She didn’t know what to say, she was torn by her anger and her guilt; Tyler often had that affect when it came to solving differences. Tyler opted to have mercy on her and told the rest of the story. “I got a call on Sunday morning. Lisa Scarrabelli. She wanted someone to talk to and she found me.” He looked away for a moment, muttering something about the enormous number of attractive females that called on him for advice, but never for anything else and then turned back to her. Cassie felt a brief flash of guilt about that, too. “She admitted to me that she all but raped him. That’s between you and me, I gave her my word that I wouldn’t tell anyone and I wouldn’t have, if it wasn’t so important to you. I’m trusting in you to leave well enough alone and not go beat the shit out of her or anything.” She stared at him for several seconds and finally nodded her agreement. “Everybody was out doing their own thing and she saw an opportunity to add one more to her list of broken hearts.” Cassie recalled all too well the way she used to lead Tyler around and was amazed at the lack of bitterness he seemed to feel about the whole situation. “Mark was pretty much all for it at first, but he decided he couldn’t go through with it. He said it would be wrong, because of the way he felt about you.”
He looked her in the eye again and refused to let her look away. “Cassie, he’s a guy and not exactly a guy that’s used to being shown affection, except from his mom, maybe. Take it from someone that people only now and then consider to be among the same species; once the hormones kick in, it’s damn near impossible to tell them to shut up.” He smiled again and broke the spell that he seemed to have had over her. He was just Tyler again, not a mesmerist with supernatural powers. “He stopped himself and he left her in the woods and he told you all about the whole thing. He had some dirty thoughts, but he didn’t do anything all that horrible. He stopped because he loves you. He doesn’t love Lisa. It’s just that simple.”
Cassie stood in silence for a long time and Tyler held her hands in his throughout the drawn out silence, reading her face and wanting to know what she decided. Finally, she smiled and looked at him with guilt on her face. “Guess I overreacted huh?”
Tyler smiled at her and patted her hands. “Not at all, make him squirm for awhile. He deserves it for playing around on you. But, when you think he’s suffered enough, accept his apologies.” He winked again, with a mischievous smirk on his face. “And let him know that if he does it again, you’ll tear his balls off.” He looked towards the road and the Basilisk. “Screw all the sayings you hear, ‘Forgive but never forget,’ that’s my motto.”
10
It was Saturday by the time she finally decided he had suffered enough. He was so grateful that he insisted on taking her to the movies and to dinner. The movie was good, the dinner was okay and the hugs and talking were wonderful. She was glad that they were back together. She was ecstatic.
That same Saturday, Mr. and Mrs. Arnold Blake reported their son Tommy missing. Sheriff Charles Hanson stated that he would keep a look out and prayed the boy was all right. It would be over a month before his body was found.
The clouds that built that night were black and threatening and promised a hellish storm indeed. Mark and Cassie never even noticed; they had eyes only for each other. Mark gave her a passionate goodnight kiss and slowly walked towards his home as the first fat drops started to fall and had only just made it inside, when the first lick of lightening kissed the surface of the lake. Had it struck him in the head he wouldn’t have even noticed, save to think that it could never compare to the kiss of the girl he loved.
CHAPTER EIGHT
1
Life went fairly smoothly for a while. Most of the town’s gossip mongers had moved from stories and fictions about Tommy Blake’s disappearance—The boy had moved to L.A. and was going to be an actor; The boy was in trouble with the law and planned to leave town; The boy could no longer stand the abuse his parents heaped on him, sexual abuse at that—and found other juicier things to whisper about. School was in its last two weeks and Mark was more in love with Cassie than he had been before. Fortunately, the feeling was returned. It was almost as if they were locked together by chains so seldom were they seen apart. The coming summer held great promise, a potential to spend every available moment together.
Lisa soon grew away from her infatuation, to one that she found too silly to even contemplate; she had strong suspicions that she was falling for Tyler in whom she saw many of the same qualities that she had seen in Mark. Rather than suffer the shocked stares of her peers, she simply went back to another flame, one she hadn’t devastated for a few years and put thoughts of Mark and Tyler on the back burner.
Tyler continued in his normal way, assaulting the guilty and innocent alike with his tongue and running for dear life a few moments later. If he had any feelings about the relationship between Mark and Cassie, he kept them to himself, never the one to admit to anything that vaguely resembled jealousy. In reference to Lisa, he could see the way she looked at him and after a few hours of worry, decided it was best to let her make her own decisions. This wise choice had been made several times in the past about other girls who momentarily opted to look past the Face That Time Destroyed (as he liked to put it, when no one was around to hear) and he suspected that nothing would change; she would go on dating the morons that he had to endure and he would fantasize about crawling all over her ripe little body. Tyler had an annoying tendency to be overly critical which, sadly, was the wise thing for him to do at the age of sixteen.
In the meantime, Phillip James Sanderson spent his time looking over his collection of rare occult books for some hint or clue about what might be happening in Summitville. P.J. spent a great deal of time trying to figure out just which book to look in and he looked with a fervor, because he seemed to recall something very similar to what Tyler had described to him, but he couldn’t for the life of him remember where. Frankly, he’d read the damn books so very long ago and had both written and read so much popular horror fiction, that he no longer was even certain that he had read the description in one of his collections of antique books.
