Pretty Baby

by Pretty Baby (NCP) (lit)

  “She scratched you face!” Garret roared. “She was the rotten, low-down animal that got in your cradle. Did you know that? Did she tell you that? And then she threw me off the balcony!” Garret lowered his head, trying to get him temper under control. “How God could let a woman like that exist in this world is a mystery to me!”

  “I’m sorry, Papa,” Julita said, kneeling before her father’s knees.

  Garret sobbed. “It isn’t your fault, baby. I’m sorry I yelled.” Then he looked up at Shadoe. “I can blame a lot on Lucretia, God knows she’s evil, but it’s my fault as well. I made no secret of the fact that I hated her. Hell, I could hardly stand the sight of her, but I needed her. She helped in the inn, took care of both Julita and me. For a seventeen-year-old, that’s a pretty full plate. And then Lucretia told me that my consultation with the doctor fell through.”

  “Why the hell didn’t you follow up on that?” Shadoe asked. “You must have known you couldn’t trust Lucretia.”

  “I … hell I don’t know. Something happened to me. Lucretia was feeding me good then….” He hesitated, looked up at Shadoe as he realized the truth. “My God, I’ll bet she was treating my food. Never in my life have I given in to depression. I’ve always been strong … come out fighting, but hell I just gave up and Lucretia took over. I’ll be damned,” he muttered. “Julita was only a baby….” Garret continued, telling Shadoe the whole story of the night he fell, and the three years following.

  “When she’d taken all she could, she put me in the basement and began Julita and me on a descent right down into hell. A small child … well, it was easy to twist her mind, but me … well, that’s how I wound up in my new home. She’s a cruel woman … crazy. She’s been that way since the moment she was born, getting worse every year she lived. She didn’t kill us because she wanted us to suffer. The only thing is, she suffered as well. That’s another thing she blames us for … her misery. She resented me for loving Julita, and she resents Julita for having the beauty that she has wanted all her life. It stands to reason she’d try to keep that beauty hidden. Apparently she brainwashed the child, conjured up an ugly-looking mask and a story to go along with it.” He looked over at Julita who was still eating. “Look at the way she’s dressed. I’ll bet that child hasn’t had a new dress in her whole life. It’s my bet that Lucretia lives that night over and over.”

  “But why?” Shadoe asked, mesmerized by the story.

  “Because it was the night of her triumph. She still sees the blood on the child’s face, the scratches that were superficial, and sits in the rocking chair as she did that first night, rocking the baby. I’ve heard her … night after night … the rocking chair squeaking … that damned music box.”

  “But to go to such lengths.”

  “Hell, she’s crazy. Crazy people do that. I don’t know. To them I guess it’s worth it.”

  “But why the nursery, the baby bed, the way she makes Julita dress. Did you know she bound up her … well, you know,” Shadoe said, indicating to his own chest.

  “Don’t you see? Apparently she wanted to keep Julita just as she was that night, but nature ran it’s course causing the whole thing to become macabre. She couldn’t let Julita grow up because that would mean freedom, a mind of her own. And worst of all, competition. She had to keep Julita young to keep her dependent on her. She couldn’t kill us. Death would mean freedom. She wanted to keep us alive to torture us … hold us captive … feel the evil satisfaction of having us dependent upon her. But now that we’re in her way, she wants to get rid of us.”

  “I can’t believe you heard all that through the ventilator.”

  “Hell, sometimes, when there’s no interruptions, it’s like listening to some goddamned soap opera. I’ve heard that bitch threaten, torment, rock her to sleep, sing to her. At times it was sickening. Julita, a grown woman being treated like a baby.”

  “Then why wouldn’t you have known about the mask?”

  “Hell … I don’t know. I didn’t even know if Julita was actually alive. I never heard her voice, only Lucretia’s. Knowing how crazy the bitch is, I thought maybe she was up there all alone living in a fantasy world. The sounds come and go. Sometimes it’s hard to hear, other times it seems like the volume is turned up. I think it’s my hearing. You know, old age and all that.” Garret became angry. “It doesn’t matter what I know or don’t know. The fact is Lucretia stole her life … it’s all over.”

