Echoes in the Darkness

“It needn’t be, Eddie.”

“You have no idea. You couldn’t begin to comprehend what it’s like inside my head,” he said quietly.

“Tell me,” I urged. “I might be able to help.”

He chuckled. “Can you stop him? Because that’s the only way to help me. Get him out of my head.”

“Who?” But I knew the answer.

“He is my master, Dita. He controls me. I hear his voice. He tells me what to do. Dear God, Dita, the things he tells me to do! I think sometimes my head will explode.”

“Whose voice do you hear, Eddie?” The candles flickered miserably in the musty gloom, trying to stretch their meagre fingers into the dark corners. “Uther Jago’s? Or is it Arwen Jago who speaks to you?”

“Does it matter?” he asked petulantly. “They are one and the same, after all. And now, they have claimed me, as well. They have managed to keep the chain of evil going. My master is always with me. Behind me and beside me. Urging me on. Willing me to do more. Although he speaks with my mouth, his words impart the venom of two hundred years of hate. I have become nothing more than a guest in my own body.”

I wanted to ask why he had not fought to be rid of this unwelcome presence, but when I remembered the tortured look his face often wore, I knew he battled hard every day. Eddie was weaker than the master he spoke of. He had lost. And while it was long-dead Jagos who planted the seeds of festering madness inside him, it was Eddie himself who, with his hatred of his family and his name, fed them and allowed them to grow.

“Why have you taken Eleanor?” I asked. “What has she done to make you hate her so?”

He started to laugh then. Genuine laughter that shook his whole body. “Oh, you don’t see, do you, Dita? Eleanor said you did, but you don’t.”

“See what?”

“I don’t hate Eleanor,” his voice was quiet again now. “I love her. But not as a brother should love his sister. Ours is not what the world would call a ‘natural affection.’”

I closed my eyes briefly. “It was you,” I whispered. “You were the man Lucy found Eleanor with.”

“I went away,” he explained, his voice still soft. “She told me I must. My dear mama sent her son and heir packing. She told us both that we carried the Jago taint and that it was always stronger here at Tenebris. She said I must stay away for as long as I could. My father must never find out. Eleanor would be sent away to a school that could help her to see what was right. She is not very strong—mentally or emotionally.”

“I know. I didn’t see it at first. I thought her immature and didn’t know that there was more to it. She has all the sweetness of a child, but it means she cannot be held responsible for her actions.”

He slammed his right fist into his left palm in sudden fury. “You sound like her! That is what she said! My own mother blamed me. She told me that Eleanor could not bear any blame for what happened. The fault was all mine.” He buried his head in his hands. “She was right, of course. But I couldn’t help myself.” He turned pleading eyes upon me in the gloom. “After all, Uther himself bedded his own sister.”

“You cannot make Uther your excuse! Or your example,” I scolded, forgetting, for that instant, the danger I was in. “If you love Eleanor as much as you say, why have you done this to her? Imprisoned her here, hurt her?”

“Because she was planning to run off with Karol, of course,” he said, turning to look at the prone figure on the mattress. “They were together on Montol Eve.”

A memory resurfaced. “But I saw her kissing you.” I had refused to believe the evidence of my own eyes at the time. And, of course, I had been somewhat distracted by subsequent events.

“Eleanor said you had seen us. She thought you would tell my mother. Or Cad. The idea filled her with shame, and she ran away from me. I looked everywhere for her. I climbed onto the balcony outside her room, wanting to go to her and comfort her. The window was unlocked and I stepped inside. They didn’t know I was there. They were too busy laughing together, making love.” His expression changed, twisted into something I had never seen before. Pure evil shone in the depths of his eyes. I knew that was how he looked as he plunged the knife into his victims. Because it was no use trying to fool myself any longer that the murders and Eddie’s current behaviour might still be unrelated. As if to provide further irrefutable proof, he drew a long, thin knife from his coat pocket and studied it thoughtfully. “That ape Karol was fucking my sister. My sister. Then I heard them making their plans to leave. I was angry. I wanted to kill them both there and then, but I decided to wait. It would be more fun to let them think they had succeeded. I left the way I had come.”