Dream Boat (36 page)

Doodlebug went wild, but there was no trace of two spirited young women.

'Here.' Orbilio slipped a leash around its neck and handed the puppy over to Flavia. 'You stay here with him.' To Junius he said, 'We'll organise a search. You take from here northwards, I'll take the southern half. Meet you in an hour.'

The young Gaul also felt the stakes were too high to fight over. 'No point,' he said. 'I've covered every goddamned inch, they're not here,' he added solemnly, 'and I'm worried. Gut-wrenching worried, if the truth were told.'

Whey-faced, he outlined Claudia's theories about the missing girls and her suspicions about the overseers. He did not say

that he feared his mistress and the street thief had also been abducted, but Marcus read it in his face and in his voice. Flavia had begun to weep, noisily and clumsily. Doodlebug moved to the end of his leash.

'She did,' Junius added, 'organise six henchmen to stay on red alert. They're stationed on the far side of the hills.'

'No point in hanging about, then,' Marcus said miserably. 'Let's call the cavalry. Do you know the signal?'

'Inspired by
The Serving Women,'
Junius fired a venomous glance at Flavia, 'it's a fire.'

'What about the guards?' wailed Flavia. 'No one can get in or out, we're all trapped. Doomed. Destined to die.'

'Leave the guards to me,' Marcus said, selecting a stout club from the rack on the stable wall. 'I'll open that double set of gates so wide, the cavalry will be able to drive in through the front door.' Someone must be hiding the two women! They can't just disappear! 'Junius. While I'm playing with the portals, you start the fire.'

'Fire, singular? Man, I'm going to burn every fucking
building
to the ground!'

'Then make sure you search them thoroughly beforehand,' Orbilio added dryly.

But it was only while he was sprinting towards the gate, armed with his club and scimitar, that it occurred to him that he might be able to take this thing one stage further. That there was a way to destroy this commune beyond simply its physical construction.

'What I need,' he said to himself, 'is access to that big bronze tortoise.'

When Claudia came to, she was surprised to find that she was not on a ferry boat on that one-way trip across the River Styx. No three-headed dog barked, no ghosts walked up to welcome her, there was no slap-slap-slap of oars on dark, grey, oily water.

She wished there was.

Because this was worse than death. This was living hell. As thunder rumbled in the background, she tried to move and found she'd been trussed up and gagged and that the harder she struggled, the deeper the bonds bit into her flesh. Her
naked 
flesh. She stopped struggling at once.

You fool. You silly, bloody fool. The minute you realised what you'd walked into here, you should also have realised that he'd have heard your scream. What was he going to do? Ignore it? But so shocked had Claudia been by this whole tableau, so sickened by the discovery beneath the jackal mask that she hadn't been able to control herself.

Now she was about to pay the ultimate price.

Claudia began to shudder uncontrollably. And what of Flea? What price did that poor bitch have to pay? You led her to this. Her death is your fault, you should not have brought her to this evil valley. You should not have interfered! She flashed a glance to the girl's body with the black jackal's head.

Sixteen and thinks she knows it all. Imagines she can handle every problem life dishes out, that she is tough. But, hell, she isn't -
wasn't.
Flea was young and vulnerable, she needed protecting and you failed her. When she needed you most, you bloody failed her.

But all I wanted was to save her from a life of misery and wretchedness living off the streets.

Well, you saved her that all right. You condemned her to a terrifying death . . .

Claudia felt a tidal wave of nausea wash over her. What would Flea have felt, when the noose tightened round her neck? Did she die cursing Claudia? Claudia gulped back the sobs. Knowing Flea, she'd have died cursing herself.

Oh, Flea. What have I done? I set a sparrow among the hawks, and I deserve to suffer for your death. All I ask, oh mighty Jupiter, is that you let me see the face behind the silver mask before I die that I may return to haunt it.

