And he knew: knew what had happened to Georgia.
Jumping to his feet, he went to the bureau beside the cabin door. He ripped open a drawer and pulled out boxes of ammunition, throwing them into a satchel he found on a hook. He picked up his rifle.
‘I’m sorry. I have to leave you,’ he said, knowing what that meant for her. Turning his back, he walked out of the cabin, down the steps and through snow towards his truck. He did not look back.
How much of a head start they had on him he did not know, nor what he would do when he found them. Inside the Chevy the first thing he saw, wrapped in brown packing paper and tape, was the cherry-red bicycle that had arrived from Winnipeg. He hauled it off the seat. Climbed behind the wheel.
Izsák started the truck. In the rear-view mirror his eyes looked dead.
Swallowing his grief, he tramped down on the accelerator and the truck lurched out onto the trail.
CHAPTER 27
Shropshire, England
On the outskirts of Shrewsbury they found a service station with a food court. Inside, at a quiet table beside the windows, Leah drank a coffee and listened as Tuomas told his story.
She could not rid herself of the chill that had enveloped her beside her father’s grave. The memory of the stag – the way it stared at her, the way its skull opened like a flower when Tuomas’s rifle round hit it – was too recent, too shocking.
Despite that, she found herself unable to look away from his solemn grey eyes as he told her the story of his life in the cabin outside Dawson City, so filled with laughter and love, and how it had ended. The more he talked, the less aware she became of the night pressing against the glass, and of the other patrons in the restaurant.
His tale was wrenchingly sad, and he told it so tonelessly, and with such resignation, that she wanted to reach across the table and touch his hand. But she was not used to contact like that – it would have felt awkward, wrong – and the table remained a gulf between them.
Tuomas paused, as if sensing that he’d lost her, and then he shrugged. Leah dropped her gaze to her coffee mug, glanced back up. ‘You never found her.’
‘Not yet, but I will. She’s out there. I know that.’
‘What will you do then?’
He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them she saw flecks of azurite floating in the grey. ‘I’ll kill them both. There’s never been a way to force a tolvaj to abandon a body against its will. Georgia was seven years old when she was taken. That thing’s been riding inside her most of her life. Even if I could figure out a way to get rid of it, I doubt there’s anything left of Georgia any more. She’s been a prisoner too long. All I can do now is to try and end her suffering.’
‘You could do that?’ She flinched, dismayed at how accusatory her question had sounded. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I just . . . if the time comes, could you really carry it out?’
‘I have to.’
Leah felt her shoulders dip with exhaustion. ‘You’ve been looking all this time. Before the one at the lake, have you encountered others?’
‘Several. For a while I was quite the expert at finding them. I’ve tracked maybe twenty, all told. Killed about a quarter of those. Not as much luck in recent years. They’re dying out. Just like us.’ Tuomas leaned forward in his seat. ‘Those hunting you back at the farmhouse. That was no coincidence, them finding you there. They must have picked up your trail a while ago. You need to work out how long they’ve been following you, and where’s safe for you to be from now on.’
‘I can’t just go to ground.’
‘You have no choice.’
‘You’re right, I don’t. I’ve made promises. To Etienne. Others.’
‘If you don’t take this seriously—’
‘Of course I take it seriously. I’m hardly going to forget that thing. But at least you killed it.’
‘No. I didn’t. Not even close. We should have taken care of it permanently, but there wasn’t time. It’ll be back. I guarantee it.’
She saw he was telling the truth, and shivered. ‘How do you kill them?’
‘Burn the bodies until there’s nothing left. Freeze them. Bury them in lime. There are ways.’
‘My God.’
For a while, neither of them spoke. Leah finished her coffee, feeling his eyes on her. She looked up from her empty mug. ‘What about your life before you moved to Dawson?’ she asked. ‘Before you met Lucy?’
‘My life started when I met Lucy. There is no before.’
‘You must have—’
Tuomas shook his head. ‘No. I won’t relive those memories. Not for you, not for anyone. I had a life in Canada, a wife and a daughter, and then I lost them. That’s all there is to tell.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be.’
