You don’t listen very well, do you Garret? she called out, trying to be heard above the whistling wind.
“Get back in your grave, you bitch. I killed you once, and I can do it again!”
Show me, Garret. What can you do to me now?
He heard the challenge and anchored his eyes on her undulating form, shifting from her to the edge of the ridge, then out to the raging ocean, then back to her again. Slowly he began walking toward her.
You’re a coward, Garret Van Dare, and you know it, she said, egging him on. All cowards are the same, you know. They love to torment women. See them cry, beg, and plead. Like you, Garret, they need to feel in control.
A chuckle came from deep within his throat. “But that’s not cowardly, my love. That’s entertainment!”
I forgot to tell you. Secretly I liked it. Your force, your energy, your constant drive. Oh, yes. I wanted it even more than you.
“That’s a lie, you bitch! You were terrified, on your knees in fear, many times. You trembled, shook, there’s no way....”
It was all an act, Garret. So you see, you weren’t in control at all. I was.
“It’s not true, damn it!”
But it is Garret. Every minute I knew what you were thinking, she said, inching backward as he came forward.
It was now or never, he thought just before he ran toward her. “You fucking whore,” he yelled. Not realizing he was only a few feet from disaster, he lunged forward to push her off and found himself stumbling, his hands pushing through nothing but mist … no substance. He became unbalanced, his arms flailed, grabbing at her, but only a chilly mist greeted him just before he went over.
“Aaaarrrrrggggghhhh!” he yelled, while falling. As he descended he could hear the angry waves crashing against the bones, then felt a sharp object pierce his back. “Ugghhf.”
“Oh, my God!” Shadoe yelled, then saw Julita running toward the edge, her eyes wide with fright. “Get the hell back!” he yelled, grabbing her arm.
While they were struggling, Lucretia made her way carefully to the brink, mindful not to get too close. Loose rocks tumbled over the edge as she knelt, crawling toward it.
“I’ve got to see!” Julita yelled, struggling with Shadoe, urging herself toward the sharp drop. She finally freed herself from his grasp and ran to the edge and looked down. She saw her father skewered face up, the giant’s rib bone sticking up out of his stomach. He hung there, his dead body being buffeted by the wind and waves.
Her scream pierced Shadoe like a bolt of lightning. He lunged into action, catching her just as she turned her head away from the grotesque sight of Garret’s body hanging limp, being eerily moved by the elements in a dance of death, his blood dripping down the huge bone. Her shoulders heaved while wracking sobs flooded through her trembling body. “He’s gone … my papa’s gone … dead.” She cried until she felt like her insides were bruised, then looked up at Shadoe. “Why did he jump off the ridge, Shadoe? He seemed to be shouting at someone. Did he go crazy at the end?”
Shadoe scowled down at the tragic sight, then turned his head away sharply. “No, not crazy,” he muttered. Even though the old man was a monster, Shadoe had tears in his eyes as well. It didn’t take a genius to know what had happened. He had been skillfully maneuvered to the edge by Greta. His insane ramblings were at her. She must have taunted him until he lost control and tried to kill her once again.
She finally had her revenge.
“Are you okay?” he asked, concern deepening the lines in his face.
“Oh, Shadoe I … I just wish it could’ve been different.” Shadoe cradled her close to him, letting her talk it out. “All those years that I thought he was dead, I wished for a father. I even remember crawling up into his lap when I was little. And then--” she brushed at her tears and looked up at him, “--When ... when I found out he was alive, I was out of my mind it happiness. I thought … I had someone to protect me … someone to love me … someone to go to when I was afraid. I....”
She suddenly quit speaking, and Shadoe felt her body stiffen. He looked down and saw her looking out into nothingness.
My baby … my pretty, pretty baby.
“Mama?” she whispered, hearing the soft purr of loving words being swept into her ear in hushed tones. “Is that you?”
I love you, my precious, and will always love you.
“The words … they’re coming from her.”
Come to me, baby. Come now, and we can be together forever.
“She’s calling me.”
Shadoe followed Julita’s eyes to the edge of the ridge, and saw a floating apparition. While he was looking away, Julita began walking … reaching out. All at once she stumbled, her arms flailing, her body falling down on the edge. She scratched, grasped at anything, but she kept slipping over the edge.
“Julita!” Shadoe shouted, running toward her. By the time he reached the edge, he saw her dangling from a root, but he couldn’t reach her. Desperate, he looked around and saw the apparition floating beyond the ridge. “She was coming to you,” he pleaded. “I can’t reach her, but you can. Don’t take her with you. I love her. I want her with me … always.”
She’s mine now. I have suffered all these years without her, and I....
“No! Please! I love her. Don’t take her!” Shadoe begged.
