The Dead Travel Fast by Nick Brown Read Free Book Online Page A

archaeological museum, with a vibrantly patterned mosaic floor. At its far end were French windows leading to a vast terrace. Following the direction of Steve’s gaze at the floor, Vassilis said,
    “Yes, you would be correct in your surmise, Doctor Watkins, the floor is genuine, although obviously re-laid, and the same applies to all the other artefacts that I see you find so fascinating. Later I will allow you time to study them at your leisure: a privilege afforded to few of the current rather primitive inhabitants of our island. Come follow me to the terrace.”
    Steve followed, wondering what he meant by current inhabitants; Vassilis continued,
    “We tend to keep them at a distance as far as social intercourse is concerned; such company as merits engagement is supplied from the ranks of the expatriates, augmented by a few local savants of discerning taste. But there are compensations as you can now see.”
    They’d reached the terrace which projected over a shelf of rock overlooking a series of terraced levels as the land fell away to the Aegean glistening hundreds of feet below. To the right of the terrace, steps led down to what appeared to be a private park. Vassilis gestured to some comfortable rattan chairs circling a table in the shade and sat down.
    “You will have gathered from my observations that my ancestry and tenure rather pre-dates the current denizens of the island, who only re-settled here a couple of centuries ago. We have therefore to take especial care of our bloodline, which is of course why my family is so much in your debt, Doctor Watkins.”
    The maid silently glided on to the terrace and placed a tray with a terracotta jar and two richly glazed beakers on the table.
    “Ah, a cool jug of sherbet, it wets the appetite I find. I trust you will take some with me, you must be parched in this heat.”
    The maid returned with some small plates of meze for the table, poured and handed Steve a beaker, Vassilis motioned her to leave. The drink was wonderfully cool and trickles of condensation flecked the surface of the jar. For a while they picked at the delicacies and looked out across the mountain over towards the sea as Vassilis told Steve about the house and the archaeological exotica it contained. Then he became formal.
    “So, on behalf of my son, I would like to thank you. He at present is recovering in a private facility, not in the hospital wherehe was taken of course. But he will be here next week for the cricket match and you will receive his thanks then. No need to look so surprised, Doctor Watkins, you must understand that things are different in my demesne than they are on the rest of the island. We look at things differently here, it gives experience a particular savour. As my friend Pico della Mirandola once said, ‘Magic calls up the living forces of nature.’ But I talk too much, your guide is here already.”
    Steve followed the direction of Vassilis’s gaze and saw a young woman standing behind his chair. She was tall, amply fleshed, almost heavy featured, yet at the same time strikingly beautiful, thick black hair tied back with a red ribbon. She wore a simple long white dress split to the knee and gold sandals. Steve, who hadn’t said a single word to Vassilis, was even more overawed by her and felt so out of his comfort zone that he wouldn’t have been surprised if a Lapith or Centaur followed her onto the terrace.
    “Permit me to introduce my daughter, Alekka, Doctor Watkins, she will show you some of the surprises our little estate contains and generally keep you entertained until we gather for our feast of thanks and celebration this evening. I must apologize for the moment; there are matters to which I must attend. But I think you will find Alekka a livelier and certainly more attractive companion.”
    She held out her hand which was firm and cold, smiling with her eyes as well as her mouth, and when she spoke her breath carried the trace of mint.
    “I also thank you on