Hunting Down the Darkness Read online

“Your will supersede your father, the Dolocher and Spencer all rolled into one,” Edwards smiled at him. “Your legend will go down in history and never be forgotten when all of this over.”

  “What is the end of all this?” Olocher asked.

  “It’s a long way off, but I can assure you it is not something you will need to worry about.”

  “Whatever it is, I will be ready for it.”

  “I have no doubt you will. Now, try to get some rest tonight and then as much as you can in the lead up to your strike. I expect to be in Waterford for the next few days and will be there when this takes place.” Olocher nodded at this and asked,

  “What should I do afterwards?”

  “Come back here and go about your life as you have been up to now.”

  Edwards could feel the electric energy from the younger man, could feel the excitement welling up to bursting point. He had to admit he had some butterflies in his own stomach at the idea everything was finally coming to a start. It had been a long time in coming and now that it was here, he wanted to make sure he enjoyed every moment of it.

  Chapter 10

  As was becoming the case more and more of late, Mullins walked to work with a bleary, thumping head; his eyes squinted against the morning light. His body and hands told of no trouble from the night before and he was glad of this today. New bruises and aches never went well with a hangover like this one. He tried to piece his night together but he found he could recall almost nothing after the first hour. It must have been a rough night all the same.

  Having opened the blacksmith’s he set the fires going and stood in the doorway taking in cool air as he waited for the heat to build up. This was certainly not the profession for hangovers either he thought. He wondered how much money he’d spent and knew that whatever it had been it was too much. He was going to have to curtail this lifestyle soon or else end up on the streets, and what a pretty picture that would be.

  It was hard for Mullins to contemplate living a quiet life with the full acuity of his mind. Each time he was sober and reflective at home, memories of Kate and their life together would flood him and the tears would soon come and then the horrible sick feeling of rage would replace it. He loved her, and knew he did and this was the hardest part of it all. Many times, he called out her name in anguish and had she appeared at his door he would have taken her into his arms and told her to forget everything that had happened and start afresh.

  The anger would come then at what she had done and his self-perceived weakness and letting his feelings trump what was right and decent. It was such a mixed bag of emotions it felt sometimes like he was going mad and it was no wonder he lost his temper and fought so often now.

  “Mister Mullins?” a woman's voice in a strange accent asked, the word ‘mister’ sounding like she had never said it before. Mullins looked up and met the brown eyes of a woman whose beauty shocked him. She smiled as he took in her face at a glance, brown eyes, tanned, clear skin, and thin moon shaped eyebrows coming to a point, and red lips.

  “Yes?” he said regaining hold of his senses.

  “I have heard you are a craftsman of the highest calibre and an honest man into the bargain.”

  “Thank you,” he answered wondering where a woman like this could have heard about him. He thought he might have seen her before but he couldn’t place her, perhaps a fleeting glance at the side of her face as she passed by in a carriage? Hers was certainly not a face he would forget easily.

  “I have two requests to make of you,” she went on in a confident manner, “and I must tell you up front that one does not depend on the other.”

  “I see,” Mullins said though he didn’t see at all what she was getting at.

  “Firstly, I would like you to erect an iron railing to go at the front of my house. It is not a very large front but I would require the work to be beautiful and built to my own design.” She handed him some papers and he looked down and saw sketches of what she was looking for. It didn’t seem out of his capability.

  “I can do that for you, Miss?”

  “Madame,” she corrected him, “Madame Melanie.”

  The name struck home to his deepest heart at once. This was the infamous brothel keeper and former employer of Kate! How dare she come here and ask this of him! He thrust he papers back into her hands roughly.

  “I don’t want this work,” he said. An amused smile came over the madame’s face and he folded her papers carefully.

  “I don’t think you should think so ill of me, Mister Mullins, I have never done you any harm and I am willing to pay for quality work.”

  “I can’t do it,” he said.

  “No one need know, if that is what you are concerned about. You can construct them here and I will get someone else to fit them. No one will ever know you did it.”

  Mullins felt dizzy. The shock of Kate’s past coupled with this woman's unflappable manner and persuasive tone and logic overwhelmed him. He needed this work, needed this money. It was true she had never done anything to harm him, but that wasn’t the point. What the point was, however, eluded him.

  “Why did my being a moral man matter to you?” he asked recalling she’d said this at the top of the conversation.

  “Oh, that had nothing to do with this work. That was about something else entirely.”

  “What?”

  “I had hoped you might be willing to take on an apprentice.”

  “An apprentice?”

  “Yes, one of my girls passed away recently and she has a boy of ten or eleven who now has no one in the world and no prospects at all. I would be willing to fund his training and pay for his board and any other expenses he might incur.”

  “What? Where do you think he will be living?”

  “I wasn’t sure where you would house him. Here at the shop?” she suggested. Mullins didn’t say anything for a moment. He could do with the money the boy would bring with him and he had to admit the shop was lonely since Scally had disappeared to his new job. “My house is no place for a boy to grow up,” Melanie added at just the right moment in his thoughts.

