by K. C. Dyer
“As lighthouses go, this one seems pretty small,” said Kate, one foot slithering along the slippery rocks.
“What would you know about it? I haven’t seen you burying yourself in local history lately,” Brodie said, laughing.
Kate looked impatient. “Okay, so maybe not local history. But Ainslie Castle has sure given me a taste for Professor Tooth’s Renaissance class,” she retorted. “And after finding that sketch in the cave, I spent some time on the Internet, researching everything I could about lighthouses. Most of the ones on the west coast are no longer manned by keepers.” She reached with a gloved hand to grasp a rock at the base of the tower and hoisted herself up.
“Can you take this?” Brodie handed up his pack and Delaney jumped over the sharp edge to stand beside Kate. Brodie climbed up and turned to grab Darrell’s hand, hauling her over the last few rocks and onto the flat base around the lighthouse.
“I wouldn’t want that job,” added Brodie, puffing a little. “Too lonely for my taste.”
“Actually, there was a lot of protest when the lighthouses were automated,” Kate went on. “They usually have fog horns, too, so it’s better if there’s a keeper around to handle things when they break down.”
The area immediately around the base of the lighthouse was lined with a flat path of pea gravel and covered in crushed mussel shells. Delaney led the way around to the seaward side. “So how come there’s no one running this one?” asked Darrell curiously.
“Well, by the time everyone realized the lighthouse keepers were an endangered species, they had already been mostly phased out. This one was shut down in 1978.”
“Wow.” Brodie looked at Kate with admiration. “I guess the little box you spend all your time staring at sometimes does help you find something worthwhile.”
Kate grinned and punched him lightly on the arm. “Shut up. Here’s the door.”
Darrell touched a shiny padlock dangling from a well-rusted chain. The chain circled through a pair of old bolts in the wall.
“What do you make of this?” said Darrell, turning over the padlock in her hands.
“Looks new. Maybe the Parks people who maintain the lighthouse attached it,” Kate offered.
“Maybe so,” said Brodie doubtfully, “but I think it may have something to do with this sign.” He gestured at a tattered notice, wrapped in plastic and tacked on three corners to a wooden board on the wall. One corner of the notice was torn and flapping in the wind. Darrell held it down with a gloved hand. It read: Demolition Permit.
“The date’s torn off,” Darrell remarked.
“And why would someone put a brand new lock on such a rusty old chain?” asked Kate. “Wouldn’t they replace both?”
“Something’s going on here,” said Brodie. “Look at this.”
He indicated a small pile of cylindrical objects near the door. Darrell and Kate bent down to examine them more closely.
“Looks like shotgun shells,” Darrell said at last.
“But this is the edge of a national park. Animals and birds are protected here, aren’t they?” asked Kate.
“Yup. No guns allowed,” said Brodie. “But maybe someone’s been shooting at seabirds.”
“Well, if that’s so, whoever left these shell casings could still be around here,” said Kate. “Maybe they use the lighthouse as a base, or something.” She poked Darrell with a gloved finger. “Maybe Conrad’s up to his old tricks.”
Brodie shrugged. “Well, like I said, I haven’t seen him down here at all lately.”
“And how much time have you been spending here yourself?” Kate asked, triumphant.
“Whoever put this here wasn’t very bright,” said Darrell, examining the lock and chain.
Kate and Brodie stepped closer. The rusty chain was threaded through the handle of the door, but there was no functioning lock on the door itself, and it hung loose from a single hinge.
“The old chain is locked on securely enough,” she continued, ”but if you follow the chain into this little doorwell, you can see the end is —”
“Not attached!” Brodie concluded. “Let’s go in.”
“I don’t know...” said Kate.
Darrell leaned her back against the lighthouse wall. “Let’s think about this for a minute,” she said, looking at Brodie. “Breaking and entering isn’t usually your style.”
Brodie laughed. “It’s not really ‘breaking’ if we just unhook the end of the chain,” he said. “I only want to have a quick look around and then we can go.”
