The Last Murder at the end of the World

SIXTY-EIGHT

‘Thea!’ I shout, in her thoughts.

She startles awake, finding herself curled up in the bottom of the boat, being lashed by wind and rain, huge swells rocking her from side to side. It’s morning, but the sky is black with storm clouds, streaked by lightning.

‘You were thrown clear of the fog,’ I say.

Scrambling up, she realises she’s only feet from it and the insects are glowing so brightly they’re leaving dancing blots in her eyes.

Whimpering, she searches for the oars.

‘You dropped them in the water last night,’ I inform her. ‘There’s no need to panic, the anchor’s down. Help’s coming.’

In her panic, she doesn’t hear me.

Clumsily stripping off the resonance suit, she jumps into the storm-tossed ocean. Her toes cramp and her muscles spasm, as she bobs back to the surface. It’s agony, but she’s merciless, compelling her body to swim.

She’s aching from last night’s exertions, and the current’s strong. For all her effort, she’s only gaining inches of safety. Exhausting herself to stay in place.

Her legs slow, the strength running out of her. Gradually, the current starts tugging her back towards the fog.

‘Thea! Thea!’

A voice carries weakly across the water. She lifts her head, sees a boat approaching. Emory’s at the bow, banging the hull desperately to get her attention. Seth’s rowing as hard as he can, his muscles pulled taut, his teeth gritted with effort.

Thea’s arms chop into the water, her feet kicking frantically as she tries to reach them, but she doesn’t have the energy to make any headway. She’s swimming to survive, hoping the boat can reach her in time.

She risks a look behind her, but that only causes her to lose precious inches. She’s so close to the fog that half of her body is awash in a beautiful golden light.

There’s an enormous splash.

Strong hands take hold of her, dragging her clumsily into the boat. Rough wood scrapes her face. She bangs her shoulder into the seat, then lands in a pile on the bottom, staring up at Emory’s exhausted face, her cheeks stained with dried blood.

‘You got her?’ yells Seth.

‘Go,’ yells Emory.

The elder raises herself enough to see the boat she abandoned drifting into the fog and being swarmed by the insects, which swiftly lose interest when they discover there’s nothing to kill inside.

‘Why did you jump in the water?’ demands Emory, when they’ve finally reached a safe distance. ‘Your anchor was down. You were safe.’

‘How do you know my anchor was down?’

‘Because we rowed out earlier to check on you,’ replies Seth, dragging the oars through the water. ‘Why were you out here?’

‘I hit my head,’ says Thea, confused. ‘I never got the chance to put my anchor down.’

‘Well somebody did,’ he says gruffly.

‘If you were out here this morning, why didn’t you bring me to the village?’ demands Thea, wincing as she touches the sore spot on her head.

‘I needed to talk to my friends without you interfering,’ says Emory, leaning over the edge of the boat to wash her hands in the water. ‘Besides, I didn’t want a murderer near my daughter.’

Thea’s breath catches in her throat.

‘What are you accusing me of?’ she asks, her voice tight.

‘I followed you to Blackheath last night,’ says Emory, refusing to look at her. ‘You wanted to kill Hui, and I know you murdered Adil.’

‘You’ve got it all wrong.’

‘You just can’t stop lying, can you?’

‘I didn’t kill Adil!’

‘Of course it was you,’ declares Emory, glaring at her. ‘There was nobody else in Blackheath last night.’

‘How dare you accuse me of something like that without proof,’ argues Thea haughtily. ‘Who do you think you are?’

Emory meets her anger with rage.

‘I’m a villager,’ she exclaims. ‘And after everything I’ve seen from you, I’m proud of that. This island’s in danger and instead of helping me protect it, you and Hephaestus have spent the last two days lying to me and covering your tracks. I’m sick of the both of you.’

Thea feels a sudden shiver of uncertainty. There’s something strange in Emory’s expression that she’s never seen in a villager before. Her eyes are hard, her glare fierce. Almost predatory.

Catalysts and reactions, thinks Thea. For the last few days, Emory’s been submerged in the very worst of humanity, and it’s fundamentally altered her. This isn’t the same person who pleaded with her to investigate Niema’s death. The deference is gone. The fear. The doubt.

Thea feels like she’s dealing with a human.

She glances at Seth, expecting him to reprimand his daughter, but he stares on blankly. Evidently, it’s not only Emory who’s been transformed by Niema’s death.

‘Why would I kill Adil?’ asks Thea, adopting a placating tone. ‘He came to my lab last night. He told me that Blackheath was open, and Hephaestus and Niema had been using it for years, sleeping there whenever they needed a little luxury. He showed me the rooms they’d been using. The empty food packets. Niema’s favourite cup still had tea in it.’

Thea stares hard at Emory. Suddenly, it doesn’t feel like there’s enough room in the boat for the three of them, and her misgiving.

‘Why would Adil help you?’ asks Emory. ‘He hated the elders.’

‘I have no clue, but he’s the only person who’s told me the truth in forty years,’ she declares hotly. ‘I had no reason to kill him. He was going to give me the key to Blackheath.’

‘Where were you when he died?’ asks Emory, considering this point.

‘I went to see my sister. I was going to wake her up, but I decided against it at the last minute. It was the hardest choice I’ve ever had to make, but she’d never forgive me for trapping her in the cauldron garden.’

The boat rocks, passing over choppy water. They’re rowing by the farms, but nobody’s tending the fields this morning. Every vegetable that was halfway ripe has been harvested already, the seeds collected, and the tools removed from the sheds. Most of the animal pens are empty, but Shilpa and Abbas are still trying to negotiate with some recalcitrant cows.

The boat comes within sight of the sea wall leading into the bay. Plumes of sooty smoke are still rising from the infirmary, partially obscuring the cable car, which is rising into the black storm clouds swirling around the cauldron.

‘I can’t go back to the village,’ says Thea nervously. ‘If Hephaestus –’

‘He’s unconscious and tied up,’ replies Emory. ‘I used the Nyctanthes prumulla we found in the lighthouse. He should be out for another hour, at least. He’s not going to hurt you.’

Thea gapes at her. ‘You took down Hephaestus?’

‘I had to,’ remarks Emory distantly. ‘He murdered Niema.’