Heaven's Lies

by Daniel Caet

  “Well, it has been really interesting, but it is clear that this is not the Mr. Daniel McGregor that we are looking for so maybe it would be better if we leave.”

  “I'm so sorry I could not help you,” the woman continued, accompanying them down the stairs to the exit.

  “Don’t worry,” Becca answered without much interest. “Actually, we have found much more than we expected.”

  The woman looked at Becca without understanding what she meant but avoided any questions. Charice on the other hand pushed Becca gently to indicate that it was better to leave and got into the car, but this time it was Charice who drove understanding Becca's state of semi-absence. She drove for about ten minutes until the car suddenly stopped. Becca raised her face to see that they were not in Duncan Hall, but in a pub that she recognised as one of the places where they had stopped on the way to the hotel to ask for directions the second time they had got lost.

  “What are we doing here?”

  “Therapy, love, therapy.”

  The pub had barely a dozen customers and Charice had her sit down at one of the free tables by the window at the far end of the place. Five minutes later two huge pints arrived at the table.

  "Well, are you going to tell me why you are in this state or will I have to invent it?”

  “I do not know what you mean, Chas,” Becca answered, trying to avoid her gaze.

  “I mean David,” Charice continued to Becca's surprise, still not understanding what she meant. Charice continued when she saw that Becca was not able to follow her. “When you returned to the bald guy after he left you because he was not sure what he wanted, we met for dinner, remember? That day you had the same ‘rabbit caught in the car headlights’ face you have now. You knew it was a mistake and you did not know how to tell me; so you tried to hide it for the whole dinner, something ridiculous considering that you do not know how to lie. Can I ask what it is that you are not telling me?”

  Becca breathed as if the air had been missing for a month and finally broke. She could not hide from Charice everything she was going through, especially since she was her only friend. If anyone could have an interest in helping her, that would be her, of course, if she did not think she was crazy. So, between pints Becca told Charice everything, the book, the blood, and how she was convinced that the dream she had shared with her was very real. Charice did not say a word during the whole time that Becca was talking and did not even speak when it was over.

  “So, what? You will not say anything? What is the diagnosis, I am completely hacked?”

  “Absolutely and hopelessly,” she snapped, staring at her. “But I think you should get to the end of all this.”

  “I knew you would tell me ... one moment, what?” Becca answered almost falling off the stool she was sitting on.

  “In all the years that I have known you, you have never taken a path that was not the expected one, the logical one, the one that fitted the world according to Becca. For the first time I see you doing things guided simply by your impulses, by what the heart tells you and not the head. You are letting yourself go. Do not get me wrong,” she continued, “I think this whole thing about books that are written with blood and creatures that ask you to take night walks is a bit of a cheap novel, but if that makes you finally let life take you to where you must go and not to plan every minute of it, blessed be the book, your father, and a million nighttime baths in as many fountains.”

  Becca's laughter echoed around the premises and some of the customers turned to look at the two women. She was laughing for a good five minutes without being able to stop to the point that Charice felt a little embarrassed which was not easy on someone like her. Finally, when she managed to control herself, Becca could only say one thing to Charice.

  “Thanks Chas. Thanks for not leaving me alone in this.”

  “You know I'll never leave you alone, silly. I will go with you until the very door of the psychiatric hospital.”

  And the two women burst out laughing again, not caring at all what the customers of the pub could think.

  Charice and Becca continued chatting and drinking several hours planning what their next steps would be. Charice would contact the editor of the branch of her magazine in the United Kingdom to try to convince him to give her a couple of events to cover on behalf of the American part of the publication to extend her stay in the country a few weeks. Taking advantage of the call, she would try to find out if anyone knew Lord Daniel McGregor in business or social circles in London. Meanwhile, Becca would try to find out more about the old Daniel McGregor and his link to Duncan Hall and his family that could justify the enormous resemblance between that man and herself or, at least, shed some light on family history and, with a little luck, about the infamous book.

  When they finally left the pub, it was clear that Becca had overdone her drinks and was in no condition to drive, so Charice, who looked as fresh as if she had been drinking water, took the responsibility to help Becca get to the car and to drive back to Duncan Hall. It had got dark quickly, and, on the road, there was not a single vehicle so the only lights that illuminated the way were the car headlights and the full moon that filled the sky and gave a silvery tone to the countryside.

  “It's nice, isn’t it?” said Becca, hugging her own knees and looking out the window.

  “Yes, yes, it is. It has an almost mysterious charm, magical if you want.” And Charice's words made the hair on Becca's neck stand up for some reason. “You have a bad case in a fucking nice place. Baby, how sad is your life!” Charice continued mocking her.

  “Stop laughing at me,” Becca said, laughing at the same time. “The house comes with a pile of ghosts, you know? My life was much simpler in New York.”

  “And much more boring, without objectives, without plans …”

  “Without stress, without problems, predictable as I like it.”

