The Count of the Living Death (The Chronicles of Hildigrim Blackbeard) (17 page)

"Then how...why didn't it kill you both?"

Ivan threw up his arms in amazement. He had no answer. Only fear, confusion, and other emotions he dared not put into words. He longed to throw his arms around her and press his lips into her neck, forgetting everything he had endured and what was still to come.

"Ivan, I have to be honest. I don't trust you. You tried to kill him—you
did
kill him before. And now...you're still the same person."

Ivan lowered his head, feeling the justness of her accusation but wounded all the same. How could she suggest it? Didn't she see...after all he had done, risked for his brother's sake and now for her?

"I can only tell you what I feel in my heart," he said, leaning forward. "As if I've found a place here, among you...and Leopold, and even Blackbeard. My whole life it's just been me; not even my mother was ever really there. With you I have a reason to be, something to fight for. I want you to be proud of me; I want to be proud of myself."

Mary smiled despite herself. It was a guileless performance. Not at all what she expected from "Ivan the Terrible."

"So what should we do?"

"We need to help Blackbeard open the box. Maybe it's still inside--wounded, not dead, still exerting control over Leopold. If so I vow this time I'll kill it myself. You have my word."

"You can't promise something like that," she said, tearing off a piece of her half-eaten roll. "What if it tricks you again and escapes? And kills him on the spot?"

"There's three of us now. We'll be ready for him."

"I may not trust you, but I trust myself. I'll kill it with my bare hands if necessary," she said, coldly. "Very well: let's open the box."

Blackbearrd knew. That much was clear. How much he knew, or what action he was prepared to take was another matter. Either way, he couldn't be trusted. He would have to be killed. The others were simpler, they had reason to love the Count, and as long as he said the right things they wouldn't question. He just had to stay awake! No matter how long he slept, the mere act of moving, thinking, or even
being
made him sleep. Watching them from the outside it all looked so easy. They woke, ate, ran, sang, danced, fought, fell in love. Nothing simpler. Yet to actually do it, to turn thoughts into actions and go through the endless repetitions, the sheer exhaustive effort required to walk from one place to another...how did even the most resilient human endure it? He just needed time; in time he would learn to be human, to lug the weight of his body from place to place. For now, the mere thought of stepping out of bed was torture.

Footsteps. Mary entered the room, smiling her nervous smile. A profound sorrow lingered behind it. Obviously, he wasn't what she expected. He wanted to tell her, "I never expected this, either! Watching you as I did, I wanted you for my own; I would do whatever it took to possess you. And now that I have you...my body is lead, ice, of no one use to anyone!" Instead, he merely said something about falling asleep unexpectedly and hoped she had time to stay with him.

"Of course, that's what I came to do," she said, approaching. "Are you sure you're awake? I can come back--"

"Nonsense, please stay," he insisted, patting the bed. "One day, I promise, my powers will return. I won't be an invalid forever."

"I hope so. Which reminds me..." she said, sitting beside him. "You never told me what happened with the box."

He frowned; it was an unexpected question coming from her. He had answers for Blackbeard and even for that other one, but for her...so much harder to lie to her. He shrugged his shoulders and mimed an inability to express himself, hoping she would excuse him and change the subject. Yet her expression remained the same, an intent, alert stare, looking for the slightest clue or contradiction.

"I don't quite know how to put it into words...it came out, we fought it...and despite a difficult moment or two, emerged victorious."

"So Ivan helped you?" she asked, eyes searching.

"Yes—indeed! Without him I wouldn't be here at all. I owe him my life. He distracted it at a critical moment, allowing me to strike. It never recovered."

"He seems very mystified by the whole experience," she mused, looking away. "Was he damaged in some way?"

"I believe it struck him dreadfully...I was amazed to find him in one piece."

She didn't say anything at once, but he could see her searching for a way to continue. Was she suspicious of him? No, he didn't see that. Yet a deep fear gnawed at her heart, made her question something; the sorcerer must be behind it. Blackbeard asked too many questions, made her look too closely at him. WheneveÀ him. Whr she locked eyes with him, he felt exposed. Surely she could see the emptiness in those eyes, the mask that stared but couldn't blink. He had to be cautious, lest so many years of labor end before he could take her in his arms--and see Blackbeard dead at his feet.

"Can I see...the box?" she asked.

He suddenly felt wide awake. How to answer that!

"Whatever for, my love?" he replied, taking her hand. "It's empty now, of course. Nothing to fear."

"Then why did you lock it?"

"Did I? Oh yes, I suppose I did...rather thoughtless of me. Instinct, I suppose. It just felt the right thing to do."

"I know this sounds odd, and perhaps this is also mere instinct talking...but I want you to open it. I want to see inside it."

He turned away, realizing that this was a test of sorts. Damn the box! He should have burned it, thrown it into the ocean, had it shot from a cannon. Its very presence implicated him, whispered behind his back. How could he be Leopold when it remained to tell everyone he was not?

"I wish I could, but the keys, you see...I don't have them. That very night, the first night of my liberation...I flung them off the tower. I watched them sail into the moonlight and vanish beneath the tree line. Gone forever."

"But what if we needed to open it, for whatever reason?" she asked, almost desperately. "What if...something was still inside?"

He turned pale--or at least felt he did. He couldn't control his thoughts or emotions. Before this they had existed as one, a single will, a conviction. Now everything depended on something else. Though he told himself that she knew nothing, a simple question sent him spinning, scrambling, desperate to confess it all—that he was his shadow! How incredibly stupid, to be defeated in this way (and by a woman)! He knew this, felt it throughout his being, and yet whenever she looked at him and spoke...all thoughts swam away.

