A Body Displaced (Lansin Island 2) Read online

  A BODY DISPLACED

  LANSIN ISLAND SERIES

  ANDREW BUTCHER

  Copyright

  A Body Displaced, Second Edition 2014

  Copyright © by Andrew Butcher 2014

  http://www.andrew-butcher.com

  All characters and events in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance whatsoever to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  OTHER WORKS

  LANSIN ISLAND SERIES

  A Death Displaced

  A Body Displaced

  A Spirit Displaced (TBR)

  LANSIN ISLAND SHORT STORIES

  A Note Below

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  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  The support I’ve received since A Death Displaced was released has been amazing, and I’m so grateful for it.

  Thanks go again to my family, partner, and friends. A massive thank you to Mike Bowles, author of ‘The Melville and Slade Series,’ for all the encouragement, and for providing feedback on this novel.

  And thank you so much to everyone who’s read the Lansin Island Series so far. The following people have been especially supportive: Susan Slomski, Brenda LeCrone Seaberg, James Gibbons, Amy Wood Kelly, Tonia Dellinger, Georgeanna Brenneman, Laura Shipp, Jayn Wilde, Lisa Wood, Karyn Campbell, Rachel Hall, Hayley, Rachel Wood, Helen Peter, and Patricia Carroll.

  CHAPTER ONE

  HE DREAMT OF blood again.

  The red coating his body was cold and slick. It trickled down his face and seeped between his lips, the flavour sharp in his mouth. His eyes could not open for fear of the blood entering, but he knew he was covered as if he’d bathed in the dark fluid.

  Shout, his mind urged, Shout! Their name was important; they must be found. But so much blood. No, don’t think that, SHOUT! You have to. If he was somewhere that he’d recognise, he didn’t know where. The dream hadn’t granted such knowledge.

  In this unfamiliar place, the blood rose: a tub filling, disgustingly cold and stealing his height. He tiptoed. He jumped. But the red gore gained on him. It reached his nipples, then bubbled over his shoulders and neck and chin and face and hair, until he was gone.

  All thoughts fled except for: Air, air, I can’t breathe. His arms struggled in a direction he desperately hoped was up. His legs kicked. No use. Then he drank what oppressed him, inhaling his killer. Gulping it down. It was a pain like no other, and with it came blurred images, dreams he grasped would be pleasant if only they made sense.

  I’m drowning, I’m drowning. So much blood. His muscles went limp, no longer able to fight. He floated and floated, sank and sank. But death didn’t come so easily. Before he woke, something gripped his neck. It dug in and squeezed, tightening.

  Then ripping.

  Nicolas Crystan shot bolt upright in bed. He was covered in sweat. The worst nightmares always soaked the sheets. He panted so harshly it made him cough.

  ‘Another nightmare, Nick?’ she asked in the dark.

  ‘Huh?’ He reached for the bedside lamp. A flick of the switch and the room was splotched with orange light.

  His girlfriend turned to face him. ‘You shouted.’

  ‘Did I?’ He shook his head, but the gory images remained. ‘Oh, I don’t know. I … I don’t even remember the dream,’ he lied.

  His girlfriend’s hair was dyed dark brown and tinted red. The dim artificial light didn’t betray the faux colour, but left it looking healthy and shiny instead. Her face was angular and portrayed a naturally confident, expressive look.

  ‘Come on … that’s what you said last time. And the time before. Are you hiding something from me, Nicky?’ She said the nickname playfully.

  As retaliation, he blew a quick burst of air in her face. ‘You know I hate to be called that.’ But even so, her flirtation helped him focus on her instead of the recurring nightmare.

  She grimaced and acted like she was choking. ‘Ewwwh, you have bed-breath!’

  ‘Bed-breath?’ he laughed out. ‘Is that even a thing?’

  ‘It is now.’ She continued to pull faces as if his breath were killing her. Her little performance reminded him that she’d always been good at drama; she’d lied to his face many times in the past. Don’t think about that, his mind advised … This was a fresh start, and his girlfriend was a changed person now.