She closed her eyes and tried to push back time. To forget the present, disregard the future, to go back - back - where life was full of childhood innocence, to a place of long-forgotten memories, of adolescent pranks and children laughing . . . Except time refused to budge, and the present throbbed with pain and heat and horror . . . Which bastard set this hellish table? What demon was so sick that he was beyond being wicked - perhaps, even, beyond evil? Suddenly, the nausea threatened to engulf her. The mind behind this invidious tableau was quite insane.

A man can never have too much power, she thought. Was it Min? Second in command, but nevertheless still second. Reporting to a younger brother went against nature and the grain. 'Never underestimate my power,' he'd hissed. 'Never misjudge the influence I carry.' And don't forget that lightning switch of personality. 'I never force a woman,' he had boasted. Claudia thought of her leather bonds which tightened with the slightest exertion. The same knot which she'd noticed round Flea's neck! Sweet Janus, the killer didn't force his victims. As they struggled for breath, they slowly strangled themselves.

Her shoulders began to shake involuntarily, tightening the bonds. Blood drizzled down her wrists and dripped off her fingertips. The rabbit face of Penno flashed before her. Preoccupied with rites and rituals - and with Seth in particular - he re-enacted ceremonies in the privacy of his own room. Were

they
only
fantasies? Whoever planned this tableau needed to work in hurried snatches, and Claudia's stomach lurched at Penno's twig-like fingers wrapping rolls and rolls of linen over these poor brutalised bodies.

Bandages! These were Shabak's speciality, look at the way he dressed Geb's scald - tight, fast and utterly professional. And he'd know all about knots, would Friend Bluejaw. As the commune doctor, who'd be better placed to coax the trust from vulnerable young women? Women such as Berenice, who'd accept medication for her baby without suspecting it was poison. With a squad of eager helpers waiting for his commands, Shabak would not risk being absent for too long and suddenly Claudia saw the swarthy medic embalming 'patients' in his secret cave.
Whistling
while he worked.

Or was Neco's curious whistle the last sound these girls heard? Neco, who loathed himself so much that he stripped the very flesh off his own back in penance. Why do you hate yourself so much, Neco? Is it because of what you've done to these poor girls? Don't think I don't know what the bleeding and the bruising and the (holy Janus!) bites signify on Flea's young flesh. You rape them and you torture them, mentally and physically, and then you walk away and let them choke themselves to death. Is that why you whip yourself, Neco? To dull the pain inside your twisted mind?

What was it Min said of Neco? Doesn't tolerate familiarity. Of course not. Men like the killer don't. They can't. Intimacy is incomprehensible to them, they—

Claudia's heart fluttered. What was that? Footsteps. A whistle. A brisk rubbing of hands.
Sweet Jupiter, whose hands?
A light flickered in the distance. Growing nearer. Nearer . . .

Despite her gag, despite the gnawing bonds, Claudia gasped.

Of the men she had suspected, this surely was the lowest on her list and yet, dear lord, she should have guessed! Her heart began to thump. Who had access to the kitchen staff and was in charge of the commune's security? Who was so desperate to keep the guards out of the valley? Who'd be worried sick

about any potential breach in the security? Only one man. The man who would not want them stumbling across a certain ancient cave.

Claudia could only stare as his broad, hairy hands pulled back the foliage from the scrambling fig across the entrance. The first night she arrived, the night she'd helped Shabak bandage the burn, Geb's hair had been damp, she remembered. It was raining that night. He'd just come in from the rain.
Just come in from killing Berenice.

In the entrance to the cavern, the Keeper of the Central Store held up his torch, his eyes wide and manic, his skin shining with sweat. That bruise on his knuckles . . . she'd spotted it, and never thought to question its cause. Her heart was crashing wildly now, skipping several beats. Let it be quick, she prayed. Please let it be quick.

His eyes made contact with Claudia's.

Her heart stopped.

With a grunt, he lunged forward and ripped off Claudia's gag. 'What the hell—'

Fffff

The sound was so soft, Claudia barely heard it. Like a swish of cotton, or a light exhalation of breath, the sound was soft and sensuous in the silence of the cave.

