Dead Souls Volume Two (Parts 14 to 26) Read online

  Dead Souls Volume Two

  (Parts 14 to 26)

  by Amy Cross

  Copyright Amy Cross, All Rights Reserved

  Published by ACBT Books

  Omnibus first published: January 2015

  This edition first published: February 2016

  Originally published in serial form

  between November 2014 and January 2015

  http://amycrossbooks.wordpress.com

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment. If you enjoy it and wish to share it with others, please consider buying them their own copy. Feedback is always welcome. The author reserves all rights in respect of this work.

  Dead Souls Volume Two

  (Parts 14 to 26)

  Part Fourteen

  Prologue

  As the sun rose over Thaxos, the port town began to come to life. Shopfronts were un-shuttered, people left their homes and headed to work, and the local ferry made a brief stop in the harbor, dropping off and picking up no passengers before heading off toward the mainland.

  In the backyard of the medical practice, a patch of soil was starting to shift, apparently of its own accord. If anyone had been around to observe, they would have seen what appeared to be a piece of the ground that had taken on a mind of its own, churning and chewing until finally a dark shape could be observed poking through from underneath. For several more minutes, this dark shape struggled frantically, before finally it was able to haul itself free from its grave.

  Blinking in the bright morning sunlight, the wolf took a few steps away from the spot where, many weeks earlier, it had been buried by Doctor Burns. Emaciated and weak after spending such a long time in the jaws of death, the wolf shook as much dirt as possible from its fur, before making its way to the gate at the rear of the yard. After nudging the gate open with its snout, the wolf hurried away, keen to escape the human town and return to the wilder parts of the island.

  I

  Kate Langley's dead eyes stared across the lawn as a light morning breeze blew in from the south. Microscopic particles of dirt were blown into her eyes without causing a reaction. Blood, which had earlier flowed so freely from the wound in her chest, had now begun to dry in the grass.

  And then suddenly she blinked.

  A faint gurgle emerged from her throat.

  She blinked again.

  She fell still.

  In the distance, the departing ferry could be heard ringing its bell.

  Kate blinked for a third time.

  Silence.

  Suddenly she turned over and sat up, gasping for air. For a moment she couldn't remember where she was, or even who she was; all she knew for certain was that something was very wrong, and that she couldn't quite work out what had happened. Desperately short of breath, she felt as if she had just been climbing out of some kind of deep dark pit, but the memory was already fading.

  Finally, she looked down at her chest and saw that her shirt was torn, and that the fabric was soaked with slowly drying blood. She knew somehow, instinctively, that the blood was her own.

  Unbuttoning the top of the shirt, she looked down at her chest and saw that there was a thick, wide wound above her heart, although the skin appeared to have already begun to knit together. She had a vague memory of something being forced into her body from behind, and of seeing a glistening, blood-covered spike bursting out through the front of her shirt, but as she looked around she realized that there was no sign of a weapon. She ran her fingers against the wound and felt a brief sting of pain, but for the most part she seemed to have been completely healed.

  Turning, she saw that she was next to an open grave. She leaned over and looked down, but there was nothing at the bottom except what appeared to be an empty coffin filled with rotten food.

  Blinking a couple of times, she suddenly remembered that there had been a man down there. She'd dug down and forced the lid open, and she'd found James Nixon down there. She knew that she'd tried to help him, that he'd appeared to have completely lost his mind, but she wasn't quite sure what had happened next. There had been someone behind her, and that's when she'd felt the spike being driven through her body. After that, she'd felt a huge wave of pain and then she'd fallen to the ground, and then...

  And then nothing.

  Darkness.

  She remembered falling into a pit of absolute blackness, tumbling deeper and deeper. At one point she had managed to look up, only to see a distant light getting further and further away. It was as if her entire mind had collapsed in on herself and then ceased to exist for a period of time. And then nothing until a moment ago, when she had climbed back up from the darkness and found herself gasping for air on the lawn of Edgar's mansion. She had no idea exactly how long she had been unconscious, but she figured it must have been at least a few hours. Long enough for the sun to come up and...

  Edgar.

  She turned and looked toward the house. She had a vague memory of hearing a scream just before she'd been attacked, but the scene looked peaceful now. It was hard for her to believe that Edgar hadn't noticed her out on the lawn, however, and slowly a dark thought began to blossom in her mind.

  It was him.

  He was the one who attacked her, the one who forced the spike through her chest. She had no idea how she'd survived, but she figured that it was the only thing that made sense: enraged by the fact that she had dug up James Nixon, he'd attacked her and left her for dead. She paused, trying to make sense of everything. No, he hadn't left her for dead: he'd clearly removed the spike and then taken James Nixon somewhere else, and then left her out on the grass. It was possible that he had assumed she had died, but she felt that Edgar was too smart to make such a mistake.

  Getting to her feet, she hurried over to her bag, which she had left nearby during the night. Although she felt weak, she hauled the bag over her shoulder and began to run away from the house, heading down to the port town.

