The Colours of Death

by Patricia Marques

  Everyone is gathered in the room. Only Jacinta looks as if she’s also just been dragged from her bed. Carla and Daniel look wide awake. But then they’re used to working the graveyard shift. Voronov looks as composed as ever. It’s only when he looks over at her that she sees the bags under his eyes and the paleness of his face.

  ‘How did we lose Célia?’ Isabel asks as she sheds her coat and goes to stand by the others. ‘I thought we were keeping it hushed up about where she’d gone.’

  The Chief is pacing the length of the room. Isabel has to ward against her emotions because they’re leaking all over the place. Isabel doesn’t want to burn out by tuning in to people accidentally.

  ‘She didn’t want to go to the safe hotel we suggested. So we agreed to a different space.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘She has a house in Sintra. We agreed to let her retreat there as long as she stayed confined to the house for the time being, and posted some of our people there.’

  Isabel frowns. ‘So where are our people?’ The woman couldn’t have just walked out from under their noses.

  The Chief grits her teeth. ‘Incapacitated.’

  ‘Jesus,’ Isabel stands and starts to pace herself, ‘incapacitated?’

  Jacinta sighs long and hard. ‘Their injuries seem to be self-inflicted.’

  Isabel freezes. She turns to look at them. ‘You’re telling me he found her?’

  ‘We don’t know that for certain. We can’t make accusations without cause,’ the Chief snaps. ‘We need to focus on what we have.’

  Isabel grits her teeth. ‘Chief, with all due respect. We have plenty of cause. And focus on what we have? We had Célia. And now we don’t. If we lose her, we have nothing.’

  ‘We’ve dispatched officers to Bernardo’s house, but there’s no one there. NTI has also been checked and so has Célia’s apartment,’ Carla says.

  ‘We have to work under the assumption that it might not be Gabriel,’ Daniel says with a shrug. Because he’s not wrong. Tunnel vision never does anyone any good. But in this case, Isabel is willing to bet her house and newly acquired canine friends that the only person behind this is Gabriel Bernardo. Because she knows. She saw what he did to Mila.

  ‘I just don’t want to get there too late and find another person who has brained themselves to death, with no witnesses or anything else to tie Gabriel to these crimes,’ Isabel says.

  ‘None of us want that, Isabel,’ Carla says.

  ‘I know, I know.’ She covers her eyes. She stops. ‘Luisa.’

  Voronov looks at her.

  Isabel stops pacing. ‘Luisa Delgado. She’s the one constant. Did anyone talk to her?’

  ‘We tried contacting her when searching for Gabriel but couldn’t get through. We’ve tried tonight too but still no answer.’

  Shit. ‘Okay, keep trying. Whoever contacts her first, let the rest of us know. Voronov, let’s go.’

  Chapter 64

  They make the drive to Luisa’s place in silence.

  The lights of the Vasco da Gama bridge light up the night and the river rushes on beneath them as the car eats up the stretch of road. They follow the serpentine strip, leaving the lights of the city behind them, heading towards the darker depths of Setúbal.

  ‘If you need me to switch with you, just let me know,’ she says.

  ‘I’m okay for now,’ he says. ‘What’s our plan when we get there?’

  ‘If we get there and she’s there you mean? Because if she’s not then we’re fucked. Tracking her will take time we don’t have.’ A car passes them, heading in the opposite direction, and leaves them alone on the road again. The traffic at this hour is non-existent, so they should make good time. ‘I’m going to get pushy when I’m in there.’

  Voronov glances at her out of the corner of his eye.

  ‘It’ll be fine.’

  He’s quiet for a moment and when she looks at him, his jaw is tense, his hands gripping the wheel tighter than necessary.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Have you gone through the retesting yet?’

  ‘No. It’s not a facility that’s equipped to deal with it and Michael’s going to have to be careful about it. If I’d taken it at NTI then I would’ve had results right away but doing it by a back-door place is a little different.’

  ‘You’re sure we can trust him?’

  We.

  Isabel bites back a smile. ‘On this matter? Yes. I trust him.’

