Instantly, he breathed a sigh of relief. Then he jumped with a start when the short, bald headed man tugged at his arm. ‘Are you alright my friend? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’
Thomas shrugged, stood up and walked across the room to the bar without saying a word, the colour draining from his face. He was stunned and speechless, his mind swimming in confusion. Things were getting weird again. Then Lira’s comforting voice sounded as the amazing smell of meat and potato pie with gravy wafted into the bar from the dining room, greeting his nostrils. ‘Come and get your evening meal sweetheart,’ she called.
Her voice sounded so soothing that he immediately forgot what he had seen in the mirror, shrugging it off as a daydream. However, during his meal he suspected that he had somehow seen a vision of the murderer – and it was the stuff of nightmares. Thomas always knew he was different, but now he was finding out just how different he really was. Even worse, his ultimate nightmare was lurking somewhere close in the shadows, threatening to come and get his family.
Somewhere in the distance a dog howled and he climbed to his feet, walking over to a window, staring out as thunder rumbled overhead and rain sheeted down. Everything seemed to go very quiet as the darkness outside intensified and a wind suddenly whipped up. He watched the raindrops tapping on the window pane. Again, a dog howled. The murderer is coming and is somewhere close, he thought.
The evening had started out as a fine, starry night, but now it was cold, dark, misty, miserable and raining heavily. He went back to his table and lit the candle at the centre of it just to brighten things up and make him feel better. His spirits were low and dropping lower by the heartbeat, when out of the corner of his eye he saw a silhouette outside one of the other windows. It was motionless. A dog howled again. Then a flash of lightening illuminated the darkness and the silhouette was gone. Seconds later, something smashed through the window covering the customers in shards of glass, and it fell to the floor with a dull thud at Thomas’ feet. He stared down at it wide-eyed with curiosity, and then looked across at Lira, seeing that she was anxious and scared. He hated seeing her like that.
He picked up the object. It was wrapped in a piece of dirty, blood spattered linen cloth with a piece of parchment attached to it. Again thunder rolled and a web of lightning flashed illuminating the whole landscape as rain poured into the room. He stared out of the smashed window, peering through the watery curtain at the black clouds rolling by and could just make out a shadowy shape, running near an old iron bridge in the distance. Outside laughter rang in the air. He stared at the object in his hands, peeling off the parchment and he began to read. It said:
Blood and more blood everywhere…
You are a Guardian Angel in despair…
I am the King of my Castle…
And the time is right…
So come and find me if you can...
If you want to fight...
This piece of flesh is from the first...
See if you can stop me before the last...
It was written in blood and signed, 'The Mask'. Thomas peeled away the rest of the dirty linen cloth and to his horror it was an arm and hand, hacked off at the elbow and was obviously part of a woman’s body. He could tell by the long slender fingers, one of which was wearing a diamond engagement ring. The arm was maggot riddled and made his skin crawl. Then he began to feel strange again, light-headed and as if he was daydreaming, but someone else’s terrified thoughts drifted into his mind uninvited.
‘Where am I?’ asked the voice in his head. ‘It’s cold, dark and frightening and I’m naked. He’s taken everything away from me – my home, my warmth, my world. All the things I love and understand are gone and everything looks strange and sinister. I’m a woman alone. I’m lost and it’s scary. What I see repulses me, but I can’t go back, I'm trapped. What other choice do I have but to go on? I’m fumbling in the dark. Where am I? No. No. Not you! What are you going to do to me? Oh, God, no, not that... anything but that…’ Then the voice was silent and lost forever.
Chapter 20
Thomas’ mind dizzied, then everything went black, but he knew the severed arm belonged to the woman whose voice had invaded his head. She was of course dead now, but he had somehow homed in on her last seconds of life. They had been dreadful and terrifying. No one should suffer as she had, he thought. No one should die like that – raped, throat slit and bludgeoned to death.
