Loch of the Dead

by Loch of the Dead (retail) (epub)

  ‘She also suggested I mentioned the healing waters. She said that would tempt you to come here and help me.’

  ‘Was that a lie too?’ McGray asked.

  Mr Nelapsi leaned forward. ‘Not exactly. We honestly thought the waters had worked for me. All of us except my son.’

  Miss Fletcher raised a hand. ‘I will explain that too, but first I want Mr McGray to understand why the Kolomans wanted him here so badly.’

  McGray raised an eyebrow. ‘Very well. Explain.’

  ‘The Kolomans instigated your trip because they wanted to incriminate Lazarus. They orchestrated to murder that damned constable while you and your colleague were here. When I appealed to you and Mr Frey I of course didn’t know that the murder would take place.’

  Lazarus looked terribly ashamed. ‘They also manipulated me. Dominik asked me to meet him that night in the woods. He was supposed to give me . . . medicine for my father.’

  ‘Medicine?’ Maurice asked.

  ‘Yes, but he never came. I walked to the very spot we’d agreed upon, and all I found was McEwan’s body hanging from a tree. I heard the Koloman girls approach, so I hid. I thought Dominik might still come . . .’

  ‘I saw you,’ said Miss Fletcher. ‘I didn’t know what you were up to . . . I even suspected for a while you might have done it, so I kept quiet.’ Then she looked at Mr and Mrs Nelapsi, an inexplicable sorrow in her eyes. ‘I knew that Lazarus going to jail would leave you and Helena completely unprotected.’ She looked back at McGray. ‘I’m sorry, sir. I couldn’t do that to them. I couldn’t let them blame Lazarus for the death of a man I despised so much.’

  McGray turned to Lazarus. ‘And why did ye keep quiet? We could’ve confronted Dominik and –’

  ‘I couldn’t!’ Lazarus roared. ‘It was not the first time I met with Dominik.’

  ‘Och, are ye also a sodo –’

  ‘He gave me medicine for my father. I told you. It wasn’t the well that improved his health. It was the Kolomans’ medicine.’

  McGray’s jaw dropped. It took him a moment to realize all the implications of that statement. His trip there had been futile, merely a trap to incriminate an innocent man, set by a ruthless family taking advantage of his and Miss Fletcher’s despair. He ground his teeth, thinking how much he’d enjoy punching Mr Koloman’s face to a pulp.

  ‘I still believe the waters work . . .’ Mr Nelapsi whispered, attempting an encouraging smile, but his words now seemed hollow.

  And another question had crept into McGray’s mind.

  ‘Why would the Kolomans have a cure for yer . . . for yer curse?’

  There was a moment of eerie silence, until Mrs Nelapsi spoke in a quivering whisper. ‘Our curse is their curse.’

  ‘What the – D’ye mean . . . ?’

  The woman banged a jar on the table. ‘Minerva Koloman is my sister. My parents, like their parents before them, spent much of their wealth looking for a way to rid us of this . . .’ She stared at her blotched hands. ‘This curse.

  ‘My mother met a man, Konrad’s father, who claimed he knew of a cure.’ She sneered. ‘Konrad and his father told my mother what the cure was . . . and . . . if I ever doubted this was a curse, I was convinced then, when they told her what they did. They said the only way to keep our symptoms at bay was to –’ She covered her eyes, and Helena buried her face in her father’s chest. ‘I was so scared I eloped as soon as I met my dear Silas.’

  McGray looked at their stern faces. ‘What symptoms do ye mean? Yer skin condition?’

  Miss Fletcher nodded. ‘And fits of terrible pain . . . always in the stomach.’

  McGray instantly thought of Veronika’s unexplained seizure. As he tried to take in all that had been said, he looked at Helena. ‘How come yer lassie’s skin looks fine?’

  ‘It’s the sun that makes us blister,’ said Lazarus. ‘That’s why the Kolomans never go out; that’s why they spend their summers here, where the sun hardly ever shines, and on sunny days like today they keep all their curtains shut.’

  ‘And that’s why Mr Koloman is so interested in weather science,’ Miss Fletcher added, ‘to predict if they can go out or not. That’s why he had instruments built with indoor displays.’

