away from her . . . and the slow creeping chill that replaced it. She had never actually seen graves above-ground until now.
They spread out before her, rotting monuments to long-ago dead.
Trees pressed ominously here, as they did at the house, long gray tears of moss in perpetual mourning. The enclosure was small, yet in the very center rose an immense mausoleum of black marble, the name devereaux engraved above its entrance, letters barely visible beneath crawling patches of ivy. The door was barred by a locked iron gate. A dead wreath hung there, dripping spiderwebs. Weeds and ferns sprouted from the roof and along the foundation, and below the moldering Devereaux name, a carved stone serpent swallowed its tail in a symbol of eternity.
Olivia let her eyes wander slowly across the other graves. They were all normal-sized, crowded close together without pattern or design, staggered across the uneven ground and grown up with weeds. There were no flowers here ... no color. The tombs themselves—some oblong, some square—stood at varying heights, several of them flat, others with sloped, pedimented roofs—resembling miniature houses in a macabre city of the dead. As Olivia took a hesitant step forward, she could see that some of them were actually sunk into the earth, their inscriptions all but vanished. Once-whitewashed walls were now gray, mottled with lichen and black crusts of damp, and some had partially disintegrated, leaving nothing but soft piles of crushed bricks. Here and there a lopsided cross still adorned a final resting place, held together by straggling brown vines. Olivia heard something rustle in the tall weeds, and as she stepped back, a huge lizard slithered around one of the tombs and
wriggled itself into a hole at the back of the crumbling foundation.
A clammy breeze rattled the branches of a dead tree, bringing with it an underlying stench of decay.
With a gasp Olivia wheeled around, overwhelmed by the feeling that she was no longer alone.
"Skyler? Is that you?"
Overhead the trees moaned and bowed, plunging the cemetery deeper into shadow.
"Skyler?"
She glanced wildly at the tombs ... the scabrous walls . . . names of people once alive now faded from the gravestones and forgotten. She felt like she was suffocating. In the dangerous quiet, she heard her heart racing and at the same moment heard the sharp snap of a twig from the hedge just behind her.
And she was backing away now, away from where she'd come in, trying to hurry between the close-packed graves, pieces of the walls turning to dust beneath her groping hands. Terrified, she tried to go faster, but her shoes caught in the weeds and held her back. She felt a sharp tug as her sleeve snagged on a limb—she ripped it free and looked up and her breath froze in her throat.
He was standing very still. . . very silent . . . pressed back against the gate of the mausoleum.
Olivia's eyes widened ... yet as she stared, a wet, cold wind swept through the cemetery, shrouding the figure in fog and shadow.
"Skyler?" she whispered. "Answer me . . ."
The mist swirled slowly away.
The graveyard was deserted, and Olivia ran.
She thought she saw a glimmer of light and went toward it. Amazingly, there was a break in the trees, and as she came out of the forest at last, she saw a wide expanse of field sloping down to yet another dense thicket of oaks. The incline was steeper than it looked; as Olivia started down, she slipped several times and felt the bandage loosen on her leg. The wound was starting to bleed again, and she gritted her teeth as she went on.
To her surprise, she spotted the bayou ahead, yet she was almost certain this wasn't the same place she'd been with Skyler that morning. She remembered him telling her that the bayou wound off around the Devereaux property. This area was more thickly wooded, the banks more choked with reeds and cattails and thick marsh grasses than the other location had been. She went slowly along the shore, gazing down at half-submerged tree stumps and trailing puzzles of ivy. Maybe she could find the house again if she just followed the embankment.
Something rustled within the trees, and she stopped. She let her eyes go slowly over the woods behind her, probing the deep, deep shadows. She walked faster, trying to watch where she was going, trying to locate the house, but no matter how hard she strained, she couldn't see any sign of a roof or chimneys in the distance.
Behind the moss, something stirred again.
Puzzled, Olivia stopped and stared off toward the woods.
