Rain thumps the roof, horses clip-clopping along the cobbles. I am in a carriage, two women in evening wear wedged onto the seat opposite me. They’re talking under their breath, their shoulders bumping together as the carriage sways from side to side.
Don’t get out of the carriage.
Fear prickles my spine. This is the moment Gold warned me about. The moment which drove him mad. Out there in the dark, the footman’s waiting with his knife.
‘He’s awake, Audrey,’ says one of them, noticing me stirring.
Perhaps believing my hearing to be defective, the second lady leans close.
‘We found you asleep near the road,’ she says loudly, laying one hand on my knee. ‘Your automobile was a few miles further up, the driver tried to get it running but it was beyond him.’
‘I’m Donald Davies,’ I say, feeling a surge of relief.
The last time I was this man I drove a car through the night until morning dawned, abandoning it when the fuel ran out. I walked for hours along that never-ending road towards the village, collapsing in exhaustion no nearer my destination. He must have slept the entire day away, saving him from the footman’s wrath.
The Plague Doctor told me I’d be returned to Davies when he woke up again. I never could have imagined he’d have been rescued and returned to Blackheath when it happened.
Finally, some good luck.
‘You sweet beautiful woman,’ I say, cupping my saviour’s cheeks and kissing her soundly on the lips. ‘You don’t know what you’ve done.’
Before she can respond, I poke my head out of the window. It’s evening, the carriage’s swaying lanterns gently illuminating the darkness rather than banishing it. We’re in one of three carriages rolling towards the house from the village, twelve or so others parked either side of the road, their drivers snoring or chatting in small groups, passing a solitary cigarette amongst themselves. I can hear music from the direction of the house, shrill laughter climbing high enough to puncture the distance between us. The party is in full swing.
Hope surges through me.
Evelyn hasn’t made her way to the reflecting pool, which means there may still be time for me to question Michael, and discover if he was working with anybody. Even if I’m too late for that, I can still ambush the footman when he comes for Rashton and find out where he’s keeping Anna.
Don’t get out of the carriage.
‘Blackheath in a few minutes, m’lady,’ the driver shouts down from somewhere above us.
I glance out of the window again. The house is directly in front of us, and the stables down the road on our right. That’s where they keep the shotguns, and I’d have to be a fool to tackle the footman without one.
Unlocking the door, I leap from the carriage, landing in a painful heap on the wet cobbles. The ladies are shrieking, the coach driver yelling after me as I pick myself up and stagger towards the distant lights. The Plague Doctor told me the pattern of this day was dictated by the character of those living it. I can only hope that’s true and fate is in a charitable mood, because if it’s not I’ve damned both myself and Anna.
Within the glow of the braziers, stable boys are undoing the harnesses connecting the horses and carriages, leading the whinnying beasts to shelter. They’re working quickly, but they look done in, barely able to speak. I approach the nearest chap, who, despite the rain, is wearing only a cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled up.
‘Where do you keep the shotguns?’ I ask.
He’s tightening a harness, gritting his teeth as he pulls the taut strap towards the last buckle. He peers at me suspiciously, his eyes narrowed beneath his flat cap.
‘Bit late for hunting, ain’t it?’ he says.
‘And far too early for impertinence,’ I snap, overwhelmed by my host’s upper-class disdain. ‘Where are the damn shotguns, or do I need to bring Lord Hardcastle down here to ask you himself?’
After looking me up and down, he gestures over his shoulder towards a small redbrick building, a dim light seeping through the window. The shotguns are arranged on a wooden rack, boxes of shells stored in a nearby drawer. I take one down and load it carefully, dropping a handful of spare shells into my pocket.
The gun is heavy, a cold slab of courage that propels me across the yard and up the road towards Blackheath. The stable hands exchange looks as I approach, standing aside to let me pass. Doubtless they think me some rich lunatic with a score to settle, a piece of gossip to add to the pile tomorrow morning. Certainly not somebody worth risking bodily harm for. I’m glad of that. If they were to creep closer, they might notice how crowded my eyes are, how all my previous hosts are jostling for a better view. In some way or another, the footman’s harmed every one of them and they’ve all turned up for his execution. I can barely think through their clamour.
