Loch of the Dead

by Loch of the Dead (retail) (epub)

  McGray stuttered, watching the Nelapsi women scuttling away.

  ‘And the threat against yer life?’ he asked.

  ‘I don’t think there ever was a threat. At least, not to my life . . .’

  He was about to say more, but Miss Fletcher was already at the threshold. ‘Benjamin, we’re wasting time.’ Her blue eyes were fixed on McGray’s, both determined and ashamed.

  Benjamin went to his mother, the rifle ever pointing at McGray. ‘I’d love to stay here and chat, Mr Nine-Nails, but we have to go.’

  McGray followed him with stealthy movements. ‘Benjamin, there’s still time to –’

  ‘The master key?’ Benjamin snapped, and Helena produced it swiftly.

  ‘Master key? Where the hell did youse –’

  In one swift movement Benjamin kicked the door to shut it, but McGray hurled himself against it with all his might, moving the door just enough to avoid the latch clicking.

  ‘Push!’ Benjamin howled from the other side, perhaps to Helena and her mother.

  McGray moved his feet back, the better to shove forward, growling. The door creaked, giving way under his pressure, but only millimetre by painful millimetre.

  ‘The gun!’ Benjamin shouted. ‘In Millie’s pocket!’

  But right then the door yielded and McGray’s momentum carried him onward. His face nearly crashed against the opposite window, his hands slamming against the glass. He dashed towards the staircase, unsheathing his gun as he spotted Benjamin and Helena running away.

  Just as he planted a boot on the steps he heard a gunshot. The bullet ricocheted off the granite walls and he had to pull back, instinctively raising an arm to cover his face.

  ‘Och, respect yer elders, ye freshly weaned sod!’

  McGray took a deep breath, his heart pounding, and stepped forward with his gun at the ready. He rushed down the stairs and saw that the bullet had hit one of the rich tapestries. Then he heard a cacophony of screams coming from the main hall.

  There he found Mr and Mrs Koloman, bravely standing firm by the back door, blocking the Nelapsis’ way. Benjamin was just raising the rifle to point at his uncle.

  McGray half raised his gun, but he didn’t have time to aim.

  ‘Stop right there!’ Lazarus snarled, coming from the opposite wing and holding one of Mr Koloman’s guns – the polished brass and ivory grip could not have belonged to anybody else. He was aiming at McGray’s face.

  Lazarus must have been freed with that same master key, and then helped himself to the locked-up weapons, for he also carried two rifles and a sack of ammunition strapped to his back. He held a second gun in his other hand, and under that arm he carried a thick, dusty book.

  Natalja ran in, armed with nothing but a pathetic letter opener. Her cheek was swollen and there was a trickle of blood at the corner of her mouth. She was about to strike Lazarus but halted when he pointed the other gun at her. The book slid from under his arm and dropped on to the floor, wide open. Helena rushed to retrieve it, closing it with anxious hands, and all McGray could see was that its pages were filled with tight handwriting.

  ‘You got it,’ Natalja muttered.

  ‘Let us through!’ Benjamin shouted at his uncle.

  Mr Koloman actually smiled. ‘Benjamin, do put that down. You could really injure someone.’ His voice was all condescension. He still thought he was talking to a docile child.

  ‘Don’t upset the laddie,’ McGray said, descending the last few steps as slowly as his legs allowed. He could see Benjamin’s finger trembling on the trigger.

  ‘Let us through,’ Benjamin repeated.

  ‘You are not going with them,’ said Mr Koloman, the gravity of the moment slowly creeping over his face. ‘I don’t know what they might have told you, or how they made you take part in this preposterous scene, but you know nothing about them. Nothing!’

  ‘That’s what you think. It’s you I knew nothing about.’

  Mr Koloman looked at the ravaged faces of Mr and Mrs Nelapsi, one being carried like a child, the other cowering fearfully behind Miss Fletcher.

  ‘What lies have you told him?’ he barked at them, and then let out a mocking laugh. ‘Whatever it was, you can’t have told him the entire –’

  ‘Move!’ Benjamin roared, startling everyone. Even McGray.

  Konrad ground his teeth. ‘Why, you little –’

  Mrs Koloman pulled her husband’s arm, her voice breaking. ‘Benjamin, look out there. You can’t leave. You can’t possibly –’

  ‘I’d rather take my chances out there, Aunt. I’d rather sleep in the wild with them than in here with you.’

