ground and his arms went slowly around Mathilde, and Olivia pulled back, closing her eyes, trying to shut out the sound of Mathilde's muffled laughter.
"Why do you make me suffer so much?" Mathilde teased him. "Why do you make me beg?"
Skyler said something, but Mathilde's kisses smothered his words. Olivia stole one more cautious look around the foot of the grave and saw Mathilde sliding slowly down the front of Skyler's body . . . her outstretched fingers gliding down his sides .. . her face pressed into him as she moaned softly . . .
Olivia drew in a shaky breath. She willed herself to stand up and face them but could only lie there, trembling, in the grass. She wanted to call out, but then she heard Skyler's voice.
"No. Not here. This way."
The laughter faded, their whispers disappearing through the hedges and beyond the trees. A thousand emotions raced through Olivia, leaving her weak and confused. She pushed herself up again and leaned back against the side of the tomb, fanning her cheeks, lifting the hair from the back of her neck. Her body felt strangely liquid, at one with the slow, easy flow of the heat. She went back to the weeds with a vengeance, pulling them, twisting them with her bare, blistered hands. She didn't think about Skyler anymore, or Mathilde, or even how long they'd been gone. She was so focused on her task that she suddenly realized she'd worked her way around the whole tomb and back to where she'd started.
Surprised, she looked over to where Skyler had been digging. His shovel was still on the ground where he'd dropped it. Uneasily, Olivia let her eyes roam over the enclosure. It would be just like Skyler to have sneaked
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past her, to be hiding now, waiting for the perfect moment to give her a scare.
The cemetery was empty.
What bit of space she could see through the trees overhead had grown noticeably darker since she and Skyler had first arrived. And as Olivia cast another anxious look around, she was almost positive the fog had thickened.
Alarmed now, she jumped to her feet and started toward the hedge. She heard something rustling just behind her, moving swiftly and almost noiselessly through the grass. Choking back a scream, she whirled around, and suddenly all the grass seemed to be moving— everywhere —alive with horrible slithering sounds—invisible presences closing in—
Olivia looked frantically for an escape and saw the marble entrance to the mausoleum. In an instant she ran across the cemetery and climbed the steps, huddling uncertainly at the top of them.
And the grass was moving—she could see it now from her vantage point up here by the door—she could see it, only it was like a long sweeping wind, swirling the fog, bending the trees, flailing the moss, forcing her back against the locked gate of the tomb.
"Olivia..."
And she heard her name, as if the wind had called, as if the wind had sighed . . . mournful. . . lost. . . some empty whisper of age-old grief. ..
"Who's there?" Olivia screamed, shielding her face from the heat, the damp, pressing hard into the gate. "Skyler? Where are you?"
And the fog was closing in, like wispy shreds of a winding sheet, thick and gray and curiously cloudlike, so that she couldn't see anymore, couldn't hear, only
the sad sobbing sound, the mournful cry of her name ...
"Olivia. . ."
Desperately she whirled toward the gate.
She leaned into the iron bars . . . rested her forehead against them . . .
And felt the padlock come open in her hands.
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life's blood were one and the same—pounding— undulating—to the strange seductive rhythm in her head.
But where is it coming from?
As Olivia listened, entranced, she felt the gate swing slowly outward, and she stepped through, coming face to face with the door of the mausoleum.
The sounds were coming from inside.
No . . . that's impossible ...
Trembling, she lifted her hand to the thick cypress panels and put her palms flat against them.
Vibrations coursed through her fingertips and down her arms and into her bones like an electric shock. She jerked away and stood there, staring.
Quivering fog enclosed her. She could hear the thunder beating louder now—louder—mercilessly. Her breath came in short, quick gasps. Her head felt ready to explode. She fell on the doors and pulled frantically at the latch, but it wouldn't open.
And then she heard the voices.
They came softly at first. To Olivia they seemed just an echo of the rushing rain, some strangely distorted reverberation of the storm she couldn't see, their low, whispered intensity broken once—twice—by a deep moan ... by a muffled call. She was terrified and fascinated. She could almost feel the voices pulling her, yet at the same time she wanted to run.
She thought she heard someone crying.
In growing alarm, she beat on the door with her fists and pressed her ear against the thick wood.
"Hello! Is someone in there?"
Images of death and decay swirled through her mind. In an instant, it was as if she saw all the generations of Devereauxs crumbling quietly in their crypts, and she fiercely forced the visions away.
"Open the door!"
The shuddering thunder—the soft swell of voices —and then she heard it again—the crying—a woman's voice, only louder now, louder, rising as the woman screamed, 'Who's there — don't you see them — someone's there — stop — oh God — don't touch me—"
Olivia was frantic.
"Who's in there? Open the door!"
But the whispers were all around her now, moaning all the way through her— piercing all the way through her—like the thunder and the storm were piercing through her—and lips burning, body thrusting, fire between thighs and warmth flowing down — bare skin gleaming — sweat and rain — shadows tangled — locked together — writhing on the floor . . .
