‘Where is Mum?’
His eyes filled with anguish.
‘Dorian, this is important. Where is she?’
‘She . . . she was taken away,’ he babbled.
Ismael wondered how long Dorian had been trapped there, in the dark.
‘She was taken away . . .’ Dorian repeated, as if in a trance.
‘Who has taken her, Dorian?’ Irene asked. ‘Who has taken our mother?’
Dorian smiled in a strange way, as if the question was absurd.
‘The shadow,’ he replied. ‘The shadow took her.’
Irene took a deep breath and put her hands on her brother’s shoulders.
‘Dorian, I’m going to ask you to do something very important. Do you understand?’
Her brother nodded.
‘I want you to get to the village as fast as you can. Go to the police station, and tell the superintendent there’s been a terrible accident in Cravenmoore. Tell him Mum is there and she’s been hurt. Tell the police to come immediately. Do you understand?’
Dorian looked bewildered.
‘Don’t mention the shadow. Just tell the superintendent what I said. It’s very important . . . If you talk about the shadow, nobody will believe you. You must just say there’s been an accident.’
Ismael nodded in a
greement.
‘I need you to do this for me, and for Mum. Will you do it?’
Dorian looked at Ismael, then at his sister.
‘Our mother’s had an accident at Cravenmoore. She needs help urgently,’ the boy repeated mechanically. ‘But she’s all right . . . isn’t she?’
Irene smiled and hugged him.
‘I love you,’ she whispered.
Dorian kissed his sister on the cheek and went off in search of his bicycle. He found it leaning against the wooden rail on the porch. Lazarus’s gift was now just a mangled heap of cables and twisted metal. Dorian was still staring at the wreckage of his bicycle when Ismael and Irene appeared from the house.
‘Who would do something like this?’ asked Dorian.
‘You’d better hurry,’ Irene reminded him.
He set off at a run. As soon as he’d disappeared, Irene and Ismael walked back onto the porch. The sun was setting over the bay, a dark orb bleeding through the clouds. Their eyes met. They knew what awaited them in the heart of darkness beyond the forest.
12
DOPPELGÄNGER
‘There has never been a more beautiful bride standing at the altar,’ said the mask. ‘Never. I know most men will say that, but few truly believe it. I did and I do.
‘The happiness Alexandra brought into my life blotted out all the memories and misery that had filled my childhood. Such is the blessing of true love to those very few who experience it. It makes everything else irrelevant. God is cruel, for most of his creatures go through their empty lives without even being able to imagine what that is. True love also changes who we are. I stopped being that wretched boy from the poorest district of Paris. I forgot the long imprisonments in the dark and consigned the memory of my mother to the past. All of it I left behind me. And do you know why? Because Alexandra Alma Maltisse, my saviour, taught me that, contrary to what my mother had told me over and over again, I was not a bad person. That I deserved to be loved. Do you understand, Simone? I wasn’t evil. I was just like everyone else. I was innocent.’