by Amy Cross
“You're asking the wrong person. I've never been the kind to fall in love.”
“Not even once?”
“Not even once.” Nixon paused, as a flicker of sadness crossed his eyes. “Madeleine will come back, you know.”
Benjamin nodded.
“And when she does, you should talk to her about these concerns.”
“So she can smooth them over and pretend that nothing's wrong?” Hitting the copper sheet again, Benjamin was clearly struggling to contain his frustration. “I'm a straightforward kind of guy. I don't usually talk about things a great deal, I trust my instincts, but I'm starting to think that I've got involved in something that's way too big for me. Maybe I'd only be hurting Madeleine if I tried to keep things going.”
Nixon paused for a moment. “I've never been in love,” he said finally. “Shocking, I know, but it's true. I've just never met anyone who stirred that kind of passion in me. Still, I've seen people who've fallen hard, and my impression is that love isn't something that can be controlled or wrestled into submission. Not true love, anyway. It seems more like a current that flows through the river of a soul's life, eventually wearing away the banks of that river and changing its course. If you try to fight that current... Well, maybe you can swim against it for a little while, exhausting yourself in the process, but eventually you'll be dragged back and the current will go where it wants.” He paused again. “And then eventually you'll end up getting washed out to sea, and you'll sink, and seagulls will peck out your eyes.”
“That wasn't a bad metaphor until the last part,” Benjamin told him.
“I'm just guessing about the whole thing,” Nixon replied, turning and heading back to the door, “but I hope you won't go making any stupid decisions. Although you are human, so I suppose that might be a big ask. Just try not to act in haste. You'll regret it later if you do.”
“So your point is that all love eventually ends in death?”
“Is it?” Nixon frowned. “I suppose so. That's not very cheery, is it?”
IV
“I'm only going to ask you one more time,” Edgar said firmly, as he squeezed Joshua's throat tight and lifted him a little further off the ground. “Where is Quillian?”
Unable to breathe, Joshua struggled desperately, gasping as he tried to get free.
“Don't be a fool,” Edgar continued, squeezing tighter. “Are you really willing to lay down your life for that man? Whatever he has offered you, you'll never get it. As soon as he has what he needs, he'll leave you in the dirt if you're lucky, or he'll tear you to pieces if you're not. He might even torture you, he likes doing that.” He leaned closer, until his face was just inches from Joshua's. “Tell me where he is!”
Still gasping, Joshua grabbed Edgar's hand and tried to pull it away from his throat. His face was turning blue now, as lack of oxygen to the brain was starting to make him lose consciousness.
“Seriously?” Edgar replied. “Are you still not going to talk? Would you rather go to your grave to protect the life of a man who will bring nothing but pain and suffering to this island? Tell me, what did he do to earn such loyalty? Why do you still refuse to answer me?”
He waited, before suddenly realizing the problem.
“Oh. Of course.”
With that, he let go of Joshua's neck and allowed the man to drop gasping and spluttering to the floor of the lighthouse's main room.
“Okay,” Edgar continued, “your windpipe is open again. Now will you tell me?”
“Gone,” Joshua hissed, still taking deep, hawking breaths as he rolled onto his back and stared up at Edgar. “I'm seeing spots. I think you broke something in me!”
“Not yet,” Edgar replied, placing the heel of his boot against Joshua's neck, “but perhaps soon, if you're not more forthcoming. You said he's gone. Where?”
“He left Thaxos a few days ago,” Joshua continued, as the color slowly began to return to his face. “He said he'd be back, but he was going on about having to check something. I swear, I don't know what's up, but he seemed agitated. It's like he thought everything was working out before, and then suddenly he changed his mind. That's all he told me!”
“Are you sure?” Edgar asked, pressing down a little harder on the man's neck.
“I'm sure!” Joshua shouted. “I swear to God! I swear on all that's holy!”
“Things that are holy have little meaning to me,” Edgar sneered.
“Please,” Joshua gasped, “I've told you everything I know!”
Edgar stared at him for a moment, before taking a step back. “You're lucky. If I didn't have such a great deal of respect for your brother, I would have killed you already and smeared your remains across the rocks. When Quillian returns, tell him to come and find me. This situation has lasted too long already, and the time has come for me to end his miserable life. Tell him that if he doesn't come immediately, I shall know him to be a coward and I shall come to find him instead. Tell him that if he shows a little bravery, I might make his death less painful. He doesn't deserve mercy, but nonetheless that is an offer I am willing to make.”
Turning and heading to the door, Edgar stopped for a moment and looked back at Joshua, who was still on the floor.
“Tell him,” he added finally, “that my patience has worn thin. Tell him that I shall enjoy his suffering.”
***
“It's just an idea,” Doctor Lassiter replied, as he showed the sketch to Estella outside the cantina. “I'm not a designer, but I saw the war memorial in Seltian a few years ago and I basically copied that, with a few changes.”
“It looks perfect,” she replied. “You have very good taste.”
