by Janene Wood
The wicker of horses greeted them as they veered off the road and entered a copse of trees. In the light of the half-moon, Magdalena paced back and forth under the watchful eye of Hayri’s sentries. Even twenty feet away, Katryn could sense her tension.
Lena and Hayri were the only people left on earth who truly cared what happened to her, Katryn realised despondently. The knowledge brought tears to her eyes, but she blinked them away. Weeping was a luxury she could ill afford, at least until they were clear of this place.
Her near-sister ran forward and wrapped her arms tightly around Katryn’s trembling body. They clung wordlessly to one another until Katryn pulled away at last and held out the ruby ring. Lena gasped and stared at it, stunned by the gift. Hayri called to them then, impatient to mount up and be on their way.
A few minutes later, the small band of riders emerged from the protection of the trees, intent on putting all possible distance between themselves and Muntbalaur before dawn.
Kate's eyes flew open. It felt like being wrenched from sleep whilst in the midst of an exciting dream. The difference was it had been real; she had actually been another person, experiencing the pain and anger and elation, and most of all, the fear of that person. She had known Katryn’s fear as if it was her own, and the memory was too recent for comfort.
Kate felt a tingling pain in her right hand where it had fallen asleep and wondered if that was what had brought her back to the present, or if the journal had tossed her out like an unwanted guest who overstayed her welcome. The waning light told her it was late in the afternoon, which meant she had been “gone” for about two hours. Almost against her will, she looked down at the page in front of her, at the scene in the Great Hall of Muntbalaur, and felt a chill. She never wanted to feel that sort of fear ever again.
Touching only the leather cover, she carefully closed the journal.
It occurred to her that she now knew the origin of the necklace she still wore around her neck. It saddened her to think of it being lifted from Katryn’s lifeless corpse – because of course Katryn was long dead, for close to two hundred years now. Yet a braver and more determined woman Kate had never known. How was it that her memory of that dreadful day came to be bound up inside the journal? Were there other memories on other pages? She wasn't sure she wanted to find out.
But was it real? Kate was beginning to doubt herself. Did it really happen the way she remembered, or was it just her overactive imagination? Had she dozed off and dreamed the whole thing?
Needing to reassure herself that she wasn't going mad, Kate opened the journal again, making sure to touch only the very edge of the pages. She turned to a random page. The only words were a name and a date, written beneath the drawing of a man, identified simply as ‘Gheorghe’. Kate gasped aloud as she read the name and smiled at what it meant. It did happen. She couldn’t have dreamed the name; that would be too much of a coincidence.
So this is what Gheorghe, Katryn's second husband, the former lord of Muntbalaur, looked like. He was handsome in an old-fashioned, middle-aged sort of way, with a receding hairline, a close-cropped beard and moustache, and a small smile almost obscured by the whiskers around his mouth. A bit old for her taste, but he looked solid and dependable, with a kind face. He was posed in a comfortable wing chair beside a roaring fire, seated before shelf upon shelf of leather bound books. A shaggy-haired retriever sat at his feet.
A further turn of the page revealed a funeral procession superimposed against the backdrop of an enormous walled castle, guarded at four corners by four rising towers. The dray containing the coffin was pulled by a pair of heavy draft horses, more used to pulling a plough than a hearse. It was followed by a long line of black-clad mourners, walking to the graveyard depicted in the foreground. Muntbalaur, thought Kate with a chill. This was the day Gheorghe was buried and Katryn’s world fell apart. Having experienced it herself, she felt tears well at the corners of her eyes.
Kate closed the book again and put it aside. Rising from her seat, she crossed to the window, needing to touch base with the world as she knew it; the world of flesh and blood. For a long time, she stood there, watching her neighbours come and go, eventually forgetting about torture and betrayal, death and disappointment, and gradually becoming more in tune with her reality. She watched as her friend from yesterday, the tortoiseshell cat with the three white socks, scuttled quickly across the road, coming to a sudden halt behind her yellow Jeep. It crouched on its haunches, low and wary, alert for danger, and Kate wondered what it was like to always be watchful, to never feel safe. She’d had a taste of it, escaping from Muntbalaur, and knew it wasn’t a lifestyle she could ever embrace.
