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The unknown man exhales a long sigh. “And…how—How is she, doing?”
A bark of derision echoes through the room, but Kieran doesn’t answer the question. The man scoffs, then asks, “where’s Christian’s?”
My heart falters at the mention of Christian.
“He’s rightfully in his place. Did I tell you he somehow cracked through the last chamber? Don’t worry too much Killian. You’ll get your end of the bargain.”
“I’m just saying.”
“Hmm,” Kieran responds.
“Does…he know about what you found out?”
“I appreciate your help. But I can handle him if he gets out of hand. I won’t make the same mistake again.”
“I don’t know how much longer I can keep this under wraps. So, hurry it up.” Killian’s tone is biting.
The pair exchange nothing more.
Kieran exhales loudly, steps toward one of the chambers, toggles with the settings in a chamber and soon the liquid drains. What is left is a young woman, mostly intact. “Here, take her out to the town’s beach and stage the body. This should sway suspicion away from us. Her body should show when we travel back to Devil’s Bay. And have Lucas do a press about the dangers of the tides. We’ll get more time.”
Killian heaves the slick woman’s body into his arms and they leave. Nothing else seems to be amiss and I breathe a sigh of relief as Misty and I are left in the dark once again. The outer door to the lab slams closed. I wait a few minutes before I open the door and peer my head around the corner, seeing that the lab is truly empty. The tapes. Paying no mind to the empty chamber, I return to the messy table. I can’t focus on the eerie feeling this place gives me or else I’ll fail to engage with the first real thing that is Kieran Lazarus.
Leaving is no option anyway, Kieran and his companion are still on their way out and I didn’t want to be caught. Besides, a while back Daisy told me Kieran was a respected scientist, that had fallen from grace. I wonder what was the catalyst for his downfall? This question evades my understanding, much like Daisy’s presence over the last few weeks. It’s almost as if she’s fading from existence itself. All I truly know from my conversations and what I can tell from the tapes is that Kieran Lazarus is obsessed with reanimation. Dead bodies? Or bodies on the brink of death? And that mention of Purgatory? Is it real?
Pressing play, his deep voice continues to drawl.
“This is entry two of this recording, the official account of the ritual. These are the components, and I cannot believe I’m doing this, but I guess I am my father’s son. This will be a bridge of the scientific and religious.”
There’s a soft voice in the background, imperceptible.
“First the circle of binding.” Loud metal clanking sounds interrupt the audio. “Second, the sigil. Created from an alphanumeric grid, and etched around the ritual site, it was a little unnecessary but my wife has a flair for the dramatics.”
A familiar giggle comes close to the microphone and takes over. “Bone ash and salt, sprinkled around the site. Victor Lazarus reported that unnatural visitors arrived when completing such a task. Bearers of the dead? Whatever it was, did not happen.”
The mellifluous voice is cut short with a wet gurgle followed by a thud.
Blood rushes to my head, despite my very still position at the table. What did I just hear?
With ease, Kieran continues. “The cavern was much too secluded. And last, the blood offering. Blood of the impure has been secured and is fresh. While I could have used mine, I opted for something a little more convenient. And with her out of the way…that inheritance should be all mine.”
The tape scratches out from there, but I don’t neglect the opportunity I’ve been afforded by my sleuthing.
The other tapes are just waiting for me to listen to them. So, I place tape after tape into the device. Most are empty, filled with a hiss that seems to breathe in and out like a sleeping monster. There’s an occasional scratch of static which makes me flinch each time, readying myself as if I will be attacked.
Some tapes hold Kieran speaking too closely into the recorder, confessing nothing but boring musings of immortality. But one makes me stop in my tracks, ‘Chloe’. It is a sensual recording and I stop immediately, heat crawling up my face—but not before I notice beneath the sounds...clicking. A third presence. I eject that one quickly, noting this might be the Chloe I’d met in town.
Another tape ‘Daisy’ is only laughter. A long string of it, bright at first. It sounds nothing like her. It’s like something performing the memory of her laugh. The longer it plays the further it drifts, stretched thin by private anguish or joy, indistinguishable from each other by the end. I let it run longer than I should. I don’t know why. Then I find one labeled ‘Adrienne’. Handwriting pressed hard into the label, the letters slightly uneven. The name snags like a splinter catching cloth. I slide it into the device and press play.
The scream that erupts is not what I expect a scream to be. It is raw and splitting causing me to jolt forward and lunge for the button, killing it. Silence ripples in slowly. Adrienne. Where had I seen that name?
The manuscript.
My body moves without my mind. I arrange the tapes in the order I encountered them, knowing that if Kieran is now home, he’d wonder where Misty and I had disappeared to.
Christian.
I need Christian.