"No," Olivia whispered. 'Wo/"
She clamped her hands to her head to shut out the relentless sounds, and as she whirled away from the door, she stared in disbelief at the cemetery.
Everything lay quiet. Dusk seeped down, blackening the fog, and the wind was still.
Gasping for breath, Olivia pressed one hand to her throat and let her eyes travel slowly over the graves. There was no sound of thunder now, no voices, not even the slightest tremor in the air.
The silence was deep and unnerving.
"I've got to get back," she murmured. "I've got to get back right now—"
She started to run. She raced from the cemetery and headed back the way Skyler had brought her while a steady panic grew in her breast. She couldn't imagine anything worse than to be lost out here after dark, stranded in this maze of gardens with no light and no sense of direction. She was furious with Skyler for
Richie Tankeisley Cusick
going off and leaving her the way he had; she was furious with herself for letting the cemetery get the best of her. She had no idea what she'd heard back there, but whatever it was, there had to be a perfectly logical explanation. It was a mausoleum, after all, she argued with herself; there was nobody inside but dead people.
Without warning, she came to a thicket of trees where the pathway split to either side. Choosing the one on the right, she broke through an opening in the hedge and stumbled out into a small clearing. Almost immediately she felt the ground sloping off beneath her feet, and as she stopped in surprise, she saw that she was only several hundred yards away from the bayou again.
"Damn!"
Even in the thickening twilight, she could tell she'd never been here before—this embankment was steeper than the one where she'd fallen in, and a sparse border of trees straggled right down to the water's edge. She must have taken a wrong turn in the gardens somewhere and come out in the wrong place. Again she recalled Skyler telling her how the bayou wound back and forth along the property far beyond the actual house, and she started back toward the hedge when something glimmered at the corner of her eye.
It was hidden in the fog . . . something pale and ghostly . . .
She could see it in the distance, through the moss and mist, and it seemed to be floating there, swinging slowly from side to side ... as if beckoning.
Olivia moved quietly to the trees, then parted some of the lower branches to peer out. The bayou was a wide band of blackness, dark stains and shadows oozing across its silent surface. Bewildered, she stared
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at the light once more and strained her eyes through the gathering night. The hazy glow seemed to be on the other side of the water, suspended in midair, and all at once she realized it was a lantern, hanging from the branches of a tree.
As she stood there, a soft murmur of voices drifted out of the darkness, and she pulled herself deeper into the trees. For a moment she couldn't tell where the sounds were actually coming from, but then she noticed a small boat gliding among the shadows along the opposite shore. Olivia held her breath and waited.
There was soft laughter and the musical sound of a woman's voice.
Mathilde.
The boat coasted for several more feet, then a silhouette stood up in the bow, leaning in toward the bank, hesitating below the lantern. Mathilde's face hung eerily for just a second in the feeble light. She stepped out onto solid ground and turned back toward the boat again, extending her hand.
"Come." Her voice was soft and coy. "Come. See what I have for you."
"Wait. Where are we going?"
Olivia frowned. It was a man's voice, but not one she had heard around here before. Still. . . there was something naggingly familiar about it. . .
"It's a secret. You do want me, don't you?"
The man laughed, and Olivia cringed at the sound. She had heard that sort of laughter many times through the years, from Mama's bedroom, she had seen that sort of laughter in the eyes of all the men who had ever looked at her—
"This will be the night of your life," Mathilde promised, her voice teasing. "This is a night to die for."
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"It better be," the man sounded anxious, breathless. "I'd still like to know where we're going."
"But I told you. It's a secret place. A special place. Somewhere we can't be disturbed."
The man laughed again. Olivia saw him step out onto the bank, but she couldn't make out any of his features.
"This way." Mathilde purred softly. "Come, my big brave man. Mathilde has many surprises for you."
"But don't we need the lantern?"
"I know the way with my eyes closed. Trust me."
Their voices faded then, deep into the trees and the darkness. Olivia stood there another several seconds, not wanting to stay but strangely reluctant to leave. Something was going to happen—something terrible, she could feel it—and as she fought down a wave of inexplicable fear, she spotted something else on the other side of the bayou.
A movement near the boat.
A murky shape gliding stealthily beneath the trees along the water's edge.
And as Olivia watched, holding her breath, the figure seemed to stretch itself up over the embankment toward the sickly light.
The lantern swung sharply in the breeze, illuminating the face for the briefest instant, and Olivia felt her eyes widen.
She was sure it was Skyler. As the light tilted again, it cast a thin glow over the small shallow boat tied there, and Skyler's deep laugh shivered through the darkness.
And then . . . very slowly ... his head lifted into the air . . . hesitated . . . turned in the direction of her hiding place . . .
He was looking straight at her.
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She could feel his eyes, just as surely as she could feel her racing heart and the scream choking silently in her throat—
She turned to run but something solid was blocking her path—someone's hand clamping hard over her mouth—
"Hush up!" Yoly hissed. "Don't you say one word."
