Chapter Thirty-Eight

Descent into Madness
 
The newspaper lay, half forgotten, on top of William’s old desk. Its bold headline spread the shocking news of St. Agnes’ beloved Chief Detective with its citizens, right on top of the sadistic picture of Samuel Black’s body bellow the neck.

Victor had long grown tired of looking at it. He had been more interested in knowing if Julius’ disappearance had been noticed. It hadn’t. Perhaps because the only people who would’ve been quick to realize it were in no condition to do so – Amos was too ill, Nicholas was too engulfed in his own problems and paranoia.

He sat on his father’s chair, his eyes resting upon Black’s corpse, lying in the very same position he had left it, but his mind was far away. He was upset for a lot of reasons. Concerns, questions and doubts consumed his mind with no forgiveness. He couldn’t forget Julius’ death. He refused to feel guilty, but he couldn’t talk his way out of the regret he felt. Julius was an innocent man, he didn’t deserve to die. Ultimately, it hadn’t even been a choice - only a matter of survival.

He considered giving up, but as quickly as that thought entered his mind, another part of him quickly shut it down. He was too close to give up. Still, he couldn’t help but feel that perhaps he was becoming a very different kind of monster than he had expected.

And the nagging feeling that something was wrong, that something was missing, wouldn’t leave him alone.

But he was too close to give up now.

And after all, now that his web had extended upon the guiltless, what more had he to lose? It would almost make Julius’ sacrifice worth nothing if he were to give up now.

His lips morphed into a devious grin and he was grateful that Preshea hadn’t seen it. She was sitting on the chair opposite from him, she had been the one bringing him the newspaper and, after hearing his detailed reconstruction of the past night’s events, she had fallen silent, her hands hiding her features from him. She had been deeply disturbed when he told her of Julius’ ungrateful fate.

Victor took a deep breath and decided to break the uncomfortable silence, “I know it was my fault.”

Preshea finally looked at him, her eyes shining with daring hope.

“Julius’ death… It wasn’t supposed to have happened. It was my fault,” he admitted. “I knew he suspected me. I gave him free time when I should’ve done the opposite. I should’ve kept him as busy as possible. I should’ve been more careful, should’ve taken him more seriously. He shouldn’t have died.”

“None of them should,” she corrected, glaring at him.

“Well… you would say that.” He smiled.

“Doesn’t this tell you enough?” she insisted, her tone one of urgency, though her expression held fury. “Victor, innocent people are dying! Why don’t you accept this regret you are feeling and use it to stop this once and for all?”

“I can’t stop!” Victor frowned. He was tired of this conversation, although he couldn’t suppress the hint of desperation he was feeling, as if Preshea was kicking him in all his weakest spots, grasping at all his doubts and still not understanding that he was cornered. He had no choice. “Without this, I have nothing!”

“Yes, you have.” Preshea smiled at him with sadness, like she pitied him for not being able to see the obvious. “You have a family! Ethel and Selina, Alice and Joshua… and you have me. We’re your family now. And we could be so happy… away from here and all of this madness!”

“I had a family before…” Victor replied, staring at his father’s portrait on the desk. “It was taken from me.” He looked at her, his eyes cold, his voice resolute. “We will continue.”

Preshea got up from her seat and slowly walked towards the door. Before she left, she whispered, “I wish you had never told me any of this.”

After she closed the door behind her, Victor was once again lost in thought.

Julius’ death was a terrible consequence, but he had always been ready to pay whichever price. He was more lost than ever, deeper into his sins than ever before.

But if he were to give up now, it would all be in vain – and he couldn’t do that to poor old Julius. He would honor Julius’ sacrifice by taking his mission until the end.

No turning back. No more weakness.

Alone in his father’s office, Victor laughed.

***

Never before had Lewis seen such heavy atmosphere inside The Black Cat, though it shouldn’t have surprised him – it was the exact mirror of the environment of the whole city.

St. Agnes was grieving. The mood was one of sadness and anger. The people were mourning the tragic death of their Chief Detective, another murder at the hands of an unknown killer. The bar, usually more cheerful than the streets, was plunged into almost silence; people whispered concerns and wonders, memories and questions, as if they were all in Black’s funeral. Musicians played laments to their fallen idol on the bar’s ancient piano, a man of the people, who came from the people and worked for the people. Samuel Black was deeply beloved and, apparently, would be deeply missed.

Lewis was also mourning, though the true source of his concern was that he didn’t have the chance to talk to Black before his death. He was convinced the man would be the answer to most of his questions, convinced that he would be the answer to Patrick’s disappearance. He was angry, frustrated – the recent events were ruining his chances of finding out exactly what had happened ten years ago and exactly what was happening now.