  “All over?” Shadoe said. “She’s only eighteen. She has her whole life ahead of her. The best part at least.” His eyes shifted to Julita, and he saw her looking in the mirror again, caressing her skin, mesmerized by what she saw. My God, he thought, it's the first time she’s ever seen herself. While looking in the dingy mirror, her eyes caught his, and they locked. She was unsettled, things were happening so fast, and she still wasn’t sure of him. But for Shadoe her beauty caused a warm, electrifying heat to pulse through him. He still wanted her like no other woman he’d ever known. Had he ruined that with his accusations … his stupidity?

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Lucretia huddled at the edge of the ridge, the hard, raw wind whipping around her. She watched the seagulls as they wheeled through the air, their excited cawing sending out a warning of bad weather. The clouds were dark, roiling, and close to the earth. There was a storm at sea, and it was heading in. The water was choppy, and cold, causing the waves to crash against the rocks, sending the chilling spray high into the air.

  Julita had been missing for hours, and now it was getting late, and cold. How could the girl do this to her? Disappear like this. Didn’t she know it would worry her? She had to find her soon or she’d be caught in the storm. Where could she be? She had searched the woods, the beach, even the underground caves … at least the ones she could get to. Julita was nowhere to be found.

  Just as Lucretia was about to turn and go back to the inn, her eyes caught something moving on the rocks below. It seemed to float upward, swirling in the incoming tide, then fall against the craggy rock as the tide withdrew.

  Something was down there. Caught on the rocks.

  She lifted a hand to shield her eyes from the pelting spray, and squinted. Her pulse began pounding. There was something familiar about it. The colors, the movement. She had to know what it was. She looked over at the steep incline that led to the beach. It would be suicide to try to climb those rocks in this weather only for a piece of rubble. No, not rubble, she decided. A piece of material. Not hesitating another minute, she quickly turned and ran toward the trail. When she reached the bottom she left the well-worn path and took a sharp turn toward the rocks that resembled bones. With some hesitancy she discarded her shoes and entered the human jungle. The bones surrounded her … large and hideous. She felt like she had stepped into a science fiction film and was walking through the remains of some fabled giant that had been dead for centuries. She saw a large, horrifying skull half buried in the sand, eye holes, grinning teeth, a line of vertebrae, then the joint of what looked like an elbow that seemed to attach itself to the tall, long-standing raw-boned rocks that resembled the ulna. Extended from it were five bony fingers that splayed out along the ridge as if it were trying to climb up. The scene was morbid, sending chills spiraling through her. Suddenly she stopped when she saw what looked like a line of bones extending from the sand. My God, she thought. It looked like a rib cage that housed a slow-crawling creature. The sight was horrifying. Macabre. She felt death in the air as she stepped in and crept through it, her hands holding fast to the rib bones when the waves threatened to wash her out to sea.

  All at once the rocks became crowded together and she began climbing. The rocks were craggy and sharp, her feet finding footholds while her toes sunk into the crevices. The waves drenched her … forcefully moving her body as she hung on dangerously, climbing higher and higher. She caught her breath when she looked down and saw her feet bleeding as they struggled to hold their grip against the forceful waves. Still she kept climbing, being
driven, and feeling a chill when she saw the waves wash her blood out to sea. Every giant wave that came crashing in brought her to a standstill. They collided against the rocks and were tall and savage, flooding the bones, racing between them, then receding, slapping, spraying, becoming so violent at times that she felt herself almost slipping off into the ocean.

  And then she reached it.

  The rock where she’d seen the bit of material.

  She suddenly felt foolish. She couldn’t believe she was putting her life in danger to get a closer look at the strange piece of useless debris that had probably drifted in from the ocean … but still she didn’t give up.

