There was a latch on the upper part of the trunk. As it came down and caught against the bottom ledge, it left a sliver of space, about half an inch high, for Olivia to see through.
Skyler went straight to Miss Rose's bedside and stood for a long while, looking down at her, saying nothing. His hair hung down over his eyes, and his cheeks were smudged with dirt. Very slowly he slid one arm along the covers and lifted her hand in his.
"How are you?" he said softly. "Should I get Jesse?"
There was no response. She lay so still... so white ...
Skyler closed his eyes for another long moment. He pressed her hand against his heart and held it there.
"What can we do?" he whispered. "There must be something . . . just tell me."
"Olivia . .."
"What?" he murmured. He leaned in closer and put his ear close to her lips. "Who do you want?"
"My daughter . . . Olivia . . ."
Skyler smiled sadly, shaking his head. "Catherine," he corrected her. "Catherine . . . not Olivia."
Catherine . . . Mama's name . . .
This time the eyelids fluttered open. Miss Rose stared at Skyler as if trying to bring him into focus.
"My daughter . . ,"
"Catherine," he corrected again gently. "Olivia's the new girl. The one who just came."
"Oh ... of course." Miss Rose managed a feeble smile, as if distantly amused at her own mistake. "I knew that, of course. I feel so . . . confused this morning."
"The new girl." Skyler nodded, one eyebrow lifting. "The one who keeps snooping and asking questions. So what do you think I should do, Miss Rose?" he asked with forced humor. "Cut out her tongue so she can't tell on the Devereauxs? Or just eat her all at once and have it over with?"
Through the crack in the trunk, the room seemed to sway wildly. Olivia felt a numbness ... a cold, vague numbness throbbing through her, and as she tried noiselessly to shift positions, she realized the strange feeling was coming from the inside of her thigh.
She worked her hand down . . . fingered the bruised flesh . . .
Her skin felt cold ... as her soul felt suddenly cold . . .
Skyler's comments hung in her mind, meanings too horrible, too impossible even to consider.
"Jesse's being a gentleman, as usual," he went on casually. "But as you know, I've never had that kind of. . . patience."
Miss Rose shook her head at him scoldingly. Skyler gave a nasty grin, but it was unconvincing, tempered with deep worry.
"Bad child," she whispered. A faint laugh flittered through her throat, and Skyler clutched her hand tighter. "Are you going to behave yourself when I'm gone? No." She shook her head, smiling weakly. "Probably not."
Skyler's smile was strained. His eyes glistened, but there was no amusement in them now.
"We won't talk about that. We won't talk about you being gone ..."
"But we have to talk about it. I'm dying, Skyler. There's nothing I can do to stop it."
His shoulders jerked ... his jaw clenched, almost angrily. A muscle tightened slowly along one cheek.
"I know you don't understand," Miss Rose murmured. "How could you? It's something you've never had to go through in your whole long lifetime."
"Ssh . . . don't talk about it—"
"I have to talk about it. Because I don't want to leave you. Because I don't know what's going to happen once I'm gone."
Skyler stared at her.
And then he began to cry.
He was trying not to, trying to hold it in, but his shoulders shook with quiet sobs, and he wiped one elbow clumsily over his eyes.
"Skyler . . ." Miss Rose sighed. "Skyler ... my love . . ."
He bowed his head and knelt beside her bed.
"I'd do anything for you, you know I would ..."
"Oh, dear one, of course I do. Of course I know that."
In his trembling hand, Miss Rose's fingers moved,
ever so slightly, and a thin gasp of air came from her bluish lips.
Skyler lowered his head, resting it carefully upon her breast. Her feeble fingers groped to smooth his hair.
"I don't like it when you're afraid like you are now," she said gently. "I feel so responsible . . ."
"It's not your fault. You've been good and kind and sweet, all these years."
"Skyler ... to me it's been such an honor."
He turned his face, burying it in the covers. She gently patted one of his cheeks.
"Our honor." Skyler's voice was muffled. "And I'm not scared . . . not really."
