The Seven Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle

‘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.

53

Day Eight

My cheek is resting against the curve of a woman’s back. We’re naked, tangled in sweat-soaked sheets on a dirty mattress, rain wriggling through the rotten window frames to run down the wall and collect on the bare floorboards.

She stirs as I do, Madeline Aubert rolling over to meet me. The maid’s green eyes shine with a sickly need, her dark hair stuck to her damp cheeks. She looks much as Thomas Hardcastle did in my dream, drowned and desperate, clinging to whatever’s at hand.