by Jane Toombs
“What?” Janella struggled to sit up.
Janella unfolded the paper. I told you to meet me, it said in the crabbed red writing of yesterday’s note. Tonight, same time, same place. She glanced around for a clock. Not eight yet.
Red. Red Beard. Any good Finn knows the devil has red hair and, of course, a red beard, too. Punaparta. The devil in person. She shook her head and stood up.
There was no one in the dining room or living room. Was Lucien sleeping in her own room upstairs? She went up and peeked into the room through the half-open door. The bed was empty. Could he be in Toivi’s room? She hesitated outside her aunt’s door. Finally she knocked, and, getting no response, eased the door open and looked inside. Neither Lucien nor Toivi was there. Could Toivi be in with the snake, in Akki’s room?
But when Janella steeled herself to walk into Akki’s room, there was no one there. Where was everyone?
The gallery door was closed, and Janella opened it with reluctance. Empty except for the unhung paintings and the long table. Janella shuddered and went quickly down the stairs. Outside the air would be clean, washed by the rain.
But when she opened the front door, a wall of grayness confronted her. Fog. She was taken aback for a moment and didn’t at first see the darker shape within the gray. By the time she had recoiled, startled, Red was in the house with her, shutting the door behind him.
Droplets of water condensed on his beard, making tiny diamonds in the light. She stared at the dark eyes, and they, too, seemed hard as diamonds.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“Where did he go?” Red demanded, ignoring her words. “I tried to tail him, but the damn fog…”
“Who? You mean Lucien—Mr. DuBois? I don’t know—I wasn’t aware he’d left.”
“Oh, come off it. Where’s he hidden Chris?”
Was it all true, her nightmare vision of Chris dead somewhere?
Red reached out and grabbed her upper arms, fingers digging in so that she winced.
“Let me go,” she cried. “Get out of this house.”
He laughed, a harsh sound with no warmth. “Who’s going to make me?”
“I’m not alone here. Ruth…”
“She’s gone.”
“My aunt…”
“You think she’s any good—your crazy aunt?”
The poisonous radiation of fear ran along her nerves, spreading until she had difficulty in standing. “What—what do you want?” The words had to be forced past the cold nugget of terror in her throat.
Run, her mind screamed silently. Run from the devil.
“You’re coming with me. You’re going to show me where Chris is.”
“I don’t know. I don’t know anything about Chris.”
“You know where he is, though. Don’t you?”
She started to shake her head, but then a picture of Lucien at the piano came into her mind. Had he gone to Villa Montezuma? The house could be rented for evening use. Was he…?
Red shook her roughly and her hair tumbled across her face. Janella gave a small gasp of fear. His eyes were shiny and she was so close she could see the separation of pupil and iris—the dark-brown, almost-black iris taking up most of the area, the pupil only a small dot.
Drugs. Toivi. Red, too?
He let go of her, but before she could move his hand flashed out and hit the side of her face so hard she fell sideways.
“That was just a slap. Look, when I want something you better give.”
Tears in her eyes, she got back on her feet.
“Let’s go,” he said.
I’ll pretend to take him somewhere, she thought. I can get away when we’re out in the fog.
“He went down 94,” Red told her. “That’s the way to go—right?”
Outside the fog closed about them, but Red gripped her arm tightly and she couldn’t escape him. Before she knew what he intended to do he had tied her hands in back of her with rope. I’ll scream, she thought. But as if he’d anticipated her idea, he caught her neck in the crook of his arm.
“I’ll choke you out if you make any noise,” he threatened. “You know what I mean?” He squeezed until she was gasping for breath, then let her go.
She made no resistance as he picked her up and sat her on the motorcycle, tying her to the sissy bar at the back of the seat. She felt dazed, confused, as though this were happening to someone else. Red got on the bike, the motor caught, and they roared off into the foggy night.
The ride was a nightmare. Her hands ached, then became numb. Every minute she expected to fall off the motorcycle as Red rushed along the freeway at a crazy speed. He had turned onto 94 after asking her what off-ramp to take. Helplessly, not knowing what else to do, she had given him directions.
