‘Rab, get the doctor,’ snapped Charles, flinging himself down beside Picket. Boxie hurried to his other side.
‘What is it?’
‘It’s poison – the poison. Yew. Oh, he must have had – it must have been strong. Hold on, Picket, Rab’s going for the doctor. We need to make him sick.’
‘Sick? What – vinegar, he needs vinegar, that’s what will make him sick.’
Charles looked across at Boxie.
‘And have you any vinegar about you?’
‘No.’
‘Well, then.’
‘Would water make it weaker?’
‘It might, but we don’t have any water, either.’
They heard footsteps, and looked up. It was Rab.
‘Er, where’s the doctor?’ Rab asked. ‘Only, I was running along, and it suddenly struck me I didn’t know where.’
‘For pity’s sake!’ Charles spat. Picket’s face was blotchy, grey and red. His mouth hung open, his hideous teeth yellow in lurid gums. ‘Get Dr. Pagan. Far end of North Street.’
‘What about water?’ Boxie cried. Rab was already on the move. Boxie called him back. ‘Get water first! The well at the top of Heukster’s Wynd. He needs water, fast!’
Picket squirmed and writhed, trying to claw at his throat and his stomach all at once. Then his face grew desperate, and with a horrible twist he spewed out vomit, over himself and the ground around him. Boxie and Charles had instinctively whipped backwards. Picket fell back, groaning.
‘That will have done him good,’ said Boxie, but Charles was not so sure.
‘Thomas and Professor Keith had both vomited,’ he muttered. Boxie’s face was shadows, the lantern set down beside him at Picket’s head. He whisked it away as Picket twisted again, shuddering, mouth wide in a search for cool air on his burning throat.
‘Where the hell is Rab?’ Boxie hissed. Picket opened his eyes, but there was nothing human left in them. Suddenly his body was wracked with another fit. His face was a demon’s face, white bone planes and black shadow, his eyes glittering. His back arched, feet lashing out, the fragile joints springing. Then he fell back, and was silent.
‘He’s – gone?’ Boxie sounded bewildered.
‘I think so.’ Reluctant to touch him, Charles opened one loose eyelid. There was no reaction. ‘The doctor will say.’
‘We should put something over him, just in case.’ Boxie stood up. There was the sound of running footsteps. Rab appeared out of the darkness.
‘Water!’ he cried, and tipped a wooden bucket over Picket’s head. It splashed in a great fountain about them, washing vomit away down the path. Boxie hurled himself at Rab.
‘He wasn’t on fire, you great fool! He’s dead!’ He beat on Rab’s chest, as if he could drum the information into him. Rab stood still, as if he did not notice, and stared down at Picket’s body.
‘Dead? You mean, really dead?’
‘Really dead. Really, really dead.’
Rab walked round Boxie and crouched beside Picket, touching his hair.
‘Why?’
‘Damn it, Mungo Dalzell,’ cried Charles, and snatched up the lantern. It jerked back and forth, sloshing light around the path, the walls, the seat, the glint of the flask on the ground, and Picket’s corpse. He held it high, and took two steps forward. On the edge of the cliff was a small, neat figure.
‘Mr. Dalzell?’ he called. The figure, looking down at the sea, turned back for a moment to stare at him.
‘My task is finished, I think, Mr. Murray. It will be less trouble this way, and as you know, it has to be faced sooner or later. No, don’t come any nearer: I wouldn’t want you to fall, too.’
He turned back to the cliff edge, and took a little jump.
Boxie was beside Charles before they heard the splash.
For what seemed like eternity, there was only the sound of the sea. Then, above them, a late crow flapped coal-black wings in the darkness, and vanished into the yew trees over the wall. It was home.
About the Author:
Lexie Conyngham lives in North-East Scotland and has been writing stories since she knew people did.
If you’ve enjoyed this, the first book in the Murray of Letho series, then you can go straight to the sequel, Knowledge of Sins Past, here: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Knowledge-Sins-Past-Murray-Letho-ebook/dp/B00571NK0O/ref=sr_1_5?ie=UTF8&qid=1422525403&sr=8-5&keywords=lexie+conyngham
Reviews are important to authors: you can review this book here: https://www.amazon.co.uk/review/create-review?ie=UTF8&asin=B005792PXO&channel=detail-glance&nodeID=341677031&ref_=cm_cr_dp_wrt_btm&store=digital-text#
There are several free Murray of Letho short stories, as well as the chance to follow Lexie Conyngham’s meandering thoughts on writing, gardening and knitting, at www.murrayofletho.blogspot.co.uk.
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Death in a Scarlet Gown (Murray of Letho Book 1) Page 31