  “No, definitely not,” he said almost absently. “I suppose he could live in the back of the shop.”

  “Then you are agreed on this?” Melanie asked with a smile.

  “I’ll need to see the boy first. This is hard work and the boy will have to be able to do it. Was his father a big man?”

  “I’m afraid I do not know, that is a secret she took to the tomb.” Mullins nodded in understanding.

  “Bring him round in the morning and I’ll look him over. I’m not promising anything though.”

  “That’s all I ask,” she smiled, “And the railings?” Mullins looked at the papers in her hand again and then held out his own hand for them.

  “I’ll look this over and give you a price in the morning too.”

  “Thank you very much,” Melanie said giving him the papers. As she walked away, Mullins couldn’t help but look after her. She was an incredibly attractive woman and ever her walk was enough to draw the gaze of any man she passed on the street.

  Chapter 11

  Mary Sommers was much later than usual coming home one evening. Sarah was caring for her sick mother and she asked Mary to lock up the stall. Mary had readily agreed and had done this job with Sarah many times so didn’t think it would be any problem. This turned out to be an inaccurate assumption.

  Firstly, she found that she couldn’t get the cart moving on her own and found it very heavy. She was surprised Sarah could be so much stronger than she was. After fifteen minutes of struggling with the cart, trying to move it a few inches at a time a sailor took pity on Mary and took the weight of the cart up onto its wheel.

  “Where are you going with this?” he asked with a smile.

  “Oh, thank you,” Mary said, “Just over to the shed over there.” He looked where she pointed and nodded,

  “Right so, we’ll have you over there in a jiffy.”

  “Thank you so
much,” she said, “I was locking it up for a friend and I had no idea how heavy it was on my own.”

  “I spend my life rocking and rolling on the waves,” the sailor said, “I don’t mind doing the odd job on level ground every now and then.” He winked at her and smiled and she looked away abashed. He was attractive and the scars on her face suddenly came back to her mind. Mary had not been so embarrassed about her scars since she’d seen the painting Colonel Spencer had done of her- the one good thing to come of out that whole horrible affair. Now, however, they were back to the front of her thoughts. She could feel her cheeks hot in blush.

  “Don’t go getting bashful on me, now,” he laughed and this made her laugh too. She didn’t think he was interested in her but he was friendly and it was nice to be in his company.

  “Where have you come in from?” she asked of his ship.

  “Just from Liverpool this time, but we’re off to the Caribbean in a few days.”

  “How exciting.”

  “Yes, it could be, I’ve never been there before so it’s always nice to see somewhere new. But always a bit of a worry too as you don’t know what you’re in for.”

  “I suppose that’s true,” she answered thinking on it.

  The sailor guided the cart into the open shed with Mary showing him where to place it. She thanked him and gave him a couple of carrots for his trouble. He wasn’t going to take them but she insisted and he finally relented taking them with a thanks and another wink that had be blushing again.

  “I’m Lenny,” he said as he was walking away. “I should be back in Dublin again in nine months or so and I can help you again.” Mary smiled at this,

  “Thank you,” she said.

  After Lenny was gone, Mary ran into a new problem. She found it impossible to lock the shed. This was something she should have foreseen as she had heard Sarah say on many occasions that there was a knack to it. The trouble was she had never said or showed Mary what the knack was. She tried and tried but to no avail. A long time passed and more than once, she thought of going over to the ship and asking Lenny to come over and assist her once more, but she was too shy and embarrassed to do this. Finally, after twenty minutes of jiggling and prodding the lock fell into place and clicked shut. Her hands hurt and she was sweating but Mary was happy that she had done it at last.

  Turning around, however, Mary’s smile of triumph was short lived. In the time it had taken her to get this small task done, everyone else had cleared up and left. The market square was completely abandoned and it was eerily quiet. Her thoughts immediately went to fear.

  Ever since her own attack, she made a point of never walking alone after business hours unless it was a dire emergency. And yet, here she was all alone in the very place where Kate had been attacked and so nearly lost her life to the Dolocher. She started to walk, in a hurry to get back to a busier street and then on to her way home.

  Force of old habit found her rush up Skipper’s Lane but she hadn’t lived here in many months and only realised her folly once she was standing outside her old building looking up at what had once been her window. This street was deserted too and many doorways held shadows in the fading light of the evening. She cursed herself for coming so far out of her way but didn’t feel confident enough to go back the way she’d come. It had been too quiet to risk again.

  Mary braved the dark doorways and made her way to Cook Street and as she hoped there were a few people around, walking on both sides of the street or shutting their shops for the evening. She walked along here briskly, trying to think of the best route home at this time. No matter what ideas came to her she knew some of the streets or laneways were going to be quiet or deserted; there was just no way around this.

  Passing from Cook Street to Johns Lane, she came to her first quiet spot down by the side of the Church. She found that she was practically running now and his heart pounded in her chest. It was as if she was the only person in the city and the feeling it gave her scared her.

  Her fear increased beyond measure when she heard the first footstep coming behind her!

