Dark Season: The Complete Box Set (73 page)

I stop dead in my tracks as I reach the top of the stairs. There is a piece of rope tied around the bannister overlooking the stairwell, and this sight instantly fills me with dread. Rushing forward, I look down and see the shocking sight of Margaret's dead body hanging from a noose. Her face is contorted into the most grotesque expression, and her eyes are bulging almost out of their sockets as her body hangs and gently swings.

All I can do is scream.

Chapter Six

"She was weak," I say, turning to Edward. "She was from common stock, and she had a weak mind. That's the only possible explanation."

Several hours after Margaret's unfortunate suicide, I am sitting in the drawing room with my husband. All around us, candles flicker in the darkness. Outside, night blankets the countryside and thick clouds cover the moon. With Margaret's body having been carefully stored away in the pantry, it has been decided that - finally - we shall all leave the house first thing in the morning. Edward's uncle Dunstable is still absent, so we shall quickly lock the house up and leave it as we found it. A report will be made to the relevant authorities regarding Margaret's death, but I do not anticipate any problems in that area.

I glance over at the wall and spot half a dozen spiders crawling across the surface. Those infernal things are becoming such a nuisance.

We shall have to return to this place at some point, of course. This house is central to Edward's family, and it is inevitable that he and I shall live here eventually. For now, however, it seems that Edward has come to understand that the situation here is becoming untenable. He seems convinced that my health problems are due to my being pregnant; I am sure that there is no child inside my belly, but I am willing to let him persist in this belief if it means that we can leave Gabriel Hall first thing in the morning. I simply cannot stay in this place any longer, and I believe that my health is already suffering from the strain. Within these walls, I even fear sleep itself.

Before we leave, however, we must spend one final night here.

"Still," Edward says, "I didn't take Margaret for the kind to allow her superstitions to overpower her to such an extreme." He pauses. "The minds of some people are a mystery to others. I hope you don't blame yourself in any way, my darling Evangeline. You were absolutely correct to terminate her employment."

"I know," I say. "She overstepped the mark. I had no idea she was so attached to our family, but it is sometimes necessary to cut loose a servant who has become too unstable." I pause, remembering that last tearful conversation with Margaret; I never thought I would feel so sorry about losing that comfortable, familiar woman. "Should I have retained her, despite her inadequacies?"

"What did she say again"? Edward asks. "You told me that she made some inappropriate remarks, but you didn't mention the precise nature of those remarks."

I shake my head, fully aware that I can't possibly tell Edward the truth about the things that Margaret said to me. "Just nonsense," I say. "Petty common nonsense about the Devil. She really did have a most inferior mind. I'm not saying that we are better off without her, but..."

"The Devil?" Edward asks incredulously. "Here?" He laughs. "Well, the woman really was out of her mind, wasn't she?" He puts a hand on my belly. "To think that her hysteria could have added stress to you, my dear Evangeline, at a time when you might very well be in the early stages of carrying our first child."

"Perhaps," I say, carefully pushing his hand away. "Let us not get too ahead of ourselves."

We both look up as Lively enters the room. He bows before speaking. "I have secured all the doors, Sir," he says, "and I have arranged with the footman that he and I shall take turns keeping watch, just in case that poacher decides to return. I feel it would be wise to have someone remain up and alert all night, in case he decides to try to get into the house."

"Very good," says Edward. "Tell me, Lively, did you ever suspect that Margaret would take her own life?"

"No, Sir," Lively replies.

"She never struck you as the emotional, superstitious type?"

"No, Sir," he says again. "I didn't spend much time with her, as you can imagine. We had little, if anything, in common with one another. I found her to be somewhat quiet and introverted, and not particularly interesting."

Edward laughs. "It's funny, isn't it?" he says, turning to me. "When someone dies, we're all supposed to be very polite and only remember their good qualities, but sometimes the dead simply
had
no good qualities. Margaret was a passable lady for your purposes, my dear, but she can be easily replaced. This country has no shortage of competent, dull little women."

"Perhaps it was our fault a little," I say, suddenly overcome with a feeling that even if I didn't
cause
Margaret's demise, I could perhaps have recognized her torment earlier and stepped in to help.

"Nonsense," Edward replies. "What makes you say that?"

"Perhaps I encouraged her to get too comfortable with me," I reply. "She began to feel that I liked her. Then, when I terminated her employment, she took it so terribly badly."

