Loch of the Dead

by Loch of the Dead (retail) (epub)

  She would not accept my help. She stood up on her own and pulled strands of blonde hair from her face. Her eyes were on fire: anger, shame, frustration, all of them boiled in her striking irises, about to burst into raging tears. Had I just made a terrible mistake?

  Before I could entertain any more doubts I went to the door and opened it as quietly as possible – convinced as I was that half the manor had already heard my outburst.

  Natalja, still breathing agitatedly, grabbed her crumpled shawl and made her way out.

  ‘I shall never speak of this,’ I said as she passed the threshold.

  I thought she’d leave without a reply, but then she stopped and mumbled, ‘Meet me as agreed. My sister should not have to suffer because of my . . .’

  She did not bother to complete the sentence but simply scurried along the corridor. My eyes followed her until her white gown disappeared in the shadows, and then I peered in the other direction to make sure nobody had –

  My heart skipped a beat.

  Nine-Nails was standing there. God knows since when.

  We looked at each other in utter silence, and after a moment his mouth formed slowly into a grin so wide I could see every single tooth. ‘First time ever?’

  ‘Oh, shush! Come in!’

  ‘Hey-hey-hey! Don’t ye need a wee rest before –’

  ‘Nine-Nails!’

  My screech echoed along the corridor and McGray hurried in.

  He saw the drenched rug and let out a whistle. ‘My, oh, my! Youse were busy!’

  ‘Oh, do shut up! I had to fend her off. It was the most appalling behaviour.’ McGray made a few very crude jokes before I interrupted him. ‘Why are you here?’

  ‘Nae to be fended off, if that’s worrying ye.’

  ‘Either speak or take your puerile gibberish –’

  ‘All right, all right. Frey, I was gonna wait ‘til the morning, but . . .’ He pressed his forearm like he’d done earlier and he sighed. ‘I didnae tell ye what I found in Juniper Island.’

  I reached for my brandy. ‘I feel like I am going to need this. Go on.’

  McGray helped himself from the decanter before he answered.

  ‘The island is full of bats.’

  Suddenly, despite the thick dressing gown, the heat from the bath and the shame of my previous encounter, I felt very cold.

  ‘Bats?’

  ‘Aye. They’re like a plague, sucking the blood o’ the Nellyses’ goats.’

  ‘Sucking blood? McGray, are you sure?’

  ‘As sure as I’m looking at yer constipated face right now.’ He rubbed his stubble in frustration. ‘Go on, Percy. Mock me. Tell me I’m a hare-brained –’

  ‘No, no,’ I interrupted. ‘I . . . I saw them too . . . Or at least I thought I saw them.’

  ‘Really? When?’

  ‘On my first day here, when Miss Fletcher took us to Isle Maree. She rowed very close to Juniper Island and I thought I’d seen a bat. It was but a glimpse; I thought I was imagining things. Did the Nellyses say anything about the creatures?’

  ‘Nae. The missus just told me to ignore them.’

  I paced. ‘I assume you had a good look at them?’

  ‘Aye. These are nae the sort o’ wee bats I used to see at my dad’s farmhouse. I remember Pansy and I used to sit in the dusk ‘n’ watch them flutter around. The things here are much bigger.’

  ‘Like the one we saw months ago at –’

  ‘Och, nae! That one was a true monster. Nae, these ones’ wingspan must be about a foot long, maybe a wee bit more.’

  My eyes flickered as I thought. I pulled up a chair and sat down. ‘I vaguely remember reading, years ago, that bloodsucking bats live only in tropical climates. Mexico and the South Americas.’

  ‘How can yer head be so full o’ so much useless shite?’

  ‘Said by the man who can recite the names of all the Wiccans’ sacred hobgoblins!’

  He looked at me, very still. ‘Aye, ye win this round. Ye sure these things don’t live in Scotland?’

  ‘Not entirely sure; I read that years ago. But the Kolomans might have a zoology book on their shelves. I’ll check in the morning. I find all this truly disturbing.’

  McGray chuckled. ‘And there’s more. I spoke to Mr Nellys.’