"You can't fool me, Skyler, though you still like to try."
"Well. . ." He coughed, trying to steady his voice, trying to smile. "I'm still pretty good at it."
"Hmmm . . . you like to think so."
They stayed that way for a long while, his head resting against her, her hand settled lightly against his face.
"Sometimes . . . when I close my eyes . . ." Miss Rose mumbled, "I can almost believe it's still the way it was back then . . . that time hasn't gone like it has. I never thought it would, you know." A faint laugh stirred the corners of her mouth. "I knew it had to . . . but somehow ... I thought things would always stay the same."
Skyler smiled at that, his head moving slightly in a nod. "I don't count the days anymore. I don't think about time going past."
"And why should you?" she whispered. "I let myself believe what every Devereaux woman has
always allowed herself to believe. That maybe this time— I'dbt the one—to be different."
Skyler closed his eyes. His face looked strained, as though the tears might come again at any moment, but he was fiercely determined that they wouldn't.
"How vain all we women are." Miss Rose sounded wistful. "In this place—with you and Jesse—how can we help but hold on to our dreams . . . believe that things can always be beautiful ..."
Skyler's eyes opened. Slowly he stood up, then leaned down over the bed.
"You are beautiful," he whispered. "You'll always be beautiful ..."
Olivia saw him as he reached for her nightgown . . . as he slowly unfastened the tiny buttons down the front... as he carefully eased his hand inside the opening.
He did it smoothly, as he did everything else, without the slightest mistake or hesitation.
He worked his other arm beneath Miss Rose's thin shoulders, and he lifted her gently against him.
And then he kissed her, long and sweetly, as his hand caressed the softness of her breast.
through her head, dragging her under, into dark, dark oblivion—/ didn't just see what I thought I saw —/ couldn't have —
She pressed her hand to her mouth, choked back a cry, clamped her arms around her shivery, fiery body— this can't be happening, it's one of those dreams —
And of course that was it, Olivia thought, her body curled as tightly as she could force it in the tiny cramped space, it's just one of those dreams Jesse was talking about, one of those strange, horrible night-mares.
She forced herself to take a deep breath.
She told herself that when she opened her eyes again, she would be back in the tiny room at the back of the church, with Jesse beside her in the shadows.
She forced herself to look.
She saw Skyler lower Miss Rose gently back down into the pillows, then hastily rearrange her gown back over her chest as the door opened from the hallway. He backed away from the bed, and Olivia caught a glimpse of Mathilde and Yoly, moving up behind him with worried expressions.
"How is she?" Mathilde murmured, and almost indifferently Skyler shrugged his shoulders, his voice now gruff.
"I want her to rest, but you know how she is—she won't shut up."
Mathilde smiled, placed one hand upon Miss Rose's cheek.
"It will be easy." She nodded. "I promise."
"I always suspected it would be." Miss Rose smiled. "I always did suspect ..."
She closed her eyes and drew a sharp breath, and Skyler looked up worriedly.
"Miss R
ose—"
"You must take care of Jesse," she mumbled. "You must watch out for him. He's not like you. His is a . . . different . . . kind of strength."
The three around the bed exchanged anxious glances. Yoly turned abruptly away.
"I will," Skyler said. "I promise."
"There, honey, you rest yourself now," Yoly said, turning back to the bed and fussing, mothering Miss Rose, arranging the pillows and the blankets around her.
"Yoly, how you do spoil me." Miss Rose seemed to be smiling at some far-off memory. "Bringing me into the world . . . and taking me out again ..."
Yoly shook her head sadly. She wrapped her big arms around herself and began to hum ... a slow, haunting tune . . . and as Olivia's heart leapt into her throat, she recognized the tune that had carried her through childhood . . . through all the bad times . . . Mama's wordless tune . . . the tune in the dark of Olivia's mind . . .
Miss Rose stirred restlessly.
"I'm ... so weak ... so very . . ."
"It'll pass," Yoly assured her. "Just stay quiet now."