Darrell nodded. “Yeah, Brodie’s right. We won’t touch anything, Kate. We’ll take a fast look around inside to see if we can figure out who’s been here, and then we’ll leave. I don’t want to hang around either.”
Delaney pushed past Darrell, nosed the door open, and slipped inside.
“Hey, Delaney!” Darrell called, sticking her face in the dark doorway.
“Well, I guess we’ve got to get the dog back,” said Kate. “But just a quick peek, okay?”
One hand shading his eyes, Brodie looked towards the shore. “I’d feel better about this if the entrance was on the seaward side,” he said quietly. “But I think it’s too cold up on the cliffs for anyone to be sitting around watching us. Because this lock is in place, I think it’s obvious whoever put it here is gone. All the same,” he indicated the shoreline with a shrug of his shoulders, “there are a lot of hills up there. Lots of places to hide.”
Kate shivered. “Okay, you’re right. I change my mind. Let’s call Delaney and go back to the school.”
“Kate!” Darrell’s voice was impatient. “We’ll only go in for a minute or two and then head straight back to report these shotgun casings, I promise.”
Kate scanned the hillside. She narrowed her eyes at Brodie and followed Darrell under the chain. “Okay, but I’m timing you. Two minutes!” Brodie passed his backpack though the opening and followed the girls inside. He pushed the door shut with a creak behind them and three flashlights clicked on, beams piercing the darkness.
They stood in a small entryway that served as a landing for a flight of wooden steps spiralling upwards into the gloom.
“This must be where the lighthouse keepers hung their wet clothes,” whispered Darrell. A number of hooks were nailed haphazardly along the wall, and in several places where they had fallen out altogether, the hooks had been replaced by rusty spikes driven into the wall at intervals.
“There doesn’t seem to be room for much else in here,” remarked Brodie. “Let’s take a quick peek upstairs.” Before Kate had a chance to protest, he clambered up the wooden steps, flashlight bobbing.
“Careful,” Darrell panted, following him. “One of the boards is broken.” She pointed out the spot with her flashlight, and the beam was swallowed by darkness inside the jagged hole. They stepped over the riser entirely and in a moment they circled to the top of the first flight of stairs.
“Agh. All the spinning makes me feel sick,” complained Kate, putting her hand on Darrell’s shoulder to steady herself.
“Try not to wear yourself out, Action Girl,” Brodie said, grinning.
Kate stuck out her tongue.
“We’ll be going back down the other direction in a minute,” said Darrell, practically, “so your head will have a chance to even itself out.”
Brodie paced the perimeter of the round room. “I think this must have been the main living area for the lighthouse keeper,” he said, using his flashlight to examine the floor as he took each step.
Darrell walked past Kate, who was leaning against a wall, and began to examine the place herself. “Looks like there have been a few people here since the lighthouse closed down,” she remarked, indicating a pile of wrappers and chip bags strewn to one side.
“Yeah,” said Kate. “This place is a pigsty.”
Darrell gestured with her flashlight at the worn wooden boards on the floor. “Don’t see any of those shell casings in here, though.”
“I’d like
to remind you we are the trespassers this time,” said Kate in a worried tone. “So could you hurry up?” She slid back along the wall towards Darrell and disappeared with a yell.
“Kate!” chorused Brodie and Darrell, and rushed across the room.
“It’s okay — I mean — I’m okay,” came a muffled voice. To Darrell’s relief, Kate’s smudged face appeared in the beam of her flashlight. Darrell reached down to help Kate to her feet.
“What happened?” demanded Brodie.
“I — I was leaning on the wall and then I guess I took a step to the side. I think one of the floorboards must be broken and I tripped and fell because the wall wasn’t there anymore.”
Brodie gave a low chuckle, relief in his voice. “I think you may have stumbled into the anteroom that leads up to the light, Kate.” Three flashlight beams turned to illuminate a small opening in the outer wall of the room that led to a second, smaller stairwell. Brodie stuck his flashlight inside and the light reflected back from the surface of the lamp in the small room above. The reflection was so bright they all closed their eyes in pain.
