This Haunted World Book One: The Venetian: A Chilling New Supernatural Thriller (24 page)

Together they peered into the box. The baby – what remained of her – was wrapped in a length of white material, either a dress or a shroud. The latter probably as there’d have been no clothes for her on the island, no provision made at all. They didn’t want to disturb her too much – it seemed sacrilege to do so – but something caught Piero’s eye.

He pointed. “There’s something placed on top.”

She caught sight of it too, reached in and retrieved it. It was a small gold wedding band – small enough to fit on her finger: Charlotte’s then, not Enrico’s. She must have slipped it in there, wanting to give her child something. To keep it safe, Louise put it on. Meanwhile, Piero placed the lid back on the box, afterwards making a sign of the cross. Again he surprised her. It wasn’t a hurried action; his manner was reverent. Nonetheless, she was aware of mounting pressure in the atmosphere, waiting to explode.

“We’ve got to get away,” she whispered, nodding towards the curtain.

“What about the rucksack?”

“We can’t stay, it’s impossible.” She shone the torch from left to right. “Besides, the rucksack’s not here, we’d have seen it if it was.”

“But where is it?”

“I… Piero, I don’t know.”

“Then there is no escape!”

“Maybe not the island, but we can escape the theatre. We have to!”

Although he was still agitated, he couldn’t disagree. They were at the epicentre, there’d be a higher degree of safety elsewhere, surely.

“Piero, if we can make it through the night, we can find a way. We have to get outside.”

“Yes, yes, of course, of course.”

Relieved that he’d agreed, she clutched the tin to her chest as they stood and hurried forwards. Another shape emerged, not the others, not Dr Gritti, but Enrico Sanuto. Forced onto the front line.

Grinding to a halt, she stood and stared as he too materialised fully. He was not a man whom you’d attribute such sin to. His features were at once boyish and endearing. Only as you stared further could you see beneath them. He had no real depth, nothing that held you or elicited compassion. He was superficial; a man whose emotional development had been stunted perhaps, who could only follow those with great passion, even if that passion frightened him. He was certainly frightened now. He was beseeching. Holding out his hands, he wanted what he’d been complicit in disposing of so many years ago – his daughter. Unsure what to do, how to avoid him, Louise looked around, at those crowding behind her, her eyes searching for Charlotte, but she was gone, and Dr Gritti too – as though she’d swallowed him whole. Her eyes rested on Piero. She knew what he was thinking – that they should keep going and circle around him. Impossible! He was coming closer, his attention on what she held.

She clutched it tighter.

“You want your daughter, don’t you, but only because you fear your wife and what she’ll do to you. I’ll tell you what she’ll do to you, Enrico Sanuto – she’ll destroy you, just as you destroyed her, just as you deserve. There is no protection, no hiding, not anymore. With or without the baby, Charlotte is coming for you. A woman can only wait for so long.”

His shy, studious mask slipped, revealing something far less wholesome. His eyes grew bigger, so wide she was sure they’d pop from their sockets. She could utter no more brave words, only continue to stare, her mouth open; a part of her still marvelling at the imagination and the tricks it could play, another part certain that this was reality, the kind that existed just below the surface but which could so easily emerge. Piero too was transfixed. As she’d done in Charlotte’s room, Louise closed her eyes, trying to shield herself.

Nothing happened. Unable to resist, she opened them again to see Charlotte blocking Enrico’s path. Louise seized her chance. Reaching out to grab Piero, she pushed him against the wall, away from husband and wife, from what was about to be unleashed.

Dressed from head to toe in white, again her veil pushed back, Charlotte wasn’t the crone that had dealt with Dr Gritti but a woman in her early twenties and beautiful, as she’d been when she’d first met Enrico perhaps – brimming with joy and anticipation. Enrico had come to a standstill too. He seemed mesmerised, her face stirring in him a memory of a time when he was also young and handsome, when ambition hadn’t yet found him such a willing victim. Incredibly, a smile started to play around the edges of his mouth – his dark eyes narrowed and started to smoulder. Louise looked at Charlotte. There was a smile on her lips too – a
sensual
smile – the chemistry between them making the air crackle. She was amazed. Was it possible she was going to forgive him? That the love that had once existed between them could rear up to carry them forwards? That they could redeem each other and therefore themselves? In a night where anything was possible, she was beginning to think so and then Charlotte’s smile began to change, from sweet and sensual, from loving, it widened into the rictus she’d seen before. No, anything was
not
possible. There was no love in this woman for Enrico. He’d killed it stone dead.

Not wanting to see how the final scenes played out between them – even the others had fallen back, giving husband and wife the privacy they were entitled to – Louise started to run, knowing that Piero would follow, both of them eager to put as much distance between them and the theatre as possible. Despite this, the cry as they fled tore right through her and she knew it tore through Piero too. It was a cry of agony, sheer and utter agony, embodying every pain and every sorrow that was ever inflicted within these walls. It seemed to brand her. She’d never forget it. It would be the thing that would haunt her long after she left these shores,
if
she left these shores. A cry that would go on and on, and which was just the beginning – Charlotte would make sure Enrico’s suffering lasted as long as hers had. He’d not get away lightly. Not anymore. He was the one with amends to make, he and Gritti both, and they would – they’d pay. So often vengeance is portrayed as black, something dark and full of shadows. But Louise knew better. Vengeance is white. And it is terrifying.

As they continued to run, she feared the building would play tricks on them again, that corridors would run on and on, that doors would open and shut with inhuman force, that more graffiti would start appearing, that the walls would seek to contain them not expunge them. But with each step her confidence grew. She was beginning to recognise routes, landmarks even, her subconscious having taken it all in, her mind making a map of the interior – a map that was both a blessing and a curse. Would she wander down these routes even when she’d escaped them, in her dreams, in her nightmares, when she was awake too, returning to them time and time again, a part of her trapped, always trapped? A sob escaped her at the thought. Not just a possibility, it was a likelihood.