“Twenty-fifth Street off-ramp, left to K Street, right to the corner of 20th and K.” How often had she said the same thing on the phone to callers wanting to visit the Jesse Shephard house?
What would she do when they got there and the house loomed dark and empty? Would he untie her, so she would have a chance to escape? How could she get away from him, what should she do?
Enclosed in a gray world of fright, Janella lost all track of time and place. When the motorcycle stopped, the sudden cessation of motion and sound was shocking. The fog was patchier now, and when she looked around she saw the rounded oriental lines of the Tower of Villa Montezuma, while below light glowed from the windows of the Music Room.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“You go up to the door and knock,” Red ordered. He got off and loosened the rope holding her against the sissy bar, then yanked her from the seat of the bike. Janella’s hands began to tingle and needles of pain pierced them. Her legs trembled.
I’ve got to get away, she thought. Why did I bring him here? It can’t be Lucien inside Villa Montezuma—the caretaker must have left the downstairs lights on. What will happen when Red doesn’t find Lucien here? Will he let me go?
Red gripped her forearm and pushed her ahead of him up the stairs. The fog closed about them intimately, even her knock on the front door sounded muffled.
Can I jerk away from him and run? The fog will hide me. Maybe when the door opens, when his attention is distracted…
“Knock again,” Red told her.
The door opened, but instead of the caretaker’s dark face she saw Lucien’s yellow eyes, feral in the dim light of the Entry Hall.
“Janella!” he exclaimed, while she froze, unable to move or think. “How did you…”
Red pushed past her, shoving her sideways into the house. She half fell against the pier glass.
“Where’s Chris?” Red demanded. “I know you’ve got her hidden somewhere, DuBois.”
“She’s not here,” Lucien said. “She’s where no one can bother her.”
Dead, Janella told herself. Nobody can reach the dead.
Red lunged at Lucien but the older man sidestepped. Janella suddenly realized she was free—Red’s fingers no longer clutched her above the wrist. But both men were between her and the door. All the downstairs rooms were dark except the Music Room. A pale stream of light came from the staircase, and she turned her back and fled up the stairs. The caretaker had his living quarters on the second floor—she’d ask him for help.
She hurried up the curving staircase, knocked on the door to his lodgings. There was no answer, and when she tried the door it was locked. The upstairs was dimly lit from a small ceiling fixture and shadows flickered in the corners. She banged frantically on the caretaker’s door, looking over her shoulder to see other shadows wavering in the Entry Hall below. Was that someone starting up the steps?
“Lucien?” she ventured aloud.
No answer. Then all the lights went off.
The stairs creaked. She took a step backward, then another, until she was at the Spanish cedar stairs leading to the Tower. As quietly as she could she crept up the narrow twisting staircase and opened the door to the Tower. Inside was the grayness of the fog, pr
essing inward from the twelve windows. She closed the door behind her. No one knew she was here, she was safe in the Tower.
But the door didn’t lock, and there was nothing in the Tower to push against it. As she waited, her initial sense of elation at escaping Red blurred into apprehension. Wouldn’t she be trapped up here if…?
What was that noise? Someone’s foot slipping on the steps? Who was creeping stealthily toward the Tower? The room was cold. Janella hugged her arms to herself while she stared unseeingly at the gray mist outside the windows. Listen. Who was whispering her name, turning the syllables into a hiss of hatred?
No way out. She was cut off from the rest of the house, the Tower not a place of refuge but a prison. She heard again the hiss like a snake—one of Akki’s hell crawlers. She backed up against a window. No way out. Only onto the roof, another trap. But her fingers fumbled with the latch. This was the middle north window, and the roof flattened for a small space underneath before the rise to the main peak.
Gray fog swirled about her face and the Tower filled with dampness. Janella put her leg over the sill just as she heard the click of the door knob.