The experience drained him so much that he nearly collapsed on the spot, but somehow he steadied himself and came back to his senses. He made a bolt for the main doors, running out into the pouring rain and he ran as fast as he could towards the iron bridge in an attempt to catch the perpetrator of the crime – but by the time he reached it there was no one there. Now his legs were heavy and his breathing laboured, so he stood catching his breath and could hear his heart hammering inside his chest. There was no other noise, other than the falling rain.
Lightning flash… flash… flashed overhead illuminating the whole landscape, which was swathed in trailers of heavy mist obscuring his vision. The chase was over for now and the villain gone. He looked down at his feet. There was a mask. Picking it up he stared at its corpse grey face and eyes with no pupils.
Later that night Olivia giggled as she climbed into bed to lie down, but two rough-hewn hands seized her shoulders. ‘Will you stop that and go to sleep, it’s late,’ Thomas snapped in an angry voice, his temper getting the better of him. Jolted and startled, she stared at him through frightened eyes.
‘Sorry daddy, have I done something bad,’ Olivia asked with tears in her eyes, a tremor in her voice.
His eyes misted, filling with tears too. ‘Oh, God, what's happening to me?’ he whispered pulling her close, hugging her so tight that she could hardly breathe. ‘No! No! I’m so sorry sweetheart! You haven’t done anything bad! I’m wrong for taking my temper out on you and everyone around me. I’m so, so sorry.’ He kissed her forehead and smiled. ‘I love you with all my heart and always will,' he said sitting down on the edge of the bed.
She smiled back weakly, cuddling him. ‘You’re not a bad man daddy. You’re just upset because there’s a terrible man out there in the dark somewhere. You must be strong and catch him. Only you can.’
He was astounded. How can a child know so much and be so wise, he thought?
‘We’ve all got to carry on as normal to survive this bad time,’ she whispered in his ear. Her voice was silky smooth and so reassuring that he was positively hypnotised.
We all have the killer instinct, he thought, but not everyone sees life as a hunting season. Honour before death and death before dishonour should be the code of life for all. And while I’ll admit that anyone can do something they shouldn’t, it should not be repeated time after time. The killer is obviously a deranged bully of women and a coward in despair, nurturing his bigotry of the opposite sex, besides having no spine or morals. He probably hated his own mother. Unfortunately, Thomas’ last thought resonated with an uneasy familiarity, as his own brother Malcolm had indeed hated their mother with a passion.
Suddenly, shockingly, the vision of a naked woman alone in a field of corn in the dark gripped him, and his eyes widened with a mad stare that terrified Olivia. A low frightened voice drifted into his head. ‘I’m alone with him. I can't turn and run because a snarling hound from hell bars my way. My legs are heavy and I can hardly breathe. He’s behind me. Please don’t let him take me back. He's going to kill me. Please, God, don’t let him. No! No! No... !’ Then everything went black just as before.
Olivia hugged him again. ‘Please daddy, don’t stare at me like that, you’re scaring me.
He shook his head to rid himself of the dizziness clouding his mind, smiling weakly, trying to lift his spirits, thinking of happier times. It didn’t work. However, it made Olivia feel better. ‘I’m sorry for scaring you sweetheart, I don't know what came over me,’ he said fondly, giving her another great big hug.
‘Things will get bet
ter soon and everything will be alright, I promise daddy,’ she reassured, smiling against his chest. He knew and felt the smile. It made him feel human again instead of feeling as a lunatic does, caught up in the maelstrom of fury.
Tales of his own violent history had been the making of myth and legend, but it was now catching up with him fast because of the darkness that was falling around him. Now he knew that if he wasn’t careful the shadow of the murderer would spread further, not only eclipsing his own personal triumphs, but also his tragedies and he wasn’t prepared to let that happen, having locked his own terrible secrets away forever.