A taxi pulled up on the street below, scaring the cat into flight, and a familiar figure stepped out onto the footpath. Kate smiled to herself and pulled the curtains all the way across to block out the night. After fumbling to switch on a table lamp, she headed to the front door, her stomach emitting a low growl. For the second day running, she had forgotten to eat lunch.
Ryan must have sprinted up the stairs; less than a minute later his knock sounded on the door. Kate opened it with a wide smile, her stomach giving a little flip-flop at the welcome sight of him, wonderfully handsome, safe and familiar. The plastic carry bag he held disgorged a delicious, mouth-watering aroma that could only be Thai food.
“Hey you,” she murmured contentedly. “What a nice surprise! I didn’t expect to see you tonight.”
“I finished work early and thought I’d take a chance you weren’t doing anything,” replied Ryan, smiling back. Kate wrapped her arms around him and returned his kiss eagerly.
“I wanted to make up for last night,” he said, giving her a chagrined smile. “It wasn’t my finest hour.”
“That's okay,” she told him graciously. “I see you remembered the way to my heart is through my stomach. You’re such a romantic.”
Kate relieved him of the plastic bag and they walked through to the kitchen, hand in hand. Ryan pulled her forward into his arms and nuzzled her neck. A delicious tingle ran through her body.
“You know, I couldn’t stop thinking about you all day,” he murmured against the softness of her cheek. He lifted his face to gaze into her eyes. “And it was usually at the most inappropriate moments.”
“That’s not very professional of you,” she murmured as their lips came together. “You should really keep your mind on the job.”
“Oh, it’s on the job now, alright,” he said breathlessly.
He tasted of beer and cigarettes and there was a scent of something sweet and unpleasantly familiar in his hair. It smelled like a woman's perfume, but in Ryan's line of work, it could have come from any number of sources, not necessarily from the pub where he obviously stopped off after work. Ryan was never very forthcoming when it came to discussing his work or what he got up to when they weren’t together, but she wasn’t the clingy type, so it didn’t usually bother her. It wasn’t that he avoided answering her questions exactly, he was just a bit vague.
“If we’re going to fool around, I’m afraid you’ll have to feed me first,” said Kate, pulling determinedly out of his embrace. “You don’t want me passing out at an inopportune moment, do you?”
Ryan reluctantly released her. “I’ve never known anyone who can eat quite like you do, Kate, and not get as big as a house.” He took two bottles of beer from the six-pack he’d brought with him and removed their tops. He took a long gulp from one and sighed with pleasure.
“It’s in the genes, you know. I have a very hungry metabolism,” she said as she spooned generous amounts of food into two bowls. “This looks great. Did you get it from that place on Tottenham Court Road?” She plucked a snow pea from one bowl and popped it into her mouth.
“Would I dare go anywhere else?”
“It smells fantastic.” She handed him one of the bowls and they carried their food and drinks out to the dining table.
“What’s this?” asked Ryan, indicating the journal Kate h
ad left lying on the table top. “It looks old.”
“Yeah, I think it is.” Kate explained about finding the mysterious bundle in the pile of items Jack and Jason brought up from the street yesterday and wondered if she should mention her strange out-of-body experience. It took only a moment to decide there were other things she needed to tell him first, before sharing this particular discovery, things she wasn’t up to discussing right now. She knew she was procrastinating and wondered why she found it so hard to open up to him. She trusted him, right? So why…?
He opened the cover and began flicking through the pages. “It's blank. There's nothing here.”
“I know. It's odd, isn't it?” Kate felt guilty bending the truth like that but it was guilt she could live with.
Once they finished eating and cleaning up, Ryan pulled her toward him and resumed their interrupted foreplay. His lips were firm and purposeful as they pressed against hers, forcing all coherent thought from her head. She inhaled his warm, yeasty breath and a tremor of longing ran through her, turning her legs to jelly.