  “Yes,” said Charice without taking her eyes off the road, “but that's not living, it's vegetating.”

  “But I'm happy as an indoor plant,” Becca protested like a little girl.

  “No darling, what happens is that you have not known anything else.”

  “At least until a week ago I thought I knew who I was, now I have no idea who I am, where I come from, who is my family or what kind of business they were into.”

  “Isn’t everything super exciting?” Charice laughed again.

  “Yes, incred …” Becca tried to answer, but her words were interrupted by a tremendous blow that threw the car into the air causing it to flip on its side a couple of times before falling on a field by the side of the road. For a second Becca could not hear anything, a huge whistle filled her head and she could barely open her eyes. She did not know what had happened, but she knew that they had left the road and that the car was in a strange position. From her seat she could see the road covered with the broken glass of the vehicle. She called Charice with all her strength asking if she was okay, but she did not get any answer. She managed to unbuckle her belt and crawl outside. Without thinking, she turned the car around to reach Charice. Her side of the car was by the field side and her window had not been completely broken so she had to kick it to get to her through the window. Without losing a second, she unbuckled her belt and dragged her with all her might away from the car for fear it would burn. When she was far enough, she found that Charice was still breathing, she was just unconscious. She was about to try to revive her when she realised that something had changed around her. Fog. All the way she did not remember having seen an iota of fog, but suddenly a kind of low grey haze had filled the field and the road. She did not have time to think about it anymore because a voice resonated in her head.

  “It would have been better if you had not survived that blow.”

  Becca looked around trying to identify the source of the voice without realising that it was not her ears that heard it, but the voice was inside her own mind.

  “Who are you? What do you want from us?”

  �
��From you?” said the voice. “I do not have the slightest interest in that mestiza that accompanies you, I'm here for you, just for you. And as for what I want, it's simple, your guts spilled on the ground.”

  Becca's body was shocked by the way the voice whispered, recreating himself in each word, as if savouring each syllable. Her head kept looking around convinced that there must be someone with them in that field.

  “You want to see me?” The voice asked, dragging the words. “You just had to ask for it. Immediately the fog in front of Becca moved away as if they were curtains that someone had drawn back, and she could see a dark figure about three hundred meters from her. That being was covered with some black cloak from head to toe and a hood that covered his head so that she could not see his face.

  “Get away from us, I warn you! I have a gun and I will use it if necessary,” Becca lied, trying to control the tremor in her voice.

  “Good try, but we both know that you do not have any weapons and, even if you had one, I'm afraid it would not do you any good. There is nothing you can do as your mother could not do before you. You escaped once, but this time you will not.”

  Those words awakened something in Becca, something she knew very well. What was that man suggesting? Was he implying that he had something to do with the death of his mother? And why did he say she had escaped once? Becca's body began to lose control, she could feel a part of herself that she knew very well was beginning to dominate her. The rage, that rage she wanted to avoid at all costs. But for some reason this time her body was not fighting against her, but it was as if she wanted it to happen, she noticed how every fibre of her being tensed preparing for what was going to happen.

  “I can feel the energy growing in you. What is this? Does the little mouse have teeth? I'm afraid I have more.” The figure opened its cloak and under it appeared as if from thin air two creatures that looked like big black dogs with eyes completely white as the teeth that filled their immense mouths. The man said a single word in a language that Becca could not understand, and the animals split in two. Now there were four gigantic dogs that immediately threw themselves at her at a tremendous speed, snarling in a terrifying way. Suddenly it was as if the world around Becca moved in slow motion. She could see the beasts moving towards where she was with Charice still unconscious on the ground. She could see the drool falling from their mouths, their sharp teeth ready to tear them apart, she could see how their muscles tensed in the run and she could almost smell their stink like something rotten. But she could also feel how her legs made her get off the ground. Her hands joined and drew a movement in the air that she could not recognise to separate again as if an energy had driven each one to the side. And that energy, materialised in the form of an immense ball of fire that was directed towards the beasts, calcining them completely in its path. But the fireball did not stop there but continued its way to the master of the beasts. Becca could see how the figure turned to try to escape from the rolling hell that came to meet him, but he was too slow, and the ball also scorched him among cries of inhuman pain. And when the ball finally became extinct, so did her forces and the light around her was replaced by infinite night.

  Her eyes parted and let the light enter again stabbing into her brain like knives. She did not know how she got there but she could recognise by the library sofas she was on that she was in Duncan Hall. The faces of Charice and Eustace appeared in her field of vision.

  “Finally, I thought you were never going to wake up, you had me anguished to death and that's terrible for the skin. You're going to be responsible for me ageing and you'll have to pay for the fix because you know I cannot get old, especially because my foolish friend will stress me with scare.” Charice spitted pointlessly without breathing as she hugged her until she could hardly breathe.

  Becca did not answer although she knew that the verbiage was a sign that her friend had been truly worried.

  “How did we get here?” she asked confused.

