EXCERPT:

“S-so it’s true, then. There was some mischief. I knew it. I was sure of it. My God! Why didn’t I come runnin’ when I heard the shoutin’? Why eavesdrop in the kitchen like some useless busybody? I should’ve said somethin’. If I had maybe...maybe...”

Unable to complete his thought or even bear it, he crumpled forward and vomited into the wet earth. His hands he used as a prop against his knees, though they did little to stop his quaking.

He remained in that position for several seconds while Jordan and I looked on, uncertain of what to do. Certainly, we felt pity for him, but any offer of help was resisted and at the first sign of movement, the poor wretch stiffened and began backing away.

“Don’t pretend you cared about your wife!” he shouted, his eyes boring into the vicar. “You may fool others, but not me. All you wanted was her money. Well, it’s yours now. So you can go away, and good riddance. God’ll deal with you in His own time. But as to Victorine, leave her out of your wickedness. She’d never do anything wrong. Never.”

A flash of lightning illuminated our faces as he spoke and oh, what a dreadful tableau was revealed then: three blue-white grimaces like those chiseled upon the faces of gargoyles, the outward show of an internal hell. Jeremy’s eyes, in particular, glowed with a phosphorescent fire. He wanted absolution. His. Mine. But I could do nothing, say nothing to save him. My innocence had long since flown.

Reading the truth in my eyes, he uttered a deep, mournful wail.

“No-o-o-o! You aren’t to blame. It’s him what brought the poison. Him.”

Jeremy turned on his heels, his eyes ablaze with suffering, and ran in the direction of the cliffs. Neither Jordan nor I could be sure of his intent but ahead, members of the search party had begun to gather, their torches forming a halo against his fleeing silhouette. He would be upon them in a matter of minutes, though it was doubtful they had seen him, yet. Their movements were too random and without purpose. The boy veered away when he saw the lights, and made for the dark, apparently not wanting to be found. If he were brought down now no one would be the wiser.

The vicar and I took off hot in pursuit of him, wasting no time to confer. Though the mud and the bracken tugged at us, nothing could slow our pace. We ran knowing our lives depended upon it and as such, we soon cornered our quarry near the edge of the cliffs, two hundred yards from where the searchers were gathering. He turned to face us, his complexion as pale as marble. His gaze flew from mine to Jordan’s then back again, assessing our purpose.

“Don’t come any closer, Victorine. I warn you. Let this be between him and me.”

With legs astraddle Jeremy stood, his hands knotted into fists. Then an awful silence fell. Whether the cause was that of our concentration or Nature’s pause to observe the unfolding drama, I do not know, but certainly the calm was eerie.

We began to move slowly, noiselessly, like players in a pantomime, forming concentric circles with Jeremy at the center and Jordan and I at his sides. To the uninformed, it might have seemed an underwater ballet; but ours was no artistic endeavor. We meant not to create but to destroy.