Patrick Wilson was still the number one source of chemical escape in Summitville, but he was easing out of it gradually and paid his new supplier on time, religiously; he was stoned, but not stupid and when he read the name of the mysterious shotgun slinger, in the newspaper, he took the hint that maybe it was time to give college some serious contemplation. Some place private, like Alaska. He was also giving serious contemplation to just saying NO to drugs. He kept flashing back to the horrible trip he had recently been forced to endure, revolving around Mark and Tommy. The thought of it was enough to send the chills through his body.
Joe managed to find enough spare time in the day to worry about Mark and to marvel at how he’d changed since they had moved into the small town. His son (never his stepson anymore) had become a man almost overnight and he thanked God that he’d been around to see it.
Jennifer Howell continued to sell her artwork and to spend time with her husband and son. Of all the people in the town she seemed the least disturbed by bad emotions, little ever seemed to faze her. It wasn’t that she was unaware of the things that went on around her, both good and bad, it was simply that she refused to let anything get her down. It was just that trait that made her fast friends wherever she lived, even in a town as paranoid about strangers as Summitville. It was just that trait that had attracted Joe to her in the first place. And much to her husband’s perpetual delight, she continued to have a voracious sexual appetite.
Tony Scarrabelli, on the other hand, openly accepted what Cassie had to say about her feelings for Mark, but refused to acknowledge them in his heart. He was absolutely convinced that he loved her and to prove to her that she loved him he went out with every girl he could get his hands on. He felt that by making her jealous enough, he could win her love. Not even Tyler could convince him otherwise.
Rick Lewis and Chuck Hanson still looked for clues, anything that would tell them what
had happened to the missing and murdered of the town, a task made more difficult by the acts of random violence that add to the number of deaths in even the smallest town. Both had become somewhat paranoid as time went on. Both still believed, without a single solid lead, that Mark Howell was responsible in some way. Both were, of course, quite right.
Without a body, the Blake’s kept up a nightly vigil, hoping that their son would write to them or, even better, come home. They refused to accept that their precious boy could possibly be dead. He was all that they had.
Antoinette and Raphael Scarrabelli pretended to be civil to one another, barely. Antoinette went “shopping” in Denver almost daily. Raphael didn’t have to go as far, he was engaged in a ridiculously cliche`d relationship with the maid. He never questioned his wife’s trips to the city and she never questioned the frequent bonuses that he awarded Sally. She did, however, take every opportunity to verbally attack the maid about her lack of cleaning prowess.
And, Tyler Wilson finally managed to convince Cassie’s parents to at least meet Mark Howell before making a judgment. For reasons known only to themselves, they took Tyler at his word about the shooting a while back and finally understood that Mark had actually saved their little Cassandra’s life, getting himself wounded in the process. Tyler actually wrote the date down on his computer journal; it was one of his greatest triumphs ever. For her part, Cassie tried to swallow the knowledge that her parents put more trust in Tyler than they did in her.
2
The dinner meeting was set for the Friday night before the final week of school and all in all, it went fairly well. Clifford and Anita Monroe had decided to reserve judgment (again, at Tyler’s request) until after they had met Mark and they were suitably impressed by his manners. To make the night go down a little easier, the Monroe’s had invited along Tyler, who was remarkably well behaved in their presence and he normally managed to point out all of Mark’s best attributes in a subtle way that any who truly knew him would have recognized. Mark sounded like a demigod before the desert was served and could have probably asked for and received their blessings, if he had decided then and there to ask for Cassie’s hand in marriage.
Cassie’s parents proved to be something of a surprise in their own right, they were not at all the ogres that Mark had envisioned them to be. Cliff, (Just call me Cliff, young man, my father was Mister Monroe) proved to be intelligent and charming and had the easy good looks and manners of a man bred to be healthy and wealthy. Mark imagined that dinner with the Kennedy’s would be something like the dinner he was served that night and he had little doubt that the man who had fathered the girl he loved was probably on good terms with the Kennedys and the Rockefellers and the Vanderbilts, Et Al. Anita, (Annie, dear, call me Annie) was almost as beautiful as her daughter and carried herself with the same delicate grace as her progeny. It was obvious that they cared greatly for their only daughter and seeing as he felt the same way himself, Mark forgave all trespasses against him.
As always, meeting the parents of one of his friends was extremely unsettling; he always expected them to be as young as his mother was. Mark was, thankfully, always quick to hide the shock he felt and in this case, the shock was minimal. He guessed that neither of her parents were much above the mid-thirties mark.
The conversations lasted until almost midnight, as the Monroe’s subtly grilled Mark on where he had lived and what his plans for the future were. They were a little disappointed that he wanted to be a writer, (Don’t you feel that the entertainment industry would be difficult to break into, Mark?) until they heard that he had already sold one novel and was planning to write another one over the summer. They were also quite surprised to hear that he still intended to go to college, despite his early success. His response to the surprise they showed was “I can only learn to do what I’m already doing better than I’m doing it now. And that way, if the writing ever dries up and fades away, I’ll have something to fall back on.” To him, it was the only sensible thing to do; to them, it was a sign that the boy was not planning to waste his life on empty dreams.
