Dead Souls Volume One (Parts 1 to 13) Read online

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  As he approached his home, Doctor Burns was surprised to see that a motor vehicle was parked outside, and that one of Edgar Le Compte's sunken-eyed workmen was knocking on the door.

  “Can I help you?” the doctor asked.

  “His Lordship sent us to find you,” the young man replied, turning to him as he spoke with the emotionless tone that he seemed to share with all his colleagues.

  “I trust that everything is okay? If you need me to come to the house -”

  “He wanted us to show you something,” the man continued, as he and his associate made their way to the back of the vehicle. Opening the rear door, one of them reached inside and pulled back a blanket, to reveal the bloodied corpse of a large gray wolf.

  “My word,” Doctor Burns muttered, stepping closer. He could barely believe what he was seeing. “Where did you find this magnificent beast?”

  “It was out on the northern side of the island,” came the reply. “We hunted it down and put a bullet into the back of its head. Took a bit of doing, too. We had to chase it for a couple of miles first.”

  “Was that strictly necessary?” the doctor asked, leaning into the vehicle and taking a moment to admire the wolf's beautiful fur. He had never seen such a creature up close, but he was taken aback by its majesty and grace, although the bloody bullet hole in its head was incongruously ugly.

  “His Lordship ordered us to kill the beast.”

  “But couldn't it have been -”

  “It mauled Ms. Langley. His Lordship felt that the creature was dangerous, and that it if was left alive it would only attack someone else given the opportunity. Its death was quick, so it didn't suffer, and now there's no danger of anyone else being hurt.”

  “At least there's that,” the doctor replied, reaching down and placing his hand on the wolf's flank. It was still a little warm, and he couldn't help but feel sad that such a majestic animal had been relieved of its life. “I wonder however it came to be on Thaxos,” he said after a moment. “Surely if there is one wolf, there must be others. A mate, perhaps, and some cubs. After all, such a creature cannot exist in isolation.”

  “We've scoured the island,” one of the men replied, with almost suspicious haste. “There are no more. It looks like this one managed to stow away somehow and ended up here. It can't have been on His Lordship's boat, though, so it must have been on one of the ferries that stops here from time to time.”

  “I see.”

  Stepping back from the vehicle, Doctor Burns couldn't take his eyes off the wolf for a moment. Although it was certainly a large animal, and although he had no doubt that a wolf could cause considerable damage to a human, he still had his doubts that this beast was responsible for Kate Langley's injuries. Something about the whole story didn't ring true, and he also found it rather convenient that Le Compte's men had so quickly and easily tracked the culprit. Then again, as unlikely as a wolf seemed, he had to admit that it was less unlikely than any other explanation he could think of.

  “We must be going,” one of the men said, as he pushed the door shut. “We're to dispose of the wolf and then get back to work.”

  “What are you going to do with it?” the doctor asked.

  “His Lordship said we might as well dump it into the harbor. Unless you want it?”

  “Me?” He paused for a moment, imagining the corpse being disposed of in such a careless manner. “If you'd be so kind, would you take it around to the back of my surgery and leave it in my tool shed? I feel that such a magnificent creature deserves a proper burial.”

  “Suit yourself,” the man replied.

  As he watched the vehicle drive away and then head around behind his home, Doctor Burns couldn't shake the feeling that the wolf's death was a terrible shame. He'd seen the injuries that Kate Langley had suffered, of course, but at the same time he felt that there was no excuse for killing the animal and then disrespecting its body. Although he was an old man and his body was weak, he figured that the least he could do would be to dig a proper grave. That would have to wait, however, since he was beginning to feel extremely tired after spending the whole afternoon traipsing around town, putting up posters for the garden party.

  Once he was inside, he tried to rest but he felt far too jumpy. Instead, he made dinner and then, once he'd eaten, he went through to his office and began the laborious and humiliating task of calling his missed patients and rearranging their appointments. They all asked if he was okay, with most having assumed that he'd been taken ill, and eventually he simply claimed that he'd felt faint but that he was absolutely fine now. When he was finally done, he sat back, relieved that everything was back in order but still shocked that he'd made such a mistake in the first place.

  After a moment, his gaze fell upon the silver letter opener he kept on his desk.

  Reaching out, he picked it up and examined the blade. He used the letter opener every day, yet he had never examined it properly before. His mind felt foggier than ever as he ran the edge of his thumb against the blade itself, and then slowly he placed his left hand flat on the desk. Holding the blade directly above his flesh, he started blankly for a moment, his mind having emptied completely save for a sudden, overwhelming desire to stab himself. He didn't know where this compulsion was coming from, but he barely even cared. All that mattered was the fact that, for some reason, he desperately wanted to do this.

  So he did.

  As soon as he forced the blade through the center of his hand, he let out a cry of pain. He pulled the blade out again and rushed to his treatment room, dripping blood along the way. The wound was by no means life-threatening, but it was intensely painful and as he began to apply alcohol rub to keep it clear, he glanced at a nearby mirror and was stunned by his own expression. The face staring back at him was his own, of course, but there was fear in his eyes, and it was almost as if he was no longer in full control of his own body.

  “What in God's name...” he muttered, feeling a rising sense of panic in his chest. “What in God's name is wrong with me?”

  VIII

  The moth made its way through the darkness, fluttering higher than ever until it reached the open window above the courtyard.