  ‘We, sadly, can’t afford those measures,’ said Mrs Nelapsi. ‘We have to go out and tend to our animals and plough our crops, whatever the weather. But we try to spare Helena as much of that as we can. She does indoor chores mainly.’ She cast a longing stare at her daughter. ‘Minerva has always thought my girl is very pretty. More than once she offered to take her in, to adopt her’ – she let out a mocking laugh – ‘and twist her like she’s twisted her own children. She offered me the blasted medicine so many times – I only accepted it when I was pregnant. By then I’d seen three of my babies die in my arms . . .’ Again she covered her face. ‘I know it’s a dreadful sin but I would do it again. I’d do anything for my children.’

  ‘Again, wait,’ said McGray. ‘The human blood, this . . . medicine . . . do they need it all the time?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Lazarus. ‘And at higher doses when they have fits of pain.’

  ‘So how do they keep it?’ McGray asked. ‘I’ve nae seen them murdering folk every other –’

  And then he knew, and shook his head in disgust.

  Lazarus nodded. ‘Yes, Mrs Glenister told me the truth. She said the Kolomans sent us human blood in wine.’

  ‘What!’ Maurice yelped. ‘I have been drinking that bloody wine every day since I arrived!’

  Lazarus raised an eyebrow. ‘Full-bodied, is it not?’

  ‘They fooled us with that wine for years,’ Mr Nelapsi said. ‘When we moved here, which we did after hearing of the healing well, Minerva insisted on aiding us. They sent us clothes and food . . . and their blasted wine. Sabina and I drank it unawares. For a while we even thought our families might reconcile, but then we discovered the truth and refused to keep accepting their help.’ He looked at McGray with a gentle smile. ‘Their wine repaired my body, but it was the waters from the well that cured my mind and my soul. Saint Rufus’s waters did the miracle. I decided that was all I needed. That’s why my body has been decaying lately.’

  McGray remembered Mrs Koloman mentioning precisely that.

  ‘You’d be far worse if I’d not intervened,’ said Lazarus. He looked at McGray. ‘My father’s fits got worse and worse. I couldn’t bear to see his pain. I nailed a deer skull to a tree and put candles in the eye sockets, like we knew the so-called witches used to do, years ago, on the island. I told my father to light the candles whenever he felt ill, so I could take him some gin, if only to dull the pain with alcohol. Sometimes I’d give him laudanum, if we had any at hand.’

  ‘I was having a seizure when your colleague came,’ said Mr Nelapsi. ‘It was very fortunate Benjamin and Helena came by just then.’

  ‘That’s something I feared,’ said Lazarus, ‘that one day I might not be around to help you. Dominik came to me one day, when I was at Kinlochewe, not long after my father had had a particularly nasty seizure. Dominik saw how desperate I was. He offered me some of their wine – my mother had already told me all about it – and I accepted, even though I knew where it came from. I fed the wine to my father and I kept the secret even from my family. That’s why I didn’t say a word about where I was on the night of the constable’s murder; I was as bad as an accomplice . . . and I couldn’t face my parents’ reaction.’ He cast a guilty look towards his mother. ‘If it helps, I did it only when Father seemed truly ill; I gave him just enough of that vile stuff to stave off excessive pain. That’s why his body never fully recovered.’

  His mother hugged herself, on the verge of tears but attempting to smile at her son. ‘I knew you couldn’t have done it. I knew you couldn’t kill a man like that. But you had gone out that night and you refused to tell us where you’d been . . . I know I’ve been too harsh on you, but I would have understood, Lazarus. Believe me. I was so desperate I even went to that horrid hous
e and begged that harpy to let you go.’

  ‘So,’ said McGray, ‘Dominik planned to kill the constable and make it look like ye’d done it, while Frey and me were around to investigate . . . Why?’

  ‘Lazarus in jail would have left us unprotected,’ said Mr Nelapsi. ‘They wanted Helena to move into the manor with them, and without my son around she would probably have been forced to do so.’ He looked at his wife. ‘And you too, Sabina. It doesn’t matter how twisted Minerva is, she still cares for you.’

  The woman clenched her fists. ‘I would rather die than partake in their abominations.’

  ‘And Konrad knows that,’ her husband retorted. ‘He might have fooled his wife into thinking you would yield to his foul ways, but I think he knows better. Not that it really matters; whether you surrendered or not, he would still have had Helena under his roof.’