Halfway along the road I notice a light bobbing towards me, and my grip tightens around the shotgun’s trigger.
‘It’s me,’ yells Daniel over the din of the storm.
There’s a storm lantern in his hand, the waxy light running down his face and upper body. He looks like a genie spilled out of a bottle.
‘We have to hurry, the footman’s in the graveyard,’ says Daniel. ‘He has Anna with him.’
He still thinks we’re fooled by his act.
My finger strokes the shotgun as I stare back towards Blackheath, trying to decide the best course of action. Michael could be in the Sun Room as we speak, but I’m certain Daniel knows where Anna’s being kept, and I won’t have a better opportunity to get the information from him. Two roads and two ends, and somehow I know one of them leads to failure.
‘This is our chance,’ yells Daniel, wiping the rain from his eyes. ‘This is what we’ve been waiting for. He’s in there, right now, lying in wait. He doesn’t know we’ve found each other. We can spring his trap, we can finish this together.’
For so long I fought to change my future, to alter the day. Now I have, I’m undone, racked with the futility of my choices. I saved Evelyn and thwarted Michael, two things which only matter if Anna and I live long enough to tell the Plague Doctor at 11 p.m. Past this point, I’m making every decision blind, and with only one host left after today, every decision matters.
‘What if we fail?’ I shout back, my words barely making it to his ears. The clatter of rain on stone is almost deafening, the wind ripping and tearing at the forest, screaming through the trees like some feral creature slipped loose of its cage.
‘What choice do we have?’ Daniel yells, clutching the back of my neck. ‘We have a plan, which means for the first time we have the advantage over him. We must pursue it.’
I remember the first time I met this man, how calm he seemed, how patient and reasonable. None of that is in him now. It’s all been washed away in Blackheath’s endless storms. He has the eyes of a fanatic, eager and imploring, wild and desperate. He has as much riding on the outcome of this moment as I do.
He’s right. We need to put an end to this.
‘What time is it?’ I ask.
He frowns. ‘Why does that matter?’
‘I never know until afterwards,’ I say. ‘The time? Please.’
He checks his watch, impatiently. ‘It’s 9:46,’ he says. ‘Can we go now?’
Nodding, I follow him across the lawn.
The stars are cowards, closing their eyes as we creep closer to the graveyard, and by the time Daniel pushes open the gate, our only light’s the flickering glow of his storm lantern. We’re shielded by the trees back here, muting the storm which makes its way through to us in sharp gusts, daggers of wind slipping through the cracks in the armour of the forest.
‘We should hide out of sight,’ whispers Daniel, hanging the lantern on the angel’s arm. ‘We’ll call to Anna when she arrives.’
Lifting the shotgun to my shoulder, I press both barrels to the back of his head.
‘You can drop the act, Daniel, I know we’re not the same man,’ I say, my eyes flicking across the woods, searching for some sign of the footman. Unfortunately, the lantern’s so bright it obscures much of what it should reveal.
‘Hands in the air, turn around,’ I say.
He does as I ask, staring at me, pulling me apart, looking for something broken. I don’t know whether he finds it or not, but after a long silence a charming smile breaks out on his handsome face.
‘Couldn’t last forever, I suppose,’ he says, gesturing to his breast pocket. I motion for him to continue and he slowly withdraws a cigarette case, tapping one out against his palm.
I followed this man into the graveyard, knowing that if I didn’t confront him, I’d always be looking over my shoulder, waiting for him to strike again, but now I’m here, faced with his calmness, my certainty is wavering.
‘Where is she, Daniel? Where’s Anna?’ I say.
‘Why, that was to be my question to you,’ he says, placing the cigarette between his lips. ‘That was it exactly, where is Anna? I’ve been trying to get you to tell me all day, even thought I’d succeeded when Derby agreed to help me flush the footman out from under the house. You should have seen your face, so eager to please.’
Shielding his cigarette from the wind, he lights it at the third try, illuminating a face that’s as hollow-eyed as those of the statues beside him. I have a gun pointed at him and somehow he still has the upper hand.
‘Where’s the footman?’ I say, the shotgun growing heavy in my arms. ‘I know you’re partners.’