  ‘About your sister’s –’

  ‘Never mind that right now. The auld man said – and he didnae want his son to hear this – that the bats come at night and bite him.’

  ‘Bite him?’

  ‘Aye. And he had marks on his belly. He showed me.’

  I felt as though a chilly draught filled the room. ‘Like Veronika. . .’

  ‘What about her?’

  I told him about Tamlyn’s story, Natalja’s note and our meeting at midnight. McGray looked quite stern when I mentioned the possible bites on the girl.

  ‘This lassie . . . d’ye think it was the bites that made her so ill?’

  I raised an eyebrow. ‘Yes, that is entirely possible. Why do you look so concerned?’

  ‘Well, that’s why I couldnae wait ‘til the morning to come and see ye . . .’

  He pulled up his sleeve and showed me his forearm. There was a long, deep scratch from his wrist to his elbow.

  ‘The bastards got me.’

  28

  ‘Good Lord, when did that happen? While you were chasing Lazarus?’

  ‘Aye. One o’ the wee beasts clung to my arm.’

  ‘You must have that cleaned.’

  ‘I fuckin’ did that, Percy. I washed before dinner, but it didnae help. This won’t scar.’

  ‘I see. Let me clean it again.’

  ‘What for? If I’m to catch anything, it’s too late now.’

  ‘Let me do it nonetheless. I still have a little of that ethanol. It might work better than just soap.’

  I went to the small chest of drawers, where I’d left Mr Koloman’s botde. There was just enough left to dab McGray’s wound.

  I took his arm and looked at the scratch more closely. Only very little blood had managed to clot around the wound, but it dissolved as soon as I touched it with the towel dampened in spirit.

  ‘What on earth?’ I let out with a gasp.

  ‘Is that normal?’ McGray asked.

  ‘Not at all. Perhaps –’ I looked up. ‘What time is it?’

  ‘It was close to eleven when I left my room,’ said McGray.

  ‘Good. I think we should go and check the Kolomans’ books now, never mind the morning. I will help you until midnight, and then I will go and meet Miss Natalja. If you might be infected with something, there is no time to lose.’

  I bandaged his arm and donned some clothes. McGray grabbed an oil lamp and we both headed to the drawing room. The manor had again gone utterly silent, our footsteps the only sign of life.

  ‘Why are we moving as if treading on bloody eggshells?’ McGray grunted as we descended the stairs. Until then I had not realized how tense we both were, like petty thieves lurking about the corridors of a prison. Perhaps it was because of the sharp shadows our lamp projected on the stone of the neo-Gothic walls; perhaps we both intuited something frightful might be about to happen.

  McGray pushed open the door to the drawing room and I could have sworn I caught the glimpse of a light dying out. Nine-Nails must have seen it too, for he stood still for a moment, his eyes going from side to side.

  There were the outlines of the books and the grand piano, the twinkle of the brass meteorology instruments, the unsettling shapes of the stuffed animals and the antlers on the walls. The long room struck me as a little colder than the rest of the house.

  ‘Very well,’ said Nine-Nails, placing the lamp on a central table, from where it shed just enough light on the endless bookshelves. ‘D’ye think there’s any order in these books?’

  ‘I would expect so,’ I said, walking along the lines of tomes, ‘unless they manage their books like you, in which case we might as well go to sleep.’

  Luckily that was not the ca
se. There were no tags or labels, but I soon realized that the books were grouped by subject: meteorology, history, chemistry, physics, medicine . . .

  ‘Cannae see any book that might talk about bats,’ said McGray. ‘Zoology? Biology?’

  ‘Look at that, they have James Blundell’s treatise on blood transfusion,’ I said. I pulled the book out, clicking my tongue. ‘Risky, dubious procedure. Works in a third of cases and kills half. Nobody knows why.’

  ‘Ye sure? I’ve heard they do it at Edinburgh’s Infirmary all the time.’

  I laughed. ‘I rest my case. Only the Scots could be so barbaric!’

  I was about to put the book back on the shelf but then I froze.

  ‘What is it?’ McGray asked.

