The Reckoning

by Alma Katsu

  I threw myself in front of Adair to keep him from kicking Luke and then pulled him aside so we could speak outside of Luke’s earshot.

  “You heard him in there, Adair. He doesn’t believe me,” I said.

  “You are not trying hard enough to convince him,” Adair growled.

  “He’ll never believe I’d go back to you willingly, not after everything he’s heard about you.”

  He gave me that strange look again. “Is that all he knows of me: the bad? Is that the only way you have thought of me?”

  I was taken aback. How did he expect me to think of him?

  “Could he not believe that you have the tiniest bit of love for me?” When I didn’t answer him right away, he went cold. “Then perhaps you should try a little harder with your acting skills, my dear. As I recall, you could be quite a convincing actress when it suited you.”

  I was at the end of my rope, exhausted. I couldn’t stop my tears. “Do you have to be so cruel? I’ve tried to do as you asked. You have powers, don’t you? Isn’t there something you could do?”

  “I could kill him,” Adair said, and then softened as he ran a finger through the tears on my cheek. “But that will not do, will it?”

  “Please, Adair. If you spare his life, I will be grateful to you forever.”

  He winced at “forever.” He wiped at my tears again. “You love him, and you don’t want him to suffer for having loved you. You want me to do something to ease his heartache. That is what you mean, isn’t it?”

  I hung my head. “Yes.”

  “All right. That, I can understand. Would that it were so easy for all of us to ease our heartache. For this man, there is something I can do.” He looked at Luke over my shoulder. “I will make him forget that he ever knew you. I will go into his mind and pluck out every memory he has of you. You must go to your room and wait for me. Don’t come out of the room; don’t try to steal a last look at him through the windows. He mustn’t see you again before he leaves here or it could undo the spell.”

  This would be the last time I’d see Luke, I realized. He was streaked with blood and half-unconscious, and it was all my fault. Yes, it seemed it was in his best interest that he would never think of me again.

  “Thank you, Adair. Thank you for . . . this kindness.” I paused for a long moment, and with this last thought, I was unable to move from where I stood, feet firmly planted on the concrete garage floor. “But . . . how will I know you’ve done as you promised? How will I know you haven’t killed him?” I asked, the thought just occurring to me.

  Adair beheld me with those frightening eyes, as cold as the jewels they resembled, and said, “You won’t.”

  THIRTY-THREE

  LAKE GARDA, ITALY

  The house Pendleton found for us turned out to be a château on the north end of Lake Garda, high in the Italian lake country and tucked on a switchback road to the Sarca Walls, the famously forbidding cliffs at the foothills in the Dolomites. Adair had known the region a long time ago, when it was populated by a straggly band of hardy, stubborn people who were able to survive on the demanding terrain. He had vivid memories of threadbare robbers who waylaid merchants in the mountain passes, and monks and priests who ran churches secreted high in the cliffs, strict old church stalwarts who commanded their parishes like despots.

  Now the area attracted people who craved the difficult landscape for sport—rock climbers, windsurfers, and mountain bikers—but most of that activity took place in the valley, in medieval towns that bordered the lake, far from our sixteenth-century castle tucked behind an iron gate. Between the gate and the long, tricky descent into town it was impossible for me to leave the house, but there was one compensation for my isolation: a magnificent view of the mountain lake, its black surface hinting at its unfathomable depths.

  I think Adair would’ve preferred that he and I move there alone, but in the end he brought Pendleton with us. Jude returned to Boston to make money, like a child delighted to return to his room to play video games; and Alejandro, despite much protesting that he wished to serve Adair again, was sent back to his photographer’s studio in Barcelona. At least it hadn’t been awkward leaving Tilde behind, as she told Adair she preferred to continue on as he’d found her. She’d done well for herself in some ways: she was wealthy, and completely independent. I think she wanted to be free to gather her own retinue of broken people who wanted someone to make them suffer for their sins. But if she modeled herself on Adair, she was the poor man’s version at best; for although she had claws and fangs to sink into her victims, her only enticement was sexual humiliation, and there are only so many people who sought that kind of debasement.

