This Haunted World Book One: The Venetian: A Chilling New Supernatural Thriller (17 page)

“We shouldn’t stray too far,” Kristina still sounded agitated. “We mustn’t go to the fields.”

“Why not?” Rob’s voice was scathing. “Because they’re the supposed plague fields?”

“There’s no ‘supposed’ about it,” Kristina said, rallying.

Piero intervened rather than Louise. “What Kristina means, and what I have already told you, is that in the fields the ground is soft underfoot. The people that died here, they weren’t transported to the mainland, they couldn’t be, even in death there was a risk of infection, they were burnt here, cremated. The mass graves, we are not making that up.”

Louise could feel her whole body tense. “Then why do you do it?” she said, her voice much higher than she intended it to be. “Why do you come here, because you do don’t you? You’re regular visitors, I think. Surely there are better places to have a picnic!”

“We are not ghouls!” Kristina insisted.

“Then what are you?” Louise demanded.

She faltered. “We have… that is, Piero, has family connections to the island.”

“Family connections? Regarding the asylum you mean?”

“No!” Piero seemed horrified Louise would think that. “She means family much further back than that, family affected by the plague.”

“How do you know? You have records?”

“Of course! The Benvenuti family know their lineage. Family is everything to us!”

Family is everything…
His words pierced her. Her and Rob’s family would end with them and no amount of travel could make up for that. In fact, right now she didn’t care if she never travelled again, it was not the remedy they’d hoped for. England was home,
their
home and the subject of adoption, she’d raise it again, make Rob see it was a valid choice, that they could love a baby born of others as much as one born of them. She certainly could, she knew it. She also knew she couldn’t continue without a child to love, never had the desire in her been so strong as now – never had it seemed so
crucial
.

Rob shook her out of the reverie she’d fallen into. “Louise, who cares why they choose to come here, it’s of no importance to us. We need to start searching, come on.”

“Okay, okay,” she replied, having to bite down on a retort. Clearly his impatience had extended to include her. But the fact that they were stranded here, without a boat key, without any mobile phone signal, was not her fault. And he’d better not start acting like it was. She might have been the one who’d found out about Poveglia, but he was the one who wanted to come here, taking ‘off-the-beaten-track’ to a whole new level.

All four trudged miserably round to the far side of the building. The men had charge of the torches again, and, working as a team, they were aiming the light in different directions, the women busy scanning for any sign of Kristina’s rucksack, the incessant mist hindering their task. At the back of the asylum, there was a bank of grass, with stone steps leading downwards into more rough grass, the plague fields, the graves, and not just those that belonged to the diseased either, Louise would bet. How many people who had died at the asylum weren’t transported back for burial? Piero had said that in Italy family was everything, but did that extend to include mad members of the family? He had baulked when Louise suggested his ancestry might be marred in such a way.

Side by side in their respective couples, Rob and Louise in front, they negotiated the steps; many were chipped or had chunks missing from them, yet more victims of neglect. At the bottom her feet sank initially but then rested on ground that was firm enough.

“We don’t need to go too far in,” Kristina said. Louise could tell she was shaking.

“We do if we’re going to find that key,” Rob replied.

“It’s more likely to be in the building,” Piero cut in. “If it was an animal, they like shelter, they wouldn’t want to be out in the open where they feel exposed.”

Still Rob was determined. “We need to do a thorough search.”

They moved forward at a tentative pace, their torches making wide sweeps of the ground ahead. It looked empty, although beneath the soil it was perhaps far from that. Louise felt Piero’s suggestion that they look inside first made more sense and was about to say so when she heard a scream from behind. For a minute she fancied it had come from
inside
the asylum, but then she realised it was much closer than that. It was Kristina.

She spun around as did Rob. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Over there!” Kristina could barely get the words out but she managed to point and all three looked to where they were being directed, back over the plague fields again.

“Holy fuck!” It was Rob who’d sworn; Louise could only stare. The mist that had stubbornly surrounded the island all day was moving towards them, a wall of it, as wide as it was tall. She’d never seen mist moving before, not like that, so
purposefully
. But there was something even more alarming, the mist wasn’t just a single band of white, there were shapes in it, becoming clearer the closer it got. So many shapes, hundreds of them, their arms outstretched as if seeking help, and solace too, comfort of any sort. Louise was momentarily mesmerised, fear beginning to give way to pity, she wanted to understand them suddenly, those that were appealing to her, their sorrows, what they had suffered, and then the atmosphere changed. Someone yelled for them to run and panic filled the air, as infectious as any disease. Backing away, she joined the others as they fled, wondering all the while if the figure she’d seen in the centre of the mist, the one to whom all the other shapes cleaved to, was the veiled lady, her hands reaching out too.

They rushed to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the wall of mist, and arrived at the front of the asylum again. Louise was surprised to find herself still not as frightened as the rest of the group; rather resignation seemed to be the dominant emotion. The figure at the centre of the mist
had
been the veiled lady, she was sure of it. What did she want? Why had she forged this connection between them?

Piero was bending over, his hands just above his knees, trying to catch his breath. Kristina had one hand in her mouth, teeth tearing at her nails. Rob looked bewildered.

“What was that?” he asked, trying to make sense of it. “The way it was moving…”

It was Kristina who finally answered him. “I’ve heard about the white mist before, how it comes racing towards you. Again, it is the stuff of legend, or so I thought. I have never believed it because I have never seen it.” She turned her head back the way they’d come as if checking that the mist wasn’t still in pursuit. “I have never seen anything here before.”

“Nothing at all?” Louise quizzed.