She dropped down, landing crouched, and scrambled up the steep pitch of the roof, trying to angle to her right. The night and the fog pressed about her, forcing her to slower movement, to frantic groping lest she go over an unseen edge in her haste.
Terhen Neiti, she begged silently. Help me now. Guide me along the roof to the smaller peaked tower. The wooden shingles were slippery under her hands, and her feet slipped again and again. Hear me, Fog Maiden, she pleaded. Lead me to sanctuary. The fog filled her lungs with wetness ad she had difficulty breathing. She heard a slithering sound and knew her pursuer had climbed onto the roof to find her.
Red, was it Red? But who else…?
She started to slide and cried out in fear of falling.
“Come back,” a voice urged softly. “Come back, Janny.”
Daddy? Janella thought in confusion. No, no, that was over, she knew about her father. She had managed to stop slipping and began to move cautiously sideways. She could see the roof gables and dormers and chimneys clearly in her mind. The Tower, then the series of cupolas, then the smaller tower. If I can get over far enough without falling off the edge, she told herself, I can hide in the crevice made by the fitting of the small tower against the house. But she couldn’t see. All the roof felt alike under her hands, and she was afraid to move any farther. Trapped.
Numbly she waited for the voice to find her. A luminous glow appeared directly beneath her feet, and she caught the outline on the small tower’s peaked dome before the light faded and disappeared. Inching forward and down, she dropped into the space between the pointed tower roof and the main one. The mist seemed to swirl over her thicker than ever. Thank you, she said as she curled up in the crevice. Thank you, Fog Maiden.
But now she had to listen to the creakings and rustlings going on about her, not knowing which might be her pursuer. She huddled in on herself, hardly breathing.
He’ll get tired, she told herself. Maybe he’s gone back already. Maybe he’s even climbed back through the window by now.
“I know you’re near me, Janny.” The voice spoke almost in her ear, and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. Don’t scream, she thought. A scream will locate you. No good to shout for help because he can reach you first. Be quiet and be safe, don’t move…
To her horror she saw the glow once again and realized it was moving toward her, would sweep over her and show her crouching. There was no place to run, and she stared upward. Was that a triumphant intake of breath as the light swept over her, a scrambling of feet toward her hiding place? She waited, frozen in fear, until something touched her face, and then, in an explosion of panic, fought her way back up the roof.
What’s the use? her mind said, but her body pulled itself along. Her feet slipped and slithered on the wet wood, and the fog choked her. There was no purchase for her hands. She was sliding. What was beneath her—the long slope of the roof leading to nothingness? Janella stifled a sob, afraid to be heard. Desperately she pulled her feet up underneath her, and the downward motion stopped. She hunched up, terrified. I can’t stay this way, she thought. He’ll find me or I’ll slip and fall all the way down, twisting and twisting until…
Frantic, she scrabbled upward, whimpering, careless of noise, until she felt the tile on the roof crest. Then one of the chimneys met her outstretched hand. Moving partway around it, she rested. Was this the chimney above the main Tower? If only the lights were on inside the house. Where is he? Between me and the Tower?
If I could find the pathway, she thought, I’d creep into his mind and give him a shove and he’d be gone. If I had the golden owl I could find the path. Janella shut her eyes and began to whirl away into the familiar mental darkness. No—she told herself. No, don’t use the power for harm—danger and madness lie that way.
Madness. Now she knew where Terhen Neiti took you if you let her. To nowhere, the realm of madness. Was the Fog Maiden hovering near her now? Was it her clammy touch she felt inside? Be gone! she ordered silently, I command you. In her concentration she loosened her hold on the rough chimney brick, and then she was slipping down the roof slope.
Before she had time to scream she felt the flat part of the roof under her, the flattened area next to the Tower, and then her fall was halted by the side of the Tower itself.
Janella got to her feet. Was someone waiting inside the dark Tower? She hesitated, then put her leg over the windowsill and climbed in. I’m tired of the dark, she thought, tired of the shadows and the mysteries and the evil. I can’t stay outside forever, waiting for death to find me. Whatever messenger from hell waits in this Tower of Tuonela, I’ll face it now.
