Dead Souls Volume Four (Parts 40 to 52)

by Amy Cross

  “So you don't know why he's been acting strange?”

  She turned to him. “In what way?”

  “Distracted. Just... off, you know?” He sniffed. “At first I thought it was 'cause of the worry, you know with Madeleine still being away on her travels. The last couple of days, though, I'm starting to think that something else is wrong. I know Benjamin inside out, and his head isn't in the right place, it's almost as if he's not quite himself.” He stared at her for a moment. “That's why I was wondering whether you'd done anything. You know, with your powers and all.”

  “Benjamin is a good man,” she replied. “I would never hurt him.”

  “That's what I told myself, but this sliver of doubt just kept nagging at me. After all, a scorned woman might stoop pretty low in her attempts to gain revenge.”

  “I'm sure it's nothing,” Estella muttered. “He's probably just horrified by the fact that his brother is just a degenerate oaf.”

  “Huh,” Joshua replied, turning and heading back to the gate. “I suppose it might be that. Still, I'll keep an eye on him and -”

  “Is there any word from Madeleine?” Estella asked suddenly.

  He glanced back at her.

  “How long has she been gone?” she continued.

  “Almost two weeks now,” he replied with a faint smile, “and no, there's not been a peep as far as I know.” He paused for a moment. “But that's not what you really want to know, is it? You want to know if there's any sign of Kate Langley coming back to Thaxos, and the truth is... As far as I'm aware, she and Madeleine and that Kazakos woman haven't been heard from in quite a while. You never know, maybe you'll get lucky. Maybe Kate's gone forever and you can go and warm Edgar's bed again. He might fancy a bit of you again, if Kate's not around.”

  She opened her mouth to reply.

  “Don't deny it,” he added. “You'd just be wasting your breath.”

  As Joshua headed out of the yard, Estella paused for a moment, feeling anger rising through her body. There was a part of her that wanted to go after him and finally make him pay for all his dirty insinuations, but she knew she'd only end up drawing attention to herself. Turning back to look at the pile of dirty glasses, she realized that she needed to get to work and try to empty her mind, so she tried to focus, but her anger was building and building until she felt she was about to scream. She held on tight, determined to stay quiet, until finally she knew she had to use the new trick she'd learned, and send her pain to someone else.

  Someone more deserving.

  ***

  “It's okay, my darling,” Doctor Lassiter said, wiping Emma's brow. “Just -”

  Before he could finish, she screamed as a sudden sense of agony wracked her body.

  ***

  Gasping, Estella felt the anger bursting out from her thoughts, crossing the town like invisible lightning, and then entering Emma's mind.

  ***

  “What is it?” Gustavo asked, bursting into the room. “Is she okay?”

  “She's fine,” Lassiter replied, as Emma gasped and the pain began to fade.

  “It happened again?” Gustavo continued, approaching the bed. “You're supposed to be a doctor! Can't you tell why this pain grips her every few hours?”

  “I can't,” Lassiter said helplessly, as he watched tears run down Emma's cheeks. “These bursts of pain just seem to arrive from nowhere. In all my years as a doctor, I've never seen anything like it!”

  ***

  Smiling now that her anger had been vented, Estella picked up another glass and dipped it into the bucket. With her mind suddenly feeling so clear and easy, she began to sing an old childhood lullaby as she got to work.

  ***

  “I simply can't explain it,” Lassiter said as he gently pulled the door shut, before turning to Gustavo. “The pain seems to strike her in flashes, as if... I don't want to sound melodramatic, but it's as if invisible lightning strikes her body with no warning.”

  “There must be something wrong,” Gustavo replied, with tears in his eyes. “There must be something that you've missed!”

  “I've examined her over and over. Physically, she's absolutely fine.”

  “So you're saying it's something mental? Do you think she's losing her mind?”

  He shook his head.

  “Then what is it?” Gustavo continued, clearly starting to become desperate. “You're not only her doctor, you're her fiance too! If you can't help her, then who can?”

  “I don't know,” he replied. “We still don't even know what struck her down, it's like some kind of...” His voice trailed off for a moment.

  “Some kind of what?” Gustavo asked after a moment.

  “Never mind,” Lassiter replied, heading to the top of the stairs. “It's easy in difficult moments to start believing in things that can't possibly be real, but we must all remain calm and rational. I shall go to my surgery and attend to a few tasks, see a few other patients, and then I shall return in an hour or two. I want to sit with her again tonight, in case the pain returns. It probably does little to soothe her troubles, but I can at least try.” He paused for a moment. “I must admit that for the first time in my professional life, I'm starting to doubt myself.”

  “I'll do anything to help her,” Gustavo told him. “I'm not a rich man, but I own a small amount of land. If there's anything you think might be worth trying, you must tell me and I'll raise the money somehow! I'll even go and beg the Le Comptes, if that what it takes. I'd give my life for my daughter!”

  “As would I,” Lassiter replied with a sigh, setting his hat on his head before making his way downstairs and finally stepping out onto the street. “As would I.”

