Authors: Deborah White
It is dark still, but I can sense Martha’s distress.
“Before we left, Ralf came to Darke House looking for me. He was banging on the door, shouting and threatening to kill the Doctor! It was then that we left London, slipping out from the back of the house and down to the river.” There is silence for a moment and then she says, “Before Christmas you say?”
I say nothing, but I can hear the smallest note of hope in Martha’s voice – is it possible that Ralf might still be here in France?
I
t’s like locking yourself up in a dark room, Claire thought as she lay listening to the slap of river water in the half light that came just before dawn. She instinctively pulled the now sleeping Micky in closer to her. Poor thing, she’d worn herself out shouting and pounding on the cabin door alongside Claire. But no one would have heard them above the thrum of the engine… the noise of the barge as it moved under cover of darkness.
God knows where they were moored now. All Claire could see out of the porthole was grey water and mist. She had no idea what was happening or where they were, but she had to accept the truth now; she should have listened to those niggling doubts at the back of her mind.
Claire shuddered. You think you’re alone,
and then slowly, slowly the light trickles in and you find out you’re not alone at all. The room has had someone else in it all the time. And they’ve been monitoring your every breath. Listening to every word you cry out. Every secret you let slip. Worse still, it’s not the person you have cause to fear, but someone you thought was on your side. Someone you could trust. It was like Zac all over again. Only worse this time, because other people were involved. And why, oh why hadn’t she picked up on any of the signs?
Claire tensed as she heard the key turn in the lock and saw the door swing open.
“Robert says it’s time for you to open the casket, Claire. It will be dawn very soon and then all the 21 spells can be spoken together!” Lindsay stood there, arms tucked across her body.
So that’s what we’ve been waiting for
, Claire thought,
Jacalyn’s guess had been right. Robert was
taking no chances this time. He had to release the 21st spell at just the right moment
.
She looked at Lindsay with pure hatred. Lindsay was clearly trying to seem confident and untroubled, but Claire could see she was a bundle of nerves, her foot tap, tap, tapping on the floor.
The noise woke Micky, who tensed up the minute she caught sight of Lindsay.
“How could you?” Claire wanted to spring at her and rake her nails down those perfect cheeks. Her fingers itched to do it, but Micky was clinging tight, refusing to let Claire go. “Did you pick up my dad deliberately? Was it all fake? Didn’t you have any feelings for any of us, ever? And all that about your father… was that all lies too, just to gain my confidence?”
“Oh, I did
like
your dad, and I am sorry that he’s going to be hurt, but I couldn’t afford to get emotionally involved; it would have ruined the whole plan.”
“Which was…?”
“To get to know your dad, so I could get closer to you.” Lindsay sounded cool, but there were high spots of colour on her cheeks. “We knew your dad’s contract at the university was coming to an end, so I got in touch and asked him to design some new computer systems for the business. It was easy, really. Your dad came up with a price… which of course was acceptable. He’d just split up with your mum, so I offered him comfort… and he took it!”
Claire winced; the image of her dad looking eager and vulnerable was irrevocably imprinted on her mind’s eye now. And she was suddenly aware that Micky was listening intently to every single word that was being said.
“Oh, and I was telling you the truth about my father. I just didn’t tell you who he was.” Lindsay’s face looked flushed and radiant as her head turned to Robert, who had quietly slipped into the room and was standing behind her.
Robert is Lindsay’s father? Is that what she’s saying? Oh my God… can that be true? That makes us related, doesn’t it?
Robert’s hand was on Lindsay’s shoulder and Lindsay was leaning back against him. “You were my spy, weren’t you, Lindsay?” he said, with a sly smile. He turned to Claire with a more sombre expression. “Your mother was useful up to a point, but I could see that no one was really worrying about your father’s needs. He was the perfect way in; Lindsay could tell me everything that was happening in your grandmother’s house.” Robert was stroking Lindsay’s cheek now with his index finger. “And I knew I could count on her to do
anything
for me.”
Of course, it wasn’t just her dad who was vulnerable. Claire could see it now. Lindsay had a weak spot too… her need to find her father.