  Her pulse raced as she climbed. Her breath was coming hard. Most of her hair had escaped from her chignon, the ravenous waves plastering the dark strands to her face as they slapped across her gaunt features. She hurried. Quicker now. Her hands became bloodred, being scratched raw as she tried to hold on to the jagged edges of the boulder’s mysterious shape. Was it still there, or had it come loose from the sharp edges that had held it fast? She stumbled several times before she got to the top, almost falling, but finally … before she knew it … there it was. “Oh God,” she gasped. It was Julita’s dress. It was ripped and water soaked, but she recognized it as it lay on the rocks where her body must have been. Lucretia darted around as if afraid someone was watching, then reached out and snatched it. She turned it in her hands, looking closely at the torn cloth, the familiar print, the shapeless style that Lucretia had made her wear. Then she looked out into the vast ocean, all doubt that she had disappeared into the pounding surf, gone. Before turning to go, she lifted her eyes toward the top of the ridge and gasped when she saw someone. A dark silhouette stood against the roiling clouds. The girl … young … wind whipping at her hair … was naked! She stood perfectly still, watching Lucretia struggle along the rocks. The figure was far away but it looked like … oh, God, it looked like … Julita. No, it couldn’t be, that was impossible. She must be dreaming. The roaring of the sea was in her ears, and a sudden splash of saltwater hit her in the face. She closed her eyes and wiped the brine from her face, but only for an instant. When she looked again the girl was gone. Lucretia’s eyes raked along the edge of the ridge, but she had disappeared … as if she’d never been there. Had she just seen Julita’s ghost? She looked down at the dress in her hands, then back up to where the naked girl had stood. An eerie feeling washed over her, and she became convinced that it had been Julita she had seen. What had happened? Had she jumped? No, Julita wouldn’t jump. She must have slipped. Ventured too close to the edge, the violent weather being too much for her. Once she hit the rocks a dead body would be swept out into the raging ocean in no time. Yes, she must have been swept off the rocks and into its depths.

  Her sister was dead, and her ghost… She looked back up at the ridge. Her ghost had been here … watching her. The wind’s fierce growl, and the constant battering of cold spray sent a chill deep into Lucretia’s soul. A paralyzing fear coursed through her. She seemed to be frozen clear through, and suddenly wanted to feel the warmth of the inn around her. She couldn’t stay here another minute. She had to get back. She’d be safe at the inn. She had probably been missed already. She finally managed to move and began to climb down, more quickly this time, and ran, stumbling through the bones, her sobs choking her. She didn’t realize the death of her sister would affect her so deeply. It was a shock, a jolt, that was all. She was glad it had happened. It would save her the trouble. Julita had become too hard to handle and was just in the way. Now the only thing Lucretia had to worry about was her father.

  And she would take care of him tonight.

  * * * *

  The murky daylight was dying, slowly sinking the basement into a shadowy stage. The atmosphere was right, Shadoe thought. Wind keening outside, and if he was lucky there would be a lot of lightning and thunder to go along with the scene he was setting up. He hurriedly worked on Garret, applying stage makeup, fake blood, and directed him as to how to put on the contacts that would make his eyes look as if they’d rolled back in his head. He positioned the old man over the sink, had a bloody knife hanging out of Garret’s hand, spread blood and cobwebs around, trying to make the scene as gruesome as possible.

  “Where’s Julita?”

  “She’s in back, waiting for her cue.” He looked at his handiwork. “God, Garret if you could see yourself, you’d run screaming.”

  “That’s because I’m human,” Garret said, his sightless eyes looking at Shadoe. “That witch isn’t human.”

  “Well, that’s something we’re about to find out,” he said, whispering. Suddenly he gave a start. “Did you hear that?”

  “Oh, goddamn it, she’s coming down!”

  “Quick, slump over the sink, and remember everything I told you,” he hissed. “Don’t move, don’t even breathe. If you need a breath do it like I told you. Very small, shallow breaths that won’t heave your chest and stomach.”

  “Shit … I don’t know....”

  “Don’t worry, she’ll be in and out of here in a second. The minute she sees you, she’ll turn and run. I can almost guarantee it.” Thinking everything was set, he furtively receded back into a shadow and waited.