For one second she thought she saw the faintest flicker of movement, camouflaged there by the darkness. Instinctively, she ducked down into the weeds and waited.
She waited for a long, long time.
The bayou flowed, silent and sluggish, at her back. The woods were quiet as a grave.
At last, Olivia roused herself and began to slip quickly along the bank. The ground was like a wet suction beneath her feet. She forced herself not to think about snakes and kept going. Ahead of her a massive oak tree leaned out precariously over the water, its drooping lower limbs forming a natural archway above the ground. Lowering her head, Olivia prepared to go through.
She didn't see what hit her.
One moment she was on the shore, and the next she was gasping in the water, all the breath knocked out of her. She peered up and down along the bank, trying to figure out what had happened, but everything looked just as it had before.
Dazed, she managed to struggle to her feet and took several steps. There was a quick choking tug as mud oozed in over her shoes, and with a startled cry, she tried to pull one foot free.
It wouldn't budge.
Determinedly she tried again, but as the water drew her perilously off center, she felt her other foot slip, and mud closed over it like a steel trap.
This is ridiculous . . . I can get out of here if I just don't panic. Holding out her arms for balance, Olivia fought desperately to stay calm. She could see the oak tree, the spot where she'd just been standing, but though she twisted and strained, the branches stayed just out of reach. She could see the bank and the marsh grass and beyond that, the formidable stretch of forest, so close, so maddeningly close, and yet so far away . . .
She tried to fling the upper part of her body toward the tree, groaning as her lower half resisted. Slime sucked at her legs, and the mud was rising to her knees. As her eyes sought desperately along the embankment, she saw the tall weeds moving . . . bending ... as though something were gliding through them, swiftly, toward the water.
"Oh, God—"
She twisted and threw herself in a frenzy, painful images racing through her mind— alligators . . . water moccasins . . .
Quicksand . . .
The full horror of her situation burst upon her at last, and as she felt the water and muck clamp relentlessly around her knees, she began to scream.
"Help me! Somebody! Please!"
Surely someone would hear her— hadXo hear her— she couldn't die like this, not like this, so slowly, so close to her one chance at life—
"Screams don't mean anything here ..."
And she heard Skyler's voice again, his smooth, smug tone, the warning he'd given her— but it's only in my mind, isn't it? —her eyes sweeping along the murky bank, suddenly seeing the grasses part, the tall figure stepping out slowly to the very edge of the shore . . .
For a heart-stopping second his silhouette hung against the shadows, and then, as Olivia's distrusting eyes traveled upward, he leaned out over the water.
"Well, well." Skyler smiled. "What have we here?"
Olivia felt weak, giddy with fear and relief. "Oh, thank God ... I didn't think anyone would come."
Richie Tankeisley Cusick
"It seems you're in quite a predicament." His eyes traveled over her. "AH dressed up and no place to go."
"This is no time for making jokes! Can't you see I'm stuck out here!"
"Yes. I can see that." The smile flickered. "And whatever are you doing way out there anyway?"
"Please get me out."
"Exploring, I'd guess," he went
on, answering his own question. "And I'd also guess that you probably came through the gardens on your way."
Olivia nodded, reaching out to him.
"And that you probably realized you'd underestimated my . . . talents." The green eyes flashed.
She was growing more panicky by the second. "Help me!"
"So did you enjoy them?" He folded his arms across his chest and gazed off into the woods. "The gardens, I mean?"
"Yes! Yes!" Her gaze went helplessly around the water, but there was nothing to grab on to. "What do you want me to say—they were beautiful!"
"Why, thank you." Skyler gave a sweeping bow, then eased himself down the slope of the embankment. Olivia could see him—only yards away—his movements sure and unhurried. "I have many other talents, you know," Skyler added. "You might even enjoy them more than my gardening."
Olivia stopped struggling. Something in his voice cut straight through her, and she stared at him, her pulse racing.
"Take off your blouse," Skyler said.
Olivia couldn't move. Her legs sank deeper, and in some remote part of her brain she watched herself being sucked into a bottomless hole.