  ‘Kerra,’ he said, ‘I don’t remember the dream.’

  Kerra Evans played serious then. ‘We’ve been officially dating for almost three months now. I just hope you feel like you can talk to me about things.’ She finished with an empathetic smile.

  Nick looked into her eyes, acknowledging her jokey use of the word ‘officially.’ She teased him with it like she did with the nickname. On his twenty-fifth birthday he’d asked her if she would ‘go out’ with him. Kerra’s response was, ‘I thought we were already going out.’ It was awkward. They’d spent a lot of time together throughout the two months before then. In Nick’s head there was a distinct difference between seeing her and dating her. But on that day, it became official for both of them.

  ‘I do feel like I can talk to you. And I’d tell you if it was anything important. But these nightmares … They’re nothing to worry about.’

  A knock came from the bedroom door, followed by a voice. ‘Are you alright in there, Nick?’

  ‘I’m fine, Tom,’ he answered his brother loud enough for the sound to travel through the door. Then he sighed, hushed enough for it to stay in the room. Kerra giggled.

  Tom had moved in shortly after Christmas when he’d revealed to his dad, John, and his twin brother, Tommy, that he was gay. Nick had already known; he was the first family member Tom admitted his sexuality to. At the time, Nick made an offer: If their dad or Tommy had any problems, then Tom could move in with him for a while, as a kind of safety net. He now regretted that offer. Their dad had taken the news fairly well, although he acted awkward for a while, but it was Tommy who found issue with it, ignoring his twin from that day forward.

  ‘Okay. Goodnight then,’ Tom yelled back. The door shut, and low mumbling reached Nick’s ears. He recognised the tone: The dopey, troll-like voice belonged to Michael Welding, one of his colleagues at Creaky Crystals, and also Tom’s boyfriend.

  ‘Sounds like your brother snuck his lover over again,’ Kerra whispered, amused.

  ‘It seems so.’ Nick moved a hand over the sheets and felt the sweat. ‘I might go sit in the kitchen for a while until I feel tired again.’

  ‘Why don’t we cuddle up and try to go back to sleep?’ Kerra suggested. In a sultry voice, she added, ‘Or I’m sure I can find a way to wear you out.’ She grabbed him under the covers.

  Any other time, he would have been excited, but he was too preoccupied now. ‘That would probably make me more awake,’ he offered as pretext. ‘I’ll come back to bed in a while. I just need to think.’

  ‘Hmmm, okay,’ she said, not quite moodily, not quite happily.

  The house was a comfortable temperature; Nick didn’t need to wear slippers or shuffle his feet for warmth like last year. Since his manager had offered him a full-time position at Creaky Crystals and Tom was paying board, he
could finally afford a few basic luxuries. Heating being a favourite.

  He boiled the kettle, then made a big mug of hot chocolate before sitting down at the round kitchen table. He was worried. The dream of blood had visited him six times now. The only person he had told about the nightmares was his best friend, Fin. But he couldn’t call Fin at this time of night.

  Sipping at the sweet beverage, he mulled over everything he had to hide from Kerra: that he had visions of the future; that he’d met a man who could control people with his mind; that he was an accessory to that man’s murder; that he’d met a gorgeous woman who could see ghosts; that his dreams sometimes portrayed the future in muddled and metaphorical imagery; and maybe worst of all, that Kerra didn’t know the blood nightmare first came to him on his birthday, on the day he asked her out.

  Maybe just coincidence? Whether or not it was, surely dreaming of blood was not a good omen. Something sinister was on its way.

  Although he didn’t want to die, it reassured him to know the dream was of him drowning in blood, and not a premonition of someone else’s death. He couldn’t bear that again.

  Ordinary people had nightmares, and for many reasons, such as stress or fear, so maybe Nick’s were nothing to worry about. After all, his life was on an up-and-up spiral. Things with Kerra were going strong. His full-time work offered security. His bungalow was properly furnished, all cracks and holes gone from the walls. No bouts of depression had struck him recently. And his relationship with his dad was ten times better than it had been for the past nine years.