“What do you say to joining me for a shower?” he murmured.
Her smoldering eyes told him she would like that very much indeed. “Mmm. Sounds good. Just give me a minute first, okay?” she said with a throaty groan as she pulled reluctantly out of his embrace.
A few minutes later, Ryan joined her in the bathroom, sliding the shower screen across and stepping into the steamy stall beside her. “I hope you didn’t start without me,” he teased.
Kate laughed, and gently stroked the long line of his chin, marveling that this gorgeous man, who wanted her so ferociously, was hers. He pressed his wet lips to hers and the warmth of her desire spread through her body. She closed her eyes and allowed her remaining senses to take over.
Ryan’s kisses gradually became more insistent. He pushed Kate’s lips apart, probing and exploring with his tongue, his growing fervor matched by her own. He pressed himself hard against her and she responded in kind. “God, you’re beautiful,” he whispered, his voice husky with desire. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, Kate. I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but it must have been pretty amazing.”
Kate’s pulse was racing as her heart strove to cope with the increasing arousal his words inspired. Her fingertips were throbbing, burning from the heat of him.
“I hope you know what you mean to me,” he murmured. “Don't ever doubt my love for you, not for a second.”
Stunned by the adoration in his eyes, she was lost for words.
His fingers gently caressed the downy skin of her cheek before gliding along the graceful curve of her jaw and then down the length of her neck to the creamy width of her shoulders. “I’m going to love every inch of you tonight,” he murmured, “until you beg me to stop.”
Kate smiled at the images that rushed into her head. “Every inch? You promise?”
He playfully nibbled her earlobe and lathered his hands with fragrant chamomile soap. He stroked her silky shoulders, easing the last vestiges of tension from her muscles, before slowly moving his hands to the base of her neck, gently caressing. She stood there under his spell, desire building, basking in the glow of his love. Sliding his slippery hands downward, he gently squeezed her breasts, so full and heavy but soft to the touch.
His hands roamed her body possessively, squeezing her buttocks and pushing her legs apart. When he pressed her back against the cold tiles, she squealed briefly, but the shock was quickly forgotten and she impatiently drew him toward her. Wrapping one long leg tightly around him, they moved together in a hypnotic rhythm, faces and bodies joined, hands caressing and stroking in a growing frenzy. She clung to him as they reached the threshold, then together, they fell into the void.
Ryan was true to his word, thought Kate in a somnolent haze, a smile of deep satisfaction drawn across her flushed face. There was not one inch of her body he had not kissed or caressed. She stretched languidly beneath her crisp, cool sheets, feeling deliciously limp and lethargic. Opening her eyes at last, she discovered him watching her with an expression so tender, so vulnerable, her breath caught in her throat. She knew Ryan loved her – hadn’t he just shown her how much? – but he had never looked at her so intensely before, as if she meant everything to him.
Kate finally roused herself and gave him a playful smile. “If that was your way of making up for last night, then all I have to say is, good job young man.”
Ryan laughed. “I'm glad to have been of service. You seemed to enjoy yourself,” he said with a knowing grin.
“You could say that,” she laughed, her cheeks flushing an even deeper shade of pink.
He leaned forward and lightly brushed his lips against hers. Gathering her close, he pulled the covers up over their naked bodies, drawing the warmth around them like a cocoon. “I love the sound of your laughter,” he said earnestly. “It pleases me to know I make you so happy.”
Kate turned to look up into his eyes. “Are you okay? You're very serious tonight.”
Ryan stroked her hair gently. “I'm fine,” he assured her. “You don't need to worry about me, Kate. In fact, don't worry about anything at all. I promise to always take care of you.”
Seeing her confusion, he kissed her forehead and said, “Never mind. You’re right, I’m being weird.”
“That’s not what I said.” She gave him a quizzical look, unable to figure out what was going on with him tonight. He was so darned earnest.