  In the castle, Adair spent much of his day with Pendleton, learning about the new world and the history and science that he’d missed. He left me alone for most of each day to read or watch television or shop online. I wasn’t allowed to go down to the valley to actual stores, not even with a chaperone, but could have new clothing and sundries delivered to the château.

  I trolled online news, too, and read all the stories I could find on Luke’s return as a fugitive to St. Andrew. According to the news, he had no memory of me, and since he passed lie detector tests and brain scans, there was nothing the police could do and no charges were brought. After the news stories dried up, I tried to continue to follow him, but his name disappeared from the hospital’s roster of physicians and shortly thereafter his farm appeared for sale on a real estate agent’s website, even though I was sure my solicitor had completed the purchase as I’d asked. I couldn’t blame him for leaving: his neighbors’ curiosity had to be suffocating, and there were likely to be some who wouldn’t believe that he had no recollection of me, what had happened in the hospital that night, or his months away. Despite it all, he’d managed to get out of St. Andrew, and I was happy for him.

  As for the remains of my former life, I wanted to contact Henri, my lawyer, to consolidate my assets and settle my accounts, but Adair wouldn’t allow it. The break had been made, he said. Burning the Paris house made it look like foul play and worked to his advantage, as he wanted it to look as though I’d disappeared off the face of the earth. He didn’t want to leave a clue of any kind should someone try to find me. Besides, he said, it was fitting that I lose everything the way that he had.

  The loss of all that money—though it was dwarfed by Adair’s fortune—drove Pendleton mad, and he pleaded with Adair to think of it as my dowry, but Adair wouldn’t change his mind. I didn’t tell him about my last contact with Henri to purchase Luke’s parents’ farm, and to raise it to Adair would only put Henri in jeopardy. In the end, I think what Adair really wanted was to leave me penniless and make it even harder for me to escape.

  As the weeks passed, I assumed no one in the surrounding villages knew of us or cared about us until I noticed that the housekeepers and gardener, who came up from town every morning, seemed strangely curious whenever our paths crossed. They never asked about who we were or where we’d come from—perhaps the hiring agency had instructed them to be discreet—and so one day I found one of the housekeepers who spoke a little English and asked her what the people in town said about us, thinking she might at least confirm that no one cared who’d rented the castle.

  The maid smiled at being given permission to bring the subject up with her mysterious employers, and told me the villagers guessed we were movie people from Hollywood, here for relaxation and anonymity. Her dark eyes begged for me to confirm this, and I didn’t have the heart to dissuade her. We were probably far more interesting to her this way; there are few earthly miracles that can compete with Hollywood, I’ve found.

  Adair reserved evenings for us to spend together. I expected he would be eager to make up for two centuries of deprivation and revert to his old ways, and so I braced for a life of nightclubbing and other such diversions, such as dinners and parties and orgies with the sharply toned athletes who came to challenge the mountains; but to my surprise he seemed to have lost all tast
e for that and wanted to stay in. We sat in the darkened mezzanine on the second floor, looking through tall windows down the mountainside onto the lights of the city below and the stunning reflection of the moon on the inky lake.

  I played Scheherazade as Adair had me tell him every detail of my life after Boston, from sailing to Europe, to being deserted by Jonathan in Morocco, to wandering through northern Africa and the Silk Road with Savva. He wanted to hear, too, about all the men who had loved me and whom I’d used subconsciously to mend the hole Jonathan had torn in my heart. Adair took it all in, rarely interrupting for a question or explanation, but making sure we touched the entire time, stroking my arm or holding my hand, or wrapping my hair around his fingers like golden threads on a spool.