‘Oh, it’s nothing like that. I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong end of the stick entirely,’ he says, dismissing the fellow with a wave of his hand. ‘He’s not like you, me or Anna. He’s one of Coleridge’s associates. There’s actually a few of them in the house. Unsavoury chaps the lot of them, but then Coleridge is in an unsavoury business. The footman, as you call him, was the brightest of them, so I explained what was happening in Blackheath. I don’t think he believed me, but killing’s rather his speciality, so he didn’t bat an eyelid when I pointed him at your hosts. Probably enjoyed it, truth be told. Helps enormously that I’ve made him a very rich man, of course.’
Blowing smoke out through his nostrils, he grins as though we’ve shared some private joke. He’s moving with assurance, the confidence of a man living in a world of premonitions. A dispiriting contrast to my shaking hands and thudding heart. He’s got something planned and until I know what it is, I can’t do anything but wait.
‘You’re like Anna, aren’t you?’ I say. ‘One day, and then you forget everything and start again.’
‘Hardly seems fair, does it? Not when you have eight lives and eight days. All the gifts were given to you. Now why was that?’
‘I see the Plague Doctor didn’t tell you everything about me.’
He grins, again. It’s like ice rolling down my spine.
‘Why are you doing this, Daniel?’ I ask, surprised by my misery. ‘We could have helped each other.’
‘But my dear fellow, you have helped me,’ he says. ‘I have both of Stanwin’s blackmail books in my possession. Without Derby poking around his bedroom, I might only have found the one, and I’d be no nearer an answer than I was this morning. In two hours, I’ll take what I’ve learned to the lake and be free of this place, and it’s your doing. Surely you can take some comfort in that.’
Wet steps sound. A shotgun is cocked, cold metal presses into my back. A thug brushes past me, taking a spot in the light beside Daniel. Unlike his friend behind me, he isn’t armed, though he doesn’t need to be by the looks of things. He has the face of bar-room brawler, his nose broken, his cheek decorated by an ugly scar. He’s rubbing his knuckles, his tongue roaming his lips in anticipation. Neither action makes me feel terribly confident about what’s coming.
‘Be a dear and drop the weapon,’ says Daniel.
Sighing, I let the shotgun fall on the floor, raising my hands in the air. Foolish as it may be, my overriding thought is to wish they weren’t trembling so.
‘You can come out now,’ says Daniel in a louder voice.
There’s a rustling in the bushes to my left, the Plague Doctor stepping into the pool of light cast by the lantern. I’m about to hurl some insult at him, when I notice a single silver tear painted on the left side of his mask. It’s glittering in the light, and now I take stock, I realise there are other differences. This coat is finer, darker, the edges not so frayed. Embroidered roses twist up the gloves and now I see this person is shorter, more erect in their posture.
This isn’t the Plague Doctor at all.
‘You were the one talking to Daniel by the lake,’ I say.
Daniel whistles, flicking a glance at his companion.
‘How on earth did he see that?’ he asks Silver Tear. ‘Didn’t you pick that spot so nobody would find us together?’
‘I saw you outside the gatehouse as well,’ I say.
‘Curiouser and curiouser,’ says Daniel, enjoying himself immensely at his confederate’s expense. ‘I thought you knew every second of his day?’ He adopts a pompous tone. ‘Nothing happens here that is beyond my sight, Mr Coleridge,’ he huffs.
‘If that were true, I wouldn’t need your help capturing Annabelle,’ says Silver Tear. Her voice is stately, a far cry from the put-upon Plague Doctor. ‘Mr Bishop’s actions have disrupted the usual course of events. He’s changed Evelyn Hardcastle’s fate and contributed to the death of her brother, unpicking the threads that hold this day together in the process. He’s maintained his alliance with Annabelle far longer than he ever has before, which means things are happening out of order, running long or short, if they happen at all. Nothing’s quite where it should be.’
The mask turns towards me.
‘You should be commended, Mr Bishop,’ she says. ‘I haven’t seen Blackheath in this much disarray for decades.’
‘Who are you?’ I say.