BLOOD ROOTS
"Skyler. . ." she mumbled, but she couldn't tear her eyes from his eyes, from the look of cool detachment on his face.
"Do you want to die?" he asked patiently. "If you don't want to die, then do as I say. Take off your blouse. Slowly. Take it off and throw it up here on the bank."
Take off your dress, Olivia . . . nice and slow . . . like a good girl. . .
No, Mama, please don't make me . . .
Take off your dress, Olivia . . . so he can see . . . so he can see what a pretty, pretty girl you are . . .
No, Mama, Vm afraid —
/ won't let him touch you . . . I won't let him touch my special, pretty girl . . . he can look at you but he can never never touch —
"I won't," Olivia's voice was hollow, and it sounded like it came from some other faraway place. "Do you hear me? I won't."
"Yes, I hear you, but no one else can." Skyler sighed. "No one will come. And if I tell them you drowned out here, no one will probably care."
Take off your dress, Olivia . . . let him see . . . you know how to do this . . . you've done it before . . .
No, Mama, please, you're hurting me —
/ have to hurt you . . . I have to hurt you if you don't do what Mama says . . . take it off now, Olivia.
She felt her arms moving, someone else's arms, undoing the buttons down the front of her blouse. Her eyes looked deep into Skyler's. She slipped the blouse down over her shoulders and tossed it to where he was standing.
In one feline movement he stooped and picked it up. He pressed it to his face . . . held it there a long time, as if absorbing its scent, as if memorizing the
Richie Tankersley Cnsick
empty feel of it. Watching him, Olivia began to tremble.
"Now." Skyler's arm dropped to his side, the blouse trailing in the mud. "Keep going."
Don't let him look atme . . . don't let him, Mama — I'll be good — I'll do anything —
"I'll do anything you want," Olivia murmured, "if you just get me out of here—"
She could scarcely move at all now, the bayou was sucking her, swallowing her whole, and Skyler was watching and waiting with a slow, satisfied smile.
"The rest of it," he said. "Then I'll get you out. And then you'll still do anything I want."
And she felt so hot now, so horribly hot, yet her skin was wet and cold, like her soul felt cold—her mind going vague and unfocused, the way she'd taught it to do—shutting out the horror of what was happening, pretending to be someone else in some other place—
"Do it!" he hissed.
She reached for the tiny clasp between her breasts. The straps of her bra slid gently off her shoulders. She could feel her nipples hardening through the thin, see-through material, burning beneath Skyler's stare.
"Hurry," he said, leaning back against the tree. "You don't have much time."
See what a pretty girl she is? Take a good long look at my Olivia . . . take a good, long look . . .
The hook came open, shaking in Olivia's fingers, pulling slowly, slowly apart.
Her breasts spilled out, full and round and aching.
She threw her bra at Skyler's feet and tried in vain to shield herself from his eyes.
"Take your hands away,'* he ordered.
Obediently she lowered her arms, a roar of silent rage rushing through the darkness of her mind, only she couldn't seem to do it this time—to get outside herself—even though she was trying so hard, and it had been so easy before . . . And instead she was burning, burning beneath Skyler's eyes, her nipples taut, unbearable heat and ice swelling through her breasts—waves of shame and something else— something else —throbbing deep deep inside— helpless and hurting—and he wasn't saying a word, not doing anything to save her—
Help me, Mama . . . please . . . please . . .
"Give me your hand."
Olivia saw Skyler gliding down the embankment. He waded out toward her through the reeds and the rushes and the strange, exotic flowers.
"Bend forward," he said calmly. "Swim to me."
As if in a dream, she did as she was told. She saw his hands reaching out. . . she saw his feet anchoring themselves against the slippery bank. With a slow, final pull, she felt her body slide free of the water and into the wet heat of his arms.
