The Last Murder at the end of the World

SIXTY

Emory’s outside the lighthouse, on the very edge of the cliffs, staring down at the thrashing water far below.

For the first time, she can see the outline of what happened last night. Niema’s failed experiment, then her return to the village. She laid bare her secrets and made an announcement, which somebody stabbed her for.

There’s one piece missing, and she has a plan to get it. Once she has that, she’ll have everything.

She blows out a breath, wondering what good it will do. Even if she can prove who killed Niema, the only way to stop the fog is to execute them. How would she live with herself if she let that happen?

But what’s the alternative? Keep the secret? Let the murderer live in the cauldron garden with them forever, while everybody worries whether they’ll do it again?

Her eyes drift upwards to the darkening sky. The sun is already rolling down the side of the volcano, the moon clambering over the horizon. The fog will hit the coast in the morning. Whatever her decision, she’ll have to make it fast.

Hearing a noise behind her, she sees Hephaestus emerging from the lighthouse, his face stricken. His eyes are closed as he sucks in deep breaths, trying to compose himself.

Occasionally, she forgets that Niema was his mother. She can’t imagine how hard this must be for him.

Not that she can find much sympathy.

She hates the elders so much, it actually frightens her. It’s a slithering presence in her body, squeezing her heart, and pressing against her lungs. It’s whispering in her thoughts, as loud as Abi ever has. It wants them to suffer. It wants them humiliated and hurt, the way Adil was all those years ago.

‘I don’t have the power to do that,’ I say. ‘Niema directed me to preserve every human life. I can’t act against them.’

‘What if one of them killed her?’ she demands.

‘If you want to save the island, you may have to do something you don’t want to do.’

‘You can’t expect me to hurt them?’

‘No, but you may have to stand aside and let Adil do it.’Emory considers that as she walks towards Hephaestus, close enough to be heard over the roar of the ocean, but far enough that he can’t catch hold of her the way he did in Thea’s lab.

‘Can we talk for a minute?’ she asks.

He stares at her blankly, as if baffled that she’s addressing him. It’s been the same way ever since she was a little girl. Unlike Thea who took apprentices, or Niema, who made herself part of the village, Hephaestus never lived among them. He never talked to them, or spent time with them. He barely ever looked at them.

She didn’t understand that attitude until she saw the little girl in the cauldron garden. Hephaestus doesn’t believe the villagers are people. He still thinks of them as tools. Interacting with them is worthless, because they’re worthless.

‘I know you were helping Niema with her experiments, and I know the woman my father found on the rocks wasn’t your first victim,’ says Emory, before he can speak. ‘We found the other bodies in the infirmary. Niema was trying to get this experiment right for years. I overhead the conversation between you two in the rear yard two nights before she was killed. You didn’t want to do it, but she talked you into it. That’s why you threw the body off the cliff. You were hoping to hide the evidence so Thea would never learn you were involved.’

Each fact hits him like a hammer blow, chipping away at his calm exterior, revealing the guilt lurking beneath. He was a billionaire’s son. He never had to learn to hide his emotions convincingly, or make excuses for his behaviour. The world did that for him.

‘That’s –’

‘You’ve known Blackheath wasn’t sealed for years, and you kept that secret from your only friend,’ says Emory, keeping up the attack. ‘How do you think she’ll react, when she finds out?’

His hand lashes out, but she skips out of reach, leaving him flailing. She’d never encountered blind rage until yesterday, but she’s surprised by how predictable it is, how dependable. It’s such an obvious weakness, she can’t understand why he hasn’t learned to temper it. Anybody this easily goaded immediately stops thinking. They become the easiest thing in the world to manipulate.

‘I know where the key to Blackheath is, Hephaestus,’ she says, speaking quickly to calm him. ‘I’m willing to deliver it to you, and forget everything I know. Thea never has to find out. The only thing I want is Jack’s safe return.’

Hephaestus considers her for a long minute, those empty eyes sparkling.

‘Blackmail,’ he says, running a tongue around his dry lips. ‘You’re much closer to being human than I gave my mother credit for.’

Emory shudders, the word become an insult.

He strokes the line of his jaw with a thumb. ‘Bring the key to the village tonight, after curfew, and I’ll take you to your husband. If you betray me, I’ll hang your family from the village walls.’