  I tilted my head, staring at the gilded name of Blundell. ‘I do not know . . .’ I mumbled, conscious of how deeply I was frowning. ‘I feel . . . as if all this were terribly . . . familiar.’

  ‘Familiar?’

  I shook my head, looking for the right words. I kept my fingers on the book, as if any movement might scare away what little enlightenment I had achieved. ‘I can only compare it to . . . my brother Elgie playing fragments of a violin piece I’ve not heard in years. Something I feel I recognize but do not quite remember until he plays the entire piece.’

  We remained in silence for a moment, McGray allowing me to think. But when I finally shrugged and pushed the book back into place, Nine-Nails turned on his heel, nearly knocking me over.

  ‘What was that?’ he asked.

  My eyes followed him as he looked about the room. ‘What was what?’

  ‘There’s . . . I heard something.’

  ‘What?’

  He raised a hand, bidding me be silent, and even held his breath as he listened out.

  The hush was absolute, not even broken by the wind from outside, but I would not be deceived: McGray’s hearing has always been better than mine.

  After a seemingly endless moment I thought I felt something rather than heard it. Something in the air. There was somebody else in the room.

  Just as I realized it McGray darted forward, to the grand piano, and I saw a shadow lurking underneath.

  McGray stretched out an arm and pulled somebody out. There was a whimper and I instantly recognized Benjamin’s lanky frame.

  The boy covered his face as if fearing we’d attack him. An oil lamp rolled away, its glass shade making a racket when it hit the foot of one of the sofas. That was the light I thought I’d seen.

  ‘What the hell are ye doing here?’ McGray shrieked, lifting the boy and making him sit on the nearest armchair.

  ‘How many times do we have to tell you not to lurk around?’ I said, even more annoyed than Nine-Nails.

  Benjamin stammered and his babbling made no sense. McGray had to pat him on the shoulder. ‘All right, all right, we’re nae gonna impale ye. Why are ye here? Ye should be upstairs!’

  ‘I . . . I was looking for a book,’ Benjamin muttered.

  McGray laughed. ‘A wee bit late for a read, don’t ye think?’

  ‘I couldn’t sleep, sir. And you’ve just. . .’ He looked down. ‘You’ve arrested that other man . . . I thought there wouldn’t be any more danger.’

  My face must have contorted in utter incredulity. I would have asked him a good deal of questions, but right then McGray’s wound was my topmost priority. ‘We will have to seize your key. This has been one too many times you –’

  The boy lost all colour. ‘No! Please! I promise I won’t go out again.’

  ‘We should have never allowed you to keep a copy,’ I added, extending a hand for the key. I felt as though I were scolding a naughty son of mine. I saw Benjamin’s lip quiver as he cast a pleading look at McGray.

  ‘I am waiting,’ I said.

  McGray shook his head. ‘Ye heard him, laddie. We cannae leave ye to wander, especially at night.’

  Benjamin pulled the key out of his pocket, as slowly as if it took a Herculean effort. I snatched it only to put it in McGray’s hand. ‘Lock him up, please. I will keep searching.’

  McGray nudged the boy and Benjamin made his way out, crestfallen. Just as he crossed the threshold he looked over his shoulder.

  ‘Mr Frey . . .’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I think I saw a taxonomy book in the Shadows Room.’

  If the room was dark during the day, at night it was pitch- black. The oil lamp I’d found in the drawing room had only a little flame and the light did not reach far. As I stepped in I felt as if I were surrounded by a small bubble of light, everything beyond it a dreadful mystery. I would have felt a little uneasy with McGray by my side, but now, on my own, my footsteps and the rustle of my clothes were enough to make my hair stand on end.

  I felt silly, like a frightened child seeing monsters in his nursery. I tried to focus all my senses on the search, but that relieved only some of my anxiety.

  I walked along the lines of books, many of them very old, their leather bindings flaking off. The titles seemed to move progressively from physics to biology, and I soon found what I needed.

  It was a thick, blackened volume, dated 1860: Phylogeny of Mammalia: Chiroptera. It struck me as a very specialized book; then again, the Kolomans had hundreds of tomes in each room.