Hand outstretched, she groped for the door, and touched cloth, felt a bone-thin arm under the material. “Aunt Toivi?” she said, startled.
“Why did you come?” her aunt asked.
“Red forced me. He…” Janella looked wildly around in the darkness as though expecting to see him. “Where is he?”
“He and Lucien are settling their differences.”
“But he—on the roof…” Janella’s voice trailed away as she realized it hadn’t been Red who followed her up the stairs, pursued her onto the roof. “You…” she said to Toivi.
The high tinkle of her aunt’s laugh shattered the darkness like shards of glass. “Little Janny,” she said. “So easy to fool. Like your father.”
Janella swayed and held on to the wall to steady herself. Madness. “What do you want?” she asked.
“I want the chest. The chest and the owl. Akki gave them to you—I know she did.”
Janella shook her head in the darkness. Was that why Akki went to the avocado grove? she wondered. Was Akki trying to hide the chest from Toivi?
“What happened to Akki?” she asked her aunt.
“She was a foolish old woman. I frightened her with her own prophecies. But…” Toivi’s voice changed, became petulant, “…but she died—she wasn’t supposed to die.”
Am I next? Janella wondered. Is Toivi stalking another victim now in the dark of the Tower? Janella felt the open window beside her, the wetness of the fog. No way to escape from the roof—better to circle, hoping to reach the door. She felt a breath of motion beside her and swerved from the sensation. Once she moved away from the windows, she had no idea as to her location, could feel nothing, see nothing. It seemed the darkness had lasted forever, that she’d been groping in the dark since the beginning of time.
“Janny?” The trickle of sound confused her. Had it come from behind? She turned, trying to decide. “Janny, I’m going to count. Count with me, Janny.”
“No,” she said involuntarily, and heard Toivi’s triumphant laugh, realized her aunt was between her and the door. There was no place to go, no way out of this hell tower.
“Yksi,” Toivi said. “Koksi, kolme…”
Janella felt the swirl of shadows in her mi
nd, a darkness denser than the one surrounding her. A voice spoke close to her. “Let me in, Janny. I know the way now, so you must let me in.” Something forcing itself into her head, Toivi in with her, a terrible feeling, agony, push her out…
“Toivi,” Janella gasped, “get out. I can’t stand you in with me.”
“But I’m here.” Toivi’s voice, exultant. “Arnold wouldn’t show me, turned me out of his house, fled across the country to hide from me, hide you from me. But I’ve found you, found you and won.”
“I can’t stand this, Toivi.” Janella tried to gather strength to drive her aunt away. She clenched her fists and shut her eyes, trying to close her mind.
“Now it’s my turn,” Toivi said. “I’ll hide you. Lucien will never find you like he found that poor stupid Chris. No one will find you. Together, with me in control, we’ll be more powerful than I ever dreamed. Lucien won’t put me away to have you—did he think he could betray me? We’ll destroy him, you and I, corrupt him until he wills death.”
Janella searched for the way to rid herself of this alien within. Where were the words? Bile rose in her throat from the feel of Toivi inside her mind.
“And the pictures,” Toivi was saying. “Lucien took them down, intended to destroy them. They’re mine—he had no right… But the pictures can wait. I’ll teach you how to enjoy them, but that can wait. Give me your hand now, Janny, and we’ll sneak down the stairs, escape…”
Janella’s hand went out to seek Toivi’s despite all her efforts to resist the command. Visions of serpents writhed in her head. The snake in the painting, Akki’s little snake, messengers from Tuonela, from hell… Toivi was leading her by the hand, leading her to Tuonela. Toivi was Louhi, the witch woman, just as Daddy had said. This was the hell tower.
But she wasn’t Janny, she was Janella, and she had the right words, the exorcism chant. If she could remember…
“Evil stranger
Find your rightful home
You do not belong within
Your way is the one of slithering horror
Of the tuoni, the grave spirits