  ‘Just be careful tonight. We can’t afford to do anything we can’t explain away or whatever happens will be worse than a suspension.’

  Isabel knows he’s right. ‘I’ll be careful. I promise.’ She faces forward and hopes that she’s able to keep that promise.

  Luisa’s building is a contrast to Gabriel’s. There are none of the luxury touches that they’d seen in his.

  The apartment building is a part of an estate, all of the buildings lined up next to each other, neat square gardens fitted in between each one, with picnic tables and benches and flowers that see maintenance regularly. It might not be the most affluent of estates, but it is well taken care of.

  They find Block O – there aren’t any gates preventing people from getting in – and go up the open stairs. They follow them to the top and out to an open corridor. Some people have taken it upon themselves to add a little sloping roof over their doors but the majority of them don’t have anything.

  Plant pots line the floor, spilling over onto the floor in curls of leaves.

  The door they find themselves in front of has nothing around it, though it’s painted neatly. The night is silent.

  Isabel knocks and as the sound echoes in the air, she gathers her power and casts it out. She pictures it in her mind, a silvery web slipping, phasing through the walls to capture any presences within.

  When she doesn’t immediately pick anything up, Isabel worries that she’s wasting her time, but she keeps stretching it, a new comfort in her growing control of her Gift giving her confidence. That mellowness that she always senses on her early morning walks reveals itself. One by one, by one, it’s so faint and yet she still gets a sense of peacefulness from it. No thoughts go with it, nothing with a direction to it, only vague images or blankness.

  Everyone is sleeping.

  She turns to the door in front of her and in her mind’s eye reels the net back in until it’s hovering over the house in front of them.

  ‘Isabel?’

  ‘Give me a second,’ she murmurs, closing her eyes and concentrating.

  She picks it up. The signature vibrant and present. In the middle of the colour that makes up Luisa, a dense purple, she sees something tiny, like a speck. Dark and oily, something there that shouldn’t be there. She knows that instinctively and recoils from it.

  She opens her eyes and Voronov is staring at her like she’s lost her mind.

  Isabel straightens up and knocks on the door again. Louder this time.

  ‘We know you’re in there and I know you’re awake. If you don’t want this to get a lot louder, and for your nice neighbours to wake up and come to see what’s happening outside your door, I suggest you open up. We don’t have time for your games.’

  If the night wasn’t so quiet, her voice wouldn’t have carried as much as it does. But as it is, she can hear it travel all the way down to the end of the corridor.

  Voronov is looking from her to the door like he doesn’t know what the hell is going on.

  A few seconds later, they hear the sound of the chain being undone and the door opens. Luisa looks as if she hasn’t seen sleep in days. She is a far cry from the put-together woman they’d spoken to that first time. Her hair is escaping her hairband and her thin robe is tied tightly around her waist. She clutches it together at her throat too, as if trying to protect any visible inch of skin.

  ‘We need to come in,’ Isabel says, itching to push the door open herself. But she reminds herself that they have to be as by the book as possible.

  Luisa step
s back and opens her door wider. ‘Come in.’

  Isabel goes ahead, Voronov following behind her. Luisa takes a little longer before closing the door and Isabel knows she’s checking whether any of her neighbours woke up at the noise.

  The apartment is in darkness. The only light is coming from the TV. There’s a blanket on the sofa, a mug on the floor beside it and remote controls there too. Cushions are tucked between the armrest and the seat of the sofa, indented like someone has been sleeping there.

  ‘Mind if we turn the light on?’ Isabel asks.

  Luisa wraps her arms around herself. ‘Go ahead.’

  The light flicks on, illuminating the place. It’s a big living room, everything tasteful.

  ‘Is Gabriel Bernardo in your house right now?’ Isabel asks her.

  Luisa shrinks in on herself. ‘No.’

  ‘Mind if we check?’ she asks.

  ‘No.’

  Voronov doesn’t waste time following through on that.

  Isabel watches Luisa the whole time. She’s wrapped tight in the robe and she’s barefoot on the tiled floor that Isabel is sure must be freezing. She won’t look at Isabel.

  ‘Have you seen him today?’ she asks.