  It’s only a dream, he reassured himself.

  When his mug was empty, he took a moment to close his eyes and relax.

  Tom and Michael were quiet, probably deep in slumber, and Kerra didn’t make a sound either. Nick observed the silence, smiled, and savoured it; he wasn’t used to his home being so full. The living room was now his brother’s sleeping place. The snug was still mainly Nick’s for use, but that left only his bedroom, the kitchen, and the bathroom. That was all. The bungalow was too small for four. Kerra hadn’t moved in, but she slept over regularly, and occasionally Nick would stay the night at her family’s house, getting to know the Evanses all over again.

  Finally ready to let the dream go, he opened his eyes and quietly returned to his bedroom.

  The sheets were only damp now, but he squeezed over to Kerra’s side anyway. He cuddled her naked body and forgot the nightmare. He let go of the bad times. Instead, he visualised the joyful moments he’d shared with Kerra in their past relationship, and now in this one. He grinned, happier than he’d been in years.

  Before he fell asleep, he had one last thought.

  I’ll be fine.

  In the morning, Nick and Kerra were up and about first. Kerra dressed for work, although she had no compulsory uniform. She wore bright and quirkily contrasting colours, and with the red tint of her hair, she looked quite the rainbow. Shakedown was her workplace, a milkshake shop that blended popular confectionery brands into their shakes. And sold them for outrageous prices.

  ‘Text me,’ she said before leaving, and kissed Nick goodbye.

  ‘Will do.’ As the door swung shut, Nick wondered why they didn’t part with I love yous yet. Is she waiting for me to say it first?

  When they’d dated before, they’d said those words often. But they were younger then. Maybe this time they were both afraid to reach that level of commitment; those three words shouldn’t be said lightly, like they probably had been before. All those I love yous hadn’t stopped them from mistreating each other.

  He plodded lazily up the hall and towards the kitchen, but was intercepted by Michael blundering out of the living room. Michael was nude except for tight orange boxers. ‘Oh, sorry, Nick,’ he mumbled. ‘Just going to the loo.’ He didn’t seem embarrassed, only apologetic for getting in Nick’s path. His body was well toned, his hair mousey, and his eyes pale blue. One of those ‘pretty boys.’

  ‘No, it’s fine.’ Nick waited for Tom’s boyfriend to pass, but Michael stopped to talk.

  ‘You got work today?’ he asked.

  ‘Yeah. I’m working a ten-six.’

  ‘Cool. I’ve got college.’ Michael shrugged, his muscles hard to ignore. Nick found himself thinking, Why do muscly men feel the need to show off? But then he remembered this was Michael, and Michael was too simple to think like that; he most likely didn’t realise his barely clothed body could make the people around him feel awkward.

  ‘Will you see Tommy at college?’ asked Nick. Michael and Tommy were on the same Diploma in Construction course at Amiton College.

  Michael shifted uncomfortably. ‘Probably. But he doesn’t talk to me at all now.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yeah. I suppose it’s lucky Tom dropped out before telling you lot about us. Would have been well awkward if Tommy ignored me and his brother at college. Other people on the course already don’t know what to do when me and Tommy are about. It’s like they think they’ve gotta pick sides or something.’ His face grew sullen, and then he shrugged again.

  ‘Tommy will come around,’ Nick assured him. ‘He can’t ignore you both forever. Anyway, I’ll go over to Dad’s soon to talk to him. Maybe he’ll listen to me.’

  ‘Maybe.’ In a quieter voice, Michael said, ‘It’s getting to Tom more than me. Must suck that his own twin’s treating him like he don’t exist. Tom says they were close when they were younger.’

  Nick laughed, almost wistfully. ‘Inseparable. I think he used to idolise Tommy.’ He tried to keep his voice low so Tom wouldn’t overhear.

  A dopey half grunt, half laugh escaped Michael. If Nick had to sum up Michael in as few words as possible, it would be: face of angel, voice of troll. ‘Definitely doesn’t now, though,’ he said indolently. ‘Oh, yeah, Nick. This guy came into work the other day to see you. Erm, really dark hair, and he was pale, and ’bout same height as me.’