Lindsay’s eyes were shining with excitement, as she described how Robert had walked into her office and introduced himself. “He said he’d been looking for me, his daughter, for a very long time. At first I didn’t believe it…”
And maybe you shouldn’t have believed it
, thought Claire who was watching Robert’s face intently, trying to read his thoughts.
Maybe Robert is your
father. But maybe he lied to you. Maybe he’s just using
you too. How like him to home in on those ‘Looking
for…’ messages you left. He’d know your desperation to find your father would skew your judgement. He’d understand how easy it would be to deceive you.
“He told me things only my father could have known. Things about my mother and her family…” said Lindsay, dreamily.
Things that are easy enough to find out,
Claire thought,
if you are determined and clever like Robert
.
All Lindsay’s mum had said was that he had no morals or principles – at least that description was accurate! But Lindsay’s mum was dead now, and she’d left no letters or photos to identify him by
.
“He only left my mother
because
he had cared so much for her. He was afraid that his staying would only put her life in danger.” Lindsay reached for Robert’s hand. “You see, Claire, he told me all about the wicked people chasing after him. They wanted the 20 Ancient Egyptian spells written on papyrus he’d discovered in Egypt. And he explained about the gold ring with the sign of a crocodile’s head resting on the palm of an outstretched hand. The ring like yours, Claire… and Jacalyn’s. How it was the key to the Emerald Casket that contained the 21st spell. The most powerful one of all.”
“But if Robert was so afraid for your safety, why would he come and find you, possibly leading the wicked people chasing him to your door?” Claire looked from Lindsay to Robert. “Why do that, Robert?” Robert stayed silent.
“Because of the prophecy,” Lindsay said triumphantly.
Claire stiffened and tensed as she tried desperately to remember the words.
He seeks the one who holds the key to life… the true daughter
and
the red-haired maiden
. It
could
mean that the
red-haired
maiden and the true daughter were one
and the same person. That’s what Claire had always thought. Claire knew beyond any doubt that
she
was the red-haired maiden. But was she also the true daughter? What if it was Lindsay? What then?
When she is found, then all will hear Thoth’s
mighty voice
. Was ‘she’ the red-haired maiden or the true daughter? The more she thought about it, the more ambiguous the prophecy seemed. Claire had no idea any more what the truth of anything was. If only she’d listened to Jacalyn. If only Jacalyn was here now.
“Robert explained that once we had possession of the Emerald Casket
all
the spells would be safe and we could be together for ever. Father and daughter. But if we failed, I would never see him again. And I couldn’t let that happen. When you suffocated Bilbo,” Claire heard Micky gasp in horror and she squeezed her sister’s hand tight as if to say,
It’s okay, don’t worry
, “and then brought him back to life again, you showed me just how powerful that 21st spell was. I knew that my father was right and we had to have the casket, whatever the cost.”
“Can’t you see, Lindsay,
he
is the wicked one. Robert stole the spells hundreds of years ago,
and they’ve kept him alive for centuries, but he wants immortality… and for that he needs the 21st spell that’s inside the Emerald Casket. That’s why he needs me. I am the only one who can open the casket. Oh, and, by the way, did he tell you that I am his granddaughter ten times removed? If what Robert says is true and you
are
his daughter… then we are related. You and me and Matthew and Micky.
You
are part of
our
family too.”
Robert was smiling at Claire, but his eyes were cold and hard. “What rubbish she’s talking. How can I be that old? Don’t listen to a word she says, Lindsay. Her only concern is for the spells and the power they give.”
Claire could see he was growing anxious. Maybe there was a chance she could still persuade Lindsay…
“I can prove my story is true, Lindsay. I can show you Margrat’s manuscript. You can talk to Jacalyn and she’ll tell you how Robert fell from the top of a 45 metre crane… and lived. Ask Robert to give up his leather bag full of spells. He can’t. He needs them. He has to recite them every morning before sunrise in order to stay alive. Ask him why there are no birth records for Robert Benoit.
Ask him about Nicholas Robert Benedict, born in 1637, whose name is on the deeds for Darke House and who bought the house in Rue de Montmorency in Paris in the name of Robert Benoit
in 1660
. You’ve been there with Robert, haven’t you Lindsay? And I guess it was your agency paying the bills for the last two years. Doesn’t life get complicated when you get to live for over four hundred years! Goodness knows how many poor young girls he got pregnant in that length of time. Can you remember, Robert? How many
true
daughters do you have? How many other lives like Margrat’s have you ruined?”