  Mary ran without looking back and to her horror, the footsteps gathered into a run behind her. Someone was coming after her. She tried to scream but nothing came out; the horrible sense of Deja Vu smashing into her consciousness. She crossed Fishamble Street at a gallop and entered Copper Alley.

  The footsteps were gaining on her, she could hear the breath of her pursuer, and she knew that meant he was close now, almost close enough to catch her. She tried to scream once more but again could not, so instead she dug deep and pushed her legs faster than she had ever managed before in her life.

  Mary rounded the corner onto Cork Hill and ploughed straight into the huge chest of Lord Muc who stood there drinking from a metal tankard. The impact sent Mary reeling backwards and she landed heavily on her backside. She looked behind, fearing that her attackers hand was about to lay down on her but to her surprise there was no one there.

  “Watch where you’re going,” Lord Muc said looking down at her. Mary scrambled to her feet and grabbed his sleeve. She had never been so happy to see a man in her entire life.

  “Someone was chasing me,” she said through her now flowing tears. Muc looked at her and then took a couple of steps to the corner and looked down the lane.

  “No one is chasing you now,” he said sounding bored. Mary looked too and was glad to see it was still bereft of life.

  “He must have seen you and run away,” she said. Muc nodded at this and drank from his tankard again,

  “Most do,” he agreed with a little chuckle.

  “Can you walk with me to the river?” she asked, “I want to go home.”

  “I suppose so,” he answered and he started to walk on ahead of her. He was drunk and swaying a little but Mary felt safe with him now and thankful he was in a generous mood.

  Chapter 12

  Alderman James was seated now in a plush comfortable armchair that had been pulled closer to the fire. Fredrick was standing in front of the low flames as the family was seated and drinks were passed around. James looked at Fredrick who seemed completely at ease with being the centre of attention and looked eager to begin his tale.

  “Are you all comfortable?” he asked looking over them all. Everyone was ready. James sat back deeper into the chair so that he could take the family into his peripheral vision lest some signals or body movements be made that may give him some clue to something.

  “The story begins in 1170 when a castle was built where this house now stands. It was constructed by a Norman knight named Gaston LePerle who changed his name to Kavanagh to adopt a more Irish identity as this was going to be his new home where his children would grow up.

  “The trouble started almost immediately,” Fredrick turned his attention to James, “I don’t know if you are aware, Alderman, but there are five family names in Ireland that have historically had very strong links to the Banshee. You don’t win any prizes for guessing that this French nobleman just happened to choose one of them as his new name!”

  “Some local man probably gave him the name to use as a joke,” Henry said with a smile.

  “First, the nobleman’s wife fell ill, and it was a terrible illness that affected her for a full year before she finally passed away. Each night of her illness the locals say the keening of the banshee could be heard and as a result no one in the house slept and each one got weaker and weaker.

  “When the wife finally passed away, the children, all five of them, got sick and died in turn over the course of the next few months. Once again the locals say the banshee was on hand at every passing.”

  “Why didn’t he just move away?” Victoria asked, “Who would stay there and let their children die like that?”

  “It wasn’t so easy as it is now to move around,” Stapleton said. “It’s still not easy, do you think I'd be able to up sticks and move away on a whim and leave the place to the peasants?” Victoria didn’t answer this and Fredrick waited a moment b
efore continuing with his story.

  “When only the nobleman was left, servants in the castle started to report sightings of the wife and children all over, and as you can imagine they were all terrified. One by one, they left until there was only those of local blood who had nowhere else to go.

  “LePerle grew more and more erratic. Hearing of these rumours, he would walk the castle day and night for a glimpse of his lost loved ones. He would tell any remaining staff to holler out where they were night or day if they saw something. He would come running frantically but never was he able to see anything.

  “One night while sitting in the turret that used to stand over the east wing of this house, he finally went over the edge into madness and vowed to join his family. He went out onto the roof and shouted out for everyone to leave who didn’t want to die. Then clutching his family keepsakes to his heart he set the turret on fire and lay down to be consumed by the fire.” James shifted in his seat, thinking what a horrific way that would have been to die.

  “The castle burned and most of it crumbled to the ground. It stayed a ruin for a long time. In 1348, during the Black Death, a new hall was constructed and that is pretty much the house we are all in now, apart from a few modifications and repairs over the years, which I will come to soon.

  “The house and lands changed owners many times but finally landed on the Leicester family shoulders. They would turn out to be a mean spirited and selfish lot. It was they who originally set up the small village you see where the servants live, only back then it was more like holes in the ground they were living in.

  “There are stories about each generation of this family who adopted the Wild Boar- a vicious animal if you have ever come across one?” Fredrick addressed James again.

  “Not a living one,” James said recalling the huge dead animal that for a brief time had been the scapegoat for the Dolocher murders.

  “Well, you wouldn't want to. Then came the worst generation of them all. In the 1680s, the owner was a man called Charles and he wanted to make the house the equal of anything that could be found in the Empire. He changed the name from Leicester Hall to Wild Boar Hall and had the family crest carved over what was then the main entrance. It is still there if you want to see it in daylight tomorrow.