Dragonfly of Venus

by Susan Ferrier MacKay

  “C’est maman,” he whispered.

  Declan looked at him in astonishment.

  “Tu parle Francais?” he asked.

  Jack nodded.

  “Tres bien,” he said. Declan surprised himself. He didn’t know he could speak French either. What else about himself didn’t he know? Why had Jack called Natasha an ogre? It was very odd.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

  Darkness had descended on Dorset by the time Elizabeth arrived.. Her GPS told her to turn off at Highway 35 and follow a winding side road for 20 kilometres. The evening light began to play tricks with Elizabeth’s vision. Shadows, accentuated by an ascending full moon, waved in tall grass beside the road. Once, Elizabeth slammed on the brakes, convinced she was seeing a moose but it turned out to be a large boulder. She wondered if she might need glasses, at least for driving at night. She was almost there.

  Elizabeth’s thoughts had been in a spin cycle ever since she left Toronto. What was Natasha doing in Scotland? Had she and Declan been involved in some kind of plot? But a plot to what end? How did the children fit into all of this? Could Declan really be alive? She and Effie had seen Declan getting into the helicopter and watched it fly away. The Scottish Coast Guard confirmed the helicopter crash and no survivors. Declan couldn’t possibly be alive. It must be someone who resembled him so closely that he could fool their children.

  “Oh Camille, oh Jack…where are you? Where are you?”

  Elizabeth stifled a sob. Wherever they were, she hoped they were being taken care of and not frightened. This was her fault. If she hadn’t insisted they go to school they’d be with her now. Instead…instead… Elizabeth gripped the steering wheel until her knuckles whitened. Even though she was exhausted a steady fuel of adrenaline kept her going. Tall pines flashed past punctuated with huge reddish-brown outcroppings of rock. Traffic mostly disappeared. She put her foot to the gas. So what if she got stopped for speeding. She’d force the cop to come with her. Slivers of moonlit water, silver flashes of lake all blurred past as she tried not to cry, as she tore to the rescue. She prayed, as she’d never prayed in her life, that she wouldn’t be too late.

  ***

  A GPS woman’s voice announced Elizabeth had arrived at her destination. She stopped the car and got out. A wrought iron gateway blocked the entrance to a sandy driveway. She could buzz an intercom system to open the gate but she wasn’t about to do that. Why had Khaleed Khomeini failed to mention the gate and given her the combination? She could call him. She checked her phone and saw it wasn’t receiving a signal. Damn.

  Elizabeth surveyed the grounds. Fresh tire tracks led away from the gate. If it wasn’t someone else visiting the cottage, it was definitely Natasha. The gate looked as if it would give way if she nudged it with her car. It didn’t look strong but she didn’t know how near it was to the cottage. She wanted to arrive undetected. What to do now?

  Both sides of the road were densely wooded. Elizabeth felt sure the gate was a form of cosmetic security as much as anything. It probably didn’t extend that far on either side into the woods. It was worth trying to see if she could get around it on foot. Sure enough, the railings stopped after a hundred metres. Elizabeth slipped around them and doubled back towards the driveway, keeping to the periphery in case a car appeared and she could hide herself.

  Elizabeth was grateful for a small penlight attached to her car keys. It made navigating swampy areas and treacherous stumps a lot easier.

  Elizabeth heard the crack of a breaking twig behind her. She swung her light around, catching a brief glimpse of yellow eyes and a hint of bushy tail before the animal disappeared.

  A wolf, thought Elizabeth, my animal totem. The spirit of the wolf was protecting her. She had researched wolf behaviour after her disturbing dream and knew there was no reason to be scared. Wolves were deathly afraid of humans and wouldn’t come near. The fact she’d seen one was a good omen. Now, a bear on the other hand...she quickened her pace.

  ***

  Natasha opened a bottle of wine. The children were sleeping. She’d made a cozy fire for her and Declan. Maybe tonight she’d be able to arouse him. The thought of lying naked with Declan on a rug in front of the fire was sexy. She could feel herself tingle.