His fingers moved slowly down her spine, and she gasped, arching her back, looking up into his clever green eyes. And "I'll kill you," she whispered, meeting his stare with a level one of her own—"I'll kill you, I swear—"
His lips crushed hers, and she felt herself falling, floating, spread upon the soft, soft ground, and all she could see was his shadow towering over her. .. invincible stone against the sky, the calm, steely strength of him—and then his slow deliberate movement as he bent forward ... as he lowered himself on top of her . . .
"No . . ." she whispered. "Don't. Don't touch me . . .
She felt his mouth upon her breast, warm and hungry . . . surprisingly gentle . . . and demanding.
/ will kill you . . . I will. . .
And as his hands began to explore her . . . taking their time . . . the trees and the sky and the thick, gray moss all ran together in a merciful blur ... all became one with the smothering fog in her mind.
to her, I could have stunned her first. I didn't have much of a choice."
"I'm . . . sorry. I've never been as good at it as you, we both know that. Not even after all this time ..."
"It doesn't matter anyway about last night. I'm the only one she really saw — not you — and Yoly got her calmed down."
"But Helen was in her room this morning. She's bound to wonder about that — "
"Why should she? Anyone who saw Helen would just assume she's crazy. Which she is."
"And we're not supposed to feel responsible about that either, I suppose?"
"Don't start that again. Are you hungry now or what?"
"Just look at the way she's lying there . . . just look at her."
"I am looking. She looks just as good now as she did last night in front of the mirror —"
"I was right, wasn't I? About how beautiful she is."
"Perfect for us, that's all that matters. Perfect. Alone. And sweet. And so, so ready."
"I want it done right, do you hear me? I don't want her to know what's happening."
"She won't know. They never know. Why are you so worried about this one? Why is this one any different from the others?"
"I have. . . a feeling about her. She is different. Somehow."
"Well, she's not as fragile as she looks. Her will is strong. She's hungry for life. And she's passionate. She doesn't even realize how passionate she is. But I do."
"Don't hurt her."
'Why would I hurt her? She has to last us a long . . . long . . . time."
Olivia was having the strangest dream
.
She was lying in a vast gray emptiness, completely alone, and yet there were voices very near to her, masculine voices, speaking urgently in loud whispers. One of them seemed unhappy and profoundly upset about something. The other sounded impatient and apathetic. In her dream she tried to listen to what they were saying, but after a hurried exchange that she could barely hear and didn't understand, both voices faded away. Olivia groaned out loud and woke herself up.
She was lying in tall grass and was soaking wet. Her leg was throbbing with pain, and as she struggled to sit up, reality crashed down on her with a terrible clarity.
Oh my God. . . Skyler . . .
Dazed, she looked around—saw the bayou, thick and sluggish off to her left, the huge oak tree leaning to her right. As memory flooded back, she instinctively tried to cover herself, then stared down in dismay. Her blouse was lying damp and crumpled over her bare breasts. Her skirt was wet, hiked up around her hips, and her legs were covered with mud. She'd lost her shoes in the bayou. As she lay there, trying to make sense of it all, another stab of pain shot through her leg, and she propped herself on her elbows to take a look at it.
The bandage was soggy and loose—she was surprised to see it still hanging there. Purplish bruises showed around all four edges of the gauze, and fresh blood had oozed and dried again since she'd been out of the water. Placing her fingertips carefully on the swollen flesh, Olivia winced at the excruciating pain.
She carefully peeled the gauze away, then drew her breath in sharply.
The flesh actually looked chewed.
As if something had bitten—hard—and gnawed before letting go.
"Oh, God . . . what happened to me?"
Still dazed, Olivia slipped into her blouse, noting at once that all the buttons were gone. She tried to hold it closed across her breasts and straighten her skirt at the same time, then gave up and let the blouse hang open. She peered off at the bayou and tried to reconstruct what had happened before she lost consciousness. She remembered falling into the water and realizing she was trapped . . . she remembered her terror . . . and Skyler . . . and what he had done to her. And there had been sensations, too—strange sensations she'd never felt before . . . and dreams . . . and voices in a blur . . .
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