"Of course not," Edward says. "I can scarcely believe that you could consider such a possibility. The woman was doomed by her own idiocy. She's just lucky that we tolerated her around here for as long as we did."

I nod, but it seems as if there is nothing more to say. No words can wipe that final image from my mind, as Margaret dangled from the rope. I dare say it will take some time before I am able to sleep without seeing her bulging eyes, but to be honest I would happily dream of Margaret if this meant that my nightmares about Patrick and Sophie would go away. It would be so convenient if one could choose the ghosts by which one is haunted.

"If it's okay, Sir," Lively says, "I shall go and rest before taking my turn on watch tonight."

"Very good," Edward says, and Lively retires from the room. "He's a good man," Edward adds, standing up and leading me toward the door. "Servants like Margaret are ten a penny, but Lively's a catch. I certainly don't expect to ever have to terminate
his
employment with us. The man has a good head on his shoulders. I can rely on him, and that's a boon to us all."

We retire to bed, and once again Edward insists upon making love. I hitch my nightdress up so that my chest is exposed, and I open my legs so that he can mount me. It's a brief ritual, and I am glad that he gains some pleasure from poking about inside me, although part of me feels that it's desperately inappropriate tonight. In fact, as he huffs and puffs on top of me, I can't help but think about Margaret. I know she was only a servant, but I suppose she had feelings. The sight of her hanging from a rope was shocking, and I am not sure I shall ever forget the horrific look on her face. As Edward completes his ritual and hits the peak of his passion, I force a smile while he rolls back over to his side of the bed and prepares to go to sleep.

"What time shall we leave tomorrow?" I ask, pulling my nightdress back over my chest.

"Early," Edward says. He never wishes to speak much after we have made love; he prefers to just go straight to sleep, and I suppose I can understand that. After all, he puts a lot of effort into the endeavor and he deserves a good rest.

Suddenly there's a scream somewhere off in another part of the house.

Edward and I both sit up in bed.

"What on earth was that?" Edward asks, quickly rising and getting dressed. "Stay here," he says as he hurries out of the room, but as soon as he's gone, I get out of bed and quickly get dressed again. If there's to be some kind of incident, I must see it for myself; I must know what happens, so that I can see if any of it has come from my dream. I take a deep breath and run to the door, but as I open it I'm confronted by a towering figure.

A man.

Or something that used to be a man.

Tall, hideous and covered in bloody, blackened boils, a nightmarish creature stares down at me and grins.

Chapter Seven

I step back into the bedroom, unable to take my eyes off the hideous beast before me. It has the vague shape of an old man, but with hundreds - if not thousands - of small black lumps protruding from its skin, some of them buried under the surface and some partially poking out through fleshy holes; it takes me a moment to realize that each of these lumps is a pebble, just like the ones I've been finding around the house. From beneath those pebbles, almost hidden on the face of this monster, there are two human eyes staring out at me.

"Keep away from me," I say, my heart racing.

The creature takes a step toward me and, as it does so, all the pebbles clatter against each other, making the most cacophonous sound, which I can only describe as being something like the sound of hundreds of pebbles rattling against one another in a bag. Yet these pebbles are not in a bag: they are in the body of the creature itself.

"Whatever you want, you can take it," I say, "but you must leave. My husband will be back soon and he'll kill you, do you understand?" I wait for the creature to respond. "He'll kill you!" I shout.

The creature stares at me. "You must be Evangeline," he says eventually, his voice old but clear. He sounds human. "I heard that poor Edward had found himself a wife," he continues, "but I never imagined he would be able to secure a lady of such boundless beauty." He pauses. "You have the most intelligent eyes."

He takes another step toward me, and the pebbles in his skin rattle once again.

"No!" I shout. "Not another inch!" I stare at him, unable to comprehend the vision before me. "What are you?" I ask. "Are you sent by the Devil? Was Margaret right? Is he here? Have you been sent to drag me down to the fires of Hell?"

The creature laughs. "Not the Devil, no," he says. "I'm terribly sorry, but we haven't been properly introduced, have we?" He reaches out a pebble-covered hand, which rattles like the rest of his body. "My name is Dunstable."

I stare at the hand. There is absolutely no way I'm going to touch it, not with all that sticky blood smeared everywhere. "Dunstable?" I say, my mind racing, trying to work out what's going on.

