Grew up there. Felt pain there. Wanted to stay because it was the only place I could feel anything.
Home. Here.
My father’s cabin.
Another photo arrives, this one a selfie. Two people, wearing black thick coats, a woman with white hair and a man whose face I see in my dreams. They’re smiling and she’s holding a gun.
It was cold. Below freezing and outside is coated with fresh snow, but I don’t feel the temperature. I’m running hot and my heart’s pounding, my brain empty of anything but panic.
I need to get a grip.
Majken won’t get within four hundred metres of the castle. As soon as she broached the perimeter there would be guards on her. The hut is just outside, still in the grounds which go on for acres, but not close enough to the castle. It’s in a spot that is enclaved by trees with a narrow path that led towards the loch.
Majken is playing with me.
It’s only just beginning.
I know my sister. I know she doesn’t give a fuck about me, only what I can do for her, except I’ve said no to her. I’ve taunted her.
Waterproof pants, thermal vest, a fleece-lined sweater, coat designed for mountaineering; I pull them on in the dressing room, not wanting to disturb my sleepers.
Before I leave the suite I pause at the doorway to the bedroom and watch them, both unaware, in that blissful dreamlike state. Isaac is loyal. He will help Blair, see that she has someone to lean on.
Because I don’t anticipate making it back.
Anything I say or do as soon as I see Majken will put a target on Blair’s head. Me being near her is a grenade being carried in her hand.
I pick up my boots, the ones I had from when I left the army, and my guns, my knife and the pocket tool Isaac gave me for Christmas, secreting them in about my clothing and I scrawl a note, leaving it on top of the copy of Alice in Wonderland that Blair keeps in here.
I’m sorry.
Micky’s room is on my way outside and for a minute I debate waking him, telling him everything and letting someone else deal with my sister and her lover. Let someone else start the war.
But this is Majken. We share an upbringing. A mother who was good and kind and knew how to love. I don’t want my sister to face what will be an end with no sympathy.
And I’d rather snap her lover’s neck myself.
The message I send Micky is short.Check your emails.Then I forward him something I prepared weeks ago; the profile of my sister, who she was affiliated with. Everything I know.
I’m a traitor to the crown and they now have proof.
The snow is crisp underfoot and deep, the crunch satisfying as I move each foot forwards. Security lights gleam in certain sections and I make no attempt to hide from the cameras. Someone, somewhere will be watching and I want them to see, to have it on record that I walked away.
I can’t be what Blair needs. I can’t be Isaac’s secret. This was all pretence, this beautiful monument to an outdated dictatorship and the idea that I could be something here.
The snow becomes deeper, still falling, thick and dense.
I see the loch, its depths seemingly still. We’ll never know what it contains, what actually lives there, what’s buried there, drowned in its waters.
It takes me twenty-five minutes to reach the hut. The dim light from an old bulb is a beacon for the damned and the door is open.
Welcoming.
“You came.” Majken’s voice is almost joyful.
“I didn’t have a choice.”
“You always have a choice, Ben. Happy New Year.” She leans in for a hug but I don’t return it and she steps back, looking hurt.