He wondered if he had made the right choice. The night before, he was supposed to have gone to Black’s house, but instead chose to go to another place, due to the late hour of his departure from the bar, convinced as he was that he had all the time in the world to go talk to the Chief. He made a lot of shocking discoveries, but now he cursed himself for not choosing Black first, despite the late visit he would’ve paid him.

With a sinking heart, he saw her entering the establishment. Her gorgeous, dangerous smile directed at him. He wanted to run.

Marie sat right next to him, as was usual, and with one glance at his face, she scorned.

“Oh, not you too. You’re not in a foul mood as well, are you? I swear, St. Agnes is grimmer than ever – and I would’ve thought that impossible. You’d think everybody’s father has died.”

“Samuel Black meant a lot for these people,” he replied, before taking a sip of his drink. “He was more than a man, he was a symbol.” Marie snorted at this, which really didn’t surprise him anymore. He decided to finally hold her eyes with his. “I meant to go see him last night, before you walked inside. When we parted, I thought it was already too late and decided to focus on other affairs.”

She smiled. “Well, that’s probably a good thing, isn’t it? Who knows what could’ve happened if you went there?” Her smile grew; her eyes held a hidden knowledge and her expression went darker. “What if you had faced the murderer? Maybe you wouldn’t be here right now.” Her hand rested on his arm and gently caressed it and Lewis had to suppress a groan. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a second, trying hard to concentrate. He wished she hadn’t come today, he wished he didn’t have to see her, wished he didn’t know anything.

“Maybe…” He took another sip of his beer and prepared for the inevitable. “Maybe we could’ve gone together.”

She chuckled and gave him a playful, mocking look. “To meet your affairs?”

“No.” He didn’t want to look at her, but something stronger held his eyes on hers. “To Black’s house.” He felt her grip on his arm stiffen immediately, before she quickly let go of the physical contact, as if he had poisoned her, leaving a burning sense of betrayal in its place. “That’s where you were, isn’t it?”

Her eyes widened for just a second, before they went back to her usual coldness. She eyes him with something close to disgust. “You’re insane.”

“No, you are,” he replied, getting closer to her and speaking in a whisper. Despite everything, he wanted this conversation to remain private. “I know who you are, Ethel von Mallesch.”

He almost wished he hadn’t said anything, her sudden look of despair giving him the urge to console her, to ease her fears, but he fought it.

“Do you know where I was last night?” She didn’t answer, she didn’t even move. He decided to continue, for she was clearly in shock. He felt the need to explain everything to her, to let her know, to prepare her. “I was meeting a colleague of mine. I sent him to the south a few weeks ago and, on his way here, I asked him to pass through Grimsbury. He came back to me with interesting, yet disheartening, information.”

Marie still didn’t make a movement, though the fear had vanished from her face. She now resembled an icy, powerful statue.

“There was only ever one woman with the name Stephens in that town and Marie was her second name. Ethel Marie Stephens, married to Charles Stephens, both arrived in Grimsbury at the tender age of sixteen where they opened their very own business. Maiden name of the young wife – Ethel Marie von Mallesch.” Lewis gave her a joyless smile. “It all makes unfortunate sense, now.”

She remained immobile and so he continued, after a long, deep breath, “Beatrice LaFontaine… After an interesting conversation with Jack Skeffington, I was mighty intrigued to know where she came from, who she was, as I grew rather found of him and wanted to make sure he was safe with her. I found it odd how little he knew of her and of her life before she arrived in St. Agnes. I saw her with you and I wanted to be sure of the same… So I sent my colleague to the south, where the name came from.

“He soon found out about famous violinist Edna LaFontaine, a woman well known in the southern parts of the country for her talent and her unmerciful demise – also for her solitude. Edna craved company, craved someone to teach and someone to care for her. She adopted a young girl, approximately ten years ago and gave her a home and her name, a girl who came from an orphanage… an orphanage from the north, as Edna was travelling the country at the time, performing in every city in the golden age of her success, before her condition finally began to deteriorate her vision and her health.

“Beatrice LaFontaine was not that girl, though. In Edna’s hometown, no one knew of a girl named Beatrice. Edna’s sweet daughter was called Selina.” Lewis paused, waiting, even hoping, for some kind of reaction. None came. “She is your sister, isn’t she?”

She finally moved. Marie smiled, an exhausted glint to her eyes, as she reached for his beer. She drank almost all of it in one big gulp. Her eyes never wavered from his and, once she was finished, she rested her head on her hand, leaning towards the counter - almost like she was listening to a pleasant story. Lewis couldn’t read her. He couldn’t tell if she was angry, terrified, amused or even bored. Her expression was one of perfect neutrality.