  Maurice cleared his throat. ‘Do excuse me, but – delightful as your girl might be – it seems an awful lot of trouble to go to simply to –’

  ‘They wanted us to marry,’ Benjamin interrupted, ‘to continue the family name. Natalja told me some stories of how proud her grandfather was of their lineage. She said he wanted to keep it pure.’

  ‘And this is not an easy curse to keep secret,’ said Mrs Nelapsi. ‘Not many people would understand . . .’ She looked longingly at her husband. ‘Silas and I are first cousins. We loved each other very much, still do, and we knew nobody else in the world would understand us. Not quite.’

  A deep hush fell on the cave. Even the bats seemed to have gone quiet. Only a single squeak was heard, coming from underneath the tables. Helena went there and picked up a little injured bat; its wing’s fine skin had been torn, perhaps trampled on during the struggle. Helena cradled the creature in her arms as if it were a puppy, and then picked a bobbin and needle from the mess of jars. She sat by her father and began stitching the wound meticulously.

  Maurice stared at her, and then turned his gaze to a couple of bats that were drinking from the fountain. He grimaced in disgust.

  ‘We are very much like them,’ said Mr Nelapsi, watching his daughter’s dexterous work. ‘Ugly . . . misunderstood.’

  ‘What’s with the bats?’ McGray asked, and then pointed his chin at the instruments and bottles. ‘And all this shite youse keep here.’

  ‘We tried to replicate the cure,’ said Lazarus. He nodded at the fountain. ‘We tried animals’ blood: pigs’, goats’ . . . We once even tried using a little vial of human blood I bought from a dubious doctor. I poured it into wine, but it wouldn’t do.’

  ‘The Kolomans do something to the blood . . .’ Mrs Nelapsi said. ‘They treat it somehow to make it work.’

  ‘But of course they’ve never told us,’ Lazarus added. ‘They like to keep people in their grip.’

  ‘They have all manner of chemicals and contraptions in the manor,’ said Miss Fletcher, ‘but they’re very secretive about it. I think Calcraft knows a lot; Mrs Plunket too . . . and maybe Boyde.’

  ‘We thought that Benjamin might be able to find out more,’ said Lazarus. ‘As the new heir he’d be free to roam around that damned house. That’s why we contacted him a short while ago, as soon as we heard his father was dying. None of us could have had a better chance to discover the secret.’

  ‘You should have told me,’ said Miss Fletcher bitterly. ‘I wouldn’t have allowed my son to take part in such a dangerous –’

  ‘And that is precisely why we didn’t tell you,’ Lazarus jumped in. ‘If it helps, our plan worked wonderfully. Benjamin managed to find the Kolomans’ . . . let’s call it recipe book.’

  McGray remembered the thick tome he’d seen them take from the manor. He looked around but could not see it amidst the cave’s clutter.

  ‘Though I nearly failed,’ said Benjamin. ‘That’s why I made friends with Natalja. She seems to be the smartest one of the lot, but she grew suspicious when I asked too many questions. I had to start lurking around the manor at night. I managed to find the recipe, but I knew I couldn’t just walk out with the book under my arm. We had to flee like we did.’

  McGray glared at every member of the Nelapsi family. ‘So are youse planning to drink human blood too? Is that why youse want the recipe?’

  ‘Of course not!’ cried Mr Nelapsi. ‘But that book may hold vital information . . . something to help us find another cure. A more Christian one.’

  ‘Now, we have answered enough of your questions,’ Lazarus snapped. ‘I have one for you. How on earth did you find this place?’

  McGray knew his answer would shock them. ‘The . . . the Kolomans have a map that marks this spot. They told me about it right after youse left.’

  ‘That’s impossible,’ Mrs Nelapsi mumbled, her voice barely audible. ‘How could they know?’

  ‘It’s not impossible,’ Lazarus said. ‘They have eyes everywhere. Everyone in the region owes them in one way or the other – their school, their loans, their custom. They know very well how to manipulate people and make them feel indebted.’

  ‘Doesnae matter now,’ said McGray. ‘They showed me the spot on the map and sent me here to capture youse . . . Only . . .’

  ‘They would have known these people might tell you the truth,’ Maurice intervened. ‘Why send you here if there was a chance you’d find out Dominik was the murderer?’