‘I must ask one thing, because it does affect what I’m doing. Your history with Etienne. That came before, didn’t it?’
He hesitated, then nodded.
‘I won’t pry. I just needed to know.’
‘Etienne and I . . . we knew each other a long time ago. And then one day our paths just crossed again. We keep in touch, very loosely. Sometimes she asks my advice. She’s never had anyone else.’ Tuomas pulled out a pocket watch and flicked open its hunter case. ‘It’s getting late,’ he said. ‘We should move.’
Leah hardly heard his words. The blood drained from her face. Transfixed, she stared at the timepiece. Reaching over, she trapped his arm under her hand. ‘Show me that.’
Frowning, he pulled away, sliding the watch back into his pocket. ‘What’s wrong?’
With her eyes still on his, she lifted her hands to her neck and removed a chain from beneath her clothes. Swinging from it, a pocket watch of her own. Leah opened it and placed it down on the table. The gold case was dented and scratched. Inside, the numerals had burned away from its enamelled face.
It was the only thing they’d ever found in the smouldering wreckage of Le Moulin Bellerose, the only evidence of their victory over Jakab. No bones. No teeth. The fire had been far too hot. Leah turned the watch over. She did not need to look at the back plate to know the inscription it bore.
A pulse flickered in Tuomas’s throat. ‘Where . . .’ he began. ‘Where did you get this?’
‘Show me,’ she repeated.
His eyes pinioned her. After a moment’s pause he took out his own watch, flipped it over and laid it beside the first. A replica. Almost.
Feeling as if a serpent coiled around her chest, Leah pointed at the name. She didn’t want the answer, but she had to ask the question. ‘Are you him?’
He nodded.
The serpent tightened its grip, squeezing the breath from her lungs. ‘Jakab,’ she said. ‘Who was he to you?
Balázs Izsák’s chin was trembling, now. ‘I haven’t heard that name in over a hundred years. I never expected to hear it again. He sent my father to his death. Killed Jani, too.’ He bowed his head, stared at the watches lying side by side. ‘Jakab was my brother.’
Leah wanted to run, but the strength had drained from her. Her legs wouldn’t move. ‘No,’ she muttered. ‘No.’
When he raised his head, his eyes looked haunted. ‘Who was he to you?’
CHAPTER 28
I-15, south of Salt Lake City, Utah, USA
She had been driving for five hours without a break, the only sounds to accompany her the hiss of the van’s tyres and the occasional muffled bang from the cargo hold. The interstate stretched out in front, two endless lines of grey separated by a wide patch of scrub.
Flanking her on both sides she saw the outlines of distant mountain ranges, their peaks dark, except for those already claimed by snow. In between the land was flat, bleached and barren, dotted here and there with squat round bushes.
On the passenger seat, her phone began to vibrate. She picked it up and held it to her ear.
‘It’s me,’ said a voice.
Trapping the phone with her shoulder, she ste
ered the van past two enormous Peterbilt cattle haulers. When she glanced over at one of the trailers she noticed, through its slotted metal side, the solemn eyes of its cargo staring out at the landscape. For a moment the sight nudged a memory in her – something she was meant to have done. And then the thought faded.
‘I’m driving,’ she said. ‘But I won’t be for long.’
‘I’ll be waiting,’ he said, and hung up.
Off the interstate, a few miles south of Beaver, she spotted a brown-brick restaurant set back from the road. A row of American flags flew out front, and a sign invited diners with the promise: HAPPY BITE GRILLE: THE BEST RIBS YOU EVER TASTED!
Its parking lot was deserted. Swinging the van off the road, she pulled into a space furthest from the restaurant’s doors.
Inside the Happy Bite, a TV set was tuned to a news channel. The voices of its anchors served only to amplify the restaurant’s desolation. Empty booths lined two walls and empty tables studded the floor, each laid with cutlery and baskets of condiments. Along the far wall a glass-fronted chiller displayed glossy cheesecakes, pies and cakes. A wood-panelled service area held a stack of menus, a cash till, and a gap-toothed young man wearing a red HAPPY BITE polo shirt under a black apron. His name tag read Sylvester.