Keep running; keep running
.

But there were some things you couldn’t run from.

“Louise, this way.”

They were on the landing outside the wards now, the men’s wards directly to one side of them and the women’s wards ahead. There was movement inside each room still but unless it was just wishful thinking, it had lessened.

There was another cry. She tensed to hear it, but it wasn’t coming from behind her, it was coming from in front – a voice she recognised. Two voices. Rob and Kristina.

“Louise, where are you? Come back, come back now!”

“Piero, you must come back.”

Piero shouted something in Italian, but whether they’d hear it or not she didn’t know.

Reaching the section with the women’s wards, she was compelled to stop. She looked inwards, expecting to see the pacing woman reciting her litany of numbers, but instead she saw the outline of a woman sitting by a bedside, plus a woman in the bed too. As she stared the vision increased in depth. It was Charlotte who was sitting, holding a book in her hands and reading from it. The bed’s occupant was elderly and she was lying against her pillow, her eyes half-closed but her general demeanour one of contentedness. As Charlotte finished reading, the woman opened her eyes and leaned forward. Charlotte reached out a hand and readily the woman took it, highlighting a bond between them, one that had started with words. There were other beds lining the walls, figures in them too but none as clear as Charlotte and the elderly woman. Louise understood what she was trying to tell her: that this was a bad place – of that there was no doubt – but in it peace and friendships had been possible. Like the birth of her baby, good had found a way to triumph, if only for a moment, one bright and glorious moment. It had shone.
That
was what she should remember whenever she thought of Poveglia. It would offset the horror.

Charlotte, won’t you come with us too, find a way?

She sent out the thought, wondered if it’d be heard. It was. Two words formed in her mind, simple words that spoke volumes.

I promised.

Piero was getting agitated. “Louise, why have you stopped? We must go.”

As quickly as it appeared, the vision vanished. There was nothing in the room but a sliver of moonlight through an open window, indicating that the rain had stopped, that the mist had lifted. It fell on the elderly woman’s bed and caressed it.

“Louise!”

“Yes, yes, let’s go.”

She bounded down the stairs, trusting in instinct to avoid any obstacles. Kristina was at the bottom, still shouting frantically before sobbing in relief at the sight of them. As Piero drew closer, his wife threw herself into his arms, reciting his name over and over.

Sidestepping them, Louise rushed into the dayroom, eager to see Rob, he was in the chair they’d helped him to but, on seeing her, he struggled to rise.

“Don’t,” she called. “It’s okay, stay there. I’ll help you to move in a minute.”

Rob took no notice and stood anyway, wincing as he limped towards her, as she was caught in his arms too.

“Thank God you’re all right. We’ve been so worried about you. Why’d you do it, Lou, why’d you run off? Are you okay? Are you hurt? Did you see anything? I tried to come after you but I couldn’t. I even tried to crawl. I didn’t get very far. This bloody ankle, I don’t know what I’ve done to it, sprained it or something. What’s in your arms?”

Although delivered in a rush, each word he uttered was a comfort – he was alive, she was alive and they were hugging each other. She had to tell him what she held, but not the full story, not until they were off the island.

“Bones? But—”

“Rob, I’ll explain fully later, but right now we still need to find the key.”

Rob beamed at her. “That’s just it, it’s here. We’ve found it. That’s why we were shouting out, making such a racket. We were trying to get you to come back. We’ve got it!”

“You’ve got it… but how?”

“We were getting so agitated, wondering what had happened to you both, that we devised a plan of our own. Kristina was too frightened to explore alone, but if I crawled to the door and just kept talking to her, anything, nonsense speak, it didn’t matter, as long as she could hear my voice she’d continue exploring. Apparently, it’s the silence that freaks her out the most, which is something she could put in her thesis perhaps.” He paused to laugh and, impatient, she had to remind him to go on. “Anyway, she went back to places like the office and the dining room, only stood in the doorway mind and shone the light in but there was nothing, absolutely nothing. When she returned she was so downhearted, she shone the light at me to explain how useless it had been and then she gasped.”

“Gasped? Why?”

“Because that’s when she saw her rucksack! It was behind me, right behind me, tucked under one of the chairs. Either we didn’t check this room properly or we were too panicked to notice it was here. I suppose that can happen. Panic can blind you.”

Trying to absorb what he was saying, she looked to where he’d said the rucksack had been – it wasn’t there now. The blood drained from her. “Oh no, don’t tell me it’s gone again!”

Rob hugged her to him again, the tin pressing against her chest as he did so. “Kristina’s got it on her back. She won’t be taking it off in a hurry, I can tell you. As we first thought, it must have been animals that did it. The bag’s been ripped into and a couple of the food boxes are gone, the one with the most food in probably, but the key was still there. Thank God.”

Kristina and Piero burst into the room. “The key,” Piero shouted. “We have the key!”

Louise looked from them to Rob – he still thought it was animals responsible? If only he knew. But he would, he’d know soon enough, he and Kristina both.

“Can you help me with Rob?” Louise asked Piero, determined to keep moving.

All four of them left the dayroom and made their way to the office – Dr Gritti’s office, it had to be – and subsequently the exit. As they entered, the furniture had been moved again. This time the table had been upturned, the filing cabinet too and all its drawers scattered across the floor, the wood even more splintered than before.

“What the hell—” Rob began.

“Who did this?” Kristina was stunned too. Clearly worried that blame would start being apportioned again, she quickly added, “I didn’t. It was nothing to do with me…”

Louise reassured her, “We know it wasn’t you, Kristina. We know.”