“Baron Le Compte said that he'll finance the whole thing, so with his generosity and my somewhat haphazard design, I think this war memorial might be ready rather soon. I spoke to a few men earlier and they can start breaking ground at any moment. It's hard to believe how quickly everything is gathering pace.” Folding the sketch, he slipped it into his pocket. “That's why I came to speak to you, actually. I think I shall need some help getting everything organized, so I was wondering if you'd be willing contribute to the project. If you don't mind working with me, that is.”
“I -” Pausing, she realized that although she was tempted by the idea, she felt it would be better to avoid spending too much time with him. Spotting a blonde hair on his collar, she stared at it for a moment, while imagining the hair having transferred to his clothes earlier when he embraced Emma.
“What's wrong?” he asked, reaching up and feeling his collar, before finding the hair and taking a look. “Oh. I wonder if that has been hitching a ride with me all day?” With a faint smile, he flicked it to the ground.
Feeling a faint shudder, Estella watched as the hair fell. “I fear you must find someone who will be of more use. Perhaps Emma would like to help you?”
“But -”
“I'm sorry,” she replied, taking a step back. “Truly, I wish you luck. And please give my regards to Emma. I hope she is feeling better soon.”
Before he could argue with her, she turned and made her way around the side of the building, intending to get back into the cantina's yard as quickly as possible. She'd only managed a few paces, however, before she bumped into someone coming the other way.
“I'm dreadfully sorry,” she gasped, “I just -”
Suddenly she found herself face-to-face with Edgar.
“I'm sorry,” she continued, “I should have paid more attention.”
Without replying, he stepped past her.
“Can't you even be civil to me?” she asked, feeling a flash of anger at being ignored. “Are you so rude and ungracious?”
Stopping, he turned to her, and for a moment he seemed to be on the verge of saying something.
“Is it not within the bounds of possibility,” she continued, “that from time to time we might forgive those who have wronged us?”
“I am not the one you wronged,” he said darkly.
&nbs
p; “But Kate -”
“Don't say that name,” he snapped. “You're not worthy.” With that, he turned to walk away.
“Give me money,” she called after him.
Again he stopped, and again he turned to her.
“Give me money and I'll leave,” she continued, her voice trembling slightly. “I've been thinking about it, and this island is so small, it's inevitable that we shall bump into one another from time to time. The only solution is for me to leave, but I can't do that without money, so...” She paused, trying to come up with the details of a plan that had only really sprung into her mind while the words were coming out of her mouth. She hated asking him for money, but at the same time she felt she could swallow her pride if, in the long-term, her life might improve. “I would need enough to set myself up somewhere on the mainland, just to get started, and I would also need a little to give to my father, so that he can get by without me.”
“You want me to pay for your future?”
“It would be a wise investment,” she pointed out, with tears in her eyes. “You'd benefit from it too. You'd never have to see me again.”
“Or I could just kill you,” he replied, “and bury you deep in the ground.”
“Or you could do that,” she agreed, “but... If you wanted to kill me, you'd have done it already, would you not? So sending me away would perhaps be a better option, and the money required would be insignificant, at least by your standards.”
“Everything about you is insignificant by my standards.”
“So help me to leave.”
He shook his head.
“Why not?”
“Because I have done enough for you already, and because it does not pain me to see you like this. In fact, I rather enjoy witnessing your slow, inevitable decline. After what you did to Kate...” He paused for a moment, as if his anger was in danger of boiling over. “One day, Estella, you will be an old crone shuffling through these streets, and eventually you will die and your life will have meant nothing. If you find your time on Thaxos to be too difficult, you can always find some other way to end it. Perhaps that might be the best thing, since your heart has revealed itself to be so dark and cruel.”
“Edgar, I -”
“You know that, do you not?” Interrupting her, he stepped closer. “I have seen many foul things in my life, Estella, but none so foul as you. Evil lives in your twisted soul, along with greed and self-interest, and I learned long ago that a soul cannot change. A good man cannot become a bad man, and a bad man cannot become a good man. That rules applies to women also, perhaps even more so. Even if you ran from Thaxos, you would never be able to escape yourself. You are evil through and through, and you shall be that way until the day you die.”
She opened her mouth to argue with him, but finally she just watched as he turned and walked away. Tears were running down her cheeks, and she felt as if she might burst with anger at any moment.
“Evil through and through, am I?” she whispered. “Is that what you really think, Edgar? Fine, then perhaps I must prove you wrong.”
***
A short while later, alone in the bathroom at her father's house, Estella set down the newly-tied doll and then reached into her pocket to take out the long blonde hair she'd retrieved from the ground. Carefully, she slipped the hair through the doll's chest and then made sure that it was fully intertwined with the rest of the body. Tears were gathering in her eyes, but she knew she had to continue.
“Evil through and through,” she whispered, “and I shall be that way until the day I die. Really, Edgar? Is that what you think of me?”
Turning, she carried the doll over to the sink, which she had already filled with calf's milk. For a moment, she caught herself reconsidering her present course of action. The thought of Emma Lowndes suffering in bed was still enticing, and she felt nothing but pure hatred for the woman. At the same time, she desperately wanted to prove to Edgar, and to herself, that there was still hope for her soul. With trembling hands, she set the doll down in the sink and then pushed it under the surface, submerging it in the cooling milk.