"I'm Edward's uncle," he continues. "He might have mentioned me. I've been living here for many years, although - as you can doubtless see - things have become a little uncomfortable."

"You?" I ask, stunned. "You're my husband's uncle?"

"I'm terribly sorry I couldn't greet you properly when you arrived," he says, "but I was rather anxious to keep out of sight, for reasons that I imagine you can understand." His mouth, which I can barely see beneath all the stones and pebbles on his body, breaks into a slightly sad smile. "I haven't seen anyone else for a very long time. I'm afraid I've been rattling around the old house for many years, all on my own."

I shake my head. "I don't understand any of this. My husband's uncle might be many things, but a monster he is not!"

"A monster?" the creature says, sounding sad. "Oh..." He pauses. "I confess, I have long thought of myself as a monster, but it feels very different to have the word used by someone else. I can assure you, just a few years ago I was no monster. I was just a foolish old man, minding my own business before I fell victim to my tormentor."

"You look like no old man that I have ever seen," I say, carefully glancing around the room in the hope of finding some kind of weapon.

"That's because the creature got to me," he replies. "I've researched its history; I believe it is called a Tenderling. Night after night, it sits on my body while I sleep, and it puts little black stones under my skin. At first it was just one or two, hardly noticeable, but over many years my body filled with these stones until they started to overflow, and still the damnable creature continues to haunt me." He takes another step toward me, and one of the pebbles falls from his body and lands on the floor. "They're so heavy. But I believe he has turned his attentions to you now, hasn't he? He left me alone last night, for the first time in many years. He came to you instead."

"Me?" I ask.

"Have you not found pebbles beneath your own skin?" he replies. "I've read a great deal about these creatures. They're not mentioned in any conventional books, of course, but there are people who have encountered them and left records. It seems that they feed off the negative emotions of their victims, and for some reason they need to implant these stones in our bodies so that they can access those emotions."

"This Tenderling," I say. "What does he look like?"

"Small and red, like a goblin," Dunstable replies. "With yellow eyes and a grin that could turn a lesser man's heart to ash."

"Like a small devil?" I ask.

He laughs again. "I suppose one could say that, if one were a superstitious type."

"Poor Margaret," I say quietly.

"I have been at its mercy for so long," Dunstable says, his voice sounding weary. "The servants all fled and I was left alone, night after night, until I reached this wretched state. Look at me!"

I force myself not to turn away. He is a hideous sight, covered in stones and blood.

"But now that you're here," Dunstable continues, "the creature will focus on you and I can get some peace at least." He starts pulling stones from his body. "Perhaps I can get back to normal."

"I'm sorry," I say, rushing toward the door, but Dunstable pushes me back to the bed.

"I can't let you leave," he says, his voice suddenly sounding harsher and more firm. "If you leave, it'll be just me and the creature again. I can't let things go back to the way they were."

"Release me immediately," I say, "or my husband will have your neck slit open for this outrage."

"Death would be a happy release," he replies.

There's another scream from elsewhere in the house, and it's enough to distract Dunstable and allow me to slip past him and out of the room. I run along the corridor and down the stairs, where I find Lively gravely wounded on the floor. He has deep scratches across his face, as if some kind of wild animal has got to him, and he's bleeding from several injuries.

"Go," he says weakly, looking up at me. "You must hurry..."

"Evangeline, get out!" Edward shouts from one of the rooms, followed by the sound of a rifle being fired.

"Edward!" I shout, running through to find him in the ballroom, holding his rifle aloft. He is staring at something on the ceiling, and when I follow his gaze I am, at first, not able to see anything. The room is so dark, and the candles cast very little light, but as a flash of lightning strikes outside, I suddenly see the most hideous little red creature, scurrying quickly along the ceiling. It looks down at me and snarls, and I realize instantly that this must be the creature that was sitting on my back. It was this creature that Margaret saw and mistook for the Devil.

Edward fires his rifle again, blowing a hole in the ceiling but missing the Tenderling, which scuttles across toward a nearby wall. It sits there, smiling and watching us as Edward hurries to reload his weapon. I look over at the window and see rain pouring down outside.

"You must get out of here," Edward says, struggling with the rifle. "This place is not safe. The Devil himself is here." There's a rumble of thunder in the distance.

