The Cruelest Month (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #3)
Page 19‘But it’s not fair,’ Odile was saying. Madeleine said something though Clara couldn’t make it out and if she slowed down more she’d have Madeleine’s flashlight where light doesn’t normally shine.
‘It’s taken a lot of courage for me to do this.’ Odile was speaking more loudly now.
‘For God’s sake, Odile, don’t be ridiculous,’ said Madeleine, clearly and not very kindly. It was a side to Madeleine Clara had never heard before.
Clara was paying so much attention trying to eavesdrop she bumped right into a dark figure in front of her. Gilles. Then she looked up.
They were there.
EIGHT
They huddled together in the cold and dark. Their flashlights bounced wildly over the decrepit house. The ‘For Sale’ sign had fallen over and lay like a tombstone, nose into the soft earth. As Clara swung her torch around more decay became apparent. The house was abandoned, she knew, but she didn’t think houses fell to ruin quite this fast. A few shutters were hanging loose and knocking gently against the brick. Some of the windows were broken, their glass jagged like sharpened teeth. Clara spotted something white curled up by the foundation of the house and her heart skipped a beat. Something dead, and skinned.
Reluctantly she moved down the front walk, its paving stones heaved and uneven. As she got closer she stopped and looked behind her. The rest were clustered at the roadside still.
‘Come here,’ she hissed.
‘No one here but us chickens,’ said Gabri.
‘What is that?’ Myrna inched down the path until she was standing next to her friend. She pointed and noticed her finger was twitching. Was her body sending out a signal? A Morse code? If so, Myrna knew what it was saying. Run.
Clara turned back to the house, took a deep breath, blessed her food, and walked off the path. The earth was squishy underfoot and seemed to hiss at her every step. Myrna couldn’t believe what Clara was doing and wanted to run forward and grab her friend back, and hold her and hug her and tell her never to do that again. Instead she just watched.
Clara approached the house and bent down. Then straightening up she walked more swiftly back to the relative safety of the walk and Myrna.
‘You won’t believe it, but it’s snow.’
‘It can’t be. All the snow’s long gone.’
‘Not from here.’ Clara dug into her pocket and withdrew a huge old-fashioned key, long and thick and heavy.
‘And all this time I thought you were just glad to see me,’ said Myrna.
‘What did you tell her?’ Madeleine asked. Since Clara and Myrna were still alive the others had decided to join them.
‘That we were going to summon all the demons and exorcise the house.’
‘And she gave you the key?’
‘Practically threw it at me.’
Clara put the key into the lock, but the door swung open. She let go and watched as the key and the doorknob disappeared into the darkness.
‘Why are we doing this again?’ Monsieur Béliveau whispered.
‘For fun,’ said Sophie.
‘Not all of us,’ said Jeanne and stepping around them the tiny, gray woman walked straight into the house.
‘A bird, poor thing,’ said Gabri. ‘Trapped somewhere.’
‘We need to find it,’ said Madeleine.
‘Are you mad?’ Odile whispered.
‘She’s right,’ said Jeanne. ‘If nothing else, it’s a trapped soul. We can’t ignore it.’
‘But suppose it isn’t a bird,’ Gabri whispered to Hazel, who still couldn’t believe she was there.
Now they stuck together like a giant crawling insect. Multi-ped and multi-feared they moved through the dank house, pausing now and then to get their bearings.
‘It’s upstairs,’ said Jeanne in a low voice.