The String Diaries

by Stephen Lloyd Jones

  Act.

  Stop thinking. Don’t hesitate. Act. The mantra had served her tolerably so far. Looking into the future would immobilise her if she allowed it.

  Earlier, after verifying Sebastien’s identity, she had put the shotgun back on the pantry shelf. The old man’s arrival had reassured her, and she had been more worried about leaving a loaded weapon within Leah’s reach than their immediate discovery. How costly might that mistake turn out to be?

  Hannah stepped out of the bedroom, began to move down the stairs. As she passed the landing, the eyes of the stuffed falcon followed her with a dead stare.

  She had little need for stealth. But she found herself creeping down to the ground-floor hall nevertheless. Little need for stealth, but little need either to alert him to her approach. She kept tight to the wall, minimising the creak of the treads beneath her feet. Sebastien followed, close behind.

  At the bottom of the stairs Hannah paused, listening.

  Wind. The knocking of window-panes. Rain bouncing like rice grains off the glass. Inside, the house breathed silence.

  She padded along the floorboards to the kitchen. Winced at the hard shadows cast into corners by the dull light of the chandelier. Sought them anyway, rejecting her fear.

  The first door on her right was closed. Dining room. Further down, the living-room door gaped open. The darkness within emitted a chill breeze. She remembered the smashed window she had seen. Remembered that she had not investigated it. Another mistake.

  The hallway twisted a dog-leg before arriving at the kitchen. She would have to turn her back on the living-room doorway, on that black void.

  And that’s when he would grab her. She’d feel his fingers slide around her throat, hear him whisper her name, and she would scream and kick and bite and claw and gouge but when she turned and saw the ghoul wearing her dead husband’s face, she would know she had lost everything.

  Hannah stopped in the hall, and when Sebastien butted up against her she nearly cried out.

  You left Leah with him.

  She turned away from the toothless mouth of the living-room doorway. Balled her fists. When nothing leaped out at her, she stepped into the kitchen.

  Hannah had left candles burning and a fire crackling in the grate. As she entered the room the light was soft and warm. The sofa where she had laid Nate and they had treated his wounds was empty. The hose of the drip she had set up lay on the floor, discarded.

  In the armchair where Leah had slept, a solitary cushion remained.

  Hannah felt something wrench inside her. She opened her mouth. Wanted to scream. A million dark thoughts flooded her. Thirty years of nightmares condensed into a single moment.

  Yet this was real. This was happening.

  Don’t think about what it means. Don’t. Just think of Leah.

  Sebastien walked into the kitchen behind her. He hissed when he saw the empty sofa. His eyes flicked to hers.

  Gun, she mouthed, and he nodded in response.

  The pantry door was ajar. Hannah slipped inside. She felt around for the shelf where she had left the weapon. Even as she wondered what she would do if the shotgun was missing, her hands touched the shelf and slid along the wood. Empty.

  Hannah wasted a few more seconds, feeling blindly, knowing the truth but needing to convince herself that the weapon had really gone.

  She backed out of the cupboard.

  Sebastien still stood in the doorway, but he had turned to face the hall. She heard him take a slow, measured breath. ‘It’s OK,’ he said, the timbre of his voice startling after the silence of the last few minutes.

  Something odd in his tone. Something terrifying.

  She couldn’t make her legs work. ‘What is it?’

  ‘It’s OK,’ he repeated. ‘Everything’s OK. I’ve found Nate.’

  Sebastien took a step backwards, then another. As he reversed into the kitchen, Hannah saw that the shotgun’s twin barrels were pressed against his chin. Sebastien backed further into the room. The shotgun followed. Holding it was a nightmarish, corpse-like version of her husband.

  ‘What you . . .’ he said to Sebastien, voice cracked and rasping. He licked his lips. Tried again. ‘What . . . you doing here?’

  Hannah’s feet remained fastened to the floor. ‘Nate, where’s Leah?’

  He advanced into the room, using the barrels as a prod to keep Sebastien at a distance, never taking his eyes off the old man. ‘Back up. Couch . . . Sit.’