  ‘Oh.’ Nick couldn’t think of who it might be. ‘What did he want?’

  ‘Dunno. I got the impression he didn’t know you well. He only asked for you by your first name, and when I asked what he wanted, he didn’t say much, so I said, Is it Nick Crystan you’re looking for? and then he was like, Yeah, that’s him, but don’t worry, I’ll find him on Facebook or something. I said, Okay, and then he asked how your full name was spelt ’cause he couldn’t remember. So I told him. Then he walked off.’

  Nick frowned. Anyone asking after him probably wasn’t a good thing, considering the ongoing investigation into Aldrich Grendel’s murder. ‘Strange. I don’t know who it could be … Maybe someone from school. But thanks for letting me know.’

  Michael shrugged, then finally strolled off and entered the bathroom. Nick went to the kitchen and made a hot chocolate to ease into the day. After a while, Michael was off to college, bellowing goodbye on his way out.

  Nick sat, thinking. Who came into Creaky Crystals looking for him?

  After so many months, and the police having no strong leads on the case, Nick had begun to relax about Aldrich’s murder. Ryan Fraser had done what he’d agreed to. But Nick always came back to one annoying thought, a question he suspected he knew the answer to: Why did Ryan have to burn Aldrich at The Burning Grounds of all places? Surely there were other ways to get rid of the corpse. Then again, he couldn’t be one hundred percent sure it was Aldrich’s body that had gone up in flames; the remains were so charred they couldn’t be identified. The authorities had only figured it out when Grendel Manor, Aldrich’s secluded home in a private valley, was found burnt to the ground a couple of weeks later.

  Nick suspected Ryan had chosen The Burning Grounds out of twisted humour, because of Aldrich’s involvement in its history. The tourist site was a weathered courtyard of thirty stone platforms, where, in the sixteenth century, one hundred and forty-three islanders accused of witchcraft were burnt alive. The timing led most historians to believe it was a case of mass hysteria, caused by King Henry VIII declaring the Witchcraft Act. But N
ick had received a letter from Ryan suggesting otherwise …

  A door handle creaked and startled Nick out of his pensive state. Tom came out of the living room, looking tired. He wore a baggy black hoody and skinny grey jeans, but no socks. Looking top-heavy in his clothes, he rubbed his eyes, and Nick wondered if he would tumble over.

  When Tom reached the kitchen, Nick said, ‘Morning, Tom,’ then continued tentatively with, ‘I don’t want to make a big deal out of it, but could you give me a heads-up next time you invite Michael over, please?’

  Tom’s face didn’t move. He avoided eye contact. ‘Errm, why? I pay for my room, don’t I?’

  ‘Well, not exactly. Seeing as you don’t have a job. Dad gives you the money.’

  ‘It’s still money I could spend on something else …’ His arms were folded and he still averted his brown eyes. ‘Doesn’t that mean I can invite people over?’

  ‘It’s not about that. I’d just like some warning so I know what I’m coming home to … or waking up to,’ he reasoned, thinking of Michael strolling about in nothing but boxers.

  Tom looked at Nick’s face for just a moment, then turned away. ‘Would you be making such a fuss if it was a woman I invited over?’ There was a little bite to his voice.

  ‘Are you being serious, Tom?’ Nick looked at his brother incredulously. This kind of behaviour wasn’t like Tom at all; he was usually so laidback and reasonable. ‘You know I don’t have a problem with your sexuality.’

  No response. Tom only stood, closed off.

  ‘Tom?’

  Tom mumbled weakly, ‘It doesn’t matter. I’ll let you know next time.’ He disappeared back into the living room.

  Guilt. I’m too sensitive. Even though Nick had been entirely reasonable, or so he believed, Tom’s reaction had left him heavy with shame. Of course, he realised Tom didn’t truly think him homophobic; he was just naturally upset about his twin brother disowning him. This disagreement was only a result of misplaced anger.