehead. Mrs Carver touched her neck and felt her pulse: it was weak. Fighting hysteria, she lifted her daughter’s body and tried to think what she should do next.

  As the worst five seconds of her life passed before her, Andrea Carver raised her eyes and looked up at the top of the stairs. Sitting on the last step was Irina’s cat, and it was staring at her. Andrea held the animal’s cruel, mocking gaze for a brief
moment and then, feeling her daughter’s body shudder in her arms, she reacted and hurried to the telephone.

  7

  AS THEY APPROACHED THE BEACH HOUSE, MAX noticed a strange car parked out in front. Roland saw it too and frowned.

  ‘That’s Dr Roberts’s car.’

  Alicia went pale.

  ‘Something’s wrong,’ she whispered.

  Roland raced ahead and Max had trouble catching up with him, even though his friend was also carrying Alicia. When they were just a few metres from the house Alicia jumped off the bicycle and ran towards the porch. Max, panting, followed her while Roland took care of the bicycles. Maximilian Carver, ashen-faced and with a glazed look in his eyes, greeted them at the door.

  ‘What’s happened?’ Alicia said, her voice trembling.

  Her father hugged her. Alicia let him wrap his arms around her – his hands were shaking and when he spoke his voice kept breaking. Max felt something tighten in his throat. He had never seen his father like this.

  ‘Irina’s had an accident. She’s in a coma. We’re waiting for the ambulance to take her to hospital.’

  ‘Is Mum all right?’ asked Alicia.

  ‘She’s inside with Irina and the doctor. There’s nothing else we can do here,’ replied the watchmaker, lowering his eyes.

  Roland stood quietly at the foot of the porch.

  ‘Will she be all right?’ asked Max, immediately realising that the question was stupid, given the circumstances.

  ‘We don’t know,’ Maximilian Carver muttered. He tried to smile at them before going back into the house. ‘I’ll see if your mother needs anything.’

  The three friends stood there, glued to the spot. At first no one said a word but then Roland spoke up.

  ‘I’m sorry …’

  Alicia nodded in response. Shortly afterwards, the ambulance arrived and stopped outside the house and the doctor came out to meet it. It only took a few minutes for the two ambulance men to go inside and then emerge, carrying Irina wrapped in a blanket on a stretcher. Max caught a glimpse of his little sister’s face, which was as white as a sheet, and felt his stomach churn. Andrea Carver, her face tense and her eyes red and swollen, got into the ambulance and peered out despairingly at Alicia and Max. The ambulance crew rushed to their seats. Maximilian Carver walked over to his two children.

  ‘I don’t like leaving you on your own. There’s a small hotel in the town. Perhaps …’

  ‘We’ll be fine, Dad. Don’t worry about that now,’ Alicia replied.

  ‘I’ll call from the hospital and give you the number. I don’t know how long we’ll be there, I don’t know whether there’s anything—’

  ‘Just go, Dad.’ Alicia hugged her father. ‘Everything will be all right.’

  Trying to hold back his tears, Maximilian Carver climbed into the ambulance. The three friends stood quietly, watching the vehicle’s lights disappearing into the distance as the last rays of sun lingered in the violet dusk.

  ‘Everything will be all right,’ Alicia repeated to herself.

  *

  Once they’d found some dry clothes (Alicia lent Roland a pair of old trousers and a shirt belonging to her father), the wait for news seemed endless. The smiling moons on Max’s watch showed it was a few minutes to eleven o’clock when the phone finally rang. Alicia, who was sitting between Roland and Max on the porch steps, jumped up and ran into the house. Before the phone had rung a second time she had picked up the receiver.

  ‘All right,’ she said, nodding at Max and Roland. ‘How’s Mum?’

  Max could hear the rumble of his father’s voice down the line.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Alicia. ‘No. There’s no need. Yes, we’ll be fine. Call again tomorrow.’ Alicia paused. ‘I will,’ she assured him. ‘Me too. Goodnight, Dad.’

  She hung up and looked at her brother.

  ‘Irina is being kept under observation,’ she explained. ‘The doctors say she has concussion. She’s still in a coma but they say she’ll recover.’

  ‘Are you sure that’s what they said?’ Max replied. ‘What about Mum?’

  ‘You can imagine. They’re going to spend the night there because Mum doesn’t want to go to a hotel. They’ll call us again tomorrow at ten.’

  ‘What will we do now?’ Roland asked timidly.

  Alicia shrugged her shoulders.

  ‘Is anyone hungry?’ she asked the two boys.

  Max felt surprisingly hungry. Alicia stifled a yawn – she looked exhausted.

  ‘I think it would do us all good to have some dinner,’ she concluded. ‘Anyone disagree?’

  It took Max a few minutes to prepare some sandwiches while Alicia made lemonade. They had dinner on the porch, sitting on the bench under the faint glow of the lamp that swayed in the night breeze, wrapped in a dancing cloud of moths. The full moon rose high above the sea transforming the water’s surface into a lake of luminous metal that stretched towards infinity. They ate in silence, gazing at the ocean and listening to the soft swell of the waves.