  I took it to the table between the two Chinese screens, the very spot where Natalja and Veronika had explained their diffraction experiments, and put the lamp down.

  I thought the flame trembled, but how could it? There were no draughts in the room and the lamp had a glass shade.

  ‘Your imagination, Ian,’ I told myself. I opened the book and immediately perceived the woody, musky scent of old paper. The book had no index per se, so it took me a while to find the relevant chapter. When I did, the first thing I saw was a ghastly engraving depicting a black bat clinging to the neck of a horse.

  ‘Hematophagous bats,’ I read, skimming through lines. ‘Three known species . . . all tropical.’

  The next page was a fold-out diagram of a dissected bat, showing all the organs and the pig-like muzzle in so much detail I felt my stomach churn.

  ‘You are not beautiful creatures,’ I murmured, turning the page swiftly. ‘Usually target large birds and mammals . . . any warm-blooded animal may be subject to attack . . . The spread of disease amongst cattle and poultry is common in these warm regions . . . Cases of rabies and anomalous fevers have been documented’ – I turned the page and again felt a shiver – ‘in farmers and young children . . .’

  The door slammed open and I dropped the book, which fell on the lamp and knocked it over. The shade shattered on the table.

  It was only McGray, carrying the other lamp. And he read my expression right away.

  29

  My pocket watch marked five minutes to midnight when McGray and I left the Shadows Room. He took the book with him to read at leisure, and left me to go and meet Natalja on my own. If the girl was to take me into her sister’s chamber secretly, it would be best we made as little noise as possible.

  As I turned the corridor’s corner I stumbled upon Boyde, who crashed against me, dropping the small candle he’d been carrying.

  ‘Good Lord!’ I cried, my heart thumping.

  ‘Sir, I am so sorry!’ he said, picking up the taper. I gave him light from my lamp. ‘I just went to your room. It was late – I . . . I thought you’d want me to take the bath away. Did you have an accident? I found water all over –’

  ‘Yes, yes, I did. Could you leave now, please? I want to rest.’

  ‘What about the bath and the –

  ‘Clear it in the morning!’ I snapped, and the chap finally understood I wanted him away.

  He obliged, though he looked over his shoulder until he reached the stairs. I waited there, in case the young man decided to come back, but after a minute or so he had not. I turned on my heel – only to be startled again.

  Natalja was already there, surrounded by darkness, her pale skin almost glowing in the lamplight. The ligh
t did not quite reach the hem of her nightgown, so, very much like the first time I saw her sister, Natalja looked like a floating ghost.

  Are you –’

  She hushed me, her eyes as full of anger as before, not quite meeting mine. I noticed she smelled of wine and her lips were slightly stained; she had probably needed a drink after our shameful episode.

  With a movement of her head – her hair was still damp from the lavender water – she bade me follow, and I walked a couple of yards behind her, as if an invisible shield stood between us. I realized there could be nothing but awkwardness between us now.

  We reached Veronika’s chamber. Natalja opened the door so silently I could have sworn she’d not touched it, and she led the way in. The room smelled of lavender, like the night before, and there we found the twin.

  The girl was fast asleep, her chest going up and down with her deep breaths. I wondered if her mother had given her more laudanum. She did not smell of it though.

  Natalja stood by me like a soldier as I lifted the blankets. Her sister did not stir. Thankfully her white nightgown buttoned at the front, and it was easy to undo it around her abdomen. Very carefully, almost fearing to touch her skin with Natalja guarding me, I pulled the soft material aside. Veronika’s skin, tight around her waist, was so pale her veins shone blue.

  And there were no marks at all.

  30

  And that was supposed to be my quiet night.

  I stepped into my bedroom, my mind swirling with ideas. I managed to wade through the noise and reduce the matter of the murder to the two most likely theories: either Dominik and Calcraft had murdered the priest and the constable (for some reason related to the inheritance issue), or Lazarus had been behind it all for some obscure reason he refused to reveal – his use of human blood struck me as a very real possibility.

  Then again, what if Benjamin or Miss Fletcher had –

  I shook my head, thinking I did not need to overcomplicate things.