Echoes in the Darkness (21 page)

“Eleanor said you had seen us. She thought you would tell my mother. Or Cad. The idea filled her with shame, and she ran away from me. I looked everywhere for her. I climbed onto the balcony outside her room, wanting to go to her and comfort her. The window was unlocked and I stepped inside. They didn’t know I was there. They were too busy laughing together, making love.” His expression changed, twisted into something I had never seen before. Pure evil shone in the depths of his eyes. I knew that was how he looked as he plunged the knife into his victims. Because it was no use trying to fool myself any longer that the murders and Eddie’s current behaviour might still be unrelated. As if to provide further irrefutable proof, he drew a long, thin knife from his coat pocket and studied it thoughtfully. “That ape Karol was fucking my sister.
My
sister. Then I heard them making their plans to leave. I was angry. I wanted to kill them both there and then, but I decided to wait. It would be more fun to let them think they had succeeded. I left the way I had come.”

“And then you met Vicky,” I stated matter-of-factly. What chance would that poor girl have had against the storm of violent rage coursing through Eddie at that point?

“I was making my way back into the house and the silly little bitch was looking for Cad. Someone had told her he was in the garden,” he said dismissively. “She was nothing more than a whey-faced whore with her skinny body and mass of hair. Looked like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, just like all the others. She told me she was a virgin and saving it for her wedding night, but she offered to suck my dick like an old pro. I enjoyed killing her.” His smile was faraway, dreamy, and he fingered the blade reminiscently. I tried to control the shudder of terror and revulsion that ran through me. His voice changed and throbbed with sudden regret. “I wish I could have loved you, Dita. You will never know how much I wanted it to be you. When I first saw you in Paris—my God, how you stunned me with your beauty!—I knew that if anyone was going to be able to break the spell of the past, it would be you. Then we became friends, and your friendship became the best thing I had in my sorry mess of a life. We should have stayed away from Tenebris.” I thought of the murdered girls in Paris, but I remained silent. Eddie believed the darkness that haunted him resided here at Tenebris. He was wrong, of course. It was inside him. The memories might be more concentrated here, but he would carry the Jago legacy with him wherever he went.

“I know how hard you have tried to fight the past,” I told him softly, cradling his head against my shoulder. Despite the horrors of what he had just told me, somewhere deep inside this broken man, my sweet, excitable, funny friend Eddie still existed. Perhaps it wasn’t too late to reach him. “But it was too strong for you. You couldn’t defeat Arwen or Uther, whoever it is that speaks inside you.”

“He told me to destroy your pictures. I had to obey him, Dita, even though it broke my heart.”

“Why did he want you to do that? What could he hope to gain from ruining the paintings?”

“I think it was to prove his power over me. He knew that I used thoughts of you to drive him out of my head, or at least keep him at bay. If I could fix an image of you in my mind, sometimes I could blot out the sound of his voice. He wanted to break that link with you. I love you, and I loved those paintings. So they had to go.”

My mind did not want to make the logical next step. If the things Eddie loved had to go, what did that mean for me? Instead of examining that thought, I looked across at where Eleanor lay on the mattress, like a discarded bloom that has been crushed between cruel fingers. “Let her go,” I said, “Please, Eddie. Eleanor is not to blame for any of this. No one is.”

“
She
is to blame,” he spat, his expression changing from contrition to venom in a heartbeat. “She knew and yet she still married my father. She bore him children, knowing that the taint of the Jagos was not dead. She carried me inside her and nurtured me with her blood. Then she brought me into the world to face the Jago nightmare alone. This time it is
Lucia’s
legacy.
She
must be made to pay for what she has done. The part of her that gave me life, all signs of her womanhood, that is what must be destroyed.”

I knew from those words who was driving his madness. Oh, Arwen Jago had claimed others before his evil gaze alighted on Eddie. But whereas Uther had been a willing conduit back into the world, poor weak Eddie had tried to fight. And in doing so, his mind had been all but destroyed.

* * *

I couldn’t tell how much time we had passed in silence. “Let me give Eleanor some water. Please, Eddie?” He shrugged moodily and I went over to tend to his sister. It was a struggle to support her and hold the cup to her lips with one hand, but I managed it at last. She drank gratefully and subsided so that her head rested on my shoulder.