“Don’t do that, Brodie!” Darrell’s voice was taut with alarm. “Someone is sure to see the reflection of your flashlight.”
“Guys, we really should get out of here now.” Kate’s voice had taken on a panicky edge. “I don’t want to get caught in here, especially when someone has had a gun here recently.”
“One minute.” Brodie thundered up the tiny staircase and was back down again before Kate or Darrell could protest. “It’s okay. The reflector was pointing out to the water. It doesn’t rotate anymore, so I don’t think anyone on the land could have seen it.” He paused. “All the same, I think Kate is right. It’s time for us to get out of here.”
Delaney brushed against Darrell’s knee and headed up the staircase.
“Time to go, boy,” called Darrell, but Delaney stood on the step and barked again. Darrell followed him up through the heavy wooden door at the top of the stairs. “I’m just going to have a quick look from the top,” she yelled.
“Let’s go, Darrell,” called Kate, her voice a tremulous mix of nerves and exasperation. No answer. Brodie shrugged and the two raced up the stairs behind Darrell and Delaney.
“It’s too dark outside to see anything much now,” complained Kate, her nose pressed against the glass of the lantern room. “We’d better be getting back to the school before it’s too hard to find our way along the beach.”
The last light of day formed a red line above the mountains to the west and the trio gazed out at it in silence. Delaney pushed his head under Darrell’s hand and whined.
“What’s bothering you, boy?” Darrell asked. The wind had picked up outside, and the waves were smashing white foam against the base of the lighthouse. Water seemed to be lifting from the surface of the sea and mixing with the rain that had finally started to fall. The glass of the lantern chamber became a haze of tiny droplets.
“The storm has moved in pretty fast,” said Brodie. “I can’t see a thing out there.”
“Look you two, we’ve got the dog — let’s go, okay?” pleaded Kate.
“Okay, but let’s keep the flashlights off, just in case,” said Darrell.
“You’d better grab my hand then, Darrell,” said Kate, clutching Brodie’s jacket as he started down.
Darrell nodded. Curling her fingers in Delaney’s collar, she followed Brodie and Kate down the twisting staircase. A sudden gust tore up through the stairwell, causing the door above them to slam shut. Kate clung to Darrell’s hand tightly. “Where’s this wind coming from?” she gasped. Darrell opened her mouth to reply, but her words were blown back down her throat as a maelstrom swept her away.
CHAPTER FIVE
I’ve been here before. Darrell tried to lift her head to look around, but groaned quietly and rolled into a ball instead. Her body was wracked with nausea, her head felt as though it had been split like a piece of firewood, and even her eyeballs hurt. Sure knowledge crept around the edges of her misery, but she pushed all thought away and focused on what little light she could see. The darkness was cut by thin, golden threads in the shape of a tall rectangle hovering like a halo at some indeterminate distance. A door? She heard a scuffling beside her and straightened her neck to try to see the source.
I’ve felt like this before. A large rat scuttled over and peered into her face.
“Agh!” Headache or not, she wasn’t prepared to face down a rat under any circumstances. At the sound of her voice, the rat scampered across the straw-covered floor, and as Darrell leapt up, understanding swept through her like a flood.
Delaney gave a low growl as he scrambled to chase the rat. Darrell grabbed the dog as he ran past and dropped to one knee. Holding his large head in both hands, she searched his face in the gloom.
“Does he look the same?” Brodie’s voice croaked behind her.
Darrell turned, the nausea making her head spin. “Well, it might be the light, but he looks pretty brown to me. Are you okay?”
Brodie had rolled onto his hands and knees, a shadow in the dark room. “Yeah. Lucky I had some candy in my pocket.” He crawled over and placed a small mint in Darrell’s hand.
The sweet mint filled Darrell’s mouth and pushed the nausea back almost immediately. “I can’t believe it,” she whispered. “It’s happened again.”
Brodie nodded. “Different clothes this time.” As Darrell’s eyes adjusted, she could see Brodie’s long legs were encased in some kind of red hose, and he wore an elaborate tunic, belted at the waist.