  ‘Where’s Leah, Nate?’

  ‘Safe. When . . . he sh’up?’ A breath. ‘Show up.’

  The knife block on the kitchen counter held six blades. It was two yards from her. ‘Just after we arrived. It’s OK. He’s a friend.’

  Sebastien sat down on the sofa and rested his hands in his lap.

  ‘You d’know any . . . anything ’bout him, Han.’

  ‘Nate, he checks out. Please. Give me the gun.’ Nate swayed on his feet, rested a shoulder against the door frame. The barrels of the weapon swung towards her. She tensed. Wondered what a chest full of buckshot would feel like. Wondered if it would kill her instantly. ‘Nate, you’re going to pass out and you’re holding a loaded gun. Give it to me. I’ve got a better chance of shooting him than you have.’

  Nate took his eyes off Sebastien for half a second as he glanced at her. Removing the hand that clutched the barrels, he wiped sweat from his face. A wrack of pain seemed to lash him. He bent, grimaced. If this was an act, it was the best she had ever seen. He looked like he could collapse at any moment.

  Of course it’ll look good. It WILL be the best you’ve ever seen.

  Then, when she was least expecting it, he handed her the shotgun.

  Before she had even grasped what was happening, Hannah found herself holding the weapon. Quickly, she stepped away from him.

  The safety lever was off. She thumbed it back on – could not risk shooting her husband. If that was who this corpse-creature turned out to be. She lifted the barrels and aimed. ‘I’m sorry, darling, I love you. I love you so much and I have to do this. I need you to tell me the name of the hotel where we stayed, the night of our wedding.’

  Nate stared at the shotgun pointing at his head and then he looked at his wife. ‘I hope you don’t think I’m dishonouring you,’ he said, gasping for breath. ‘But you’ve never been the sort of girl to . . .’ He swallowed, winced. Reaching out a hand to steady himself, he closed his eyes as another tide of pain coursed through him. When he opened them again they were filled with love. ‘. . . to settle for a hotel bed when you had the chance of a tumble under the stars.’

  Hannah sobbed then, feeling her life’s axis tilting, her world seesawing back into alignment. That they had lost their home, their livelihood, their peace, no longer mattered. Only her family mattered. What was left of it.

  Leah. Nate.

  He slumped further against the door jamb and she ran to him, holding the shotgun in one hand and cradling him with the other.

  He pointed a finger towards Sebastien. ‘We haven’t finished here.’

  ‘Nate, he saved your life.’

  ‘Then he won’t mind a few questions.’

  From the sofa, Sebastien said, ‘Hannah, remember what I said. Let him ask. It’s important.’

  Nate nodded. ‘We’ve met before. Where?’

  The old man smiled. ‘A number of times. But only ever with Charles. I remember a particular occasion when we had lunch in Budapest and you ordered a steak so rare you virtually had to drink it.’

  Nate stared at Sebastien. His mouth twisted first into a grin, and then a grimace of pain. ‘You old dog. What brought you here?’

  ‘We have a lot to talk about. But it can wait. First we need to get you well.’

  Clenching his teeth, Nate sagged in Hannah’s embra
ce. ‘Leah’s in the next room. Asleep still. You need . . . put her to bed. I need . . . lie down.’

  Sebastien helped her guide him to the sofa. ‘Can I ask what you’ve done with Moses?’ he asked, as he reattached the drip to Nate’s arm.

  ‘Great guard dog,’ Nate muttered. ‘Threw a chocolate outside and he . . . out like a shot.’

  It took Hannah a few minutes to carry her daughter upstairs and tuck her under the covers of the four-poster bed. Leah woke once, asking where they were, but Hannah managed to soothe the girl back to sleep.

  Downstairs, seeing that Nate had also drifted off, she led Sebastien into the living room. She spotted the smashed window, resolved to fix it in the morning. With so many potential entry points, the security risk of a single broken pane was minimal. It did, however, make the temperature of the room uncomfortable. She closed the curtains and switched on the dim electric bulb that hung from the ceiling.

  Settling into a chair, Sebastien said, ‘I can only try to imagine how traumatic that must have been for you.’