He jumped to his feet when he saw her and performed a curious double-take, eyes moving from the tips of her boots to her face, lingering for a moment on her breasts. Cheeks flushing crimson, glancing over his shoulder as if looking for guidance, he snatched up a couple of menus from the stack.
She ignored him, choosing a table by the window where she could watch the van. Nervously the youth approached, a novice matador edging towards a bull. ‘Ma’am,’ he said. ‘Welcome to Happy Bite.’
She took the menu, scanned it and passed it back. ‘Hickory ribs, coleslaw, fries, onion rings and a Coke.’ She paused. ‘A plate of nachos, too.’
The boy winced, shifting his weight to one foot. ‘I’m really sorry, but we’re not doing the ribs right now. How about a steak?’
She pointed at the sign out the front: THE BEST RIBS YOU EVER TASTED!
He nodded unhappily. ‘I know. It pisses customers off no end. Ribs aren’t on the lunch menu. We only start serving them from six.’
‘Then I’ll have a steak. Pan-fried. Rare.’
‘That I can do.’ He hesitated, glancing out of the window at her van. ‘All this for you?’
‘Yes.’
‘You’re pretty hungry, huh?’
‘Yes.’
He grinned, displaying the large gap between his front teeth. ‘Well, we do great steaks.’
She stared.
‘Can I get you some coffee while you wait?’
‘Yes.’
Sylvester scurried away and returned with a coffee mug, filling it to the brim. After placing cream and sugar down beside her, he disappeared through a door into the kitchen.
She pulled out her phone. Dialled. ‘It’s me,’ she said. ‘I’m off the road.’
‘How are they?’
‘Fading. But I have it in hand for now. Do you have any news?’
‘Some. We lost the one we were following, but we’re close.’
‘They can’t survive like this much longer.’
‘They won’t have to.’
She waited.
‘Kincsem,’ he added, his voice softening. ‘You’ve sacrificed so much.’
‘Can we come to you?’
‘Not yet. We shouldn’t move them until it’s time. Not if they’re as fragile as you say.’
‘When?’
‘Soon. I have to go.’
‘Szeretlek,’ she whispered. But already he had gone.
She put the phone back in her bag and stared out of the windows at the van. On the TV, the female anchor launched into a story about a local ice hockey team. The woman threw a comment at her male co-anchor, who rolled his eyes and shook his head.
Sylvester returned with her food, balancing the plates precariously. He laid them out before her, announcing each one with a flourish. When he saw her attention was on the TV, he flicked his head towards it. ‘Pretty funny, huh?’
She raised an eyebrow.
‘Those Grizzlies guys. Five of ’em, they say. Went out to a club two nights ago, then failed to show up for their game. Nobody’s seen ’em since. Must have got pretty wasted, huh? One thing’s for sure – they’re in a world of trouble right now.’
‘Grizzlies?’
He shook his head. ‘You’re not local. Grizzlies? Ice hockey team?’ Sylvester’s eyes began to roam again. ‘Those boots. They real snakeskin?’
‘Yes.’
‘Cool.’
She waited until the silence grew too awkward and he wandered off. Immediately she tore into the steak, demolishing it in three bites. Cramming a fistful of onion rings into her mouth, she washed them down with a mouthful of Coke, then swallowed the rest. The coleslaw was next, followed by the fries. It took her less than a minute to consume them. Finally she turned her attention to the nachos.
Glancing down, she saw her blouse was blotched with ketchup and grease. She wiped the worst of the mess away, and called Sylvester over.
When he saw the empty plates his eyes bulged from his head. ‘Goddamn, lady. You like to eat, don’t you?’
‘I need to order some take-out.’
‘You’re not done?’
‘It’s not for me.’
‘What can I get you?’
‘Five bacon cheeseburgers, with fries.’ She paused. ‘Root beers, too.’
‘For five?’