Suddenly the faces of his dead mother, father and brother appeared in his mind, then Master Gallus, Ozhan and his son Ozhobar along with a myriad of others, including the young woman lying dead in the hay cart and the graphic images shook him to his core. Olivia and he sat very still on the bed and he struggled to understand the nature of the dreams and visions dogging his life. He turned his head, glancing out of the window at the dark sky, hoping that tomorrow would be a better day – for it was going to be their last day of living at the Dog and Duck. They were finally moving out and into rented accommodation.
Climbing to his feet, he kissed her on the forehead and then gently tucked her into bed, blowing out the single candle lighting her room. He said goodnight and then went downstairs into the bar to repair the broken window.
*
Lira was up early the next morning, filling an old rickety cart with their belongings. Breathless, she rested a moment, gazing up at the bright blue sky as a light breeze blew in from the north. The weather was perfect for moving home and it was going to be a glorious day. A good omen for a new beginning, she thought. Thomas had repaired the old cart with new timbers more than once and had given it a fresh coat of yellow paint to spruce it up, so hopefully it was strong enough to move what little furniture they had. However, he doubted it and insisted that it was old, tired and wouldn’t be capable of making this particular journey, even though they were moving less than a half-mile away.
Nevertheless, Lira was adamant that it could and the Abbot being a sentimental old man had blessed the cart to try to make sure that it would.
‘It will be our downfall,’ Thomas had insisted the month before, and they had argued for over a week – but as usual she got her way.
Now, laden down with every conceivable item that belonged to them, including dozens of straw dolls and most of the children’s toys it was ready to roll. Olivia’s favourite big doll was perched comfortably opposite the driver’s seat.
Lira sighed, a gentle sadness settling over her. 'I am going to miss this place even though I thought I wouldn’t. We've had some good times and good memories here,' she said to herself. The sadness deepened into sorrow as she thought of Cyrano, their murdered friend, and she remembered his gaunt angular face, grey hair and green eyes as his laugher boomed out in her mind saddening her even more. Her eyes misted and filled as the memories flooded back and then melted away just as quickly, the pain of his absence almost like a dagger wound in her heart. Time has passed so swiftly since his death, she thought.
She glanced again at the old place, having come here with Thomas with only a few possessions and her good name – but she was leaving with so much more. She was now a wife and mother with three lovely children and was extremely contented, loving them equally with all her heart, but in some ways it was quite a sad day. ‘I will miss this place and think of it every day of my life, for I found happiness here amongst the sweat and toil,’ she said with sigh.
A voice from behind interrupted her daydreams. Startled she took a deep breath and spun around, only to see a well-built young man grinning at her. ‘Can’t you fill it a little more?’ he said wagging a finger at the cart, gesturing to the wheels, which were almost buckling under the weight because of how heavily laden it was.
She laughed. ‘You're a cheeky young man. I think it’s full enough,’ she replied amiably with a warm smile. ‘But I could have used those broad shoulders and big muscles of yours two hours ago, seeing as how my lazy husband and his colossal ego are still asleep in bed.’
The newcomer shook his head. ‘What kind of man would leave a beautiful woman to do such hard labour on her own?’ he asked.
‘A very tired one. My husband didn’t get to bed until the early hours of this morning because he was up packing our belongings while I was fast asleep,’ she countered in Thomas’ defence.
‘Forgive me milady, I didn’t mean to offend you,’ said the young man, his face colouring red.
She smiled and laughed. ‘There's nothing to forgive, for I'm not offended. I just hope the cart doesn’t break and the horses can pull it, otherwise I'll never hear the end of it from my husband.’
‘Your husband has a forceful nature then?’ asked the other gazing at her with his close-set dark eyes, which sparkled playfully.
‘No, he is a force of nature,’ she replied studying the young man silhouetted against the rising sun.
‘I’m saddened,’ he said spreading his hands regretfully, ‘finally I meet the most beautiful woman in the world and she’s married. Not only that, but her husband sounds like a very dangerous man and a force to be reckoned with.’