  Nobody could answer that.

  ‘We’re wasting time,’ said Lazarus, glaring alternately at Natalja and McGray.

  ‘And my patience is wearing out,’ Mr Koloman said, stretching out his hand. ‘You will give me that.’

  Benjamin held his ground. McGray even saw a drop of sweat fall from the boy’s hand, his finger still wrapped around the trigger.

  Mr Koloman shook his head, grunted and walked forward. ‘You’ll give me that! You little –’

  At once Benjamin lowered the rifle and shot. Mr Koloman roared in pain and fell forward, curled up on the floor. His fine shoe was now an explosion of blood.

  Not even Lazarus had expected that, for he half lowered both guns, and amidst the shouting and wailing McGray seized the chance to hurl himself on to him.

  Lazarus growled, McGray grasped his wrist and then saw Natalja jump into the fray too. The three locked themselves in a fierce struggle, Natalja throwing clumsy stabs at Lazarus’s face, McGray clutching the man’s wrist, thinking he’d not yield until he felt those bones snap under his grip.

  He felt an excruciating blow to his ribs and lost his balance, and Lazarus raised a foot high enough to kick him in the stomach. As McGray fell on his back he had a fleeting vision of Mrs Nelapsi, Helena and Miss Fletcher running to their freedom, dodging the squirming body of Mr Koloman.

  ‘Let him go!’ Benjamin commanded, for Natalja was still attacking Lazarus. McGray felt a chill when Benjamin hit her in her ribs with the butt of the rifle.

  Natalja fell right next to McGray, grunting and crying.

  ‘Cousin, please, don’t do this!’ she shrieked. ‘We love you!’

  Benjamin cast her a strange look, at once sad and enraged.

  ‘I’m so sorry . . . but even you are full of lies.’

  Natalja tried to say something but Lazarus pulled Benjamin away by the arm. The boy did not take his eyes off his wounded cousin until they reached the door and disappeared.

  McGray crawled clumsily, a hand against his temple, the other feeling on the floor for his gun.

  ‘Ye all right?’ he asked Natalja. She barely managed to nod. McGray found his weapon, stood up and staggered forward. Mrs Koloman was kneeling by her husband, holding his hand and crying like a magdalen.

  ‘He all right?’

  But McGray could not wait for a reply. He heard a throaty scream coming from the kitchen.

  ‘Where are the blasphemous bastards?’

  It was Mrs Plunket, her fat fingers grasping a shiny meat cleaver. Her young maid followed, armed with a carving fork.

  McGray pointed to the back door, and the cook pushed him ahead, her strength as vast as her hips.

  They ran across the lawn as the Nelapsis took the boat from the pier, all of them crammed in there. Miss Fletcher was rowing and Benjamin stood straight as a lance, pointing the rifle at them. Everyone else was ducking down, covering their faces with their hands or their coats. McGray heard Mrs Nelapsi whimpering in despair.

  ‘Stop!’ Nine-Nails shouted, running recklessly to the edge of the pier. Still dizzy, he nearly fell into the water, but Mrs Plunket pulled him back. She threw her cleaver at the boat, and McGray watched it catch the strong sunlight as it flew through the air. Just as the blade hit the stern gunwale Benjamin shot into the sky, and then pointed the rifle back at them.

  ‘Leave us a
lone!’ he shouted.

  McGray raised his gun, aimed and even squeezed the trigger a little, but then thought better of it. His head was still spinning and his vision was blurry from the blow he’d received. He felt a wave of burning rage, and roared and stamped his boots on the wooden pier so hard the old logs cracked.

  He stared out across the water, barely blinking, but by the time his senses were somewhat back to normal, the boat was but a tiny dot in the distance.

  ‘They win for now, sir,’ said Mrs Plunket, ‘but I’m sure you’ll think o’ something.’

  McGray and Mrs Plunket had to carry Mr Koloman upstairs. His own room was the nearest, and they deposited the groaning man on the bed.

  Mrs Koloman rushed in, sat by her husband and began carefully removing the blood-soaked shoe. Ellie arrived seconds later, carrying her mistress’s instrument case. At once Minerva pulled out bandages and iodine.