“Take care of him for me, Dita. Promise me you will take care of Tristan.” It was little more than a sigh, but Eddie heard it.

“Another of your bedfellows, sis?” he snarled. “Wasn’t Karol enough to satisfy you?”

“Tristan is Eleanor’s son,” I said. Ignoring Eleanor’s desperate attempt to hush me, I continued with what I now knew to be the whole truth. “He is your son, too, Eddie. More lives than your own were broken when you slept with your sister.”

His face was still and watchful in the half-light. “You are lying,” he said eventually. He made a pathetic attempt at a laugh. “Dita, you lying bitch! You’re saying this just to get out of here.”

I returned his stare in silence. He broke the impasse first, lowering his head into his hands and then throwing it back at a near impossible angle. A wild, animal howl escaped him and I winced, drawing Eleanor closer as she trembled fearfully. The inhuman sound went mercilessly on and on, echoing around the confined space until I thought it would drive all traces of sanity from my own mind. I watched helplessly as, squatting on his haunches, face gaunt and eyes smouldering, my friend Eddie finally gave way to the madness that had tried so hard and for so long to claim his soul.

“Make him stop, Dita. Please,” Eleanor pleaded.

“No. Let him make as much noise as he can.” I pressed my lips close to her ear to whisper the words. “Someone might hear. This may be our only chance.”

Eddie’s eyes fell on us again as we cowered together in the corner. “You evil slut! How could you keep this from me?” He flew at us and hauled Eleanor to her feet, wrapping his hands around her throat. My efforts to pull him away were in vain, and I feared I would be forced to stand by and watch while he choked the life out of her. Her hands beat wildly against him, like moths fluttering helplessly against a windowpane. She began to wilt like a rose carelessly plucked and then discarded. As her knees buckled, he tossed her aside and she fell, unconscious, to the floor. His eyes turned to me and I caught a glint of candlelight on the blade he pointed at me.

“And you, bitch.” The tone was calm. The voice was not Eddie’s. “Pretending to care for me, behaving like you are my mother.” I backed away slowly and he followed. Knowing what I knew now, the comparison he had just made was a dangerous one. I stopped when my back was against the wall, the knife poised high above my head. In the quivering candlelight, I stared in horror at Eddie’s face. It was as if a mask was descending over his familiar features, muting but not completely hiding them. Eddie’s terrified expression alternated with Arwen Jago’s exultant grin. The effect was like intermittent sunlight and shadow dappling the still waters of the Seine. The knife began a slow, jerky descent toward my throat. Eddie was fighting for control of his own body.

“Dita” It was a soft, pleading breath, and it was his own dear face I saw as he spoke. A sob escaped my lips. Seeing the facade of Arwen Jago’s features slip away was more frightening than the mask itself. The full horror of what had happened to Eddie was revealed by the desperation in his eyes. The knife paused. Eddie’s body jerked and he cried out in pain. Then Arwen Jago’s deep gold smile flashed once more behind the familiar blue of Eddie’s eyes. “What are you waiting for? Slit the whore from ear to ear. See if she looks as good when she has another mouth.” The blade’s downward arc began again, swifter now, until the tip was a mere inch from the tender flesh just below my chin.

“Help me, Dita,” Eddie pleaded, his body convulsing wildly with the effort of keeping Arwen at bay. The knife pricked my skin and I felt a warm trickle run down my neck. I knew the sight of my blood would further inflame Arwen’s lust for murder.

“I love you, Eddie,” I told him quietly. “You don’t have to fight him alone. I’m here.” I reached up and caught hold of his wrist. Immediately, I felt Arwen Jago fight back against me. For a few seconds I stared into the eyes of a man who died centuries ago. A man who was pure evil, who hated women, who had killed the woman he loved by firing a crossbow into her head.

“So you are not afraid of me?” he said mockingly. We grappled for control of Eddie’s hand, and then it was all over. With a superhuman effort, Eddie Jago was back in control once more. The knife went spinning across the floor and it was Eddie—just Eddie—who dropped to his knees, covering his face with both hands.

I moved toward Eleanor, but before I reached her, there was an almighty crash. The wooden door splintered and flew back on its hinges, and in the newfound light, I saw Cad descend the stairs in two bounds. He didn’t pause in his stride, so his fist, when it connected with the side of Eddie’s head, carried the full force of his forward momentum. Eddie toppled facedown onto the mattress.