‘Aye,’ said a husky voice from behind the young man, ‘I’m highly strung but a thoroughbred – faster than the wind, stronger than a bull and fearless. I think that’s a fair estimate of my talents.’
‘Modest too,’ said Lira laughing.
The young man spun around and his eyes widened to encompass Thomas’ sturdily built frame, also silhouetted against the newly risen sun, and he noticed the harsh edge in the swordsman’s voice.
‘Where I come from, young men are respectful of women and their elders,’ said Thomas, anger in his voice.
The young man hesitated. ‘No need to get your feathers ruffled my friend. I was simply passing by and noticed your wife struggling with her belongings,’ he said.
Thomas took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. ‘Our belongings.’ he said staring hard at the young man. ‘And you're not my friend, and I have no feathers to ruffle in case you hadn’t noticed. A man should mind his own business if he’s a mind to.’
Lira could see that Thomas was angry and agitated because she had been passing the time of day with the young man. ‘Now, now, boys, no need to get testy, no one's been insulted and no harm's been done,’ she said trying to defuse the situation.
Thomas walked over to the water barrel beneath their bedroom window and splashed his face, and then he ran his wet fingers through his braided hair, holding his head high, his movements thoughtful and graceful. He stared harder at the young man, who lowered his head submissively and didn’t speak. Thomas watched him, studying his swollen face. There were small bruises around his eyes and on his cheeks. Even without the marks he wouldn't be a pretty sight, he thought.
The others face was strong but angular, his brows thick, his nose too wide and it was a stern face, but one that was no stranger to laughter. Thomas stood silently, watching him twitch uncomfortably as he rounded upon him, but there was no expression on his face and no anger showing. Finally he stepped forward, coming face to face and nose to nose with the man. ‘It’s not wise to cajole another man’s wife, particularly if that man happens to be me,’ he announced in no uncertain terms.
‘Then obviously I’m not a wise man,’ said the other avoiding Thomas’ steely gaze.
‘My love, he was doing no harm,’ said Lira.
Thomas turned his head to her, glancing fleetingly, and she looked at him thoughtfully as if to say the young man was doing nothing wrong. He blinked hard, his expression softening and his mood lightened, remembering his own amorous days when he was young. He had always been a jealous man but saw no danger from the other, so he spun his head back around, transferring his gaze to the man and forced a smile. The man smiled back, but beneath the smile there was tension and fear. However, Thomas now realised that the young man's interest in her was pu
rely superficial and like many other men, her great beauty had merely fascinated him.
The young man looked into Thomas’ smouldering dark eyes, recognising the threat was gone and the tension lifted. He breathed a sigh of relief. ‘I meant no insult to you sir, or any harm to your beautiful wife, on this you have my oath,’ he said amiably.
Thomas didn’t speak. He simply nodded, but he believed and his expression softened even more. ‘What’s your name?’ he asked.
‘Ely’ was the reply, ‘and I assure you that I am indeed a man of honour.’
‘Then the bruises about your face are not from a recent incident concerning another man’s wife?’ asked Thomas.
Ely looked stunned and began to laugh. ‘No sir, indeed they’re not. I was in the company of men only when I received them. We were having a spitting competition to see who could spit the farthest.’
‘I take it then that you lost?’ said Thomas.
‘No sir, I won, but hit a passer-by in the face and he just happened to be the biggest, meanest, son-of-a-bitch you ever saw.’ He cursed inwardly as Lira’s expression hardened. ‘I apologise for my colourful language,’ he said swiftly.
She forced a smile. ‘It’s not the first time I’ve heard such language, but it’s the spitting that, well, turns my stomach.’
‘Unfortunately, I've spent too much time in the company of men and not enough in the company of women,’ replied Ely.
Thomas considered the reply and laughed. ‘Maybe it’s time that you got in touch with your feminine side,’ he said dryly.
A Violent Man ( the story of Thomas Flynn ) Page 28