  Hannah rubbed her face. She filled her cheeks with air and allowed them to deflate. ‘If I’d lost Nate . . .’ Finishing the sentence would bring tears and lower her defences. She left it hanging, watching as Moses nosed his way into the room. The dog collapsed at Sebastien’s feet.

  ‘Do you have a plan?’ he asked.

  ‘We can’t stay here indefinitely. But Nate’s in bad shape.’

  ‘He’s remarkably resilient. I have to admit, when he came at me with that shotgun, I didn’t think there was any chance it was really him.’

  ‘He’s a fighter, all right.’

  ‘I can’t pretend to know him well, but our paths have crossed a few times over the years, via your father. And it’s always been clear that everything he does, he does with you and your daughter in mind.’

  ‘It’s a largely thankless task.’

  ‘After what I just overheard in the kitchen,’ Sebastien replied archly, ‘I’m sure it has its rewards.’

  She glanced over at him and noticed with surprise the wolfish grin on his face. ‘I’m not sure how I feel about someone as ancient as you are making dirty remarks like that.’

  ‘Ancient.’ He cackled. ‘You’re your father’s daughter, aren’t you?’ His expression darkened the instant the words left his lips. He clamped his mouth shut.

  ‘Do you think there’s any chance . . .’

  ‘Let’s not dwell on that tonight. We don’t know enough to speculate.’

  ‘We haven’t heard from him.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So it doesn’t look good.’

  Sebastien sat in silence. Then he said, ‘Tell me about your plan.’

  ‘It really depends on Nate. I don’t want to move him until I have to.’

  ‘He’s going to be very weak for some time. And he’s going to be even worse tomorrow. Once the adrenalin wears off and the stiffness sets in, he’ll be virtually immobile.’

  ‘I think we’ll be safe here for up to a week. Even if Jakab discovers the whereabouts of all the places we could have gone, he’ll have to be incredibly lucky to pick this one straight away. We’ve left plenty of red herrings that will seem like more attractive options. They should tie him up for a while.’

  ‘You’ve planned this well.’

  ‘Not me. All of us. It’s become second nature. A way of life.’

  ‘Where will you go?’

  She looked at her hands. ‘I’m sorry, Sebastien. I think it’s better if I don’t say.’

  He nodded, and she could see the empathy in his eyes.

  ‘What you’ve done,’ she said. ‘I owe you so much.’

  ‘You don’t need to thank me. Or apologise for not telling me where you’ll go. You’ve kept Nate alive because of your actions so far. You’ve given Leah prospects for a future. I’ll bet you don’t hear this enough, Hannah – you’re incredibly brave, incredibly strong. I can’t say I’ve met another who would have achieved what you have.’

  She shook her head. What had she done that was so praiseworthy? Run? Flee? It was all she ever did. How many years had she thought about taking the fight to Jakab? How many nights had she fantasised about killing him? Time and again she had told herself that as long as Nate lived, as long as someone remained to care for Leah, she would do whatever was needed to end this nightmare and offer her daughter the chance of a life she had been denied.

  But that’s all it is, isn’t it? A fantasy. When the opportunity came knocking, what did you really do?

  To Sebastien, she asked, ‘Do you think we’re doing the right thing? Running, I mean? Do you think we should make a stand? Set up some kind of trap for him? Try to end this once and for all?’

  ‘I debated that with your father many times.’

  ‘It’s difficult to defeat an enemy when you don’t know his face.’

  ‘And it’s not as if it hasn’t been tried before. I’ve read those diaries too.’

  ‘How long have the Eleni been operating?’

  ‘Over a century, if you add it all up. Around seventy years, in its current incarnation.’

  ‘And how many hosszú életek have you encountered in all that time?’

  ‘You know the answer to that, Hannah. It’s like searching for raindrops in the ocean. At the moment, Jakab remains our best hope.’

  ‘So you think we should react. Stop running.’

  ‘Only you can answer that. I won’t play God with your lives.’

  She stood up. ‘I’m going to get some rest. What will you do?’