  “After your accident, Miss Charice phoned me and told me you were unconscious, so I went to pick you up and told Dr. Anderson, the family doctor, to come immediately to the mansion.”

  Becca was not sure if she was more worried that the man had not considered calling an ambulance or that the family had its own doctor, but he preferred to shut up.

  “But, you were unconscious!” she said to Charice.

  “Like you! When I opened my eyes, you were lying next to me and no matter how hard I tried I could not make you come back. Fortunately, my cell phone had not been damaged in the crash and I was able to call here.”

  “If ma’am does not need anything else I will go to the kitchen to prepare you something to eat, after this scare you must be hungry.”

  “Not for me, do not bother Eustace, I'm not hungry. I'm just tired,” Becca answered.

  “Neither am I, thanks, what I need is a drink, not a sandwich,” Charice said, turning to the collection of bottles on the side table.

  “As the ladies prefer, if you need anything, I'll be down for a couple of hours,” the butler said, pulling away with a smile.

  “Thank you, Eustace, I feel much safer knowing you're in the house,” Becca answered, not knowing where it had come from but causing Charice to almost choke on the first sip of Whiskey.

  “What was that?” Charice asked sarcastically when Eustace had left the room.

  “Let me be,” Becca replied, blushing slightly. “I have something to tell you.”

  Becca told her friend everything that had happened while she was unconscious with all the details she could remember except the part in which she generated killer fireballs, because she was convinced that she would take her for some kind of weirdo, again. Charice sat down beside her, worried.

  “You will not say anything?” Becca asked.

  “The truth is that I do not know what to say. In other circumstances I would have believed that you have imagined everything, but considering that it is not the first time you imagine something like that, I begin to think that maybe you do not have so much imagination. Also, there's something I did not tell you,” Charice said, pausing to drink a little more from the glass in her hands. “I still do not understand what happened with the car. I remember perfectly that the road was completely clear, and the visibility was perfect. There was nothing on the road that could hit us with that force to make us fly through the air, except …”

  “Except, what?” Becca exclaimed.

  “Except that I'd swear that just before we flew out I saw the figure of a big black dog on the road. It was just a second and I thought I had imagined it but now I'm not so sure.”

  “Do you realise what this means?” Becca asked, moving closer to her. “Whatever my family, this house and my own history hide, there is someone extremely interested in me not discovering it. Every time I approach another piece of the puzzle someone tries to kill me.”

  “This starts to look not so exciting anymore. Since when someone trying to kill you enter your catalog of favourite entertainments? Please, have you seen your smile?” Charice asked in disbelief at Becca's reaction.

  “I smile because this only means that I am getting closer to the truth, that I am close to discovering what the hell this story is about and why I have been involved in this mess. This story,” she continued, “is not something I have asked for. They have planted me here in the middle of a lot of inexplicable things, taking me out of a life that you consider boring but that I considered happy, and putting my existence in danger. All this without me having the chance to say anything. Well, I'm not going to take it anymore. I'm going to end this, this swinging from side to side like a rag doll; and the only way I can do it is to get to the bottom of this shit. And I will do it. And when I find the person responsible for all this, I'm going to fuck them off.”

  Charice stared at Becca with a frightened face. She had never seen her in that state of decision and almost unconscious courage, much less using that string of swear words in one sentence so she chose to
say the only thing she could.

  “At your orders my general.” And the two women burst out laughing with clean laughter.

  Becca said goodbye to Charice to go to her room with the idea of resting from a day that had been much more intense than she had planned. When she entered her room, she saw that Eustace had taken care of everything and had lit the fireplace, so the room was wonderfully warm. She went straight to the bathroom and took a shower that managed to relax her muscles abused by the blow with the car, and then got into the bed that welcomed her as the arms of a mother. Her mother. She could see her face in the painting from the bed and realised that, strange as it seemed given she did not remember having met her, somehow when she looked at the painting, it was longing for a feeling. She missed what she had never had before. That idea made her sad, so she decided that the best thing was to keep it from going out and trying to sleep. She turned in the bed trying to turn off the light from the switch on her nightstand and then she saw it. On the table, with a handwritten note on it, there was a package wrapped in brown paper. A chill ran through her body and somehow, she knew what she would find inside. Her hands grabbed the package and she sat on the bed to open it. The note was from Mrs. Dermott:

  «Miss, this package has been delivered by courier this morning to your name with instructions to give it to you immediately.»

  The parcel had no sender or address, not even Duncan Hall's, just her name, Rebecca Engels. Her hands removed the paper and the contents of the package were gently deposited on the bedding in front of Becca. Another book, this time slightly different from the previous one, bound in dark skin like the other one, but done with a greater delicacy and with the back engraved with golden lines that seemed to be drawings or words in some language that Becca could not read. Her fingers traced the back and the cover before deciding to open it, although she already knew what she would find inside. Blank pages. All of them, in a dark white, shabby but without any visible letter.