by Cailyn Lloyd
Tackling the last and most vital preparation, he encased an object he’d carved from wax in high temperature plaster. When it dried, he placed the plaster cylinder into a furnace. The wax within melted and vaporized, leaving an impression of the object in the plaster. He melted pure gold over a burner and poured it down the sprue channel in the plaster mold.
This was a weapon of the simplest sort. While the amulet protected him as a force field might, this talisman magnified and projected energy, weakening his opponent. Archaic but effective at close quarters.
Weapons now were far more sophisticated, but people were still primitive creatures at heart, he mused. Despite huge advances in technology and medicine that had given people longer and fuller lives, the primal urges remained. The tribal need to fight and kill, to persecute and exterminate; the evil within all of us, which, under the right circumstances, led to anger and violence, from domestic abuse to genocide. Life had become easier over the centuries but not necessarily better.
Shepherd shook his head in dismay, trying to shake his melancholy.
Why hadn’t he taken an apprentice?
That was the way, but it hadn’t been a conscious decision or one born of laziness—rather, a lack of suitable candidates. Laila hadn’t been able to bear children so he had no offspring of his own to teach the ancient ways.
He spent another hour trimming and polishing the gold figurine. Then he milled four runic letters into the metal and spoke the words—in Mercian—of an old incantation over it. Shepherd placed the talisman in an inside pocket of his parka and climbed into the Range Rover, reasonably confident he was ready.
He drove out of the city and north on Interstate 41, the sounds of the Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony thundering from the Meridian eighteen-speaker surround system.
Sixty
Laura stared at the empty room, the bed stripped, the cupboards open and bare as the implications struck with blunt force. She fought panic, tried to rationalize that Leah had been moved to a different room but couldn’t slow her racing heart, nor could she keep from running for the nurses' station.
Dana stopped, open-mouthed. “What’s the matter?”
Laura accosted a young blonde at the desk. “Where’s Leah MacKenzie?”
The nurse looked at Laura for a bewildered moment, then cheerfully said, “Oh, your husband came for her. He said you weren’t feeling well. We heard you had a bad fall.”
Laura saw the curtain rising on a disaster worse than she imagined. She cried in desperation, “What? Where’d they go?”
The nurse blinked. “Home, I guess.”
“Oh, my God. Dana, hurry! Your father took Leah!”
Laura ran past Dana, plowed blindly through a young couple stepping off the elevator, and pushed her way in, almost oblivious of her actions. People stared and commented on her rude behavior.
Dana stared in disbelief, a look of dread in her eyes. She turned and followed. “Mom! What’s gotten into you? And where’s Leah?”
“Your dad took her to the house! We’ve got to get her out of there.” She pushed the button for the lobby and gnawed on a fingernail. “Oh God, I hope she’s okay.”
Dana might as well have been wood. Her features were perfectly rigid, like dark grains in a slab of oak. Perhaps her eyes widened a bit.
Laura said, “Say something!”
“Mom, I can’t go to that house again! I’m scared to death of that place. Call the police, but don’t go there.”
Maybe Dana was right. Call the police and let them handle it. No, that wouldn’t work. They would say Lucas taking his granddaughter was no crime, and by the time she explained—if they believed her—it might be too late. Wexler wasn’t filing the paperwork until later today or tomorrow morning. She had no legal standing.
“Technically, your dad’s done nothing wrong. We have to get her ourselves.” Laura spoke quietly, but her voice intense, reflecting her smoldering rage beneath. He had done this to spite her. He had no interest in Leah. He wanted her to grovel and beg. The bastard. The rotten miserable bastard.
“How, Mom? And why is Dad doing this?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re both acting crazy, and I don’t want to be in the middle of it!”
“I know and I’m sorry.”
“And how do you intend to get Leah out of there?”