“Tights?” Amusement tempered Darrell’s shock.
Kate groaned and Brodie stepped to her side in one stride. “Have one of these,” he whispered, and helped her roll up. Darrell slid along the floor to get closer to Kate, clothing forgotten for the moment.
Kate held one hand to her forehead as if to keep her brain lodged safely inside. “My head...” she began, and then, through the dim light, Darrell saw her eyes snap open wide. “Oh no,” she whispered, as she looked around, moving her head tentatively. “Are we back in Mallaig?”
Darrell stepped towards the thin lines of light, which indeed delineated a door. “I’m not sure where we are, Katie,” she whispered. “But we’re not in the lighthouse anymore.”
As Darrell reached the door, it swung open, and she squeezed her eyes against the brilliance and staggered back. A figure stood in the doorway, a corona of sunlight bathing his silhouette in molten gold. It was impossible to more than glance at the dazzling figure, but the image was burned into Darrell’s retina the instant she closed her aching eyes.
Brodie stepped between the door and the spot where Darrell stood leaning against a wooden beam. Darrell cracked her eyes open and could see Brodie’s face, grim with determination. His skin was pale in the reflected light.
“Brodie,” she rasped, her throat still sore, “be careful.” Her eyes began gradually to adjust to the light, and she noticed the figure at the door hadn’t moved. The person gazed long and hard into the stable.
Brodie cleared his throat. “We mean no harm,” he said quietly. “We are just travellers seeking shelter.”
Darrell heard Kate gasp at Brodie’s words and silently implored her friend to keep quiet with a tiny shake of the head. Kate clapped her hand over her own mouth as if to stop herself from speaking and looked at Darrell with huge eyes.
The figure at the door moved for the first time, stepping inside and pushing the large door almost closed. The brilliant light lessened, though it continued to pour through the crack like melted butter.
“Buon giorno,” said the young man. He looked pointedly around the stable in which they all stood. “I know who you are. But where are your mounts? And your carriage?”
Brodie’s mouth opened and closed like a fish.
Darrell spoke out, though she could feel herself blushing. “We’ve —ah — sent them away.
The young man’s face cleared. “I see. You have stabled them nearby, then
?”
Darrell nodded, and the young man stepped away from the door and grasped Brodie by the shoulders. “I can see you do not recognize me — your own cousin — Giovanni Luca Clemente! It has been many years, and all I can see of you,” he turned Brodie so the light shone onto his face and examined him critically, “must come from your mother’s family. You have nothing of your father, my uncle, in you, it is plain. Nevertheless, allow me to welcome you, Cugino Bruno, to the home of Andrea Verrocchio! You will spend a fruitful season, studying under the master.”
Darrell’s heart pounded and she felt she must have heard incorrectly. “Surely,” she stammered, “not the Verrocchio?”
“And none other, of course!” He laughed, standing tall, then turned back to Brodie. “Who were you expecting? Your father has apprenticed you for the season, has he not? He sent word to my family to expect you this week — and here you are!” He gestured dismissively at Darrell and Kate. “Send your serving girls to the kitchens and let me show you around.”
Brodie raised his eyebrows at Darrell. “These are not servants — ah — Cousin Giovanni. They are...” he stumbled, as though the words had dried up in his mouth.
“Sisters of his friend,” Darrell interjected, “who was unable to attend, though promised a place. We are here to study, too, in his stead. My name is Dara and this is — Katerina.”
The young man laughed, loud and long, and slapped his knee in apparent delight. “Girls,” he said, barely recovered, “girls do not study with Verrocchio.” He looked at Kate appraisingly. “You’d better stay in the kitchens, with red hair and a name like Katerina.”
Kate flushed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He shrugged and grabbed Brodie by the sleeve. “Now come along, cousin. You have not been here since you were a tiny baby. I will show you around while the girls find their way to the cucina.” With a yank on Brodie’s arm, the young man pulled him out into the golden afternoon.