  I told him repeatedly that I found it embarrassing to talk so much about myself, and asked him to tell a story from his past, if only to spare me the sound of my own voice. He always demurred, saying he’d told me one chapter of his old life and look at what it had got him. I’d been the only one to figure out his deepest secret. The less I knew of him the better, he insisted. “Besides,” he teased, “my stories would drive you mad with jealousy. I’d rather we make our own stories. Like the time . . . do you remember”—he pulled me on top of him—“when we went to hear that lecture on . . . oh, I can’t remember what it was supposed to be about, because you were so irresistible that day that I had no patience for the lecturer. I whisked you from your seat and we went to the back of the lecture hall and we swived in the back of the auditorium. Do you remember? I can still see the faces of those shocked young men peeking over the partition, beguiled by the sight of you in such ecstasy. The rustling of your silk skirts crushed between us and the sound of your stifled cries still ringing in my ears. . . .”

  “I remember,” I answered, blushing.

  “Tell me we will have this again, Lanore,” he said suddenly, seriously. “Tell me you will thrill to be in my arms again.”

  I didn’t know what to say; it was like being overtaken by a wave, knocked down, dragged under. All thought was squeezed from my head and I sputtered, unable to come up with a response I thought would please him, and he waved the moment aside, unhappy.

  True to his word, he took me to his bed every night. I was anxious at first, unable to lose myself in the act of coupling. I couldn’t stop thinking about Luke, wondering if he was all right and if he ever questioned why he couldn’t remember the woman whom other people insisted he knew. Lying naked with Adair felt treasonous, but if it bothered Adair, he didn’t show it. He tried to woo me most nights; other nights he seemed content to have my body to do with as he pleased. But mostly I wondered to myself about this strange situation, being treated as Adair’s guest when by rights I should’ve been treated as his prisoner. I was grateful for having escaped the horrible punishment I’d expected to be waiting for me, but I lived in a state of continual suspense. I was afraid that perhaps I’d been living in a dream, and would awake to find the Adair from my past now lying in bed with me. I lived with the expectation that one day Adair’s terrible temper would change abruptly and I’d be back in the hell I’d been dreading.

  I was roaming the house by myself one afternoon, looking for fresh entertainment, when Pendleton came trotting down a staircase toward me. “There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you,” he called out. “Adair wants to see you.”

  I knew I’d find him in the library, which was where they stayed most days. It was a magnificent room, probably the best in the whole château. Like the mezzanine, it had a wall of tall windows and unobstructed views of the lake, and in the afternoon, sunlight filled the room. The sun had lit up the dozens of shelves in the room so the walls were a bright mosaic of spines and different-colored leather, gilt trim sparkling.

  Three round tables dominated the floor, each surrounded by armchairs, but Adair had set himself at the middle table, the one with the best view. His new laptop computer sat between stacks of books and sections from international newspapers the housekeepers brought up from town at his request. He was parked behind the laptop, staring at the screen, but he closed it when I came into the room. “Ah, Lanore. Please sit.” He motioned to the chair next to his.

  “What is it?” I was curious what could be on his mind; to call for me during the day was outside of his usual routine.

  He studied me sharply for a moment but then seemed mindful of the severity of his appearance and softened his gaze. He’d been like this since Tilde’s, a battle obviously being waged inside between brain, soul, and heart. “So, how long have we been here, two months? Are you enjoying our life here?”

  “It’s very nice,” I answered.

  “It is not quite the same as the accommodations you built for me, but it is secure, and it must be comfortable, since I must share your prison with you.”

  Had it begun this way with Uzra, too? I wondered. Had he been gentlemanly and courted her, encouraged her to talk about her childhood, her dreams? I could imagine how things started to go badly between them: another man catching her eye, perhaps, or maybe he began seducing other women again. Or maybe, unlike me, she had always hated him, always resented that he’d taken away her freedom. Maybe they had had a conversation like the one we were about to have, and if I didn’t tell him what he wanted to hear, my punishment would begin in earnest.

