Dark Harbour: The Tale of the Soul Searcher (28 page)

Nine days he’d waited, and they’d been an eternity. Waiting for the flap of the letterbox every moment he was at the flat, waiting around at the places he’d seen her previously, all on the outside chance that she might be looking for him there. He knew he was desperate, like an addict trying to find his dealer, but he didn’t care. He wanted her.

Both of them opened their mouths and spoke some words at the exact same time. Stella smiled then said: ‘Sorry, you first.’

‘I was just… Go on. You first.’

‘You know, Danny. Lost little Danny. I know that…’ Her words trailed off, as though they were pinned in her throat. ‘Let’s go somewhere else, shall we?’

Danny was glad to get out of the street, especially as he had a distinct sense that he was being watched everywhere he went. The watchful eyes of a jealous boyfriend would very much want to know if Danny was going to ignore the drastic warning he’d been given.
This
was exactly what he’d told him not to do, treading within the flowers of the forbidden garden.

They headed off across the road and walked down onto the beach. The tide was out as far as it could be tonight, and so they slowly made their way over to the shoreline, the darkness gradually enveloping them, throwing a shroud over their illicit meeting. However wrong it might be for Danny to be in her presence again, he knew that he could not resist being with her any more than the moon was able to resist being pulled towards the Earth.

It was muggy tonight and the air felt congested and thick like treacle. It felt so heavy that it was as though the universe had turned up the level of gravity a notch or two. Walking felt that little bit more onerous.

‘The thing is this, sweetie: have you thought about how Sam would react if I told him I was going to leave him? Especially after the idea we put in his head. The idea about…’

‘Us?’

‘Yes.

‘So what are you saying?’ Danny pressed.

‘Sometimes I wish I could just jump into the sea and swim away, far away from everything and everyone. It seems that all I cause is trouble. Everyone I put my hand to falls apart.’

Her words jarred Danny. Never in the whole time he’d known of her had he expected that she was capable of such forlorn sentiment. To Danny she was always a bright soul radiating inspiration wherever she went. And so, it was through the tune of melancholic infused compassion that her words had inspired the goblin to play on the organ, that Danny put a comforting arm over her shoulder.

‘That’s not true,’ he said to her.

‘Yes it is, Danny. Look at you. Look what I’ve done to you, distracting you from everything like this. Blowing you off course and corrupting your heart.’

‘You’ve not… you’ve not corrupted me! What are you talking about? You’ve lit everything up.’

‘
Blinded
you, I think.’

‘Stella, I don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s not your fault that I want you. To feel the things I feel. It’s human.’

‘Why do you desire me so?’

‘Because you’re perfect,’ was all Danny could say.

‘And is happiness found through yourself, or through another person?’

‘What does it matter?’

Having reached the shoreline, Stella kicked off her sandals and sat down on the damp sand that glistened in the dull moonlight. The moon was diffused by patchy clouds that hung in the air like phantoms, the delighted overseers of this meeting of uncontrollable lust. The dark waves rustled nearby, gently sweeping close to her, tempting her to take her away to her retreat.

‘Do you love him? Samuel,’ Danny asked.

‘There’s love for him, yes. But what exactly are those feelings? Now that’s the question to ask. Do I love him as much as it is possible for me to love someone? Do I love him more than I could any other? The answer to that question, Danny, the crucial fact is that no, I don’t.’

‘Then why are you with him?’

‘He needed me. I know what it’s like for everyone else looking in on us. They see perfection. But it’s not. It’s just so… smothering. A weight on my soul.’

She turned from Danny and laid herself down against the sand, her cheek pressing against the fine crystals of the beach. Danny sat down next to her and just watched her, like a would-be angel looking over a bedridden hospital patient diseased by demanding and conflicting affections.

‘I don’t know how to tell him I don’t want to be with him. How can I tell him something that would destroy him?’

He placed his hand on her arm. She wore a deep indigo sleeveless top that fell perfectly above her hips. On the front of it there was a silver V that contained a glittering array of dazzling sequins, a garment that appropriately represented her celestial name and her mysterious nature. Her skirt was a rain cloud grey emblazoned with delicate swirls and frills. She was timeless, her sophistication and tenderness not needing to be accentuated by any vogue.

‘It’s okay, Stella. I understand,’ he whispered to her.

‘Do you? Do you understand that destroying him might destroy you along with it?’

‘You have to do what you want. Never mind anyone else. Do what’s right for you.’

She sat up all of a sudden and looked into Danny’s eyes.

‘You’ll understand the truth about us eventually. One day you’ll discover it. And I’ll help you do that.’

Danny smiled to her. ‘So thrive my soul,’ he whispered.

He felt that he could already guess the truth, for there was no other explanation he had for the depth of feeling for her. And yet he sensed that she was already aware of it all, that she’d peered within his soul and seen that aching, a force that had guided both of them so their paths would entwine like this. There was only one thing that that could possibly mean.

‘You’ve got sand on your cheek,’ he said to her as he brushed his hand against her face.

As he did so, she took his hand and pulled him over. Danny fell into her, and pushed her back against the sand as he glided his body over hers. He kissed her. This was the fix that Danny wanted.

He paused for a moment and propped himself above her, looking down into her violet eyes. Pinned beneath him, within his very clutches, and with a knowing smile that beamed back at him, he felt that he’d finally harnessed his emotions. Finally he had them under his control.

Even that infernal goblin inside was now dressed like a concert pianist, ready to deliver the performance of his lifetime, an arrangement that should be reserved only for the ears of angelic beings within their heavenly realm.