She nodded.
He came back a few minutes later with two white bags, and she paid with cash.
‘Got far to go?’
‘Yes.’
He nodded at her van. ‘What’re you hauling?’
‘Meat.’
‘Uh huh.’ He shuffled from foot to foot, licked his lips. ‘You know, I get a discount here. Like, for staff. It’s pretty generous.’
She stared.
‘I mean, if you ever wanted to come back.’
She looked around the empty restaurant. ‘Here?’
‘If you ever wanted to try those ribs, I mean. Or, like, whatever.’ He glanced down at his name badge. ‘This job, it’s only temporary. I’m saving for college.’
She stood, took the bags. Her sudden proximity seemed to unnerve him.
He moved backwards, nearly tripped. ‘You know, if you liked, we could even—’
She stepped closer, closing the distance between them. ‘Stop talking.’
His Adam’s apple bobbed. ‘Yes ma’am.’
He watched her go, his stomach flopping like an eel. Later, he would not sleep for thinking about her.
Twenty miles south of Beaver, she turned east onto State Route 20, a strip of road that led through a wilderness of gently sloping hills. She found an empty truck stop and pulled in, the van sending up a shower of gravel. Carrying the bags of take-out, she went around to the back and unlocked the doors.
It was dark inside, and it smelled bad. Urine and sweat.
The faces of five terrified young men stared out at her. Their wrists and their ankles were bound. Each had a rectangle of duct tape pressed across his mouth.
Leaning in, she studied them more closely. All wore black nylon jackets. For the first time she noticed the emblem they displayed: a grizzly bear with glowing red eyes, cradling a hockey stick and a sign that read: Utah Grizzlies.
When she moved to the nearest of her captives, he pressed his spine against the side of the van, eyes wide with horror. Reaching out, she ripped the tape from his mouth. Where it tore the skin from his lip it left a dribble of blood.
‘You’re hockey players,’ she said.
He nodded.
‘Time to eat, all of you. Take off the tape.’ She handed the bags of food and drink to the young man whose gag she’d removed. When he opened his mouth to speak, she shut the door and climbed back behind the wheel.
She
drove for another two hours, taking US-89 south before turning east towards Bryce Canyon. The rocks here had a reddish cast. Thousands of years of flash-flooding had carved channels and fissures.
Past the town of Cannonville, Garfield County, she took a left turn and twenty minutes later drove past the rusting metal sign welcoming her to the ranch.
As the van bounced along the track, she saw that the land was strewn with dark humps. It took her a while to realise they were the carcasses of dead cows – her cows – and now she understood why the sight of the cattle haulers on the interstate had pricked her memory. When she’d bought the farm a few weeks earlier she’d purchased its livestock, too. She recalled the realtor explaining about the irrigation ponds and the creek, along with the system of fences and gates.
Now the animals were dead, a hundred rotting hunks of beef. As she passed, a flurry of crows exploded from the nearest carcass. They’d stripped one side of its face down to the bone, and had dug into the soft flesh of its belly.
Another mile, and she saw the ranch house waiting ahead, a wide timber-built structure with dark windows and a gently sloping roof.
Pulling up, she switched off the engine, sitting quietly for a minute as she stared at the building. Then she took a knife from her bag, climbed out and went to unlock the van’s rear doors. Inside, her captives had consumed their lunch of cheeseburgers and root beer. The stench had worsened considerably.
She leaned towards the youth she had addressed earlier and cut through the bonds tying his feet. Grabbing him by the ankles, she hauled his legs over the lip of the luggage bay.
‘Get up.’
He nodded, eyes panicked, shifting his weight to his feet. Two days locked inside the van had driven the strength from his muscles, preventing him from standing fully, but he tried his best. He smelled like a sewer. ‘I don’t know what you want,’ he said. ‘But I’m not a bad guy. My name’s—’
‘Walk.’
‘OK. I will. I’m doing it.’ He shuffled forward, dragging his feet through stones. His hands, tied before him, began to shake. ‘Why me? I mean, what about the others?’
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