  McGray rolled his eyes. ‘They’re nae stupid . . . Maybe . . . maybe they want to catch us all in one go . . . ‘

  They all froze, their mouths open, their eyes fearful. Lazarus even lowered the rifle from Maurice’s chest. ‘They might even be on their way here.’

  ‘We have to go now!’ said Benjamin.

  ‘What’s that?’ Helena cried, looking up. The bat in her arms was twisting itself free, and the ones across the cave began to stir and squeak, especially the ones close to the entrance.

  Lazarus began to tremble, very much like the animals perched on his shoulders. His mother’s chest was heaving.

  ‘Give the men their guns,’ she spluttered. ‘Now!’

  But there was no time. Their executioners had arrived.

  50

  I saw how the lights clustered around the cave, like glowworms. Despite the distance and the darkness I crouched next to a thick pine, irrationally fearing I might be seen; I even found myself breathing as quietly as possible.

  I heard shooting, and then saw a small ball of fire burst amidst the boats and ascend swiftly to the sky. Could they also have brought explosives? I gasped at the notion.

  Even through the telescope I could barely make out what was happening: I could see the outlines of men lit by their torches, moving about, and I could hear them shouting unintelligibly. I realized that one of the boats had caught fire, and saw some splashes around it, but that was all I could distinguish.

  There came a wave of cheering, the kind one hears in the direst tavern. Then the wind brought the echo of a female screech, anguished and guttural, and I even squinted in dread.

  The glow-worms then got in motion again, clustering together more tightly as they navigated across the loch. They were moving towards me.

  ‘It cannot be!’ I muttered, not believing my eyes. How could anybody know where I’d gone? I waited for a couple of minutes, the telescope fixed on those lights, until I could not deny the fact any longer. They were coming in my direction.

  I found myself panting, again not knowing what to do. I looked around, desperately searching for shelter. I crossed the narrow islet and looked west. I saw the outlines of Rory Island cut sharply against the dusk, looking more like the mouth of a black cavern. There, floating almost perfectly still, was an isolated, silver beam of light – merely a few hundred yards away!

  I dropped to my knees and crawled to hide behind the nearest tree, clutching the telescope. Very slowly, every muscle of my body painfully tense, I moved my head around the trunk, just enough to have a look. Again I saw the straight beam of light: a bull’s-eye lantern, moving in slow circles like a lighthouse. I u
sed the telescope and had a clear view of a lonely boat, and the entire Koloman family in it.

  They were all as still as their boat, as if waiting for their armada to join them. Mr Koloman was standing in the bow, holding the lamp with a steady hand. Mrs Koloman was seated close by, a hand lifted towards her husband, in case he might stumble. It looked like he had been injured. Behind her sat Dominik, holding the oars and wearing what must be his most showy overcoat: purple velvet and black fur. The twins were next, also wrapped in thick coats and looking nervous.

  Right at the back was Mrs Plunket, the immeasurably wide cook. She might have been a hilarious sight, tilting the entire boat under her weight, but she was armed with a broad cleaver that caught the light like a mirror. Her arms were almost as thick as my waist, and I realized that this woman might well be able to sever a man’s head with a single stroke.

  Then I saw my own boat on the sandy beach and my heart skipped a beat. It might be visible even without the light, let alone if Mr Koloman pointed his lantern in my direction.

  I put the telescope down and followed the beam. Konrad was moving it from north-east to east, towards the beach and the boat, slowly but steadily. The light touched the northern edge of my island, illuminating the rocks and the pine trees like the brightest sun. I felt a bead of cold sweat run down my forehead as the light came closer and closer to my boat.

  ‘Look!’ Natalja said, and again my heart jumped.

  Mr Koloman moved the lantern swiftly, but not towards me. He lit the waters beyond the islands, where the small flotilla was approaching.

  The Kolomans waited patiently until the cluster of torches came closer. Then I heard Calcraft’s voice.

  ‘We have them all!’

  I instantly looked through the telescope; the torches made it easier to make out what was happening. The first face I recognized was Mr Dailey’s, rowing one of the leading boats.

  ‘All the Nellyses?’ Mr Koloman shouted.

  ‘Yes, all the family. And the freak Millie and her bastard.’