“Victor von Mallesch…” he mumbled, smiling and shaking his head. “Never seen again after he left the city as a child… though I never believed you and Selina would ever show up here again without your dear brother. The von Mallesch house… your sudden appearance… the murders…” He now devoted a caring smile to her which, he was pleasantly surprised to notice, she returned. “You almost fooled me.”

Her smile widened, as if she felt complimented, and he proceeded, “I think I desperately wanted to believe you.”

She shrugged and Lewis lost his smile. “Victor von Mallesch is Gabriel McGrath, isn’t he?”

Marie didn’t reply. She was back to being frozen.

“I know he is,” Lewis continued, “even though I can never prove it. He and Silas did a brilliant job creating Gabriel and bringing him to life. As it is, Gabriel McGrath is as alive to the world as you and me.”

He finished his drink, sighed and looked at the beautiful statue next to him.

“Why would you return and do so in disguise?” He didn’t give her time to answer, knowing it was futile. “It is as I thought. The only reason strong and dark enough to be kept hidden – revenge.”

Silence was installed and Lewis used it to look around, avoiding her burning glare. Finally, after regaining the courage to look at her again, he asked in a whisper, feeling like someone was grabbing and clutching his heart with mighty strength, “You are the murderers, aren’t you?”

And only after he asked did he realize how much he really didn’t want to know.

Once again, she didn’t answer and her face betrayed no emotion.

It was enough for him, though.

He looked at his hands and smiled with bitterness. “You know, in a way, I cannot blame you.” He faced her again. “But I can’t accept it.”

After another quiet moment, he decided to ask her another question, whose answer he wanted to know as much as he didn’t.

“Did you kill Patrick?”

“No,” she calmly replied.

Lewis chuckled with relief. “I actually believe you.”

Without warning and completely un-requested, Lionel put another glass of beer in front of him and a glass of red wine in front of Marie. They both stared at him in surprise and the man shook his head.

“Samuel Black was a daily customer for many, many years. He stopped showing up a couple of years ago but…” He sighed and shook his head again. “Few men could tell a story quite like him. He was a good man, he was. This city has suffered a great loss.” The old man smiled with sadness, his eyes shining. “It’s on the house, my friends.” He returned to work right afterwards, hiding his face as he cleaned his nose with an old rag.

Lewis returned his attention to Marie and sighed, his fingers playing mindlessly with the glass.

“I am sorry, Marie. But I will have to stop you.” He could see her body tensing, her stance stiffening, even as she drank her wine. “I can’t let you get away with this, as much as it costs me. And it does.” She took her eyes from him and he sighed once more. “And I am telling you this because, call me a fool, but I actually trust you. I trust you to be better than this.”

He could’ve sworn he had heard her whimper, maybe even tremble a little, but it was over so fast he couldn’t be sure if he had really seen it or if he had wished it to happen.

“If it serves as any consolation, I assure you, I will uncover what really happened to your father and family and I will make sure the culprits face justice. For what it’s worth, I think that Victor is missing something very grave and very important… I will find out what it is. I promise you that.”

He got up from his bench, her eyes lost in him with something new behind them - a glimmer of fear again, a glint of hope, something close to sadness… maybe even regret.

Lewis let his fingers caress the soft skin of her cheek.

“In another time, under different circumstances…”

Her gaze intensified and she nodded. Lewis got closer and gently placed his lips on her forehead. He spared her one last smile.

“I wanted to be wrong with all my strength.”

“So did I,” she whispered.

***

Ethel watched him leave and didn’t find the strength to move. She wanted to grab him, to beg him, to stop him – to do something.

Yet, she couldn’t.

She knew what she needed to do, what needed to be done. But she didn’t want to.

It was not her fault. He had brought it upon himself.

But she didn’t want to do it. Ethel didn’t want to kill Lewis. She found out, with an aching heart, just how found she had grown of him.

But it had to be done. She knew there was no choice. She had to protect herself and she had to protect her family.

Finally, like she was in a trance, Ethel finally followed him outside.

I trust you.

Foolish man! Why did he have to tell her?

Ethel could see him walking in a peaceful stride in front of her, almost like he was begging her to catch him. It enraged her that he could be so trusting of her. He knew what she could do; he knew it would cross her mind. He knew he had to run.

So why didn’t he?

She couldn’t do it. But she had to. He made her do it, he gave her no choice.

Ethel was shaking and her eyes were burning. She kept walking towards him, her pace as slow as his – mentally, she was begging him to escape.

Her heart ached. Tears fell from her eyes but she barely felt them. She couldn’t breathe; her hand covered her mouth as she suppressed a painful sob. She wanted to scream, she wanted to tell him to run.

Was she really going to do this?

Was it really happening again?

In another time, under different circumstances...