“Right now, I’d kill if that’s what it took, but I don’t think that’ll be necessary. I think he’s doing this to hurt me. He doesn’t care about Leah. Dana, if you come with me, he’s less likely to make a scene. I don’t think I’ve ever asked that much of you, but I’m asking you to help me now.”
“You’re asking a lot.”
“I know.”
Laura tried to breathe slower, to appear calm even though panic and hysteria threatened to send her running through the hospital screaming. It was as difficult a thing as she’d ever done, and Dana seemed to draw strength from her determination.
The elevator door opened.
“I’ll come, Mom, but if anything goes wrong, we leave and call the police. Okay? And no fighting! Just get Leah and go.”
“Thanks, Dana,” Laura said softly. “God, I hope that cab driver is still waiting.”
They rushed through the lobby to the coffee shop. The cabby sat at a small table littered with empty cellophane wrappers and a Styrofoam cup. He looked up, surprised.
Laura said, “I know you’re on break, but can you take us to Lost Arrow? It’s an emergency.”
“No problem. The coffee’s kinda bad here anyway. Hope it’s nothing serious.”
“So do I.”
He cleared the table and struggled to keep up with Laura and Dana. Outside, snow fell steadily and a thin blanket had settled on the cab. The driver, after opening the rear door, jumped in and started the car.
Looking over his shoulder, he said, “Where in Lost Arrow?”
The transmission clunked into gear.
“The MacKenzie place,” Laura said. “It’s on the other side of Lost Arrow, on Firelane Eight. Please hurry.”
“Good enough. I’ll find it.”
He drove along a narrow rough road through a neighborhood of older clapboard houses to the highway, gathering speed as they left town. The old Chevy rattled over every bump and the wipers squeaked, setting Laura’s teeth on edge. Country music played quietly on the radio. Her mind was a blur of conflicting pictures and emotions.
Laura feared what she’d find at the house. Lucas wouldn’t hurt her, but how difficult would he be? Would they fight? With that thought, Laura saw herself lashing out with feet and hands, punching and striking Lucas until he fell, then bashing his head with a blunt object.
Stop it!
Laura tried to be optimistic, hoping things would work out, but her anxiety was stronger. She feared the confrontation she felt coming since the night Sally died. A confrontation involving not only Lucas, but the house itself. Laura took a deep breath.
Just take Leah and get the hell out of there.
She thought of Shepherd and the story he’d told Lucas. An invocation? A curse? How could such a thing be? Medieval nonsense, yet the evidence of its existence had been written and confirmed all around her; the album, the accidents, the noises, all the things she’d seen.
How could such a thing be?
She had no answers. Only a deep love for Leah and fear for her life kept her from turning and running. There would be no confrontation. Not now. She was taking Leah and leaving. Perhaps, from a distance, this would all make sense, seem less insane.
The snow falling over the wooded landscape looked surreal, like a filter. An impression that these places could never be touched, like the cardboard trees and houses of a strange dream. The view was hypnotic, and for a while Laura stared out the window, absently wishing she could slip into a crack of this surreal landscape and wake up with Lucas at her side, Leah in her bed, her world sane again.
They passed through Lost Arrow. Laura looked for Lucas’s tru
ck by the White Birch, not sure if she was relieved or otherwise that it wasn’t there.
The cabby turned onto Firelane Eight, the rear of the car sliding as he did so. Suspense and worry were closing in on her as surely as a strangler’s hands about her throat. Dana sat tense and rigid next to her. The car bounced over a slight rise, her stomach lurching with a giddy rush.
“Sure is a creepy looking place,” the cabby said.
Every muscle in her body drew taut as the house slowly grew to fill the windscreen.
The snow-covered roof was edged with spiky icicles that hung from the eaves like the fangs of a great white shark. The wind pushed smoke from the far chimney at a sharp angle. It could have been a huge dragon crouched in a lair, the broad dark beams crisscrossing the whitewashed plaster the skeleton of the beast, giving life to the leaded windows that now seemed like giant eyes—eyes that were watching, waiting.