  “Decky baby?” she said.

  Declan looked up from an old ‘Cottage Life’ magazine he was reading.

  “We’re getting low on logs. D’ya think you could go and chop a few so we can keep the fire going?”

  “Uh, yeah, sure,” said Declan.

  Natasha admired his agility and grace as he got up from the chair. His strength certainly seemed to be returning. Yes, tonight would be the night, she told herself. She’d fuck Declan if it was the last thing she ever did. She heard the thwack of an axe on wood. She’d never felt happier.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

  The sound of logs being split alerted Elizabeth to the fact she’d arrived. She hid behind a tree and, by the light spilling from the cottage, watched a man raising an axe above his head and bringing it down hard, splintering wood into small pieces. She had to restrain herself from screaming. It was Declan. There was no doubt.

  He was leaner than she remembered but there was something in the way he moved that confirmed it was her love. A pale light emanating from the kitchen illuminated his profile. There was no mistaking. His hair however, was gone, reduced to a dark shadow. Elizabeth hesitated. Was he in collusion with Natasha? Was this some cruel joke they were playing on her? Where were Jack and Camille? She thought back to the Declan she knew. He loved her deeply, she felt certain of that. He hadn’t been able to stand Natasha at the end of their relationship. What was going on? There was one way to find out. She’d have to take a chance. Elizabeth felt around her feet until she located a small rock. She threw it in Declan’s direction. It skittered a few yards away from his feet. He stopped chopping and peered in her direction.

  “Who’s there?”

  Elizabeth flickered her pen light on the ground to let him know where she was. Curious, he put the axe down and walked towards her. Elizabeth could barely stop herself from flying into his arms.

  “Declan, oh Declan,” she whispered as he approached. He finally stood in front of her. Here was the man of her dreams, a man who’d shared her deepest, darkest fantasies, who’d delighted in her wild imagination, who’d made her pregnant and was going to marry her. She thought she’d lost him forever to a heartless sea.

  Declan looked Elizabeth up and down.

  “Who’re you? What do you want?”

  The words shocked her like ten thousand volts. He didn’t recognize her.

  “It’s me, Elizabeth,” she said. “Are the children here?”

  Elizabeth was a name of enormous significance to him. At the same time, he found her question bewildering.

  “There are children here, yes. Why? What business is it of yours?”

  “Thank God.” Elizabeth began shaking with relief. “Where are they now?” she asked, her teeth chattering with nerves.

  “In the cottage, with their mother,” he said. “What’s going on? Why are you…?”

  “Their mother? You mean Natasha?” Elizabeth was shaken to the core.

  “That’s right,” said Declan.

  “No, no,” insisted Elizabeth. “I’m their mother.”

  “You?” Declan was completely baffled.

  “Yes, me. Kinnlochbervie? Scotland?”

  “I was in Scotland, yes,” said Declan.

  “You were in a helicopter crash. We thought you were dead,” said Elizabeth urgently. It was imperative she get through to him. The fog began to lift from Declan’s memory.

  “Who am I?”

  “You’re Declan Thomas,” she told him urgently. “You’re my Declan Thomas. The children, Jack and Camille…they’re ours, yours and mine. Don’t you remember? Oh please remember Declan.”

  Declan looked as if he was trying to arrange random words into a sentence.

  “Am I…am I wanted for murder?”
he asked.

  Elizabeth gasped. “Is that what Natasha told you?”

  Declan nodded.

  “ God no!”

  What kind of deceitful web had Natasha spun?

  Elizabeth grabbed Declan’s wrist and placed her own alongside it, shining her penlight so he could see where their two tattoos met.

  “See Declan: Look. The symbol for yin and yang. We got them together in Inverness. We were drunk.”

  Declan looked at her in distress. The cogs of memory started to turn. Grinding sparks. A black sea rushing to meet him. Songs and seabirds. Fragments of images joined together into pictures. An ancient time in a stone cottage. Surviving on bird eggs. Love. Children. Jack telling him in French that Natasha was a frightening ogre. Alarm bells went off.