“What I have done,” she continued, “can also be undone. And if both actions are carried out by my hands, surely they are canceled out entirely? Surely...” She paused, before gently raising the doll from the milk. “Surely now, everything is reset?”
***
“I'm sorry I took so long,” Doctor Lassiter said wearily as he entered the Lowndes' house. “I'm afraid there were so many other -”
Stopping suddenly, he saw that Emma was standing at the bottom of the stairs, smiling at him despite the thick cuts and wounds she still bore on her face and torso.
“I...” Too shocked to speak, Lassiter set his briefcase down and took a step toward her. “What... What is this?”
“I don't know,” she replied, her voice trembling as tears ran down her face, “but a few minutes ago, I woke up and the pain just seemed to have gone entirely. I can't explain it, Paul, but somehow I can tell deep down that it's over.”
“Careful,” he said, hurrying to her and trying to get her to sit on the bottom step. “You mustn't push yourself.”
“Oh, you are thoughtful,” she replied, stepping aside, “but really, there's absolutely nothing wrong with me. I just feel this sudden inner strength that I'm certain will last. I don't know which of the treatments you gave me worked, Paul, but one of them did and now I'm fighting fit. You're a rather excellent doctor after all, aren't you?”
“I...” He paused, barely able to believe what he was seeing. “I must admit, I don't know what I did, but at least you're up on your feet again. The recovery is quite remarkable, almost...”
“Almost what?” she asked with a smile.
“Almost too good to believe. Almost beyond the bounds of medical science. I must examine you properly and try to understand the precise mechanism by which -”
“Oh,” she replied, stepping closer and putting her arms around him, “you may examine me all you like once we're married. In fact, perhaps this miracle has been sent by God as a sign. It's a hurry-up.”
“So what exactly -”
“Why not get married today?” she asked, before biting her bottom lip for a moment as she stared into his eyes. “It's not as if we're waiting for anyone to come from the mainland. We could throw a sudden wedding to surprise everyone!”
“Today?” he stammered.
“Right now,” she continued, before leaning closer and kissing the side of his face. “This whole horrible episode has made me see the importance of acting while we still can. Besides, there has been a terrible pall hanging over the island these past weeks, ever since poor Mildred Wallace was killed, plus there are the bodies coming home from the war. Why shouldn't we look to the future? My darling, let us strike while the iron is hot!”
***
“Well,” Muriel Wetherly said with a hint of shock in her voice, “when I woke up this morning, I never thought I'd be attending a wedding today!”
Across the street, flowers had been hastily arranged all around the church, while most of the town had turned out to witness the union of Doctor Paul Lassiter and Ms. Emma Lowndes. Now that the vows had been exchanged, guests were spilling out from the church's main door as the bell rang, and a moment later the happy couple emerged to a hail of confetti, before stopping for a brief, respectful kiss that lingered just long enough to avoid outraging the more traditional members of Thaxos society.
“It's beautiful,” Estella whispered after a moment, keeping her eyes fixed on the newlyweds while making sure not to start crying. Tears were welling in her eyes, but she was just about managing to hold them back. “It's quite something.”
“This is exactly what the island needed,” Muriel continued, nudging Estella in the ribs. “After all the horrors of the war, and the deaths of Evangeline and Inspector Tarud and poor Mrs. Wallace, there was a real danger that the mood of the place would get worse and worse. It's so lovely that a wedding can lift everyo
ne's spirits again.”
Swallowing hard, Estella nodded.
“Thank you all for coming to our wedding!” Doctor Lassiter called out to the crowd. “We're going to hold a small celebration in the cantina this afternoon, so I hope that you'll be able to join us!”
As cheers rose up, Estella turned and made her way toward her father's house, only for Kenneth Goddard to run over and tap her on the shoulder.
“Where do you think you're going?” he asked breathlessly. “I've got half the town coming to the cantina, this is going to be my busiest day for years. I need you behind the bar!”
“But -”
“That's a good girl,” he continued, turning and hurrying away. “I honestly don't know how I managed before you came to work for me!”
She opened her mouth to argue with him, but he was already long gone. Finally, with a sigh, she turned and began to follow, making her way to the cantina as the street filled with the sound of laughter and wedding bells.
V
“Eversham?” Quill called out as he pushed the door open. “Eversham, where the hell are you?”
He waited, but the main hallway of Raven's Briar was ominously dark and quiet. Although he had tried to call several times over the previous few days, he'd never managed to get hold of anyone, so now he was making an unannounced visit. Previously, he had always been welcomed warmly and given great respect, but this time the entire orphanage seemed dark and empty, as if the regime of Ms. Eversham had been completely stripped away.
“Is anyone here?” he shouted, stepping inside and leaning heavily on his stick as he shuffled toward the foot of the stairs. Looking around, he saw dust floating through the air. Raven's Briar had always been kept so clean in the old days, and he knew that there was no way Ms. Eversham would have allowed it to become so dirty. The only possible explanation was -