Miss Rose's body seemed to sink a little more, seemed to draw deeper into itself with a thin, ragged breath.
Yoly closed her eyes. Skyler and Mathilde exchanged looks of alarm. As Skyler leaned down once more over the bed, Olivia saw Mathilde reach for his hand and squeeze it.
"Is she asleep?" Mathilde asked worriedly, and as Skyler nodded, Yoly motioned them toward the door.
"Let's leave her be. She needs to rest."
"But what are we going to do with the girl?"
Mathilde went on, a little irritably now. "She knows about Helen—she found the staircase."
"Damn it, Mathilde, let go." As Skyler pulled away from her, he held up his wrist to examine the marks she'd left there with her fingernails. Olivia could see several spots of blood, and Skyler frowned, giving them a lick with his tongue.
"Don't defend her," Mathilde warned him. "I want something done."
Skyler shrugged and glanced sideways.
And then Olivia felt her skin crawl.
She saw Skyler's eyes narrowing, studying, as they focused on a damp spot on the rug. Olivia knew she'd been standing there watching Miss Rose when she'd first come into the room. She'd come in from the rain, and she'd probably dripped water straight across the carpet. . .
Skyler's eyes slid slowly along the rug . . . crawled up the side of the trunk.
They seemed to sear right through the tiny crack.
Olivia pulled back and held her breath.
Skyler's body was still in the same position, wrist lifted to his mouth. In those few heart-stopping seconds, nothing had moved but his eyes. And now, as Mathilde complained again, the eyes went back across the carpet just as swiftly and smoothly as before.
"We can't just let her go on around here, can we?" Mathilde finished triumphantly.
Skyler looked back at her calmly over the top of his hand. "Well, what do you suggest?"
"What do you think? Let's kill her."
The green eyes narrowed. "I'd rather play with her awhile."
"Or just eat her all at once and have it over with ..."
"If you go and kill her, then you's gonna have to
find another girl again," Yoly grunted. "And God only knows how hard that's gonna be."
'7 don't like her/' Mathilde hissed, and Skyler wiped his arm casually on one leg of his jeans.
"Well, I do."
"Give her to Jesse. Let him take care of her."
"I'd rather give you to Jesse, and I'll take care of her."
"You two . . . hush up now."
The door closed behind them as they all three left.
Olivia swallowed hard, fear and disgust choking in her throat.
Miss Rose lay quietly upon the pillows, sleeping and peaceful. The room was still.
Olivia waited for an eternity.
Cautiously she crawled out from the trunk. Miss Rose didn't move as Olivia crept stealthily across the room . . . listened at the door . . . put one hand on the latch. She tried to turn it without making any noise, but the door seemed to be stuck.
For a split second she wondered if Skyler or Mathilde was waiting for her on the other side, just waiting for her to come out.
She gripped the handle and tried again, more forcefully this time.
The latch gave. The door creaked open.
Her heart was choking her—she peeked out and saw the empty hallway ... the outside door . . .
She took a step forward and froze.
From somewhere in the house a door closed and footsteps faded.
Are they looking for me?
Dark, shadowy fates swirled through her mind, possibilities too horrible to even imagine. She could
still see Skyler's face as he'd opened Miss Rose's nightgown . . . Skyler's face as he'd watched Olivia at the bayou, as he'd wrestled her to the ground in the cemetery . . .
"If something wanted you . . ."
Skyler's warnings . . . Skyler's promises . . .
"Cut out her tongue . . . I'd rather play with her a while..."
She saw Mathilde covered with blood, and she heard the wet sucking sounds in the cabin that night and she felt the bite on her thigh and she felt the mass of congealed blood across Helen's throat. . .
This isn't happening. . . it's not real. . . this can't be happening to me . . .
Olivia's dreams came crashing down around her, smothering her in terror.
She had to get away from this place.
She had to get away now.
Why didn't I listen to Jesse when I had the chance . . . why didn't I listen!