‘I could ask the same of you,’ she says, waving my question away. ‘I won’t because you don’t know yourself, and there are more pressing questions. Suffice to say, I’ve been sent by my superiors to rectify my colleague’s mistake. Now, please tell Mr Coleridge where he might find Annabelle.’
‘Annabelle?’
‘He calls her Anna,’ says Daniel.
‘What do you want with Anna?’ I ask.
‘That’s not your concern,’ says Silver Tear.
‘It’s getting to be,’ I say. ‘You must want her very badly if you’re willing to make a deal with somebody like Daniel to bring her to you.’
‘I’m redressing the balance,’ she says. ‘Do you think it’s a coincidence that you inhabit the hosts you do, the men closest to Evelyn’s murder? Are you not curious why you woke up in Donald Davies precisely when you needed him most? My colleague has been playing favourites from the beginning and that is forbidden. He was supposed to watch without interfering, to appear at the lake and wait for an answer. Nothing more. Worse, he’s opened the door to a creature who must never be allowed to leave this house. I cannot let this continue.’
‘So that’s why you’re here,’ says the Plague Doctor, emerging from the shadows, rainwater running in rivulets down his mask.
Daniel tenses, watching the interloper warily.
‘Apologies for not announcing myself earlier, Josephine,’ continues the Plague Doctor, his attention fixed on Silver Tear. ‘I wasn’t certain you’d tell me the truth if I asked directly, given how hard you’ve worked to stay hidden. I would never have known you were in Blackheath if Mr Rashton hadn’t spotted you.’
‘Josephine?’ interrupts Daniel. ‘You two are acquainted?’
Silver Tear ignores him.
‘I hoped it wouldn’t come to this,’ she says, addressing the Plague Doctor. Her tone has softened, warmed. It ripples with regret. ‘My intention was to complete my task and depart without you knowing.’
‘I fail to see why you’re here, at all. Blackheath is my watch, and everything is well in hand.’
‘You can’t believe that!’ she says, becoming exasperated. ‘Look at how close Aiden and Annabelle have become, how near they are to escape. He’s willing to sacrifice himself for her. Do you see that? If we let this continue, before long she’ll be standing before you with an answer, and then what will you do?’
‘I’m confident it won’t come to that.’
‘I’m confident it will,’ she snorts. ‘Tell me truthfully, will you let her leave?’
The question knocks him silent a moment, a slight tilt of his head conveying his indecision. My eyes slip towards Daniel, who’s watching them, his face rapt. I imagine he feels as I do, like a child watching his parents argue, understanding only half of the things being said.
When the Plague Doctor speaks again, his voice is firm, though rehearsed, his conviction born of repetition rather than faith.
‘The rules of Blackheath are very clear and I’m beholden to them, as are you,’ he says. ‘If she brings me the name of Evelyn Hardcastle’s murderer, I can’t refuse to hear her case.’
‘Rules or not, you know what our superiors will do to you if Annabelle escapes Blackheath.’
‘Have they sent you to replace me?’
‘Of course they haven’t.’ She sighs, sounding hurt. ‘Do you think their reaction would be so temperate? I came as your friend, to clean up this mess before they ever find out how close you came to blundering. I’m quietly going to remove Annabelle, ensuring you won’t have to make a choice you’ll regret.’
She signals to Daniel. ‘Mr Coleridge, could you please persuade Mr Bishop to reveal Annabelle’s location. I trust you understand what’s at stake.’
Crushing his cigarette underfoot, Daniel nods at the brawler, who takes hold of my arms, pinning me in place. I try to struggle, but he’s much too strong.
‘This is forbidden, Josephine,’ says the Plague Doctor, shocked. ‘We do not take direct action. We do not give orders. We certainly don’t feed them information they aren’t supposed to know. You’re breaking every rule we’ve promised to uphold.’
‘You dare lecture me?’ says Silver Tear, scornfully. ‘All you’ve done is interfere.’
The Plague Doctor shakes his head vehemently.
‘I explained Mr Bishop’s purpose here, and encouraged him when he faltered. Unlike Daniel and Anna, he didn’t wake up with the rules burned into him. He was free to doubt, to veer from his purpose. I never gave him knowledge he hadn’t earned, as you have done with Daniel. I sought to bring balance, not offer advantage. I’m begging you, don’t do this. Let events follow their natural course. He’s so close to solving it.’