  In only seconds the door moved slightly, scraping noisily against the floor. Shadoe stood silent, his shifting eyes making one last check over the scene. All at once he gasped. The picnic basket was in plain sight. “Oh, God,” he muttered, then took a lunge and kicked it, sending it into the other part of the basement before sinking back into the darkness. Lucretia wouldn’t be able to see it from where Garret was, but if she stepped farther into the basement, she couldn’t miss it.

  His eyes looked back at the door and he heard the rusty hinges let out a painful squeal. When he heard it he almost laughed out loud. The scraping door, the squeal, it was perfect. It was just what he needed to bring the whole scene together, and Lucretia had provided it.

  She entered slowly and stopped dead in her tracks. Her eyes raked across the dark basement, sensing something wasn’t right. The scene … the whole thing … it seemed too elaborate. The eerie feel, the hush, the undulating candlelight that gave the shadows a monstrous quality had somehow, for some reason, all been staged. But why? And then she saw him … the old man laying over the sink, covered with blood.

  Shadoe could see several expressions of shock travel across her face. She struggled for a moment, her throat working into a scream, but simply cried, “Oh, God!”

  Shadoe’s hopes sunk. She didn’t run screaming as he had thought. Instead she looked at Garret as if she was transfixed.

  She closed her eyes, her throat moving as if trying to swallow the fear she felt. Forcing herself, she began to walk toward him slowly. She couldn’t believe it. Was he really dead? Could she be that lucky? Both of them gone in one day, and not at her hand? Make sure, she told herself, hesitantly putting one foot in front of the other, her soles scraping on the hard, dirty cement. With each carefully placed step, she could see the horrible scene draw near, but she wouldn’t stop … couldn’t stop … not now.

  She remembered the night he fell, and felt like she did then. Weak at first, but then stronger. Now her eyes were burning into the old man. He had to be dead. He was pale, his eyes … oh, God, his eyes! With a hesitating, trembling hand she reached out to touch him. But before she laid a finger on him he moved quickly and grabbed her wrist. She opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out. Her throat was closed, choking her. She tried to pull away, but he had her wrist in his strong grip. Suddenly his head jerked around and he was looking at her with a twisted, evil scowl creasing his deathly gray face. His ashen lips slowly stretched into a malicious smile, showing a mouthful of dingy teeth. “Hello, Lucretia. I’ve been waiting for this day, you dirty bitch!”

  She watched him lift the bloody knife toward her and opened her mouth in a scream that wouldn’t come. She looked around to find a weapon, then scoffed at her own stupidity. What good would a weapon
be against someone who was already dead? Realizing she was helpless, a slow, cold, agonizing terror slithered up her spine as she tried to struggle free. Then she heard a sound. Something moving from the other side of the basement. She lifted her eyes and saw a naked Julita shuffling toward her slowly, her hair and body drenched with ocean water.

  The pale zombie stiffly held out her hands and shuffled toward Lucretia. Her eyes glowed like two burning coals, seaweed was caught in her hair. “Lucretia,” she said, her voice echoing as if coming from her watery grave. “Come with me. We can be together.”

  “No!” she rasped out of a constricted throat while shaking her head. She finally jerked her hand away from the old man so violently, his wheelchair toppled. She began backing away, watching as he followed her, reaching for her while he pulled himself along on the floor with his hands. She looked from one to the other. Julita’s stiff gait as she reached for Lucretia, and her father pulling himself along on the floor.

  “Stay away!” she cried, then quickly turned away from the horrible sight that was strangling her in its deathly grip.

  “We need you, Lucretia. Who will take care of us?” they said in ghastly unison.

  She stumbled backward, flailing her arms as she staggered. “No! Go away!” she rasped while bumping into walls and tables as she stalked erratically toward the door.

  She grabbed it. Like a lifeline. But before she stumbled through, she looked back to see Julita and Garret still coming, still reaching out. One dripping seawater, the other, dripping blood.

  She desperately climbed up the stairs on her hands and knees, struggling, scratching, pulling herself up until she got to the door at the top. She managed to crawl up, grab the knob, open it, and fall through. She looked up, but everything seemed normal. No one in sight. All at once the phone rang, and she lifted herself up and went to answer it.