  Taking a deep breath, he paused for a moment as he felt rivers of stress coursing through his veins. After a few seconds, he took a cigarette case from his pocket, removed a cigarette, and lit it before taking a long, slow drag. He stood listening to the sounds of the town before turning and making his way not to his surgery but toward the town square, from where there came several raised voices. As he reached the end of the street and stopped to lean against the cantina's wall, he saw that several men were carrying a coffin from a boat that had docked at the jetty. Two more coffins were still on the deck, waiting to be brought ashore.

  “Paolo Cavaleri,” a voice said suddenly.

  Turning, he saw that Estella was standing nearby.

  “I'm sorry?” he asked.

  “A local man,” she continued, making her way over to join him. “He died in the war. One of three from the island, I believe. Their bodies are being brought back here for burial. There's talk of erecting some kind of memorial, although no-one knows how to pay for it. There'll probably just be three graves dug, and that'll be the end of it.”

  “I would have fought,” Lassiter replied, “but I was turned down. Bad heart. They said I'd be a liability.”

  “I know.”

  “You do?” He frowned. “Ms. Graves, I have only ever told my closest family about my condition. How do you know about it?”

  “I -” Pausing, she thought back to the day when he'd told her, back when his memory was intact. They'd talked about so many things in those days, they'd discussed their deepest concerns and feelings, yet now he remembered not one moment of their friendship. “I simply guessed that it must be something like that,” she continued, turning to look back at the coffin. “You're obviously a good, brave man. I have no doubt that you'd have fought in the war if you'd been able. I'm sure you'd have made an excellent soldier.”

  “You speak very highly of me,” he replied, “for someone who barely knows me at all.”

  “Forgive me if I said anything inappropriate.”

  “Of course you didn't,” he continued, watching as the coffin was set down briefly in the center of the town square. “There should be a war memorial,” he added, taking another drag on his cigarette, “and it should be right there, where it can't be missed by anyone. That way, the people of Thaxos will at least remember what
happened. It's only by remembering the horrors of the past that we can hope to avoid further tragedies in the days to come. If we're lucky, one day we'll look back on 1918 as the end of the final war that ever strikes humanity. There must be no more.” He turned to her. “Or am I being naively optimistic?”

  “A little,” she replied, “but that's one of the reasons I love -” She caught herself just in time.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Nothing,” she continued, clearly a little flustered. “I must get back to work. Good day, Doctor Lassiter. I do hope Emma is feeling better soon.”

  “So do I,” he replied, watching the coffin for a moment longer. “We must erect some kind of memorial to mark the end of the war,” he muttered to himself, before looking up at the Le Compte mansion in the distance. “I suppose there's only one man here with the money to do it properly.”

  III

  “A war memorial?” Edgar replied with a frown. “Here on Thaxos?”

  “Yes,” Doctor Lassiter continued, following him into the mansion's library. “I hope you don't mind that I came to speak to you, but this seems to be a matter of great importance and, well, when it comes to such things, traditionally the aristocracy will step in and ensure that civic needs are met.”

  “I heard about the war,” Edgar muttered, pouring them each a glass of brandy. “How many men died, again?”

  “Millions. No-one really knows yet, and it'll probably be a few months before the cursed thing is officially declared to be over, but there have been at least ten million fatalities by all accounts, perhaps even as many as fifteen million.”

  “Is that all?” Edgar asked.

  “Is that all?”

  “Well, I just...” Pausing Edgar, finally handed him a glass of brandy. “Forgive me. I'm used to a war in which the casualty numbers were measured on an altogether greater scale. Billions died, some of them more than once.”

  “You are? What war would that be?”

  “Never mind,” Edgar continued, taking a sip from his glass. “Do the people here on Thaxos really care about the war so much? Surely they'd prefer to forget that it ever happened?”

  “Three local men died. People shouldn't forget it, even if that's what they want. The past is important, it helps us to keep from repeating our old mistakes.”

  “Very wise,” Edgar replied, as he headed to the window and looked out across the island. “Perhaps you're right. Perhaps the people of this island should be encouraged to recognize the follies of the past. I shall provide whatever funds you deem necessary in order to get the memorial designed and built. Don't cut any corners, let us get this right. A new era is coming to Thaxos soon, and many things will change.” He paused for a moment, watching the distant lighthouse. “The next dawn this island sees shall be a great one indeed. For those who live to see it, at least.”

  ***

  “Benjamin?” Nixon called out, knocking on the workshop's door before leaning inside. “Hello? Anyone home?”

  A moment later, Albert Wood shuffled through from one of the back rooms, with a set of copper plates in his hands. The old man was clearly tired, having long since passed retirement age without either of his sons taking over the family business, and his hands were trembling as he set the plates down on a nearby bench.

  “Oh,” Nixon continued, “I'm sorry, I was just looking for Benjamin.”

  “He's...” At this, Albert paused, as if the mere mention of Benjamin's name was enough to concern him. “He's in the yard, but... Are you a friend of his?”

  “We know each other well enough,” Nixon replied. “To be honest, I just thought I'd check on him. It's been a while since we last spoke, and I know that with Madeleine not here at the moment, he must be rather worried.” He waited for a reply. “To be honest, a few of us have been a little worried about Benjamin lately. He doesn't seem to be quite himself, and on a place like Thaxos, that can mean quite a few different things.”