  The twins also arrived, squeezing each other’s hands. Veronika had not witnessed the commotion, but she looked as scared as everybody else.

  ‘Everyone all right?’ McGray asked, still pressing the side of his head. ‘First time some soddin’ bastard hit me like that ‘n’ got away with it!’

  Mr Koloman nodded, biting on a handkerchief.

  ‘Lassie?’ McGray asked Natalja.

  ‘I will live,’ she said bitterly, a hand on her ribs.

  McGray turned back to the parents. ‘What the fuck was that?’ The maid gasped at his language.

  Mr Koloman spat the cloth from his mouth. ‘That’s what I’d like to know! How did Benjamin manage to free Lazarus? How did they get those hunting rifles? You locked those blasted rooms yourself, and I’ve heard the damn keys jingling in your breast pocket all this time!’

  ‘They mentioned they had a master key,’ McGray snapped. ‘A fucking master key I’m sure youse kent about! Why didnae –’

  ’ We didn’t know!’ retorted Mrs Koloman. ‘If you want me to speculate –’

  ‘I don’t have time to bloody speculate! I need to catch them! They were going to their island. If I make haste –’

  ‘They’re not going there,’ Mr Koloman interrupted. ‘I think I know where they’ll go first.’

  Everyone looked at him in surprise, Mrs Koloman much more than the others, the bottle of iodine slowly slipping from her hand. McGray snatched it before it dropped and gave it to the maid.

  ‘Ye sure?’ he asked Mr Koloman.

  ‘Not entirely sure,’ he said, wincing in pain. ‘But I have good reason to believe –’

  ‘Tell me.’

  Mr Koloman took short, laboured breaths. ‘I lied before,’ he finally said. ‘That map I showed to you and your colleague this morning . . . do you remember?’

  ‘Aye, I remember.’

  ‘Do you remember the cross on the northern shore?’

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘That marks –’

  ‘Don’t!’ his wife shrieked. ‘You cannot tell him!’

  Mr Koloman bared his teeth. ‘Look at me, woman! Look at your daughter! Don’t you think your damned Nellyses have gone too far this time?’

  Mrs Koloman jumped to her feet and turned her back on them, burying her face in her hands as she burst into desolate wails. Veronika left her sister’s side to take her mother in her arms.

  On the bed Mr Koloman trembled, half from the pain, half from what he was about to say. ‘That cross, Mr McGray, marks an ancient cave, the Nellyses’ lair. That’s where they commit all sorts of atrocities. That’s where I’m almost sure they’ll go first.’

  ‘Atrocities?’ McGray echoed. ‘What d’ye mean?’

  Mr Koloman shook his head. ‘It will take me a while to explain. If they go there, it will be only briefly. After that they may even disappear into the wilderness. If you really want to catch them, you must go there as soon as possible.’

  McGray snorted. He could not wait for Frey to return; only God knew how long it would take the dainty Londoner to dig a grave. Boyde, who might have been of help, was over there too, and Mr Koloman was in no state to walk. To make matters worse, the Nelapsis had taken the last boat.

  ‘That mad Maurice,’ McGray whispered. He turned to Mr Koloman. ‘They have spare boats at the inn, don’t they?’

  ‘I . . . I think so.’

  ‘Yes,’ Mrs Koloman confirmed, between sobs. ‘They keep a couple for guests and one for their own use.’

  ‘Good. I’ll have to go on my own. Ye treat yer husband’s foot, missus.’

  Veronika jumped in. ‘Dominik is a good shot. He can help you!’

  Her mother grasped the girl’s hand so tightly she let out a screech. ‘No, he can’t!’ Mrs Koloman hissed.

  McGray looked intently at them. Did he still have reason to suspect Dominik? The Nelapsis were fleeing, and the old man had uttered the words ‘blood-drinkers’. McGray recalled McEwan’s body hanging upside down, barely a drop left in him.

  Then again . . .

  ‘Yer mother’s right,’ he found himself saying. Somehow he didn’t want Dominik armed and by his side at such a pressing moment. ‘It’s not safe,’ he added as a good excuse. ‘Nobody leave the house, youse understand?’

  He headed to the door with huge strides, feeling as if the darkness of that cave were already upon him.