  “We’ve got to get the kids out of here. They’re in danger,” she urged.

  “Elizabeth. Elizabeth my love. Yes. Come on.”

  Declan pulled Elizabeth out of the shadows. Holding hands they ran a few metres to the cottage. The screen door banged loudly.

  “Natasha?” roared Declan. “Natasha where are you? I remember everything.”

  The house was silent save for the crackling of a log in the fireplace. The children’s bunks were empty. A door leading from their room to the back of the cottage was open.

  “Where are they?” whispered Elizabeth.

  “Shh. Listen.”

  They could hear the rusty squeak of oars and the sound of splashing.

  “They’re at the dock,” said Declan. “This way. Lets go.”

  They headed back through the cottage and out through the sunroom. Declan grabbed a flashlight and put something in his pocket although Elizabeth couldn’t see what.

  “Hurry,” she said. “Natasha is evil. God knows what she’s capable of.”

  Declan’s mouth set in a grim line. His face wore an expression of fierce determination. Leading the way, Declan shone his flashlight illuminating a sloping path downhill towards the dock. A sinister stillness fell over the lake. The rowboat was gone.

  “Where are they?” cried Elizabeth.

  “Natasha,” yelled Declan. The syllables echoed back to him across the water. “Natasha, where are you?”

  Declan shone his flashlight over the inky water but there was no sign of the rowboat.

  “Natasha,” screamed Elizabeth. “Come back here. Please.”

  A heavy cloud scudded away from the moon allowing it to illuminate the lake in an eerie electric blue. Elizabeth saw a dark shape near the shoreline twenty metres away.

  She pointed. “Over there Declan”.

  His flashlight beam picked up the silver bow of the rowboat and the pale frightened faces of the children.

  “They’re not wearing life jackets, oh God,” said Elizabeth.“Jack. Camille. Are you okay?” she called.

  “Mummy,” cried the twins in unison.

  Natasha began rowing the boat slowly back towards them. She stopped ten metres away.

  “Well, well,” she sneered. “Isn’t this cozy? Such a lovely night to go boating don’cha think? C’mon kids, let’s sing. Row row row your boat gently down the stream. Join in why don’cha. It’s a round. Join in, or the kids’ll be going for a swim.”

  Declan and Elizabeth stood stunned.

  “I said join in,” ordered Natasha.

  Elizabeth began to sing in a quivery voice.

  “Life is but a dream.”

  “You too Decky.”

  After they’d run through the song, Natasha cackled, “We could build a fire and sing campfire songs together. How about that kids. Would you like that? Toast some marshmallows huh?” she said.

  “Please Natasha. Please don’t hurt them,” pleaded Elizabeth.

  “Now why would I do that?” drawled Natasha. “I’d never ruin yours and Declan’s perfect life, would I? You and your little family of four.”

  Natasha seemed to be considering something.

  “You know, four isn’t really a good number is it? The Chinese think it’s very unlucky. It symbolizes death.”

  Elizabeth’s knees were so shaky she had to sit down.

  “What do you want Natasha?” asked Declan trying to keep anger out of his voice.

  “What I want,” said Natasha, "is for Miss Perfect there to choose which of the brats goes overboard.”

  “Oh God no,” said Elizabeth.

  “Or, they both go,” said Natasha.

  It’s ‘Sophie’s Choice,’ thought Elizabeth. She felt as if she had been knocked sideways into another dimension where time was playing tricks. She was instantly back in high school English class, horrified that a fictional Sophie was forced to choose between saving her son or her daughter.

  “Come on Natasha. Come back here,” demanded Declan, “this is your last chance.”

  “No, no, no,” said Natasha. “This is your last chance. Pick one Elizabeth. Which one do you love more than the other?”

  “Please Natasha, please don’t make me do this,” pleaded Elizabeth.

  “Choose!”

  The choice was impossible to make. Elizabeth could hear the muffled sobs of the children across the water.

  “Choose,” ordered Natasha. “Or they both go in. You’ve got until three. One, two, th…” The number three never left Natasha’s lips.