‘And because of that, so is Annabelle,’ she says, her voice hardening. ‘I’m sorry, I must choose between Aiden Bishop’s well-being and your own. Proceed, Mr Coleridge.’
‘No!’ yells the Plague Doctor, holding out a placating hand.
The thug with the shotgun points it at him. He’s nervous, his finger gripping the trigger a little too tightly. I don’t know if the Plague Doctor can be hurt by these weapons, but I can’t let him risk it. I need him alive.
‘Just leave,’ I say to him. ‘There’s nothing else you can do here.’
‘This is wrong,’ he protests.
‘Then make it right. My other hosts need you.’ I pause, meaningfully. ‘I don’t.’
I don’t know if it’s my intonation, or whether he’s simply watched this moment play out before, but, finally, grudgingly, he relents, staring at Josephine, before disappearing out of the graveyard.
‘Selfless, as always,’ says Daniel, walking towards me. ‘I want you to know that I’ve admired that quality, Aiden. The way you’ve fought to save the woman whose death would set you free. Your fondness for Anna, who would have undoubtedly betrayed you if I hadn’t done so first. In the end though, I’m afraid it’s all been for nothing. Only one of us can leave this house, and I have no interest in it being you.’
Crows are gathering in the branches above me. They arrive as if by invitation, gliding in on silent wings, their feathers slick with recent rain. There are dozens of them, pressed together like mourners at a funeral, watching me with a curiosity that makes my skin crawl.
‘Up until an hour ago, we had Anna in our custody. Somehow she’s managed to escape,’ continues Daniel. ‘Where would she go, Aiden? Tell me where she’s hiding and I’ll instruct my men to make your death quick. There’s only you and Gold left now. Two gunshots and you’ll wake up in Bell, knock on Blackheath’s door and start everything again without my getting in your way. You’re a clever fellow, I’m certain you’ll solve Evelyn’s murder in no time.’
His face is ghoulish in the lantern light, twisted by need.
‘How frightened are you, Daniel?’ I say slowly. ‘You’ve killed my future hosts, so I’m not a threat, but you have no idea where Anna is. It’s been eating away at you all day, hasn’t it? The fear that she’s going to solve this before you.’
It’s my smile that scares him, the faintest sense that I might not be quite so trapped as he first believed.
‘If you don’t give me what I want, I’ll start cutting,’ says Daniel, drawing a line across my cheek with his fingertip. ‘I’ll take you apart an inch at a time.’
‘I know, I’ve met myself after you’re done,’ I say, staring at him. ‘You break my mind so badly, I carry my madness into Gregory Gold. He slashes his own arms and babbles warnings at Edward Dance. It’s horrific. And my answer is still no.’
‘Tell me where she is,’ he says, raising his voice. ‘Coleridge has half the servants in this house on his payroll, and I have a pocketbook thick enough to buy the other half if necessary. I can surround the lake twice over. Don’t you see? I’ve already won. What’s the use of being stubborn now?’
‘Practice,’ I snarl. ‘I’m not going to tell you anything, Daniel. Every minute I frustrate you is another minute Anna has to reach the Plague Doctor with the answer. You’d need a hundred men to guard that lake on a pitch-black night like this, and I doubt even Silver Tear can help with that.’
‘You’ll suffer,’ he hisses.
‘One hour until 11 p.m.,’ I say. ‘Which one of us do you think can hold out the longer?’
Daniel hits me hard enough to rip the air from my lungs and knock me to my knees. When I look up, he’s looming over me, rubbing his grazed knuckles. Anger flickers at the edges of his face like a storm creeping across a cloudless sky. Gone is the suave gambler of earlier, replaced by a scrappy conman, his body twisted by red-hot anger.
‘I’m going to kill you slowly,’ he growls.
‘I’m not the one who dies here, Daniel,’ I say, letting loose a shrill whistle. Birds scatter from the trees, the underbrush rustling with movement. In the inky blackness of the forest, a lantern flares into life. It’s followed by another a few feet away, and then another.
Daniel spins on the spot, following the lanterns. He hasn’t noticed Silver Tear, who’s backing into the forest, looking unsure of herself.