  “He hasn't been himself since he got mixed up with the Le Comptes,” Albert replied.

  “Have any of us?” Nixon asked with a faint, sad smile.

  “He should marry a nice girl from the town. I always thought he and Evangeline would be well suited, but now she's gone. The problem these days is that people want to marry for love. What is love, anyway?”

  “I'm not sure that I really know,” Nixon replied.

  “I married my wife because I knew she was a good woman,” the old man continued. “We didn't bother with any of that love business, not back then. Love was something that came later, when you worked at it, when you got to know someone. It wasn't some kind of magic that was supposed to strike you from the sky.”

  “The youth of today are somewhat difficult, aren't they?” Nixon muttered.

  “Aye, well... Like I said, he's in the yard. He's supposed to be doing some sheet work for me, but...” Albert's voice trailed off, and it was clear that something was troubling him. “I suppose you should go and see for yourself. Try not to disturb him for too long, though. At the rate he's been working lately, it'll take him all day just to get a few simple tasks done. He needs to get over that Madeleine Le Compte woman and find someone proper for the town.”

  Heading through to the rear of the workshop, Nixon paused as soon as he reached the door. Looking out into the sun-soaked yard, he saw Benjamin sitting over on the far side, holding a copper sheet in one hand and a hammer in the other but doing nothing with them. Instead, he seemed to be simply staring down at the ground while slouched with hunched shoulders, almost as if he'd simply ground to a halt in the middle of some other task. His mind, clearly, was elsewhere.

  Finally, Nixon cleared his throat.

  Looking over suddenly, Benjamin seemed startled by the interruption.

  “There you are, old chap,” Nixon continued with a smile, making his way across the yard. “Edgar and I were starting to wonder if the ground had opened and swallowed you up.”

  “Sorry,” Benjamin replied, having clearly been lost in thought, “I was just doing some work for my father.”

  “Getting your hands dirty, eh?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Of course,” Nixon added, “we knew you wouldn't be up at the house so much while Madeleine's away, but it would have been nice if you'd popped in to say hello once or twice. Just to keep things fresh, you understand?”

  “Fresh?”

  “Friendly. Amicable. Plus, you know, it's awfully quiet with just Edgar and me kicking about the place. Sometimes, I actually think I get on his nerves a little. All he wants to do these days is practice his combat skills, and I have to be honest, that's not exactly my idea of a good day.”

  “Have you heard from her?”

  Nixon paused. “Madeleine? No, there's been no word at all.”

  “And Edgar hasn't gone after them?”

  Nixon shook his head.

  “Why not? Isn't he worried?”

  “Angry, more like,” Nixon replied, heading over to take a look at some of the copper plates that had been laid out on a nearby table. He picked up the first and examined it for a moment, as if he'd never seen such a thing before in his life. “Furious, even. Edgar specifically told Kate and Madeleine not to go running off to Raven's Briar, and he expected them to heed his warning. It's not often that someone explicitly goes against his word. Edgar rather likes to be heeded.”

  “I thought he might go and try to help them.”

  “Me too, but... No, his anger seems deeper-rooted than that. He seems to think that Raven's Briar is a trap, that Quillian and that Eversham woman were using the Kazakos girl to lure everyone out there.”

  “So he thinks they're in danger?”

  “Absolutely, but he also thinks that by rushing out to help them, he'll be making things worse. He worries about a trap that can be entered from several different directions.” Setting the copper plate down, he turned to Benjamin again. “He has faith in Madeleine, you know. He might not admit it, he might rant and rail ag
ainst her at every opportunity, but deep down he believes that she'll keep Kate safe. Well, safe enough, anyway.”

  “And do you believe that?”

  “I think she's got a chance.”

  “Maybe,” Benjamin muttered, setting the copper sheet down and getting ready to beat it flat with the hammer. “I don't suppose it's much of my business anymore, is it?”

  “It's not?” Nixon asked, wincing slightly as Benjamin struck the sheet.

  “I was a fool,” Benjamin continued. “To think that I could ever make things work with someone like Madeleine... We're two different species, for God's sake! When she's with me, when she's having fun and we're talking, I feel as if she's lowering herself somehow to my level.” He paused for a moment, before striking the sheet again. “I feel as if there's this huge cauldron of fury and strength that's going to burst out of her at any moment, and I won't be able to do anything to help her. I'm constraining her true nature.”

  “That might not be a bad thing, all told.”

  “It's unsustainable.”

  “I see.” Nixon paused again. “Having second thoughts, are you?”

  “This has been on my mind for a long time,” he replied. “Madeleine's like a force of nature from another world. I thought I could get used to her, that I'd be able to come to terms with the differences between us, but now I think those differences are just too great. Besides, every day I get a little older, and one day I'll be gray and wrinkled like my father, and Madeleine won't have changed at all. How can a relationship possibly work between two people who are on such different tracks in life?”

  “Good question,” Nixon muttered.

  “Would you ever let yourself fall in love with a human?”