Danny ran a hand over her waist, as he felt the edge of the fabric to her skirt. Sliding his fingers upwards, he then ran his hand up beneath her top, pressing his palm against her warm flesh. Her skin felt so smooth, as though he had in his hand a fallen peach from a paradisiacal tree.

As her body slowly rose and fell, he gradually moved his hand further upwards. She stared back into his eyes calmly, watching the passion within him run free.

‘So then, lost one, are you going to tell me?’ she suddenly asked him.

‘Tell you what, my found one?’

‘What you’re thinking you want to do to me.’

‘Why don’t I just do it?’

‘Yes. I’d really like you to. I’d really, really like you to do all the things you’ve ever thought about doing to me. Because when I look in your eyes right now, I don’t see you drowning anymore, Danny. And I’d like to be an island for you to run wild on. I’d like you to find some reprieve.’

‘I’d like to be on the island. Forever.’

‘So would I,’ she replied. ‘Because I understand how long forever is. Waiting for what you want is something, it seems, that never comes.’

The sadness was back in her voice. It was a powerful feeling that overrode Danny’s lustful energy. He paused for a moment then rested down beside her, his arm draped over her waist, holding her tightly.

‘Ever thought what it all means, Danny? Ever wondered what the meaning of all this desire is? Imagine if you could look beyond it, to perfectly understand what it is your soul wants, and you know that you actually have everything you need, but still… still you’re forever haunted. One taste of that bliss and you’d know that to taste it again is worth waiting forever. You just can’t let go.’

Her voice was low and crystal clear, delivered from a perfect centring of herself, as though she’d been privy to some pure, universal wisdom. Her words carried Danny away from the moment, like a waft of temple incense. Suddenly it was like he didn’t know where he was.

She sat up.

‘I’ll need to sort things out with Sam first. And then…’

‘Yeah. You seem to know best with everything,’ Danny said as he propped himself up.

Danny really hated hearing that name. Why did this perfection have to have this imperfection? He wished that Samuel would just disappear gracefully and allow their romance to blossom, for there was no doubt in Danny’s mind after listening to Stella’s words whom he would love like he could no other, for whom his commitment would be as boundless as the sea before him, and his love as deep.

‘I’ll be in touch. You’ll find me again soon.’

With that, her light sank into the night, the moon disappearing beyond the horizon, Danny lying by the shoreline as the venomous waves slithered towards his feet.

‘A thousand times the worse to want thy light,’ he quoted to no one.

It felt like it wouldn’t be much longer before Danny would be back here again. Except, the next time he would be as a bloated corpse with his brains leaking out of his head and his flesh in tatters from having been nibbled at by the fishes.

Chapter 8.4

Trailing after the fast-footed Vladimir through the back streets of Dark Harbour like two lost sheep following a shepherd, Eddie imagined what their meeting with the Halo of Fires Seraph, Henry Maristow, would be like. Presumably, he was the one setting this test for them.

Would this master of darkness make them go through some sort of strange initiation process? Maybe they would be made to drink blood, or have a symbolic tattoo etched onto their arms, or maybe they would be made to burn their hands in a fire so that they’d carry a scar as their ‘badge’ for the rest of their days. What actually did happen was an anti-climax in comparison: they sat down with Henry and had a cup of tea.

The grandness of
Clarence Hotel
hit them immediately when they walked into the building, that it was almost as if they were stepping into a prince’s palace. Even at this time of night, a harp version of one of Schubert’s sonatas was being quietly piped throughout the luminous reception foyer from speakers that were impossible to locate, as if it was the pure majesty of the building itself that naturally generated the music.

They walked along a shimmering marble floor that was like a solid layer of clouds and Vladimir led them into another lift. Eddie wouldn’t have been surprised to find another angel up there, ready to give an inside opinion on what Eddie was doing wrong with his life, ready to tell him how much of a fuckup he was. He would surely tell him how he should have found the right course at college, that he should have worked harder, that without any direction in life he was just a useless tosser, not even capable of taking care of a stray dog.

But Eddie had finally come somewhere. Already he’d taken small steps with Halo of Fires: chasing down that druggie, digging Danny’s hole on the beach, stealing and burning the car last week. Eddie was already a vigilante. He was already
something
.

Upstairs they followed Vladimir through a grand mahogany door with an ornate chambranle that Eddie could only glimpse the detailing of, whisking leaves in the breeze or perhaps they were feathers floating down from the sky. It was less a door and more a gate. Beyond it was Henry Maristow’s office, a pristine and airy room with lines and lines of filing cabinets. The leader of the Halo of Fires organisation was standing by the window. He turned and greeted them with surprising warmth but his face didn’t seem used to smiling.

As they sat down at the desk, Eddie felt himself holding his body precisely, crossing his hands neatly on his lap, his eyes open full. He’d even taken off his baseball cap.

‘I think we should have a brew then,’ Henry said. ‘How many sugars do you have?’

‘None,’ Eddie said.

‘Three. Please,’ Larry replied.

‘Very well,’ Henry said as he walked out of the room.

Henry seemed surprisingly easy going. He was more like a kindly old uncle, or Ebenezer Scrooge after he’d been visited by the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come, than the boss of a professional vigilante organisation.

After shuffling back into the room with a tray of teas, Henry then asked the students what their hometowns were like, what football teams they supported, what they thought to their college courses, and he listened keenly to all their responses. He contrasted comfortably with Vladimir’s dark intensity.

The vigilante master was dressed exquisitely, like he was about to leave for an evening at the opera. He wore a perfectly fitting grey pinstriped suit, with a white handkerchief in the breast pocket. The buttons on his jacket were all done up, as was the top button of his shirt which had a burgundy tie around it.