The Last Murder at the end of the World

FIFTY-FIVE

Emory’s woken by a shake of the shoulder. Blinking blearily, she peers up at Clara, who’s kneeling beside her. It’s a little after 10 a.m. and the heat is building steadily, a thin veneer of sweat on her brow.

Seth is standing a little apart, a bag slung over his shoulder and a worried expression on his face. His long shadow drapes them like a sheet.

‘You okay?’ asks Clara, handing her mother a canteen of water. ‘Abi told us that you think Dad’s in there.’

‘That’s what Adil told me. It’s probably why he scratched that warning into the train carriage. “Niema buried us, she’ll bury you, too.” He didn’t want the apprentices who followed him to meet the same fate.’

‘That doesn’t sound right,’ says Seth vehemently. ‘Niema wouldn’t lie to us like that. It’s Adil, trying to turn you against her. Has to be. He hates her, and he wants you to hate her.’

He wags a hectoring finger at his daughter. ‘Niema loved you. You remember how she was after your mother died? She wouldn’t have kept Jack from you, if he was alive. Never.’

Emory pulls her mouth from the canteen, gasping at having drunk so quickly. Water’s spilling down her chin, wetting yesterday’s T-shirt. She smells of dry earth and sweat, crusted with last night’s panic.

‘Niema was experimenting on humans, keeping their bodies in the infirmary after she killed them,’ she says breathlessly. ‘She added another body to her tally the night she died, which we only know about because you found it. She ordered the memory wipe that killed six of our friends, and she’s the reason the fog is coming towards the island. That’s only what she’s done to us. Niema told Thea that Blackheath was overrun by the fog, even though her sister was trapped down there. She’s been telling that story for forty years! Niema was a liar, and a murderer, and I don’t believe a single thing she’s ever told me.’

Each of these facts hits Seth like a rock, forcing him to stagger away towards the stream and splash his face.

Emory gestures Clara to help her up, then runs her hand across the solid door.

‘Do you really think Dad’s in there?’ asks Clara, buoyed by the same hope that brought Emory out here last night.

‘I want to,’ says Emory. ‘But there’s a chance your grandfather’s right. I was pressing Adil hard about the warehouse fire, when he suddenly told me the story about your father. He could have just been trying to break my concentration. Either way, we need to get in there and search it for ourselves, because I’m pretty sure this is where you, me and your grandfather came the night Niema died. We hauled a cart out here for some reason.’

‘There has to be a way to open this door.’

‘I don’t advise trying to kick it down,’ replies Emory, rubbing her sore shoulder.

‘What does Abi say?’

‘It doesn’t matter, Clara. We can’t trust her any more.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because she’s not on our side.’

Emory’s tone is sombre, her words flecked with pain. ‘She works for Niema and nobody else. I saw it last night. Our friends were being marched out to work on Niema’s orders. Abi was controlling them.’

‘But Niema’s dead.’

I don’t think that makes any difference to Abi. She’s going to carry on doing whatever Niema told her until the island sinks into the sea.’

Emory glances out towards the ocean. The fog is a sparkling shimmer, almost like a rain shower blowing across the water. We have less than a day left, she thinks, annoyed at herself for being so easily manipulated.

A few words and she forgot all about Adil, even though he’s currently her strongest suspect.

And what did she get out of it? She wasted a whole night when they don’t have a night to waste.

‘Thea will know how to get inside,’ says Clara. ‘We can ask her.’

‘We can’t mention Jack being alive,’ warns Emory. ‘If we do, we suddenly have a motive for Niema’s death, especially considering it was your knife that was used as the murder weapon.’

‘Do you think Niema told us?’

‘Probably,’ admits Emory. ‘Adil told me that she planned to air her sins last night, which would explain why we looked so upset in Magdalene’s drawing when everybody else was happy. It would also explain why we rushed out here the night she died.’

Clara looks at the door, imagining her father behind it calling her name.

‘If Dad’s inside we have to find a way in.’

Emory shakes her head. ‘Every time Jack’s name is mentioned I do something stupid, but we can’t afford that any more. We need to work out who killed Niema, and every clue we have so far points towards the lighthouse.’