I was caught swiftly up in the strong arms I feared I would never again feel. “Dear God!” Cad pressed a series of wild kisses onto my face. “Until I heard him shout your name, I thought I’d lost you, Dita. Oh, my love. My darling girl.”

“Eleanor,” I gasped hoarsely, gesturing to her inert body, and he released me. I knelt beside her and felt her wrist. “She is alive, Cad, but barely. We must get her to the house…” I turned my head in time to see Eddie struggle to his knees, his hand scrabbling for the knife.

“My darling girl? My love?” he snarled, staggering to his feet, and gazing wildly from me to Cad and then back again. “What a fool I’ve been! My master was right about you, Dita. You
are
a treacherous little bitch.” He mimicked my voice. “I’m your friend, Eddie. Oh, how I love you, Eddie. Let me help you, Eddie. And all the time…” He wiped his hand across his trembling lips, his voice rising on a sob. “With my brother? With him, Dita?
Him!
You could not have chosen a man I hated more if you tried.”

He lunged toward me with the knife outstretched, and Cad, with those lightening reflexes Eddie had bemoaned to me once, stepped between us. I cried out in anguish as the blade struck home and Cad went reeling back, clutching a hand to his upper arm. Blood glistened black between his fingers. “You will only get one chance to kill me, Ed,” he said, his voice unmoved. “And that was it. You failed. As you have failed at so many things throughout your life.”

With an animal snarl, Eddie whirled away from us and ran up the cellar stairs.

“Cad, he must be stopped. He will try to kill your mother,” I warned.

“I’ll go after him. Don’t worry, I’ll send someone to help Eleanor out of here and take you both to safety.”

I grasped his lapels. “What about you? Because he knows about us, he wants to kill you, too, now.”

He pressed his lips to mine briefly. “He has always wanted to do that. But, unfortunately for him, I’m not a defenceless young girl. Trust me,
bouche.
”

Chapter Fourteen

Sergeant Ross, the young officer who had cast shy, admiring glances my way such a short time ago, arrived soon after Cad left us. Accompanied by two other police officers, he had a considerably more businesslike manner on this occasion. On his instructions, one of his companions lifted Eleanor into his arms and carried her back up the cellar steps. The harsh light of a lantern held aloft stung my eyes as I emerged from the gloom and, although the day was fading fast, I found it hard to comprehend that only hours had passed since my incarceration.

“The doctor is on his way to the house,” the sergeant told me. I nodded and then swayed slightly. With gallantry, he offered me his arm and I took it gratefully, leaning against him as, very slowly, our little procession wound its way back along the path to the main drive.

When we stepped into the house, it was oddly silent. My reflection in the huge mirror that lined one wall of the entrance hall, showed a pitiful sight. I was coated from head to foot in coal dust, my hair hung in rat’s tails halfway down my back and my neck was plastered with a paste made from soot and blood. What price now, the Divine Dita? Small wonder that the sergeant’s interest had waned somewhat! I had time to spare only a second for the discordant thought before I led the policeman carrying Eleanor up the stairs to her room.

“Where is the earl? Or the countess?” I asked, smoothing Eleanor’s hair back from her face. Beneath the layers of grime, her flesh was marble pale. Her chest barely moved with each shallow, indrawn breath. “Anyone?” I turned to look at Sergeant Ross over my shoulder. His face was solemn. “Tell me what has happened here,” I ordered.

“When Mr Cad Jago got back to the house, he found evidence of a struggle in the parlour and his mother was gone. He and his father went off to look for the countess, and Inspector Miller organised a search party comprising those of our officers who were already here and some of the servants. I was detailed to fetch you and Miss Jago to safety, and the butler sent a carriage for the doctor.”

As if on cue, I heard a carriage draw up in the courtyard below, and within a minute, Porter had ushered Doctor Munroe into the room.

“This is a bad business,” the doctor said while I marvelled silently at his ability for understatement. “Sergeant Ross, you and your men may leave us now. Miss Varga will assist me.”

I asked Porter to send hot water, soap and towels up so that I could at least wash Eleanor’s face and my own. Doctor Munroe examined Eleanor thoroughly, pausing to allow me to use my right hand to bathe her face and neck. Livid bruises stood out on her slender throat, and I bit my lip at the memory of how they came to be there.