"There's nothing left, I can assure you. We made quite sure."

"But Ivan isn't sure. I would feel better...if I could just see. If I could know for myself."

"The key...it's gone!" he gestured. "I don't know what else to say."

"You could find it. It's out there, somewhere," she insisted, eyes searching him out. "
We
could find it."

"To look through the entire forest?" he laughed. "It would take days, perhaps even months! And even then…”

"It's a smÀuot;It'sall favor to ask...I want to know
it's
gone. Forever."

He checked an overwhelming impulse to shake her. Stupid girl—look through the forest for days and nights for a key he hid in his boot! She knew now, didn't she? She knew he was hiding something. So now he had to go through the farce of pretending to look instead of celebrating their wedding. There was no other choice; he had come too far to abandon his plans. After a few days she would see the futility of it all, and perhaps his strength would return...she would be convinced, given time. Yet just she needed time away from the sorcerer. He had to remove him.

"Then I grant you this favor, and repent the foolish impulse of throwing it away," he said, kissing her hand. "We'll start tomorrow morning...I fear the light is already declining for a protracted search."

"Yes, and you need your rest," she said, kissing his forehead. "In the morning."

He wanted to keep her with him, but already his eyes grew dim and the world of dreams tugged at his shoulders. He sank greedily into the bed, waving her off...there would be time to think tonight...time to meet with the sorcerer and ensure his cooperation. Soon...

Mary closed the door behind her and walked briskly down the hallway. As she approached the stairwell a voice whispered out of the shadows. She nodded, staring pensively toward his room.

"He's lying. He still has it...but I don't know why."

The following day Mary followed Leopold into the woods to find the missing key. They both knew it was futile, though Mary spent more time looking for 'him' as they did so. What was he hiding? Why go through this elaborate farce? What did he fear? Meanwhile, Leopold stole anxious glances at her, smiling all the while. How does she know? What does she know? Perhaps he should find it, if only to prove...what, exactly? Proving one thing would reveal another, and before long he would be forced to open the box. No, it could never be opened, they could never find it. How ever many weary hours he had to endure the sun and flies and her relentless questions.

"Anything yet?" she asked.

"No, nothing...I fear it's hopeless. Perhaps we should abandon our quest."

"So soon? Can't we keep looking? We're bound to find it, especially if you said--"

"Yes, I know very well what I said," he muttered, turning away.

Mary stared after him. This was more than a missing (or hidden) key; something quite unpleasant was behind this. He was becoming peevish, even resentful of her presence. She could see the way his eyes swept over her, as if wanting to push her into a ravine where she would never emerge. A strange elopement, searching for lies in a forest of murder and revenge!

"Leopold, ƀI've had all of this I can stand. What are you doing?" she insisted.

"What am
I
doing?" he said, almost laughing. "Why, I thought I was searching for this key you want me to find...or have our plans changed, my love?"

"There's no need to insult me," she snapped. "I don't enjoy playing games."

"Playing games! You think I enjoy crawling on my hands and knees looking for keys—"

"There is no key!" she shouted, pushing him. "I knew we wouldn't find it! I just wanted to see how far you go. To your grave, apparently!"

"What do you mean, no key?" he repeated, losing steam.

"You're lying! I don't know why, or about what, but everything else is clear. There's no key...or at least, it's not here. But you know where it is. Why can't we open the box?"

"Don't be foolish; I threw it away—didn't I say so? I wanted it closed forever. Please, enough of this, it's over now," he said, crossing his arms.

"Nothing is over--not when you're acting like this!" she said, grabbing him. "Listen to me—
listen
! Where is it?"

"I told you--"

"Why, Leopold? Can you really look at me and lie like this? As if I don't matter?"

"Mary...don't make me--"

"What? Tell the truth? Or something worse? You think I can't take it? What is it--what did you do with the key?"

"What do you want me to say? I don't know!" he said, shaking her off. "I can't think...I'm so confused and weary all the time...just leave me be!"

He stumbled away, trying to run without the strength to do so. A misstep sent him careening into a stump where he collapsed heavily on the ground. He was out. Mary ran over to him, her anger faded; she felt him all over, relieved that he wasn't hurt. No, just sound asleep.

"Why can't you trust me?" she asked, stroking his face. "I've never kept anything from you."

She kissed him but felt no response. That is, there was no warmth, no feeling of the human beneath. Just flesh. Just stone. Angrily, she began searching through his pockets, up his sleeves, anywhere he might hide an errant key. Where was it? In sheer desperation, she felt through his trousers--fighting a powerful blush as she did so (if her mother could see her now!). No secret pouches or hidden ˀes or hipockets. Noticing one of his boots was loose she removed it, shaking it out. Finding nothing she tried the other. Nothing--

Plink
! Something small fell out and bounced along the ground. Her eyes widened and before she could understand what she found, her arm shot out and her fingers closed over a cold, metallic key. The key.
Zounds
, she thought to herself,
I've found it! I've got to take it to Blackbeard!

But she couldn't leave Leopold alone, passed out in the forest for anyone to discover. So she discreetly tucked it into her clothing, hoping he wouldn't notice when he came to. When he finally did--close to an hour later--he seemed to have forgotten the entire incident. He apologized for 'dozing off' and brushed himself clean.

"No key?" he asked.

"No key," she shrugged.

"I'm sorry...it's a big forest. I was thoughtless."

"You don't need to explain. In fact, I think we've looked enough for today. Maybe it is pointless," she said, taking his arm.

"But I thought...you want to go?"