Tyler almost stood and applauded at the end of the little speech.
Over brandy and cigars (Cliff insisted that a meal was not finished until after brandy and cigars), the three men talked about politics and other subjects in Cliff’s den, while Cassie grilled her mother for her impression of Mark. When at last it was time for the dinner and meeting to be over with, Cassie walked outside with the two males in the world that meant as much to her as her father and said her good byes. To Tyler, she gave a fierce hug and a kiss on the lips that left her young friend speechless. To Mark, she smiled and gave him a quick hug, knowing that her parents would be watching from somewhere in the house. Both men smiled lovingly at her as they left.
Cassie went back inside, assured that she could now speak Mark’s name without fear of a nasty little argument breaking out. She was very happy about the situation and again indebted forever to Tyler, who always seemed to have the right words to say and a shoulder to lean on.
3
Tyler and Mark walked over to Tyler’s house on the next street and enjoyed the late night spring air. The breeze was a gentle kiss on the skin and the temperature was just chilled enough for them to be glad of the late night brandy.
They had walked just under half of the distance, when Mark turned to Tyler and rested a hand on his friend’s shoulder. Tyler looked into his friend’s eyes and realized that his friend was more than a little buzzed as a result of the potent liquor they had consumed. “Listen, I know I’ve already said it, but thanks. I don’t think her parents would have ever given me a chance, if it wasn’t for you.”
Tyler looked back at him and beamed happily. “Shit, I still owe you for the scar you got on my account. I’d do anything for you, you’re a hell of a guy.” The words were true, but only brought on by alcohol; the kinds of words he’d regret if he remembered the whole thing tomorrow.
Mark looked slightly taken aback by the comment and then he smiled shyly. Tyler was surprised by the honesty on his friend’s face and the slight break in his voice when he responded. “You’re a good friend, Ty, probably the best friend I’ve ever had.” Before Tyler could come up with the proper sarcastic response, Mark continued. “If every person in the world had one friend like you, there’d never be another reason for a person to kill himself.” Mark turned away and Tyler could see his throat working, he realized that Mark was trying to hold back tears.
Tyler looked at his friend for several moments and then gently laid his bony hand on Mark’s shoulder. “Hey, c’mon, this is me, Tyler, tell me what’s wrong.”
Mark turned towards him then and he saw the tears that fell freely from his friend’s eyes. Tyler was almost shocked by the tears and he felt his heart break a little. “Ty, I’m scared, man. I-I think maybe I did something really bad. But I can’t be sure.”
Tyler pulled the larger boy to him and hugged him awkwardly, ashamed of the little part of himself that worried about somebody seeing them in the position they were in; embarrassed to show his affection to somebody for the first time in his life. After a few minutes, when Mark was finished crying on his shoulder, he gently pulled his friend towards the massive structure he called a home. They didn’t speak at all as Tyler led Mark into the house and past the dark living room, down to the rec room his father had furnished with every conceivable way to amuse oneself.
They sat in silence for some time and then Tyler got up and poured them each a soda, ignoring the need for ice in them and handed one to Mark. “So, tell me what you think you did. Maybe I can give you some help.”
Mark looked at him for a long time, seemingly weighing whether or not he could trust Tyler with so dark a secret. Finally, he decided that he could and looked away, unable to face his best friend as he made his confession. “I think that maybe I killed Tommy Blake.”
Tyler sat in stunned silence as alarm bells rang in his mind. Now just how the hell was he supposed to handle
this one? Jesus, wasn’t life already complicated enough? “Shit, Mark, that’s fucking serious. Don’t joke about that kind of thing, okay?”
Mark looked up at last and the sorrow on his face spoke volumes. He pulled at his own hair, not hard, but hard enough to hurt. “I’m not joking, Tyler. I wish the hell I was, but I’m not.” Tyler watched as Mark clenched and unclenched his fists, again and again. He knew the danger signs in Mark well enough to know that his friend was ready to destroy anything that crossed his path. The thought was not conducive to his own stability. With sudden inspiration, Tyler stood up and walked over to where the gymnasium part of the rec room lay, hidden in the shadows.
The rec room was sound-proofed, a bit of foresight on his father’s part as he knew that sooner or later his sons would want to have parties and he valued his sleep too much to have to listen to them. He also valued his sanity enough not to say no, when they asked. Tyler’s father was not the strictest man, he could even have been said to be rather lacking, in the discipline department.
Ty pulled hard at the heavy bag on the floor and finally managed to place it on the hook that hung from the ceiling. He grabbed the light gloves and walked back over to Mark, where he sat with his head in his hands. “Here, put these on.”
“What? Why?”
Tyler mock-scowled and pushed the gloves into Mark’s lap. “Don’t argue with me, put the damn things on. You need to vent some steam and I don’t want it vented on me.”
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