Laura put her hand on the door handle.
Dana said, “Shouldn’t we have him wait? Just in case?”
Laura was confused. She hadn’t thought about it. “No—yes, until I get Leah. We’ll take the Honda when we leave.”
Laura slid out of the car and stood in the soft snow, willing herself to be strong but feeling only anxiety and fear. She was here and hoped to God she was ready to handle whatever she found. The loud call of a bird over the lake startled Laura from her gloomy reverie—only the lake was no longer visible, buried under a broad expanse of white, ringed by snow-cloaked trees.
A solitary black bird, a raven perhaps, lofted in the air above.
She turned to Dana and said, “Stay here and make sure he waits until I’ve got Leah, okay?”
Dana nodded.
Walking to the front door, Laura saw an old blue Chevy parked by the truck but scarcely registered the car as important. Her mind was preoccupied with a singular thought—to get Leah away from here safely. Nothing else mattered. Nothing. At the door, she gave the knocker a stern beating, then thought, why am I knocking?
As Laura reached to grab the heavy iron handle, it moved downward, the door opening from within. The thought of the cab driver and Dana looking on gave her strength as she prepared to meet Lucas.
She almost gagged in shock when a woman opened the door. Whoever Laura expected at this door, it certainly wasn’t the greasy-haired blonde who opened it—holding her granddaughter! The initial impression was of fleeting recognition only; then Laura put a name to that wretched face.
Murphy.
Sixty-One
“Lucas said you might come here,” Murphy said. “He told me to call the cops if you did. He’s getting a court order.”
Any rational thought Laura had was eclipsed by the sheer fury of her anger. As Murphy tried to slam the door, Laura forced her leg through the opening, lunged forward, and snatched Leah with her left arm in a swift move that surprised them all. She swiveled and punched Murphy in the solar plexus with a tight fist, knocking her to the ground, then closed in and kicked her in the stomach with a leather boot. Murphy lay winded and cowering.
“Get out of my house, you slut!”
When Murphy didn’t move quickly enough, Laura gave her a hard kick in the ass. “Get out of here!”
Murphy scrambled to her feet, grabbed her coat, and ran out the door, yelling, “You’re fucking crazy! Lucas is right, you’re fucking crazy!”
Laura sat down hard and cradled Leah who was sobbing, frightened perhaps by her grandmother’s rage. Rocked and soothed her until she settled into hitching sobs and whimpers, careful to avoid the bandage on the back of her head.
The realizations swept through Laura in an ugly wave. Lucas had been seeing another woman.
Sleeping with her in their bed.
For all that Lucas had done, the blow to her dignity and whatever love remained was more than she could handle. It stabbed like a steely blade into her heart and sent piercing shards of pain through her. She fought back tears, but they came anyway, and Laura broke down, sobbing bitterly. She didn’t deserve it, didn’t understand how it had come to this.
She distantly registered the sound of a car revving and roaring away. Moments later, Dana timidly appeared in the doorway.
Leah was crying again. Laura fought for control, wiped her face on her sleeve, and tried to calm Leah. She felt less tense, no longer frightened. Though surprised by her quick leap to violence, she was quite pleased she had literally kicked Murphy’s ass.
“What happened?” Dana asked quietly.
“I—I think we just saw the back end of your father’s girlfriend,” Laura said as she soothed Leah. She let out a dry chuckle hoping to cover her sadness and grief.
“Are you okay?” Dana stared wide-eyed.
“Yeah, I’m okay.”
“So, where is he?”
Until that moment, Laura hadn’t considered the question. He was probably hunting, but even if he was home, she was no longer afraid.
“Lucas?”
The house was quiet.
“Lucas!”
Still no reply. Laura stood and said, “The truck’s here, so he’s out hunting somewhere.”
“Great. You’ve got Leah. Let’s go.”
“Just a minute, I want to quick grab a few things.”
“Jesus, Mom, you’ve got Leah. Let’s go!”
