Read Online The Whispers of Nemesis by Anne Zouroudi - Free Book Online

there, and looking up from the skull he was examining, turned towards her.
    Knowing she was seen, she felt obliged to continue on, towards the chapel. Drawing closer, she saw the man was tall, and overweight to the point of fatness, with glasses which gave him an air of academia, and a peculiar choice of footwear: old-fashioned, canvas tennis shoes, which – in spite of the muddiness of the road – were perfectly white. Between his feet was a holdall of the type favoured by athletes, not new, but of some vintage, in well cared for navy leather.
    As she noticed his shoes, he seemed also to take an interest in her feet and the ladders which ran from the soles of her torn stockings up her heels and ankles.
    He held out the skull on the palm of his hand. Fearing both the skull and the stranger, Leda slowed her walk.
    But then the stranger smiled.
    â€˜ Kali spera sas ,’ he said, politely, in a voice clearly of this world, and she wished him the same, moving, eyes averted, to pass by him.
    â€˜Don’t be concerned that I take an interest in this skull,’ he said, to her back. His words were beautifully enunciated, his speech clear and accentless as the Greek of TV newscasters. ‘I was having a close look through the glass, and saw something about it which intrigued me. I admit to some mischief in picking the lock, but it’s a poor one, and a few seconds’ work even to a child, and I shall lock it again, when I go. I wanted a better look at this gentleman, for laudable reasons. Here, take a look for yourself.’
    He offered the skull for her to see, and, curious, she glanced back.
    â€˜There’s a crack, here on the parietal bone,’ he said. On the back of the skull, he ran a finger along a narrow line. ‘I’m afraid this man didn’t die of natural causes. Too late now, of course, to discover if his death was accidental, or not; but this poor fellow died from a blow to the head. It might have been a fall, or a branch dropping from a tree; or it might have been an attack from some enemy. It’s too late, now, ever to know; so I shall assume a broken branch, and return him to his companions.’ With care, he replaced the skull with the other six, and closed the shrine’s glass door. ‘I should take some photographs,’ he said. ‘My father would find this collection most interesting.’
    â€˜You should be careful,’ said Leda. ‘Local legend has it one of them is cursed. And this place is rumoured to be haunted. It’s not somewhere you should be alone.’
    â€˜Yet you have come alone,’ said the fat man. ‘I don’t suppose you were expecting my company.’
    â€˜Excuse me,’ said Leda. ‘I have something I must do, and it’s growing dark. I shall take care to be gone before nightfall.’
    She followed the path to the chapel, and opened its arched door. The stranger had lit no lamps or candles, and inside, all was dark. Leaving the door open to let in what daylight remained, she placed a few coins on the offertory plate and took a candle from the box; but amongst the charcoal discs for the censer and the little boxes of wicks and incense, there were no matches.
    â€˜Allow me.’
    The fat man was suddenly by her shoulder, and startled, Leda jumped. In his hand was a gold lighter, which he struck, holding out its blue flame to her candle’s wick, and as the candle’s own flame grew, its reflection showed his eyes as pools of disturbing depths. Leda took a step back.
    â€˜Forgive me,’ he said, with a smile, slipping the lighter into his overcoat pocket. ‘It was not my intention to frighten you. Sometimes, I move too silently in these shoes, and people think I’m sneaking up on them. Sometimes, of course, I am, though that was not my plan in your case. Please, don’t let me interrupt your devotions.’
    â€˜I came to light a candle, that’s all,’ said Leda.