There is a tentative knock at my door. ‘What?’ I bark. Sometimes she gets me up to sort things out. Collecting moss or feathers. Visiting people. She makes me stay in the car most of the time. I’m only being trained. I amn’t ready. I resent that almost as much as the lack of freedom.
The door creaks open. Catlin’s face peeps in.
‘How did you get in?’ I ask, surprised.
‘It was unlocked.’ She’s whispering, and gesturing as well.
I feel like I am in an old black-and-white film about sneaking.
‘You need to come,’ she says, and I say, ‘What?’ out loud, because Mamó clearly already knows she’s here – she got in, didn’t she? Nothing happens here without that woman knowing.
‘Be quiet,’ she whispers. ‘Get your shoes. It’s Laurent. I mean, Lon.’
My heart inside my throat. It beats too fast. I cannot stuff it down. I look at her. Her eyes.
She says, ‘I’m scared.’
We move in silence down the garden path. I can feel the tang of her nerves in the air.
She feels it more than me, I think. I need to keep it together. To weave a world where I am calm and strong.
I follow her. Up the stairs and shut the door behind me. In the castle. Up another flight.
We’re standing in front of Brian’s office door and Catlin’s shaking. Her voice is cracking with the weight of this.
‘Brian asked me to get you. And come to the room inside the tunnel. I don’t know if I can go through that door again. I … I don’t want to see him, Maddy.’
Her voice cracks, though she doesn’t say Lon’s name.
‘You don’t have to,’ I say. ‘You don’t have to do anything Brian says. You have had too many choices taken from you, Catlin. What matters is what do you want to do?’
Her face is miserable, twisted white and red. Her eyes are focused beyond me at something. Remembering, I think. She grabs the door.
‘I think I want to end it.’ I look at her, the blood he spilled still clinging to her skin.
Brian is in his office, next to Mam. He looks taller, I think, than I remember.
‘I want to apologise,’ he says. ‘For not being around the past few weeks. For everything that’s happened.’
The lights are bright. The yellow through the green harsh on his face. I look around for Lon, but Brian keeps talking.
‘It was a shock. I never thought … this is my home. It’s always been a safe place. For me. My father … he was close to Lon. They worked together for a time. I didn’t think that he would hurt my family.’
‘How old is Lon?’ I ask, even though it isn’t that important. Even though I do not really care.
‘Older than he looks,’ says Brian. His mouth tightens. ‘Old enough to know better.’
Mam hasn’t said a word. And now we move. The door sliding open again, and we walk down the passageway. Catlin grips my hand, and I can feel her shaking. We’re quiet, but the mix of panting breaths carves something in the air. I hope that she will be OK. When she sees Lon. I hope she won’t forgive him. Want him back.
The cave is shaped the same. The bed’s gone, the stone scrubbed. You can still see some blood, pinking the grain. It’s hard to get the colour out completely. I see the list of girls upon the walls. And there are so many other crumbled parts that could have once been more names. So many scars through soft bright stone. Things erode here. Things just fade away.
‘This was my father’s place,’ says Brian. ‘I didn’t fully know until he died. All that went on here, the cave. I tried to tell you, at least a little. Something of the truth of what he was.’
Mam snorts. ‘Truth.’
Brian’s voice is soft. ‘Sheila. I know I’ve failed you. I was so afraid that you would leave, when you found out. I even tried …’
I think of foxes, prayers.
He carries on. ‘… but I don’t have his power. Or yours, Maddy. However, there are some skills that I have learned.’
There is a steamer trunk where the bed used to be.
‘He didn’t get too far,’ Brian says, his tone chillingly matter of fact. ‘I think after a while, he knew we’d find him. John Collins … helped. His young lad came as well.’
He topples the box over, the lid flies open. Lon rolls, broken, out. His clothes are stained with dirt and, I think, blood. He looks a mixture of ashamed and furious. Like a wet cat, I think. I notice that he still has on his ankh. We stare at him, while Brian keeps on talking.
I feel like I’m in a horror film or something. When we found Catlin – there was such a panic welling up, such a lot to do to save her, that it muted things. It made them feel, if not more normal, somewhat less abnormal. There is very little more abnormal that staring down at an inhuman thing your stepdad rounded up a mob to capture, bound and gagged on the floor of his secret murder cave.
I look over at Catlin. People say it’s awkward, running into your ex. She doesn’t look awkward, just very, very vigilant. Her eyes birds’ ink dots focused on a cat, waiting for the flicker of a threat. He’s all trussed up. I think they call it hog-tied, wrists and ankles together at his back. It isn’t very dignified.
‘I’m still not sure,’ Brian tells Catlin, circling Lon, ‘what he is. I know that we were wrong to trust him as much as we did. To allow him to spend time with people who looked his age. To believe the best and not the worst. I’ve made a lot of mistakes these past months, girls. Sheila, I should have told ye what Ballyfrann was, about the community we are – it can be difficult to put it into words. I was afraid that it would put you off me – and then once you were here, time and again I put it off … there’s no excuse for that.’
I keep my eyes fixed on Lon, daring him to move, or speak, or groan.
‘I broke your trust. It will take work to get that back. Those things I know. But, this lad? He’s a mystery.’ He pokes him with his foot and Catlin nods.
‘He is,’ she says. ‘Hi, Lon.’
In my head, I’m wondering if two wrongs make a right. I’ve always felt that the death penalty was a strange one. I mean, to kill a person. Would it not kill a part of you as well, to do that? Because that’s where this is going.
Brian keeps looking at Mam, as if he’s given her a present. And her eyes are sad.
Lon’s not a person though. He is something else. A parasite. A predator. A threat.
‘Be careful,’ says Brian. ‘He is very strong. Even though of course he’s weaker now.’ The now speaks volumes.
‘Where did you find him?’ Catlin’s voice is high. Pretending to be brave.
‘We asked around. The key to Ballyfrann is knowing who to ask. And how to ask.’ Brian is opening a bag. He takes out something sharp, and made of wood. A sword, I think. A long and skinny skewer with a handle. I see the edge of something like a saw inside the bag. The gleam of drill bits.
Brian holds the sword, making sure Lon sees it, before he hands it over to Mam. ‘Could you hold this thing for me, Sheila, love?’
Mam nods. Her eyes are fixed on Lon and they are angry.
‘He was at school with me for a bit. He goes back to education every now and then, you see. For a refresher. My father gave him money. He told me that he wanted to be around people who looked like he did. That the youth club was helping him control the darker parts of who he was. To empathise. It’s hard to look so young and be so old.’ He glares. His features harden. ‘I listened to him because of Dad. Because I thought it’s what he would have wanted. In retrospect, I don’t think he would have cared.’
He walks towards Lon. ‘He swore to me that Helen wasn’t his. That it was different. I like to hope that people can change. Get better. I wasn’t ever sure that I believed him.’ He gives Lon a kick, he flops down on his side. ‘I also wasn’t sure that I didn’t. Benefit of the doubt.’ He kicks again. ‘And then he had the temerity to interfere with my daughter. With my family.’ Another vicious kick. His face is calm. His face is very calm. I don’t think I have ever seen Brian like this. He’s always been just a little nervous. Hands twitching at his cuffs. There’s a confidence to him, a sort of horrid grace. I’m not sure if it’s comforting. It’s unnerving.