  Elizabeth heard a whizzing sound, followed by a solid thunk. Declan had let fly with a rock from his slingshot. It hit Natasha squarely in the temple. With a cry of pain she toppled into the water, overturning the rowboat.

  “The children,” cried Elizabeth. “Quick, we’ve got to save them.” She and Declan both threw off their jackets and plunged into the cold lake. The boat was just ten metres offshore but events took on the slow motion quality of a dream. Both children were screaming. Declan reached Jack first. He grabbed the child under the chin and began a lifeguard’s crawl back to shore. Elizabeth reached Camille. There was no sign of Natasha. Even without the light of the moon, Elizabeth could see her daughter’s face turning blue. Camille’s teeth were chattering with fear.

  “Hold on darling. Tread water like you learned in swimming class with Auntie Effie,” gasped Elizabeth.

  Elizabeth gripped her daughter’s pajama top and began towing her. Adrenaline was pumping wildly through her body. In a couple of minutes she would have Camille safely ashore. Declan had reached the dock with Jack and plunged back into the water to help her. Using all her strength, Elizabeth propelled her daughter in his direction. Just a few metres to go and she’d be safe. Elizabeth’s thoughts seemed to be slowing down. She knew she must hurry. She must summon every ounce of energy and swim back to shore. Yes, that’s what she must do. But the cold lake was feeling oddly warm. And the moon on the water was so beautiful she felt she could relax. Yes, why not?

  A hand with long red nails suddenly pushed Elizabeth down, down, down. Without time to catch her breath, Elizabeth was out of air. Icy fingers of water rushed into her ears and up her nose. Everything became cold and dark, except for one thing; a single hand undulated in front of her face like a pale fish. Elizabeth caught the hand and bit as hard as she could. She tasted blood and lake. The force pushing her down let go. Elizabeth kicked hard and broke to the surface, coughing and gasping. She could see Declan had made it to the dock with Camille. Elizabeth swiveled around. She was face to face with her nemesis.

  “You bitch,” snarled Natasha. This woman had already tried to steal enough from Elizabeth. She’d be damned if she would let her take her life. Using stamina she didn’t know she had, Elizabeth scissored her legs together as hard as she could and launched towards Natasha. Elizabeth’s hands found Natasha’s shoulders and bore down. She could feel Natasha struggling and kicking but Elizabeth continued bearing down until the movement slowly subsided. Natasha’s power was leaving her. Natasha’s foot twined gracefully around a strong reed at the bottom of the lake and stayed there.

  By the time Elizabeth reached shore, Declan had carried the children up to the house. Elizabeth felt stran
gely sleepy. She wondered if she could take a nap on the dock. She also wondered where the red flashing lights had come from.

  “She’s here. She’s safe,” said a masculine voice that wasn’t Declan’s. A police blanket was thrown around her shoulders. The ordeal was over. Natasha was gone.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

  The days and weeks that followed the incident in Dorset unfolded in a blur of madness. Word spread around the globe of Declan Thomas’s miraculous return. Battalions of press camped outside Elizabeth and Effie’s house until Declan was forced to hold a press conference. He stated that he’d survived on Handa Island by eating bird’s eggs, fish, seaweed and rabbit. He made no mention of the McNamara’s. Declan wondered whether he’d hallucinated Fionnaugh and her family as a way to prevent himself going mad. The porridge burn on his arm had vanished as if it never existed.

  A police diver freed Natasha’s body from the bottom of the lake. Her body was cremated in nearby Huntsville. Khaleed Khomeni scattered her ashes around the cottage. He hoped that some would mingle with her mother’s ashes. Finally, his daughter was at peace.

  The coroner released a statement that Natasha’s Khomeini’s death had been ruled an accidental drowning. Elizabeth was greatly relieved. The ruling meant that there would be no charges. She and Declan could get on with their lives together.

  After a brief hospital visit to ensure Declan, Elizabeth, and the children were okay, Declan’s first stop in Toronto had been to his mother’s house. Joan broke down as soon as she saw him.