As though captured on a marble frieze, everything happened in slow motion. Geb's eyes bulged. He teetered on his feet. Then slowly - oh, so slowly - the Keeper of the Central Store pitched forward. With an arrow protruding from his back.

Her heart began to grind back into action, each beat like a blacksmith's hammer on the forge. 'Marcus! Oh, Marcus, thank the gods you found me.' She owed him one for this, she really did!

But—

In the flickering light of Geb's torch, her eyes caught a flash of silver. Her marrow turned to ice.

No one had come to save her. Geb wasn't the killer.

Perhaps attracted by the light, perhaps attracted by the unfamiliar silver mask, Geb - like Claudia - had merely

stumbled on the cave. His eyes, she realised now, had been bright from drink, not from insanity, she'd caught a blast of palm wine on his breath when he ripped away her gag. Geb had been as surprised as she was!

'Always like to keep a bow handy.' The silver figure glided into the cave. 'In fact, I had to put an arrow through a dog the other day. Caught a whiff, y'see.' He indicated the figures round the table. 'After that I had to lock the buggers up. Yours with it.'

'W-why haven't you killed me?' Claudia's voice was little more than a whisper.

'Tut, tut, girl. Mustn't believe that tosh 'bout Seth being the Devourer of Souls.' The silver figure leaned over the inert form of Geb and didn't seem to notice that Claudia's gag was gone. 'Seth doesn't kill, my child. He is not a beast like Anubis there, or Bast. Even this -' Placing one foot on Geb's back, he hauled the arrow out and, outside, thunder masked the groan the big man made. He doesn't realise, Claudia thought, the silver killer doesn't realise that Geb is still alive! 'This was self-defence,' said Seth, brushing Geb's blood from his costume. 'Must apologise if you feel I'm tardy in consummating our relationship, my dear, but you will receive my holy seed, I promise. You see, I have something really special planned for you, Osiris.'

'Osiris?'

The silver figure misunderstood her question. 'Oh yes, Osiris must be last, because he's the only other human god present at the table. Isis over there was first, then the animals followed after - of course, their order was not important -but the ceremony must end with Osiris. Begin and end with the human gods. Begin and end with the humans.'

Silver hands picked up the gold mask and held it to the tiny light he'd brought, and while he admired it, Claudia's teeth began to chatter. This went far beyond sex and control, this was about domination of
souls.

'Osiris thinks he's the son of Ra, y'see, but Seth is Ra's true son. He's shown me the path to eternal resurrection and soon

the people will realise that Mentu is nothing but a Pharaoh over fools, the King of Clowns, a con man. Only Seth has the power over immortality, and I -' he stretched out his silver sleeves - 'am prepared to confer this immortality on you, my chosen Council. Together -' he reached for a small pot in the middle of the table - 'the eleven of us will control the destiny of mankind. Together we can rule the future.'

'And the past?'

'The past is nothing,' he said, dipping a brush in the contents. 'The future is spread across the heavens and Seth alone can read the magic written in the stars. Seth alone knows the secret spell.'

Slowly he began to stroke the paintbrush over Claudia's face, and she knew the colour would be blue.

Bright eyes glittered behind the silver mask. 'The future is my power and the future belongs to me,' he intoned quietly. 'And soon, very soon, my child, this future will be yours.'

Finishing his artwork, he stepped back to admire it, oblivious to the thunder and the white strikes of lightning.

'I have been twice blessed tonight,' he said, cheerfully touching up Claudia's cheek, one brushstroke here, another there. 'First, the jackal comes trotting like a tame dog,' he chuckled, giving Flea's mask an affectionate pat. 'Saw her, y'know, running down to the kennels. So easy to convince her I'd taken the puppy away to comfort it when it took fright during the storm, kept him safe up here in this cave. Then what do you know? Ra delivers you to my table, allowing me to advance the divine schedule.'