  II

  “Here,” Doctor Young said as he grabbed a chair and placed it in the middle of the room. “Sit, please. I'll get you some food and water.”

  Still trembling, James Nixon stared at the chair with suspicion, as if he felt that somehow it might be a trap. His wild, staring eyes hinted at great torment in his mind, and his bottom lip was quivering, as if he was constantly on the verge of saying something. Having spent so long underground, he was deathly pale, and his hair had become unkempt and unruly while his beard was a mess of tangled black and gray hairs. All in all, he looked like a man who had just been dragged backwards through an electric fence.

  “What would you like?” Doctor Young asked. “Please, nothing is too much trouble. After everything you've been through, I can imagine you want to take a little time to readjust to the outside world. I can assure you, Mr. Nixon, that I have been authorized to provide absolutely anything you might want.”

  He waited for a reply.

  Nixon stared at the chair.

  After a moment, Doctor Young cleared his throat.

  Slowly, Nixon turned to him.

  “You're on Thaxos,” Doctor Young continued, figuring he should try a different approach. “You were kidnapped and brought here by Edgar Le Compte. He imprisoned you in a coffin and buried you on the grounds of his mansion, and you've been there for... Well, I assume since Le Compte returned to the island. It would appear that he was feeding you through a pipe that ran down into the coffin. When I pulled you out, you were covered in rotten food, although it all appeared to have been very expensive produce. There was caviar, lobster...”

  His voice trailed off.

  Nixon continued to stare at him for a moment, before turning back to look at the chair.

&n
bsp; “How much do you remember?” Doctor Young asked.

  Nixon opened his mouth for a moment, as if he was about to say something, but then he turned and glanced at the door. After a few seconds, he started staggering toward the exit.

  “Where are you going?” Doctor Young asked, hurrying after him.

  “Home,” Nixon replied, pulling the door open but immediately shielding his eyes against the morning light. “Where is this? Are we on the surface of the sun?”

  “You're on Thaxos,” Doctor Young told him again. “It's an island in the Mediterranean.”

  “No, no,” Nixon muttered, turning toward him. “What am I doing here? I, I... This isn't right...” He paused, as if he was trying to make sense of the situation. “I've never been to anywhere called Thaxos,” he continued quietly, almost as if he was talking to himself. “Definitely. I've been to many places, but I remember them all and Thaxos is not one of them. Never even heard of it, unless...”

  Doctor Young waited for him to continue. “Unless what?” he asked finally.

  “Unless...” Nixon paused again. “Edgar...”

  “That's right. Edgar Le Compte is the one who -”

  “He used to talk about this place,” Nixon continued, his eyes alive with excitement for the first time since he'd been pulled out of his coffin. “He said it was the most wonderful place on the planet, a real oasis of peace and calm. He used to go on and on about it, even while we were sitting down for dinner in the finest restaurants of Monte Carlo. My God, the man made it sound like some kind of paradise.” Turning, he opened the door again, but the light was still too strong and he staggered back. “My God,” he muttered, “how can anyone live in such a place?”

  “It takes a little getting used to,” Doctor Young told him. “That's why I was planning to introduce you slowly. You've been through so much, and I imagine you need to talk to a psychiatrist, someone who could -”

  “I'm fine, I'm fine,” Nixon replied, making his way over to the desk and looking down at the Crucifix of St. Joan, which had been left there by Doctor Young a moment earlier. “Is that... blood on the tip?” he asked.

  “It's a long story,” Doctor Young replied, heading to the desk and grabbing the crucifix before Nixon could get a good look at it. “I was lucky enough to recover this item last night and it... Well, let's just say that it turned out to be very useful.”

  “There was a woman,” Nixon continued. “She was the one who dug me up. I remember her face... She looked so kind.”

  “Just another of Edgar Le Compte's whores. I took care of her.”

  “She looked different. I saw his whores in Monte Carlo, and they had whore-eyes. This one didn't have whore-eyes, she looked genuine and true.”

  “It hardly matters now,” Doctor Young told him. “She's out of the picture permanently.” He looked down for a moment at the blood on the tip of the crucifix, before turning back to Nixon. “A lot of people have been searching for you, you know. Your disappearance caused a lot of feathers to be ruffled, and many millions of dollars have been spent in the search. It was always clear that Edgar Le Compte was responsible, but actually tracking you down was another matter entirely.”

  “Edgar...” Nixon whispered, his eyes widening with horror. “I remember Edgar...”

  “Your former business partner.”

  “Yes. My friend, too.”

  “He was your friend once, yes,” Doctor Young replied. “And then he turned on you.”

  “I should go and see him.”

  “I'm not sure that's a good idea.”

  “Why not? He's my friend!”

  “He buried you alive, Mr. Nixon.”

  “Well...” Nixon paused, as if he couldn't quite process the information. “No, there has to be some mistake. Edgar Le Compte is my friend, and he'd never do anything like that to me. He must have been set up, or you've got bad information, or... Maybe he was framed?”