  “Here we are again, Lanore, the two of us. I am pleased to see that, for your part, you are upholding your end of our agreement. You’ve tried neither to escape nor to contact anyone on the outside.”

  Our agreement. Such a deceptively harmless term implying a mutual decision. I thought of Luke, his face bruised by the beating he suffered, the last time I saw him. Do you have a moral obligation to fulfill a promise made by force? “We have a bargain,” I responded.

  “Correct. We have a bargain.” A tense pause. “Now that two months have passed, I feel I can tell you, honestly, that I thought it would be different. You might find this naïve of me, but I thought we would reclaim what we had in Boston.” I knew what he meant. There had been a period in Boston when I was taken with Adair, when I was amazed that someone as worldly as he could find me intriguing . . . when I would’ve been grateful for his love.

  “You must understand: those days in Boston with you were the only happy times in my life. The only happy times I can remember. I am beginning to understand, however, that it may not be possible to have that time again,” he continued. He seemed unable to look at me any longer and stared down at his hands. “I thought the problem between us, before, was Jonathan. He was so beautiful that I could at least understand why you loved him. Now that he is gone, I thought you would be happy with me. But there is this doctor, neither handsome nor rich, who has taken Jonathan’s place in your heart. Again, there is no room for me. I cannot make sense of this, not at all.”

  His eyes flashed with anger for a second, and I cowered. I knew his fury too well. If that flash held for more than a second, things could go badly. It reminded me, too, that I had lived like this before, fear falling to the pit of my stomach, afraid of his black moods. I didn’t want to live like that again. He saw me flinch and closed his eyes, the sight painful.

  “You are well aware, I think,” he went on, more calmly than before, “of my singular capabilities. In all the world, there is no one who can give you what I can. And there was a time when I would’ve done anything you asked. I would’ve made the sun shine for a full twenty-four hours or had the tides stand still on the shore. I would’ve made the world bloom, every field and plain, to worship you with flowers. I would’ve created a second moon to rise in the sky or made everyone disappear, every soul from here to the ends of the earth, so that we could have the world to ourselves, just you and I.

  “There is only one man who can do these things for you, who can offer you the heavens and all of the earth, who can command the forces of nature. And yet”—his eyes grew clouded, confused, and sad—“you won’t have me. I could give you a potion and make you fall in love
with me, but it would not be the same. That is not what I want from you. I had hoped that with time you would forgive me and come to love me, but I am beginning to understand that this will not happen as long as you love someone else in your heart. I have struggled to accept this but I find I cannot.”

  I held my breath and waited for his anger to break like a thunderstorm. The greater he professed his love to be, the more dangerous his disappointment. I cringed, waiting for him to dole out hellfire for my wayward heart, my intransigence. I couldn’t help that I did not love him back as he loved me—exactly, it occurred to me, as I had once felt about Jonathan.

  He was still speaking, even if in my panic I’d stopped listening. “. . . and it is destroying me to see that I make you so unhappy. So . . . I am letting you go.”

  I jerked my head up in surprise. Had I heard him correctly? I was sure I had misheard—that my ears were telling me only what they wanted to be true—but it was impossible to tell by the empty expression on his face. No, not empty: forlorn. His heart was breaking.

  “What did you say?” I asked nervously.

  “I release you. You are free to return to the man you love.”

  It was too much to comprehend at once, and I struggled to make sense of the facts as I knew them. Adair was letting me go to the man I loved—but Luke didn’t even know me anymore. I’d been extracted from his memory.

  Adair shook his head. “I know what you are thinking, Lanore, but there is still hope. It will be a challenge, but you must convince him that he does know you and that you shared a wonderful life together. Go find him, Lanore, and make him fall in love with you all over again. He will, if it is meant to be.”

  I sat stunned, afraid to move lest it break whatever spell had Adair in its grip. The lake below winked at me, and beside it the highway led to the greater world beyond. For whatever reason, a miracle had happened. Adair’s stony heart was moved and I was free.