‘You’ve hurt a lot of people,’ I say, as the lights come closer. ‘And now you get to face them.’
‘How?’ he stammers, confounded by the reversal in his fortunes. ‘I killed all your future hosts.’
‘You didn’t kill their friends,’ I say. ‘When Anna told me her plan to lure the footman here, I decided we’d need more bodies and I asked Cunningham to help. Once I realised you and the footman were in league together, I expanded my recruiting drive. It wasn’t hard to find enemies of yours.’
Grace Davies appears first, shotgun raised. Rashton nearly bit his tongue off to prevent me from asking for her help, but I was short of options. The rest of my hosts are busy, or dead, and Cunningham is at the ball with Ravencourt. The second light belongs to Lucy Harper, who was easily swayed to my cause by the revelation that Daniel murdered her father, and finally comes Stanwin’s bodyguard, his head completely bandaged, aside from those cold, hard eyes. Though they’re all armed, none of them looks very confident and I wouldn’t trust a single one to hit anything they’re aiming at. It doesn’t matter. At this stage, it’s the numbers that count and they’re enough to rattle Daniel and Silver Tear, whose mask is sweeping back and forth, searching for an escape.
‘It’s over, Daniel,’ I say, my voice steely. ‘Surrender, and I’ll let you go back to Blackheath unharmed.’
He glares at me desperately, then at my friends.
‘I know what this place can do to us,’ I continue. ‘But you were kind to Bell that first morning, and I saw your affection for Michael on the hunt. Be a good man one more time, and call off the footman. Let me and Anna go with your blessing.’
His expression wavers, torment showing on his face, but it’s not enough. Blackheath has poisoned him completely.
‘Kill them,’ he says savagely.
A shotgun explodes behind me, and I instinctively throw myself to the ground. My allies scatter as Daniel’s man advances on them, firing shot after shot into the darkness. The unarmed man is cutting left, keeping low as he tries to take them by surprise.
I can’t tell whether it’s my anger, or my host’s, which drives me to lash out at Daniel. Donald Davies is raging, although his fury is one of class rather than crime. He’s aggrieved that anybody should presume to treat him so shabbily.
My anger is altogether more personal.
Daniel has blocked my way ever since that first morning. He sought to escape Blackheath by climbing out over me, undoing my plans in service of his own. He came to me as a friend, smiling as he lied, laughing as he betrayed me, and it’s this that causes me to hurl myself like a spear at his midriff.
He slips aside, catching me in the stomach with an uppercut. Doubled over, I punch him in the groin and then grab his neck, dragging him to the ground.
I see the compass too late.
He smashes it into my cheek, the glass splintering, blood dripping off my chin. My eyes are watering, sodden leaves squelching beneath my palms. Daniel advances, but a shot whistles past him, catching Silver Tear who screams, clutching her shoulder and falling in a heap.
Glancing at the trembling gun in Lucy Harper’s hand, Daniel sprints off towards Blackheath. Picking myself up, I give chase.
We run like a hound and fox across the lawn in front of the house, and down the driveway towards the village, flying past the gatehouse. I’m almost convinced he’s fleeing to the village, when finally he turns left, following the trail to the well, and beyond that the lake.
It’s pitch-black, the moon prowling the clouds like a dog behind an old wooden fence, and I soon lose sight of my quarry. Fearing an ambush, I slow my pursuit, listening intently. Owls hoot, rain drips through the leaves of the trees. Branches snatch at me as I duck and weave, emerging upon Daniel, doubled over by the edge of the water with his hands on his knees, panting for breath, a storm lantern at his feet.
There’s nowhere left for him to run.
My hands are shaking, fear squirming in my chest. Anger gave me courage but it’s also made a fool of me. Donald Davies is short and slight, softer than the beds he lies in. Daniel is taller, stronger. He preys on these people. Whatever numerical advantage I had in the graveyard I’ve left far behind, which means that for the first time since I arrived in Blackheath, neither of us knows what’s coming next.
Spotting my approach, Daniel waves me back, gesturing for a minute to catch his breath. I give it to him, using the time to select a heavy rock I can use as a weapon. After the compass, we’re beyond fighting fair.