  “I fear not,” Doctor Young said calmly. “I have some evidence that I could show you.”

  “No,” Nixon continued, shaking his head, “there's simply no way that Edgar would ever do anything to hurt me. We're friends, and business partners...”

  “He was using you, the way he uses everyone. It's what he does.” He paused for a moment, watching the look of genuine shock in Nixon's eyes. “Do you mind if I ask you a question?” he continued finally. “Do you know... What is Edgar Le Compte?”

  “He's my friend.”

  “But what is he? What kind of... creature?”

  “He...” Nixon paused, with clear confusion in his eyes. “Well, he's... I mean, Edgar, he's...”

  “You were close to discovering the truth about him,” Doctor Young replied. “I was able to access your hard-drives after you disappeared, and I found your data. It's remarkable that you were able to acquire so many samples from such a secretive man. Saliva from a fork in a restaurant, other DNA from a single dropped hair... You worked miracles, and your analysis of vampire physiology must make for fascinating reading. I only hope you'll be able to help me unlock the full potential of your work so that we can understand vampires more fully.”

  “No,” Nixon replied, shaking his head, “you're wrong, I don't know what you're talking about.”

  “He's driven you quite mad, hasn't he?” Doctor Young continued. “I suppose that was his plan all along. He knew you were onto him, and for some reason he couldn't bring himself to kill you, so he decided to systematically break down every aspect of your mind. All those months down there in the dark, being fed once a day with the finest foods that money can buy, knowing all along that your tormentor was up there... It's no wonder that you went insane, Mr. Nixon, but I can assure you that I'm going to ensure that you recover.”

  “I want to go to him,” Nixon replied. “I want to see him again. He's my friend, my best friend... I want to eat, but he's the only one who can feed me!”

  He turned toward the door again, but this time Doctor Young stepped up behind him and slammed the side of the crucifix against the back of his head, knocking him out cold and sending him sprawling to the floor.

  “Idiot,” he muttered, looking down at Nixon's crumpled body. “When you wake up, hopefully you'll have recovered your senses. If not...” He paused. “Well, I'll find a way to squeeze the information from you. My masters didn't spend all this money to free a madman, Mr. Nixon. We intend to gain full possession of the information in your mind. After all, how else are we going to bring Edgar Le Compte to his knees?”

  III

  “I had no idea,” Kate said as she stood beside Anna's grave. “I... I'm so sorry, Ephram. I can't even imagine what you're going through.”

  “It was a good service, wasn't it?” he replied, with tears in his eyes, as a few other mourners made their way out of the cemetery. “Simple but effective, just the way she would have liked it. I can't imagine where Father Henderson has got to, but at least we managed...” He looked down at the Bible in his trembling hands.

  “What are you going to do now?” Kate asked. “Are you still going to run the shop?”

  “Of course,” he replied, raising his eyebrows. “What else do I know? At my age, a man has to accept that he has found his calling in life.”

  “But you'll be alone.”

  “I have my chickens. Well, one chicken at the moment, but I'm thinking of getting more. Gertrude, now she might get lonely.” He turned to her. “What about you? When you burst through my door this morning, it seemed as if you had something to say before you realized I was getting ready for my grandmother's funeral.”

  Kate glanced up at Edgar's mansion high up on the hill, and for a moment she felt as if he was at one of the windows, staring down at her and at the rest of the town.

  “I had a strange night,” she said eventually.

  “Are you sure you're not hurt?” he asked. “That shirt you were wearing earlier, there was so much blood...”

  “I'm fine” she told him. “I... I don't know how I'm fine, but I a
m.”

  “Did he hurt you?”

  “Edgar?” She paused. “Yes. I mean, maybe. I mean... I don't see who else it could have been.” Another pause. “If I tell you everything that has happened over the past few weeks, you're going to think that I'm insane.”

  “No,” he replied with a faint smile, “I will never think that. I know enough about Le Compte and his family to understand that strange things happen around them. To be honest, I don't think there's anything that could shock me in relation to that man, not anymore.”

  ***

  An hour later, sitting in the back-room at Ephram's shop, Kate looked down at the cup of tea that was slowly cooling in her hands. There was a part of her that kept expecting to wake up, to suddenly find that the previous night had all been a dream and that she was still in her bed up at Edgar's home; or, even better, that she was in bed in London, and that her entire experience on Thaxos had been part of her fevered imagination. Deep down, however, she knew that it had all been real.

  “You must leave Thaxos,” Ephram said as he walked through from the main part of the shop. “Kate, it pains me to say this, but I have heard of people who stayed and tried to stand up to Le Compte, and it never ended well.”

  “I know,” she replied. “I just... I hate running away from anything.”

  “This is different,” he told her. “Edgar Le Compte is not just a man, he is... From everything you told me just now, I think it's very clear what he is. The legends were all true. That man is a vampire.”

  “Vampires aren't real,” she pointed out.

  “Says the woman who has experienced all of this.”

  “I don't care what happened,” she continued, “I'm not going to start believing in magic and fairytales.”