  ‘No.’

  ‘What about Célia Armindas. Have you seen her?’

  ‘I don’t know who that is. Just like I didn’t know Gil dos Santos or Julio Soares. I don’t know any of these people.’ She’s talking in a monotone.

  ‘Right.’

  Voronov comes back into the room. ‘Not here.’

  ‘I think you should leave now,’ Luisa says.

  ‘Let’s say we believe you,’ Isabel says, softening her voice. ‘And you have nothing to do with this. The details you’ve given us are vague and your boyfriend isn’t giving you any answers, is he? I bet you’ve asked him, and he hasn’t told you. He’s told me, though,’ Isabel finishes.

  Luisa looks up and meets Isabel’s eyes then.

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. There’s nothing to tell.’

  ‘Isn’t there?’ Isabel asks. ‘What, just because that’s what he’s said? You’re fooling yourself. You’re fooling yourself while he uses you to cover for himself.’

  ‘You’re wrong.’ Luisa grits the words out. Her arms stay wrapped around herself, her fingers digging into her sides.

  ‘I’m not. I could even show you. I could show you how he waited outside my apartment, watching me. I can show you what he did to Gil. And his Guide. I can show you all of that.’

  ‘You’re a telepath,’ Luisa spits out, moving into Isabel’s space. Anger blooms red over her skin and muddies the air around them. Isabel feels it lap against the tentative wards she has in place. ‘You create lies. I know what your kind can do.’

  ‘My kind? You mean our kind. You have a Gift. And I don’t lie. You’d know. You’d be able to see the truth of it. You can’t plant lies in people’s heads, the mind senses and rejects them. You know that.’

  ‘That’s a lie too.’

  Isabel stares at her because the conviction in Luisa’s tone speaks of knowledge. It speaks of someone who knows what they’re talking about.

  ‘You’d only know that if you’d experienced it yourself,’ Isabel says, treading carefully here. ‘Because how else would you be able to tell?’

  Isabel doesn’t look at her.

  At their side Voronov looks lost.

  ‘Luisa. Who’s put lies in your head?’

  Luisa stays silent but Isabel can see the tremor in her chin now and the sheen of tears in her eyes.

  ‘Can I see?’ Isabel asks, gently.

  A sob that sounds as if it’s been wrenched from her core pours out of Luisa’s mouth. She starts to cry, but the sobs that rack her frame are silent and kept inside as Luisa refuses to let them escape.

  ‘I can help you,’ Isabel says, ‘I’m not like him.’

  And that seems to do it. Because as she continues to cry, Luisa peels an arm away from where she’d been wrapping herself so tightly and holds it out to Isabel.

  ‘Luisa,’ Isabel says, ‘I can’t do anything unless you give permission.’

  Luisa breathes in in hitches, as if she can’t gulp in large amounts of air because of how hard she’s crying. But she calms herself for a moment, chin tilting up and throat working as she tries to quiet herself. ‘Y-yes,’ she chokes out, ‘you have my p-permission to look at my memories.’

  Isabel looks at Voronov, who is looking apprehensive. ‘Sit down for me,’ she tells Luisa and the other woman collapses onto the sofa, like she doesn’t have the energy to do anything any more. She leans back, eyes squeezed shut and her lips tightly sealed.

  ‘It’s okay.’

  Isabel looks at Voronov one last time and then goes under.

  At first it’s the same, finding a pathway and peering into what’s happening. Luisa’s thoughts and emotions are all around her, variations of the purple colour Isabel had seen when she’d been on the other side of the door.

  But then she starts to see the anomalies. What Isabel finds makes her think of cuts that have healed over, but still leave a white scar long after the scabs have gone.

  They’re paved pathways. Old ones. And not normal ones either because normal pathways wouldn’t leave this kind of trail; they wouldn’t so much as leave their presence. It’s like someone’s cut through Luisa’s psyche and then tried to sew it shut.

  Isabel tightens her grip on Luisa’s hand. Then she carries on.

  Step by step she follows those trails and notices that as she does, Luisa’s thoughts become quieter and quieter until Isabel can’t hear them any more, until there’s just silence and the purple associated with Luisa starts to pale.