Wham! The suggestion that he had ruined Margrat’s life hit home. In a flash Robert stepped forward and caught Claire hard across her cheek with the back of his hand, knocking her sideways.
Micky shot up at once and threw herself against Robert, fists flying. Claire could see the dangerous glint in Robert’s eye and she quickly pulled Micky away from him and held her tight. Robert had his hand on the nape of Lindsay’s neck now, maybe to steady her – all the blood had drained from her face after Claire’s little speech – or perhaps to reassert his power over her.
“Now, Claire, “Robert said, “it is nearly dawn and the casket must be opened at daybreak in order that all 21 spells can be united. Only then will their power be
mine
.”
Is he right? Claire wondered. Jacalyn had suggested it too… that saying the 20 spells together before dawn and then opening the casket could maybe give him the ultimate power he’d failed to gain last time, up on the crane. There was only one way to be sure… and Claire wasn’t going to risk it.
“No! You have to let Micky go first. I won’t do it unless she’s free.”
“If Micky goes, what leverage do I have over you?”
“I swear that if you let her go, I’ll open it. If you don’t, then I never will.” She pressed her cheek against the top of Micky’s head. Breathed in the smell. The sticky perfume of cheap sweets overlaying the sour musk of unwashed hair.
Family. She knew that the bigger picture demanded that she must absolutely refuse to open the casket for him. That she sacrifice her sister if necessary. But there was no way that was going to happen. Micky trusted her and she wasn’t going to let her down.
Robert was very quiet now. Claire knew, as Robert clearly did, that with every passing second it was getting lighter and the spells must be said, the casket opened. He was looking at Micky, and Claire could see that he was still deliberating. Should he trust Claire and let Micky go?
Claire felt her whole body tense in readiness for whatever happened. But he was too quick for her. In a heartbeat he had crossed the room and pulled a kicking, screaming Micky up from the bed and away from Claire. He slipped a slim-bladed knife from his pocket, flicked it open, and was pressing the tip of it in under Micky’s ribs.
Micky’s eyes opened wide and were black with fear. She cried out, but Robert only pressed his free hand over her mouth and pushed the blade tip in harder. He gestured to Lindsay to fetch his black leather bag and the casket. “After I’ve said my spells you will open the casket, Claire, or Micky will die. Don’t think I won’t do it. And if I don’t…
she
will…”
Claire’s eyes flicked across to Lindsay who was holding the bag and the casket now. She looked very pale still and instead of the hard implacable expression she had worn when she first came into
the room, Claire saw something else: doubt. Maybe only a flicker, but it was there.
Robert hadn’t registered it, but Claire had. And she knew she could use it. Lindsay had just seen the man she believed was her father act in a terrifyingly brutal and calculating way. Doubts about him and about what they were doing had entered her heart. Claire could see that she was struggling to quench that doubt. To focus in on what was important to her; what she’d been chasing for the whole of her life: her father.
“Please! Stop… don’t do it, Robert.
Nothing
is worth taking a child’s life. You’ve found me. I’m your daughter… isn’t that enough? I love you!” Lindsay’s voice was full of anguish.
The tip of the knife pressed in harder under Micky’s ribcage. Blood was spreading across Micky’s T-shirt and the terror in her eyes was as clear as day. Her cries were muffled by Robert’s hand, which was still firmly clamped over her mouth.
“Give the casket to Claire and bring me my bag.” Robert was looking at Lindsay but she hadn’t moved. “Do as I tell you… Now!”
Claire could see clearly that Lindsay wanted to
stand up to him, but couldn’t. Lindsay looked truly shocked and horrified by what he was doing, but did she still believe the story he must have told her… over and over and over again? That he only did bad things for a greater good. Maybe she thought that once Claire had opened the casket Robert would let Micky go. Claire knew that he wouldn’t. That he would kill all three of them.
So Lindsay fetched the casket and gave it to Claire. Then she handed Robert the bag of spells, and his face looked calm and peaceful once more.
“You can let Micky go.” Lindsay was standing very close to Robert and her voice sounded soft and pleading. “I’ll take her while you recite your spells. You must hurry because it will be dawn soon.”