Kristina shook her head. “This may sound strange, but I have always found it peaceful on the island, quiet, a refuge almost. But then I have never been here after dark. I haven’t spent the night.” Her voice rose in alarm at the prospect. “I don’t
want
to spend the night!”

Piero straightened up, murmured something to his wife in Italian and she nodded, even attempted to smile at him, albeit bleakly.

“Piero, have you seen that mist before?” Louise continued.

“No, but I have heard of it too. Tales are passed on you know, from person to person.”

“What about the figures in the mist, have people mentioned them?”

Piero looked at Louise, Kristina and Rob did too.

“Figures?” Rob queried.

“Yes, figures,” she repeated. “Didn’t you see…?” No they hadn’t, she realised. Once again, that had been reserved especially for her.

Rob quickly forgot all talk of figures. He was shaking his head as if he couldn’t quite believe the situation he was in. “What are we going to do?” he asked.

Strangely, Louise could believe it. It was as though she’d been waiting for this, ever since she set foot in Venice – the inevitable – but why, she didn’t fully understand yet.

“We need to go into the asylum,” Piero answered, “continue our search.”

“I don’t want to go back in,” Kristina was pleading with him.

Before anyone could reply, Louise pointed to another building, a much smaller construction a few feet from the front of the asylum and largely covered by trees. “What’s that? I spotted it when we first arrived, I meant to ask.”

Piero squinted as he looked to where she was pointing. “It’s some sort of living accommodation, a doctor’s residence I think. It’s the only one of its kind on the island as far as I know – certainly around the back of the asylum there are only the fields.”

“But other staff must have lived on the island?” Louise said.

“Probably, but it would have been in the main building, in a separate wing. Maybe if the doctor had a wife, a family, they were allocated the cottage, a home of their own.”

“Have you ever explored inside?” she asked.

“No, I… I haven’t.” Piero looked surprised, as if this was a revelation to him as well. “It’s always been the asylum that’s interested us I suppose.”

“Because that’s where all the thrills are?” Rob’s voice was curt.

“I… yes,” Piero replied. Clearly he’d decided there was no more use in lying.

“Let’s go and have a look,” Louise decided.

Despite Piero warning that they wouldn’t be able to go inside the building due to its advanced state of decay, Louise headed over. An animal could have dragged Kristina’s rucksack in there, it was an ideal lair, hidden and therefore undisturbed.

Close up she could see it was indeed a cottage, its terracotta tiled roof caved in along with its chimney. The ground was very soft around the structure and consisted mainly of mud. Time and time again her feet sank into it and she had to work hard to yank them out, banishing the visions she’d had earlier of bodies lying beneath, waiting to claim her. At last they reached the front door, still intact although copious vines covered it, preventing any chance of entry that way at least. In the windows on either side, only lethal looking shards of glass remained. On one wall there was graffiti, but it seemed half-hearted.

“We cannot get in,” Piero reiterated, shining his light over the structure.

He was right and, if they couldn’t, how could an animal? Surely anything living and breathing would run the risk of impaling themselves trying to jump through a window. Even so, Louise suggested they shine the light in at various points, it was important to eliminate the cottage from their investigations.

Both the men obliging, they peered into rooms long since abandoned and devoid of anything except vegetation, much of which looked withered as if the air inside was too rotten to sustain any form of life. As she suspected it would, the search proved fruitless. They had one more window to look through, on the far side of the house and not easy to reach as trees blocked their path, one of which had probably fallen during a storm long ago, and part of the reason why the roof had caved in. Refusing to be put off, she cleared the way as much as possible with her hands. Rob and Piero copied her, both of them swearing on occasions as branches that felt as sharp as any glass shard dug into them or they stumbled over a root. Kristina hung back, again biting at her nails. They weren’t so manicured now.

“Shine the light in there,” Louise instructed, wondering if it would make any difference. It was so dark inside she half fancied no light could ever be strong enough to penetrate it. But the torches worked well enough, both of them doing a sufficient job of lighting up the interior. When they did, she wished her initial fancy had held true – what was in the room didn’t bear illumination. There were bones, so many bones, piled on top of each other to form a haphazard pyramid, some ivory white, others brown and crumbling – a mixture of old and new – the plague victims and the patients? On top of the pyramid was a skull, staring at them, at her in particular.
With sightless eyes
, she thought.
It’s staring at me with sightless eyes
. It was grinning too as if it was finding this whole situation amusing. She only just stopped herself from screaming at the macabre sight, a small part of her, a part that remained stubbornly rational, worried about upsetting Kristina further. Behind her she heard sharp intakes of breath but nothing more – the men were being considerate too.

“What is it?” Kristina called, realising that something was wrong despite their efforts to conceal it from her. “What have you found?”

“N… nothing,” Piero returned. “We are still searching.”

The quake in his voice told Louise he hadn’t seen this sight before, that it was as much a surprise to him as it was to them.

Her eyes travelled from the skull to the wall beside it – again not really wanting to see but knowing she had no choice. That she was
meant
to see.

There were words written on the wall, dozens and dozens of them, some running into each other, some more spaced out. Wiping roughly at her nose with the back of her hand, she read words scribed not in Italian but in English – ‘
get out
’ imprinted in large letters and in small letters, from top to bottom, filling the entire width. And then something different: two more words, precise and neat as opposed to scrawled, on a downwards angle and in capitals:
GO HOME
. As alarming as she found that, what alarmed her more was the something lying at the base of the wall, on the floor, as if ‘Go Home’ was an arrow, directing her gaze. It was a scrap of material, frayed at the edges – and it was white.