‘Whatever you do, they’re not going to let your friend leave,’ he says, forcing out the words between breaths. ‘Silver Tear told me everything about you in exchange for a promise that I’d find and kill Anna. She told me about your hosts, where they woke up, and when. Don’t you understand? None of this matters, Aiden. I’m the only one who can escape.’
‘You could have told me this earlier,’ I say. ‘It didn’t have to end like this.’
‘I have a wife and a son,’ he says. ‘That’s the memory I brought with me. Can you imagine how that feels? Knowing they’re out there, waiting for me. Or, they were.’
I take a step towards him, the rock by my side.
‘How will you face them, knowing what you did to escape this place?’ I ask.
‘I’m only what Blackheath has made me,’ he pants, spitting phlegm into the mud.
‘No, Blackheath’s what we made it,’ I say, advancing a little more. He’s still buckled, still tired. A couple more steps and this will all be over. ‘Our decisions led us here, Daniel. If this is hell, then it’s one of our making.’
‘And what would you have us do?’ he says, looking up at me. ‘Sit here and repent until somebody sees fit to open the doors?’
‘Help me save Evelyn and we can take what we know to the Plague Doctor together,’ I say passionately. ‘All three of us, you, me and Anna. We have a chance to walk out of this place better men than we arrived.’
‘I can’t risk it,’ he says in a flat, dead voice. ‘I won’t let this opportunity to escape pass me by. Not for guilt, and not to help people long past helping.’
Without warning, he kicks the storm lantern over.
Night floods my eyes.
I hear the splash of his steps before his shoulder drives into my stomach, knocking the wind from me.
We hit the ground with a thud, the rock dropping from my hands.
It’s all I can do to throw my arms up to protect myself, but they’re thin and frail, and his punches easily break through. Blood fills my mouth. I’m numb, inside and out, but the blows keep coming until his knuckles slip off my bloody cheeks.
His weight recedes as he lifts himself free of me.
He’s panting, his sweat dripping onto me.
‘I tried to avoid this,’ he says.
Strong fingers grip my ankle, dragging me through the mud towards the water. I reach for him, but his assault has driven the strength from me and I collapse back.
He pauses, wiping the sweat from his brow. Moonlight hammers through the clouds, bleaching his features. His hair is silver, his skin white as fresh snow. He’s looking down at me with the same pity he showed Bell the first morning I arrived.
‘We don’t...’ I say, coughing up blood.
‘You should have stayed out of my way,’ he says, yanking me forward once again. ‘That’s all I ever asked of you.’
He splashes into the lake, pulling me with him, the cold water rushing up my legs, soaking my chest and head. The shock of it stirs some fight within me, and I try to claw my way back up the bank, but Daniel grabs my hair, pushing my face into the freezing water.
I scratch at his hand, kicking my legs, but he’s too strong.
My body convulses, desperate for a breath.
Still, he holds me down.
I see Thomas Hardcastle, dead these last nineteen years, swimming towards me out of the murk. He’s blond-haired and wide-eyed, lost down here, but he takes my hand and squeezes my fingers, urging me to be brave.
Unable to hold my breath any longer, my mouth springs open, gulping in cold, muddy water.
My body spasms.
Thomas pulls my spirit clear of this dying flesh and we float side by side in the water, watching Donald Davies drown.
It’s peaceful and still. Surprisingly quiet.
Then something crashes into the water.
Hands plunge through the surface, gripping the body of Donald Davies, tearing him upwards, and a second later I follow him.
The dead boy’s fingers are still entwined in mine, but I can’t pull him clear of the lake. He died here and so he’s trapped here, watching sorrowfully as I’m dragged to safety.
I’m lying in the mud coughing water, my body made of lead.
Daniel is floating face down in the lake.
Somebody slaps me.
Then again harder.
Anna’s hovering above me, but everything’s blurry. The lake’s holding its hands over my ears, tugging me back.
Darkness is calling me.
She leans closer, a smudge of a person.
‘... find me,’ screams Anna, the words faint, ‘7:12 a.m. in the entrance hall...’
Beneath the lake, Thomas beckons me back and, closing my eyes, I join the drowned boy.