She let herself outside, then crushed back against the wall as quick footsteps approached her along the veranda.
"She's got to be somewhere—did you look in her room?" Skyler's voice, annoyed, and then Mathilde answering.
"She's not in the house—I've been on all the floors."
"Maybe she's with Jesse."
"I want to know what you plan to do with her! Isn't anyone else in this house worried about what will happen but me? If she tries to get away and tell someone—"
"For Christ's sake, Mathilde, who the hell is she
going to tell? What sane person would ever believe her?" Skyler sounded impatient, and they both stopped to continue the argument. "And I wouldn't advise any convenient accidents like Antoinette's, either. Jesse thinks way too much of this one."
"I want to hurt her!" Mathilde ranted. "Do you understand? I want to make her suffer for what she did to me!"
"You deserved it."
"I want her tortured."
A slow smile crept into his voice. "Ah. One of my specialties."
"Skyler, you really are such a bastard."
There was a muffled slap, as if it had been intercepted before reaching its mark.
"Only it won't be that kind of torture," Skyler went on thoughtfully. "It'll be the kind she won't want me to stop."
Olivia realized she'd been holding her breath, terrified they would spot her in just a few more seconds. She was relieved when they suddenly turned back the other way. She listened until their angry voices faded from earshot, and then she ran through the yard toward the outbuildings.
To her horror, she heard someone running after her, and she panicked. How could I be so stupid — they were probably waiting at the other end of the veranda! She raced like mad to the closest shack and threw herself beneath it. The footsteps passed by and ran on.
She wondered what kind of game Skyler was playing with her now. Wriggling out again, she looked down at her muddy clothes and pushed her wet hair out of her eyes. The rain was falling more softly now, but steadily, and the area behind the house looked like a swamp. She heard someone shout, and instinctively
BLOOD ROO T S
she ran up the steps of the cabin and fell inside, closing the kitchen door after her.
The room was dark except for the glow of the fireplace, and there was that peculiar, offensive smell again
hanging in the air. Once more Olivia thought she heard someone outside, and she ducked into a corner behind a large wooden barrel. Only when these footsteps had faded in the same direction as the last ones did she finally venture out.
The smell was almost unbearable.
She stood beside the fireplace and stared down at the cauldron, at the simmering bubbles frothing out beneath its lid, trickling and hissing down into the ashes. She reached for some old rags on the table and pulled off the top of the pot.
The liquid swelled angrily as she lifted the lid.
It rolled for a while, and then it seemed to sink into itself again, the greasy film melting away, revealing the grisly contents inside . . .
It took Olivia several seconds to realize she had seen him before.
And that she'd thought she'd heard him one night on the bayou.
The cab driver stared up at her . ..
Only most of his head was boiled away.
'Wo/"
She whirled around and to her horror saw Mathilde framed there, smiling, in the doorway.
"Well, what are you complaining for?" she purred. "At least your meals here are always fresh."
Olivia shoved Mathilde out of her way, still hearing the woman's piercing laughter as she ran all the way to the bayou. She got into the boat and nearly turned it over in her panic, rowing frantically, trying to get away. When she finally tried to tie up, her rope fell
short of the tree, and she plunged into the water and waded the rest of the way to shore. It was steamily hot, yet she was cold and numb and aching, and as she ran blindly on through the dead, dead woods, the sky opened up again, spilling buckets of rain. She stumbled on a crawling tree root, and as she fell and skidded through the mud, her mind exploded with memories so vivid and so real and so painfully impossible that she cried out in fear and lay there on the marshy ground, her hands shielding her head, her mind stunned and confused.
"Jesse!" she screamed.
She was up again and running into the clearing, calling his name, the rain crying down all around her, and when she found him at last in the church, he was sitting on the floor beside the altar, his knees drawn up to his chest, his head lowered upon folded arms.
"Who is she, Jesse?"
Olivia stopped, her breath coming in long, painful waves, and as she looked down at his bent head she heard her own frightened voice echoing back and back through the empty shadows.
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