Greta saw Julita’s hands losing their grip in all the mist and surf, and saw the look of terror on her face. She heard her call out to Shadoe to help her and knew that in only seconds she would plunge to her death and they would be together. She shifted her eyes and saw the young man’s face, the passion, the love as he begged for her life.
While he continued his plea, Julita lost her grip and began screaming. Greta gasped, seeing Julita begin to fall, and fear grabbed her. She knew she couldn’t let it happen. She quickly moved forward and caught her, carrying her in her arms to safety and placing her on the ground with her back resting against a rock.
Shadoe stood looking on as Greta sat beside Julita’s unconscious body looking at her. Then her hand caressed Julita’s cheek, her eyes searching her face. Finally she leaned forward, placed her misty lips on Julita’s cheek, and whispered, Good-bye, my love. Be happy. I will see you again someday.
Feeling the mist on her cheek, Julita’s lashes began fluttering, her head turning, and a moan escaping her lips.
Greta turned to look at Shadoe. She’ll be all right now. Go to her … and never let her go.
Anxious to get to her, he ran and gathered her in his arms. “Thank God you’re safe, Julita. Don’t leave me, don’t ever leave me. I love you so.”
Julita looked around. “Where’s my mother?”
“She’s gone, Julita, but she saved you. Did you know that? You were falling and she caught you and brought you to safety. She even sat here looking at you and touching you just before she said good-bye.”
Julita began crying, then leaned on Shadoe’s chest. “Shadoe, I’m frightened, and cold.” Her arms encircled his neck as he lifted her into his arms and headed for the warmth of the mansion. “Don’t leave me, Shadoe. I love you.”
“I won’t, Julita. I’m here for you, my darling … forever.”
Watching them, Greta smiled, then turned and looked over at Lucretia who was still huddled near the edge. Only one more thing left to do, she thought while lifting her hands and orchestrating the winds. In a sudden fury, a blast of air circled around Lucretia, making her sneeze, and giving her a chill.
Yes, Greta thought. That will do … for now.
Lucretia didn’t know it … but her hell had only begun.
EPILOGUE
Lucretia could taste death on her lips. She’d been feverish for the last few days and could see the shrouded phantom lingering in the shadows of her room. It had come for her like it had come for her father. She was not afraid of dying. She invited it. She wanted to be snatched from her misery. From seeing the two people she hated most whispering together, stealing kisses, and locking themselves in
their bedroom. Even now she could hear their heavy breathing, kisses, and moans. She had worked her whole life to prevent this, but she had failed to hide her sister’s beauty.
Even though she had nothing left, she had still won her escape from that tomb where people crazier than she merely existed. With death on her doorstep she would never have to go back.
As her illness worsened, her vision clouded, and the room around her became blurred. People surrounded her bed. They spoke words that echoed in her brain, but she couldn’t understand their meaning. Faces floated above her, hands wiped her brow, eyes looked deep inside her, lips curled in strained smiles. The room smelled of alcohol and soap. Dim lights undulated, making grotesque shadows on the wall.
Maybe she was in hell.
No. She could hear the ocean outside her window. Water. Cool water. She struggled to rise from her bed, but hands from out of nowhere pushed her back down. She wanted the water. It would cool her raging fever. She muttered something and the edge of a glass was put to her lips. She pushed it away, trying to get to the balcony where the sheer curtains fluttered in the cool air like a ghostly vision.
Later, when the house was silent, and all the hands were gone, she woke from a dreamless sleep and stumbled to her balcony. She looked out at the restless ocean, longing for it … reaching toward it. She didn’t know how she got there, but she found herself walking along the beach, feeling the sand between her toes. Slowly the sand became wet and she could feel the icy water on her toes, her ankles. She welcomed the cold water, its coolness now riding up around her, washing along her hips, then her neck, her head. And then she felt a floating lightness as a comforting darkness curled around her, holding her like a beloved child in a warm blanket while she eased into death.
She smelled the flowers, heard the sobs of the sister she had tormented. Where is the forgetfulness? Where is the peace? Even now she can’t forget, for you see, her thin, smoky form walks among them, confined to the foreboding old inn with its tall tower, its maiden’s walk and magnolia trees. The statues seem alive, even the trees. Their eyes, their murmurings, their monstrous shadows flung long and frightening over the manicured lawn.
The inn is open again, being run by the two lovers that finally found each other. The laughing guests come and go, but they don’t see it as she does. They know nothing of the horror and fear that took place within its walls. To her, the cursed old inn is dark and foreboding, as cold and hard as the gravestone that stands above her head. Someday the old inn will crumble into dust, but she will not leave. She will continue to haunt the restless coast of Scarlet Bay....
…until she is cast into flames!
Pretty Baby Page 30