  Right there, where those trails end, is an inky blackness that feels foreign, misplaced, and Isabel knows instinctively that it doesn’t belong.

  She hears Voronov say her name but it comes from far away, like he’s at one end of a tunnel and she’s at the other.

  ‘Wait,’ Isabel says, but she doesn’t know if she’s spoken it aloud or not. And then she does something stupid.

  Isabel reaches right for it and lets it swallow her.

  Chapter 65

  People talk a lot about out-of-body experiences.

  Isabel thinks that the way she feels when she touches someone’s mind, when she’s seeing things from their eyes, must be a lot like one.

  But this time, it’s something very different.

  It reminds her of the lagoa she always drives to in the summer in Alcochete, where she wades in lukewarm waters, hypnotic in its warmth, and then she swims a little further out into its deepest parts where ice cold wraps around her and steals the breath from her lungs.

  That’s how she feels. Like she’s waded out too far into the Atlantic and now the current won’t let her go, except instead of blue waters, she’s surrounded by black ink that weighs her down.

  The worst thing about it is that it’s familiar. It reminds her of those fleeting ghost touches against the back of her neck.

  And it dawns on her what it is.

  Shock ripples through her and for a moment Isabel feels the live essence around her take on an awareness that makes her freeze. She feels like a dozen eyes have opened and locked on her. As though, if she makes the slightest movement, they’ll find her in the darkness and swallow her up.

  Disorientation threatens to sink her. But Isabel regroups, gathers herself and tries to make sense of what she’s seeing, willing herself to see—

  She feels herself snap into place. It jolts her whole body and she gasps, stumbles and when she looks up again her body has a weight to it and she’s walking. Isabel walks and the dirt trail crunches under her feet as she climbs up. She’s holding onto something tightly, something soft but firm. She looks, and finds herself staring at Célia Armindas’ dirty, crying face.

  Isabel’s eyes widen, her mind already jumping to what this is but unable to comprehend it.

  ‘What—’ The voice that forms th
e word isn’t her own, but she knows it. Célia’s scared eyes look up at her, horrified and confused.

  Isabel.

  The sound of Gabriel’s voice in her mind is enough to make her want to throw herself out of there but she can’t. Not yet. She needs to see. Where are they?

  Rocks. There’s no one around but she can see rocks, can see the uphill stretch of a dirt road that curves to the right. And the sea. She can see the sea. Desperately, Isabel tries to look, pushes back as she feels Gabriel trying to take back control. Can he even see what’s happening with her in here?

  Then she spots it, way below. A marina.

  Isabel isn’t in control. Can’t force that hand to release Célia. And even if she can she knows it won’t matter. Because his power isn’t just telekinesis.

  She’d forgotten.

  He has dual affinities.

  I’ll play with you another time, he says.

  Isabel is ripped out of there, and she feels her gut swoop, her ears popping. She opens her eyes and winces from the brightness of the room. She’s breathing heavily and she’s cold all over, can still taste the salt of the sea air on her tongue.

  Voronov’s head blots out the light and she can hear him saying her name but can’t move.

  Luisa comes into view too and she’s pressing something white into Voronov’s hand. He leans over Isabel and as she slowly starts to feel settled again, sensation coming back, she feels the cloth he’s pressing to the thick, hot wetness that’s coating her nose and upper lip again.

  ‘Aleks,’ she says. It comes out as a groan. ‘I think I know where they are.’ She shoves him aside, trying to get to her feet, but Voronov just clamps a hand around her arm and holds her.

  ‘For fuck’s sake, Isabel, hold still!’ He sounds angry, but when she looks at his face there’s fear there. She can feel it, cloying and desperate. His touch on her face is gentle.

  ‘Aleks, you have to listen to me; you have to call the team. Gabriel is in Sesimbra. They’re near the marina. Call them now.’

  He looks at her in disbelief, like he’s wondering if she’s really lost it this time. He drops his gaze, grabs her hand and presses it stubbornly over the cloth that he’s holding to her nose and holds it there, the look he gives her telling her that she better not let it go.