  44

  How could everything have spiralled like this? A simple, unofficial case, which I had even regarded as a chance to take a relaxed holiday, had become one of the darkest, direst episodes of my life. The repercussions of that boneyard were unimaginable; years and years of murders must have taken place in this seemingly peaceful area, human remains dumped like chicken bones . . . and I still had no idea what was behind it all. I wished we’d never come to this blasted loch, and I pictured Uncle Maurice and me in my parlour, drinking and smoking without a care in the world. I sighed. There was no point in torturing myself with what ifs; I had to concentrate on the situation ahead.

  As the boat moved slowly south I watched the manor grow gradually, its grey stones reflecting the still bright sunlight. Little did I know that the place had just been shaken to its very core.

  We approached the pier and I noticed that both sides were vacant. I instantly knew something was wrong.

  ‘Where is the other boat?’ I asked, looking in every direction, but Loch Maree was like a smooth, desolate mirror. ‘Nobody was supposed to leave the house.’

  Boyde, now drained from the digging and rowing – not to mention the shock of finding countless carcasses – barely shrugged.

  I looked at the windows. All the curtains were still drawn and the place was in silence, but even from outside there was a different quality to it. I could not pinpoint what.

  Then I saw that the thick back door was wide open.

  ‘Hurry, please,’ I told Boyde, who was taking his time to cover the last few yards. Even before he tied the boat up I jumped on to the pier, my hand already inside my jacket, my fingers on my weapon.

  As soon as I walked in my eyes were drawn to a smear of blood on’the polished floor. I immediately unsheathed the gun.

  ‘Boyde, come here!’ I called, taking cautious steps forward. ‘McGray? Mr Koloman?’

  The only answer I received was the echo of my own voice.

  ‘Oh Jesus!’ Boyde burst out when he saw the blood. He dropped one of the shovels and raised the other, as if ready to strike.

  We moved towards the stain. I bent one knee and patted it. The edges of the smear were already dry. That blood must have been spilled a while ago.

  I looked up, at the staircase and the enormous empty space above our heads. The grand house suddenly felt deathly cold, like a giant mausoleum. And there was still a persistent smell of death in the air.

  There was a crimson trail, but it stopped only a few feet away. Whoever had been injured, they had probably been carried from there on.

  ‘It looks like they went either upstairs or to the drawing room,’ I muttered, and made my way to the latter. That door was also w
ide open, revealing a horrible sight: there were books strewn all over the floor; the decanters were shattered, the fine Persian rugs stained dark purple; the telescope lay bent on the floor, its lenses in smithereens; and the clocklike display of the weathervane had been ripped from the wall, the cogs now bare.

  But there was nobody around.

  ‘Mr Koloman!’ I shouted again, and Boyde began calling the names of all his fellow servants.

  ‘There might be someone upstairs,’ I said. ‘Dominik must still be locked up there – hopefully.’

  As we went out I noticed Mr Koloman’s thick weather log lying open on the floor. What first caught my eye were the tiny drops of blood on the pages, but when I knelt down for a closer look, the dates and times, recorded in bright-red ink, made me gasp.

  ‘The twentieth of August,’ I whispered, remembering my first day at Loch Maree. ‘They were here. They were here all the time . . .’

  ‘What is it, sir?’

  I shook my head and stood up. ‘Never mind. Let’s look upstairs.’

  There we went, and found that all the doors in the main corridor were open. Even Dominik’s.

  ‘Oh, I hate this . . .’ I said, noticing a key still inserted in the lock. ‘Where did they –’

  I took the key and put it in my pocket as I stepped inside. The room was in relative order, except for a trunk in the middle of the room, open and half filled with clothes, shoes and several glinting pieces of gold – cufflinks, rings, a large watch on a thick chain . . .

  ‘He was packing,’ I said, ‘ready to flee, but for some reason he stopped . . .’

  I looked around, looking for more clues, but then we heard the murmur of voices.

  ‘Next door?’ Boyde asked. I nodded, realizing that the whispers had indeed come from McGray’s room.

  We moved back into the corridor, the sound of a woman speaking now unquestionable. I kicked the door open to not one but two female cries.

  Inside I found Veronika, lying on the bed, her mother sitting by her side. Mrs Koloman had raised a small derringer, but when she saw me she sighed in relief.