“Just a minute, please?”
Dana agreed reluctantly and nestled Leah on her shoulder. Laura ran upstairs and threw armfuls of clothes into a large suitcase, filled another with Leah’s clothes, and ran them out to the CR-V past Dana’s nervous scowl.
The cab driver waited patiently, his wipers clicking back and forth, the engine rumbling with a low reassuring sound. They didn’t need the cab. Things had turned out perfectly. Now she had clothes, a vehicle, and a few personal effects to sustain her until the courts straightened out the mess. She had withdrawn twenty thousand dollars at the bank. By the time she and Wexler were finished, she wanted Lucas to hurt as badly as she hurt now.
Laura rushed by Dana and said, “One more thing and we can go.”
“Jesus, Mom, let’s get out of here!”
Laura ran to the Hall; not just to appease Dana, but because she could feel the house stirring. There were sighs and groans that sounded eerie and unnatural, unrelated to the rising wind outdoors. Several knives clattered to the floor in the kitchen.
“Mom! Let’s go!”
Laura grabbed her iPad, saw the checkbook and savings passbook, and grabbed them too, wishing to spite Lucas at every turn. She turned to leave, stopped dead, and let out a small yelp.
The wall—Anna’s tomb—was open and gaping at her like a dark maleficent eye.
An ice-water chill ran down her spine and tightened her insides. Laura ran from the room, giving the hole a wide berth, fearful that cold hands would reach out and grab her. Dana turned and ran out the door ahead of Laura, holding Leah. The snow, heavier now, flew in waves and swirls driven by the wind. Dana opened the rear door and strapped Leah into her car seat. Laura walked around the Honda toward the cab when Dana yelled, “Mom, start the car first! Just make sure, okay?”
Laura stopped. Dana was right. She hopped in and the Honda started immediately. She ran to the cab.
“What do we owe you?”
He checked the meter and said, “Twenty-five ought to do it.”
Laura found two twenties and tossed them onto the seat. “Thanks for being so patient. Keep the change.”
She slammed the door and ran to the car. In a few moments they would be out of here, away from Lucas and this wretched house. She kicked the snow from her boots and sat in the car. A brief smile crossed her face. She had come and taken Leah. She’d won—this round was hers. She shifted into reverse and punched the gas; the Honda lurched backwards. Laura dropped the shifter to drive, twisted the wheel, and fishtailed up the driveway. As she turned onto the road, the Honda stalled with a jolt.
For a moment, Laura stared at the dash, confused. She turned the key but nothing happened.
Looked down, realized her mistake and shifted to park.
The wipers swished back and forth as Van Halen played on the radio.
Laura stepped on the brake and turned the key. The starter coughed and whined for a moment and quit. She cranked the key again but the starter just clicked this time.
Laura had a sudden, awful feeling. She shifted to neutral and let the Honda roll backwards. Stopped in the center of the drive. Turned the key and the Honda roared to life. She pressed the gas and jerked forward. As they reached the road, the Honda died again.
“What’s the matter?” Dana said in a rising pitch.
The dash lights went dark. The wipers stalled and the radio failed.
Laura rolled back into the drive. “It won’t go. I think it’s the house.”
“Mom! Look under the hood. Maybe something just came loose.”
It was a stupid suggestion, but Laura had none better. She motioned for Dana to pull the lever inside the car, and as the hood cracked open, Laura pushed it upwards until it clicked. She managed only a cursory glance at the confusing tangle of wires and hoses. It was the top of the engine that caught her attention, her eyes drawn to a message scrawled with a finger into the grease and dirt on the valve cover above the word iVTEC:
you’re dead bitch
Laura gasped and near doubled over in shock. Dana let out a short piercing scream when she saw the words through the gap between the hood and the dash.
“Do something!” Dana’s voice verged on panic.
The truck! She ran to the truck and grabbed the door handle.
It was locked. She yelled to Dana, “Throw me the keys.”