  ‘I don’t think I’ll sleep a wink tonight,’ said Alicia, sitting up and scanning the horizon.

  ‘I don’t think any of us will,’ Max agreed.

  ‘I have an idea,’ said Roland, a conspiratorial smile on his lips. ‘Have you ever swum at night?’

  ‘Are you joking?’ Max retorted.

  Without saying a word, Alicia gave the two boys a look, her eyes shining and mysterious, then got up and walked off calmly towards the beach. Max watched in astonishment as his sister crossed the sand and, without turning round, slipped off her white cotton dress. She stood at the water’s edge for a moment, her pale skin gleaming under the bluish light of the moon, and then, slowly, she submerged her body into the immense pool of light.

  ‘Aren’t you coming, Max?’ said Roland, following Alicia’s footsteps on the sand.

  Max didn’t reply, but he shook his head and watched as his friend dived in. He could hear his sister’s laughter amid the whispering sounds of the sea.

  He sat quietly on the porch, trying to decide whether or not he was saddened by the strong spark between Roland and his sister, a chemistry that escaped all definition and from which he knew he was excluded. While he watched them fooling around in the water Max knew, probably even before they were aware of it, that a lasting bond was growing between them, a bond that would unite them that summer and which seemed as inevitable as destiny.

  As he thought about these things, Max’s mind turned to the shadows of a war that was being fought so close and yet so far from that beach, a faceless war that would soon lay claim to his friend Roland and, perhaps, even to him. He also thought about all the events that had happened during that long day, from his sighting of the ghostly Orpheus beneath the sea to Roland’s story in the beach hut and Irina’s accident. Away from the laughter of Alicia and Roland, a deep anxiety took hold of him. For the first time in his life he felt that time was going faster than he wished it to and he could no longer take refuge in his dreams. The wheel of fortune had started to turn, and this time he could not stop it.

  *

  Later, by the light of a bonfire they had built on the beach, Alicia, Roland and Max spoke about what had been going through their minds over the last few hours. The golden glow of the fire was reflected on the damp, shining faces of Alicia and Roland. Max sat observing them for a long while before deciding to speak.

  ‘I don’t know how to explain this, but I think something’s going on,’ he began. ‘I don’t know what it is, but there are too many coincidences. The statues, that symbol, the ship …’

  Max thought they’d both contradict him, or else reassure him with the sensible words that escaped him, making him see that his anxiety was only the result of a long day in which too many things had happened. But they didn’t. Instead, both Alicia and Roland nodded, their eyes still fixed on the fire.

  ‘You told me you dreamed about that clown, didn’t you?’ Max asked.

  Again Alicia nodded
.

  ‘There’s something I didn’t tell you before,’ Max went on. ‘Last night, when you all went to bed, I had another look at the film Jacob Fleischmann took in the walled garden. I was in that garden yesterday morning. The statues were in a different position. I don’t know … it’s as if they’ve moved. What I saw is not what was in the film.’

  Alicia turned her eyes towards Roland, who seemed mesmerised by the dancing flames.

  ‘Roland, has your grandfather ever talked to you about all this?’

  The boy didn’t seem to have heard her question. Alicia put her hand on his and he looked up.

  ‘I’ve dreamed about that clown every summer since I was five,’ he said in a muted tone.

  Max saw the fear in his face.

  ‘I think we should talk to your grandfather.’

  Roland gave a slight nod.

  ‘Tomorrow,’ he promised, his voice barely audible. ‘Tomorrow.’

  8

  SHORTLY BEFORE DAYBREAK, ROLAND GOT ON his bike and rode back towards the lighthouse cottage. As he travelled along the beach road, a pale amber glow began to tint the covering of low clouds. His mind raced with worry and his nerves were on edge. He pedalled as fast as he could in the vain hope that the physical exertion might dispel the hundreds of questions and fears colliding inside him.

  Once he’d crossed the harbour and gone up the path to the lighthouse, Roland stopped to recover his breath. From the top of the cliff, the lighthouse beam sliced through the last shadows of the night like a blade of fire. He knew his grandfather would still be there, expectant, silent, and that he wouldn’t leave his post until the darkness had vanished completely. For years Roland had lived with the old man’s unhealthy obsession without querying the reason or the logic of his behaviour. It was simply something he’d accepted as a child, one more aspect of daily life he’d learned not to question.

  As time went by, however, Roland had become aware that the old man’s story didn’t quite hold together. But never, until that day, had he wanted to admit to himself that his grandfather had lied to him or, at least, that he hadn’t told him the whole truth. He didn’t doubt his integrity for one minute. In fact, over the years his grandfather had gradually been disclosing the pieces of the jigsaw puzzle, at the centre of which, Roland now realised, was the garden of statues. At times he did so through words spoken in dreams; more often through the half-formed replies to the questions Roland asked him, but somehow Roland felt that if his grandfather was keeping him from his secret, he had done so only to protect him. This state of grace, however, appeared to be coming to an end, and it was time to face the truth.