"It's not the Devil," I say. "It's a Tenderling."

Edward looks at me. "A what?" he asks. "How do you know its name?"

"Your uncle told me," I reply. "He's read about them. He's been -

"My uncle?" Edward asks, looking shocked. "Dunstable?"

"Right here," says Dunstable, shuffling into the room, still with all the stones attached to his skin. In the candlelight of the ballroom, he looks even more hideous than before: like a large, dark, glistening wet monstrosity that has grown from the ruins of a man.

Edward drops the rifle and steps back, a look of complete shock on his face. "What kind of madness is this?" he says, his voice quivering. "What kind of sorcery?"

Dunstable looks up at the Tenderling, which remains high up on the wall like some kind of hideous spider. "Not sorcery," Dunstable says, his voice betraying great tiredness. "The Tenderling is a creature of flesh and blood, just like us, but it is not commonly recognized by society." We all watch as the Tenderling scurries across the ceiling again and then pauses to look down at us. "I have managed a little research," Dunstable continues, as more lightning flashes outside the window, followed by thunder so loud that it rattles the glass panes. "These creatures are usually shy and cautious, but I think perhaps this specimen has become a little deranged. Too long feasting on a single victim, perhaps. Too long with just him and me rattling around this old house. I dare say we've both become a little strange." Without warning, Dunstable takes a vase from the table and throws it at the Tenderling; the creature hisses and scurries out of the way as the vase smashes harmlessly against the wall.

Edward hurries back to his gun, but his hands are shaking and he can't get it loaded. I watch as he fumbles with the mechanism several times.

"Let me," I say, rushing over and loading some more pellets. Somehow I'm able to keep my hands steady. Once I'm done, I raise the rifle and fire at the creature, but yet again it is able to scurry out of the way in time. Looking at its savage grin, I can't help but feel that it enjoys playing with us like this, and watching us suffer.

"You won't hit it," Dunstable says, watching as the Tenderling scurries around the ceiling. "Believe me, I've tried, but the damned creature seems remarkably quick."

"We must leave," Edward says, grabbing my hand. "We must get out of this madhouse and never return."

"I can't let you do that," Dunstable says, grabbing the gun and aiming it at the both of us. "You see, I've spent so many years living here with just the Tenderling for company. During that time, it has preyed upon my body, with results that you can clearly see are extremely unfortunate. If you leave, the creature will return to feed on me, whereas if you stay, I will be free of its attention. After all, you're fresh meat."

"This is absolute madness," Edward says. "I will not be held prisoner in my own home."

"Perhaps we can all leave?" I ask.

"No," Dunstable says, with the rifle still aimed at us. "If we try to leave, the creature will merely follow. I'm so tired. I want rid of it. If that means it must become your burden, then so be it."

"You would condemn us?" Edward asks. "You would allow us to fall prey to the same fate that has nearly felled you? You would allow us to become
like
you?"

"Yes," Dunstable says firmly. "Yes, I would do that. Years of suffering have broken my resolve. I have no honor left. I merely wish to be free of this cursed creature. You have no idea how it feels to be its plaything like this."

I look up and see the Tenderling scuttling along the wall. Another flash of lightning brightens the room, followed moments later by a clap of thunder. As its yellow eyes stare straight at me, the Tenderling opens its mouth, reaches in and with a bony red hand removes a single black stone. The creature continues to stare at me, and I understand all too well that it intends to put that stone in my body. And then another, and another, and another, until I become as wretched as Dunstable.

"I will not accept such a fate," I say, stepping toward Dunstable even as the rifle points straight at me. "I would rather die now, swiftly and cleanly, than be condemned to suffer as you have suffered. So please... pull the trigger and let this nightmare end." I wish I could say that there is no fear in my voice as I say these words, but the truth is I am terrified. I put my hands behind my back, hoping that Dunstable will not see that they are now shaking.

"It's not so bad," Dunstable says slowly. "You'll get used to it."

I stare at him. "Are you such a coward," I ask slowly, "that you will not follow through on your threat to pull that trigger?"

He stares at me, and then I realize that his gaze has shifted and he is looking past me. I turn and see a figure standing at the other end of the ballroom. My heart feels as if it might burst as I recognize this new arrival as the man from my nightmares. There is another bright flash of lightning, with more thunder. Patrick has arrived.