When he didn’t say anything further, she shook her head and changed the subject. “So are you going to tell me what happened last night? I’ve never seen you so drunk before and I can’t believe you got that way on purpose.”
Ryan took a deep, overly long breath and Kate couldn’t help thinking he was stalling, trying to decide how much of the truth to tell her. The idea that he was censoring his reply did not fill her with joy. “It’s okay,” she assured him tartly. “I’m not mad, I just wondered. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
“There’s not really anything to tell.”
“Does it have anything to do with that creepy friend of Jasper’s?”
“Why would you ask that?” he asked sharply.
“He just struck me as a sleaze. When he looked at me, it was like he was picturing me naked.”
A spark of anger flashed across Ryan’s face but quickly disappeared. “Believe it or not, he’s an okay guy when you get to know him. He and Jasper go way back. The pair of them kept us entertained all night, regaling us with stories from the good old days. It was a surprisingly good night. He insisted on shouting the whole night, so of course we drank too much – much more than I realised until I arrived at your door and found I could barely stand up straight.”
Kate absorbed his words silently, certain there was more to it than that, and thinking what a shame it was they were both so intent on keeping secrets from each other. Ryan said nothing further on the subject and soon his breathing slowed and deepened and he fell asleep, leaving her alone to contemplate the nature of their relationship and whether they truly had a future together.
Half an hour late she still hadn’t come to a definite conclusion. Disentangling herself from his sleeping form, she wrapped her terry robe around her naked body and walked down the hall to the kitchen. It was only ten o’clock and she was the opposite of tired. The central heating was warm enough to allow her to walk around without slippers, and the deep pile of the new carpet was soft against her bare soles. She filled the kettle and was considering whether to have Chamomile or Earl Grey tea when the phone rang, making her jump.
“Hello,” she answered.
“Hey, sweets. I figured you'd still be up.”
“More to the point, Juliet, why are you up? Don’t you know it’s a school night?”
“Yeah, I know, I just wanted to make sure you got my message about tomorrow night.”
“Yeah, I got it. I'm looking forward to it.”
“Are you bringing Ryan?”
“No, he has to work.”
“Oh, goo...I mean, that's too bad.”
“Are you all right?” asked Kate. “You sound a bit strange.”
“No, no, I’m fine,” Jules hastened to assure her. “It’s just been a long, emotional afternoon. Family!” she said, as if that explained everything. “So what did you get up to today?”
“Oh, Jules,” said Kate excitedly. “I've got so much to tell you! You remember that strange book we found yesterday? It turned out to be a journal! But not just any old journal...”
“Really? You’d better tell me all about it, then.”
The Investigation Begins
Monday, 26 November, 1979
Marc woke abruptly in the dark, struck by the certainty that something was terribly wrong. At first, he wasn’t sure whether it was an immediate threat he felt, or if it was just his subconscious warning him something was amiss and needed his attention. No prizes for guessing what that might be, he thought bitterly as the tension leached out of his body. Kate. There had been little else on his mind for the past eighteen hours.
Despite having drunk a gallon of water before he went to bed, his mouth was uncomfortably dry and his head throbbed just enough to remind him he could no longer drink as much as he used to without paying for it later. The discomfort was worth it, though. He’d had an extremely enjoyable afternoon with Jules, eating and drinking too much, swapping stories about Kate, and reconnecting with his sister in a way that was long overdue. It was years since he had laughed so much; his sister was much funnier than he remembered, and once he got over the initial shock of learning she and Kate were friends, it felt good to talk about her with someone who knew her as well as he did. Or as well as she had let them. They now knew an entire chapter was missing from her story, a chapter he suspected she had no intention of sharing.
Lying in Jules’ spare bed, trying unsuccessfully to shut off his thoughts, he finally decided there was no point trying to go back to sleep. He showered quickly and dressed comfortably in faded jeans, a plain white t-shirt and black leather jacket. Jules was still asleep in her room across the hall when he slipped out twenty minutes later and climbed into a waiting taxi.