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Yoly gave her a push, and as Olivia stumbled into a net of branches, she realized they'd reached the outer boundaries of the gardens once more. She felt Yoly's hands on her back, forcing her through the hedge, and she pitched forward and nearly fell.
"Yoly—wait! I don't know how to get back!"
But Yoly wasn't there anymore. In the full fall of darkness, Olivia was alone again, surrounded by a foggy maze of twisting paths and shadows.
What do I do now? She was afraid to move. And as Yoly's voice echoed over and over in her mind— "don't stop for nothin don't stop for nobody" —Olivia realized why she felt so unnerved. It hadn't just been the shock of Yoly's unexpected appearance from the dark. It had been the fear she'd heard in Yoly's voice.
Did it have something to do with Mathilde and the stranger on the bayou? With Skyler? Did I see something back there that I wasn't supposed to see?
Olivia moved ahead, feeling her way tentatively through the labyrinth of enclosures. Walls of foliage slammed up against her, and the ground tilted unevenly beneath her feet, leading her into rosebushes and tangled traps of snaking vines. As her fear began to mount, she forced herself to keep going, to not cry out, to not call for help—
She didn't see the shadow lurking deep within the shrubbery. As she groped her way along, it blended so perfectly with all the other shadows that she almost touched it before she even realized it was there. She felt only a soft stirring of air, and as the fog began to separate, something materialized right in front of her, sending her back with a scream.
"I've been looking for you." Skyler shook his finger, slowly, in her face. "Bad . . . bad . . . girl. . ."
Olivia gaped at him, her mind whirling— but you
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were just back there at the water —/ saw you —/ heard you — there's no way you could have gotten here that fast—
She tried to go around him, but his arm snaked out and caught her.
"And where do you think you're going?"
"Back to the house." Her heart was fluttering, caught in her throat, just below the surface of her voice. "Let go of me."
"Wandering around alone at night." He shook his head and sighed. "Not a good idea."
"You're the one who left me. You're the one wh went off and never came back." She lifted her ch trying to ignore the insolent gleam in his eyes.
"Why, if I didn't know better, I'd say you were jealous, Olivia." That amused laugh. "And there's no need for you to be jealous. I'll always come back for you." He moved closer, his body light against hers. "Just like I came back for you today. Only you were gone."
"I . . . got lost."
"Lost? And you've been wandering around in here all. . . that. . . time?"
His fingertips touched her cheek . . . trailed slowly down her neck . . . over the top of one breast. She tried to suppress a shiver, but she knew he'd felt it.
"Isn't that strange," he murmured. "I've been around and around in here just looking for you, and I never once heard you. Calling for help or anything. And believe me—I have damn good hearing."
His fingers played with the tie on her blouse. She felt the ribbon slowly pull open.
"I was just so scared!" she burst out. "I got all turned around. We must have just kept missing each other, that's all."
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"Of course. That's probably just what happened." His voice went softer still, and she felt his breath, warm and faint against her ear. "You know why it's not a good idea to play games with me, Olivia? 'Cause I always win."
Don't touch — you can look but you can 't touch — I'll kill you —/ will —
"You really shouldn't go wandering around after dark," Skyler went on smoothly. "Especially in the gardens. They're a lot like life—you never know what you might find. Or what might find you."
He chuckled softly, the vibration coursing straight through her. She could feel the slow rise and fall of his chest as he breathed . . . could feel the lean and powerful strength of him . . . like Mathi
lde's snake, she thought. . . waiting . . . watchful . . . unpredictable . . .
He leaned into her, and she drew her breath in sharply. Her blouse eased off her shoulders, and his face began to lower. She tried to pull away, only something was wrong, terribly wrong— I can't move, I want to, but I can't, something's holding me — something —
"If something wanted you, Olivia," his lazy voice mumbled deep, deep against her throat—"it'd be so easy."
Without warning he released her. She staggered back a few steps, then managed to catch her balance.
"Who knows," Skyler said softly, "just what surprises the night will bring."
"Tell me how to get back!" Olivia demanded. "Tell me the way to the house!"
But Skyler had disappeared.
Deeply shaken, Olivia forced herself to go on, but
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the gardens had become even more terrifying than before. Every shadow was Skyler's hiding place . . . every obstacle crouching along the path was Skyler waiting to grab her. She thought she felt his eyes following her in the dark. She thought she felt his breath licking the side of her face. Yet still she kept going, determined not to cry or give up or give in to hysteria, determined to find the house if it took her all night. And when she finally stumbled out into the side yard of Devereaux House, she didn't stop running until she reached the veranda and collapsed at the bottom of the stairway.
Olivia buried her face in her hands.
She didn't want to think anymore. She didn't want to go over all the strange things that had happened to her, she didn't want to remember what she'd heard or seen or accidentally stumbled upon—all she wanted to do was lock herself up in her room and lock herself away in the dark, empty attic of her mind . . .
The footsteps were so faint that at first she scarcely heard them.
They came between the outbuildings behind the house and rustled softly through the weeds across the yard, approaching her slowly . . . almost cautiously . . .
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