  ‘I’ll go home.’ He climbed to his feet. ‘I’ll be back tomorrow. You need groceries, fuel for the fire, diesel for the generator. It’s safer if we leave the gas supply for now. You don’t need any more eyes around here if we can help it. If you’re willing, I’ll leave Moses with you too. Despite what Nate said, he’s a good dog. He won’t let any harm come to you.’

  ‘Thanks Sebastien.’ At the front door, she planted a kiss on the whiskers of his cheek.

  Up in the bedroom, watched by the dog, Hannah stirred the dying embers of the fire and moved to the window. Pulling open one of the curtains, she looked out at the night. The moon had reappeared through gaps in the cloud, and its light glittered on the surface of the lake. She watched Sebastien’s Land Rover cross the bridge, crawl up the track to the main road and disappear over the ridge.

  Hannah still thought there was more to his story than he was sharing. But that would have to wait. She had done all she could tonight – had managed to get Nate and Leah to the farmhouse alive. She hadn’t managed to save her father.

  Sebastien’s words echoed in her mind. We don’t know enough to speculate.

  But she knew.

  Climbing into bed next to Leah, she kissed her daughter’s hair and lay down in the darkness. She thought she would not sleep. But she did.

  Hannah woke once during the night. Moses was at the window, his paws on the sill, nose to the glass. Casting off the remnants of her dream, she slipped from the bed and moved to the dog’s side.

  A red deer stag stood at the edge of a copse on the far shore of the lake. It gazed across the water towards the farmhouse, the felt of its antlers glowing in the moonlight. For the briefest of moments, the stag locked eyes with her. Then it stepped back into the undergrowth, and was gone.

  The ashes were cold in the grate and the windows stubbled with frost when Hannah woke a few hours later. Dawn had broken, muting the colours in the room to a flat blue. She rolled over in the bed and saw Leah lying on her back, staring up at the filigree of cracks that ran across the ceiling.

  Noticing that her mother was awake, the girl turned to face her and asked, ‘Did the Bad Man come?’

  Reaching out and pulling her daughter into her arms, Hannah forced a smile. S
he had long feared this moment. While she had resolved to shield Leah from fear as much as she could, she had also vowed never to lie to her. If she had learned one thing more clearly than any other from reading her ancestors’ diaries, it had been not to shy from the truth or avoid the difficult questions.

  ‘Yes, darling, he did. But we got away from him and we’re safe.’

  ‘Did he see me?’

  ‘No, he never saw you.’

  Leah twisted out of her mother’s embrace and sat up in the bed, rubbing her arms. ‘It’s cold in here. Where are we?’

  ‘We’re in the mountains. We drove through the night to get here. Do you remember being in the car? You were fast asleep when we arrived, and you didn’t even wake up when I carried you upstairs.’

  ‘I remember leaving Grandpa’s.’

  Hannah climbed out of bed. She had slept in her clothes, unable to relax enough to strip off. Stepping into her boots, she laced them up.

  ‘Mummy, there’s a dog in our room.’

  ‘That’s Moses. Do you want to say hello?’

  ‘Funny name for a dog.’

  Moses came to the bed and licked Leah’s hand. The girl laughed, pulling it away.

  ‘Is Daddy here?’

  ‘Yes, he’s downstairs.’ Hannah went to the other side of the bed and perched next to Leah, brushing a tangle of hair out of her daughter’s eyes. ‘But he had an accident yesterday. He’s hurt himself and we’re going to have to look after him.’

  ‘Will he be all right?’

  ‘I hope so, honey. I really do.’

  ‘Can we go and see him?’

  She slapped Leah on the leg. ‘Come on, then.’

  In the kitchen, they found Nate still asleep. Dark circles shadowed his eyes. His complexion was pale, but his breathing was regular. Hannah could have asked for no more. She watched Leah’s reaction carefully as the girl went to her father’s side.

  ‘Did he hurt his tummy?’

  ‘Yes. That’s why it’s all wrapped up. To make him better.’

  ‘What happened to his arm?’

  ‘We put a little hole in it so we could pour in the medicine.’