Christabel

by Karin Kallmaker

  “If she lives, then we’ll worry about getting her soul back from the devil.” Pa was using his officer voice, and she marveled that Reverend Gorony wasn’t silent and at attention.

  “Her immortal soul is more important than the vessel of flesh. We cannot give it to witches and demons for healing and then expect them to give it back.”

  “I’ll march to hell itself to get it back, Reverend.”

  “You’re treading dangerous ground. I forbid this.”

  There was a silence so heavy that Christabel felt it bearing down on her chest. She couldn’t breathe.

  Ma was holding her up all of a sudden, and the ache eased. “Please,” she was crying. “The devil can have my soul. I’d give it to him gladly for her to be well again!”

  Ma, Christabel thought, you shouldn’t say things like that. What if they came true?

  “Blasphemer! Your thoughts have already delivered you to the devil!”

  “Best you leave now, Reverend.” Pa’s voice was low, but fierce. “Leave before I forget you’re a man of God.”

  It was quiet. Christabel was only aware of her mother rocking her. Then there was the gentle ha-woofing sound the mare made when she was being saddled, followed by the muffled beat of hooves disappearing into the fog.

  Chapter 6

  Jason Williams put up his umbrella as he and Dina emerged into the early evening. “I can’t believe it’s still raining.”

  Glad to be out of the future home of LGI’s North American “gallery,” Dina hoped her tone was more assured than she felt. “I’m starting to wish I had webbed feet. Look at the traffic.” An accident, the rain—whatever the cause, cars were at a dead stop on both Fifty-fifth and Fifth Avenue. Peering through the rain, Dina thought Sixth Avenue didn’t look any more promising.

  “I think we may have to settle for the subway.” The construction engineer held his umbrella over both of them.

  “You’re right. There’s no way a cab is moving in this.” Every step from the building she felt better but there were still shivers running like electric current across her shoulders. She hated the place, which was ridiculous.

  “We could get a bite to eat. I know a little place with sweet potato fries around the corner.”

  “Just like mama used to make?” Dina had grown to like and trust Jason during their meetings to go over the construction estimates. Having him inside the building with her was comforting, and his practical manner was welcome when her own psyche was being so odd.

  “Hardly. Mama pan fried potatoes in bacon grease.”

  “Bet they were delicious.” At the moment, with her nerves all over the place, Dina felt queasy at the thought.

  “That they were. I’d give a lot for a plate right now.”

  They turned onto Fifth as Dina said, “My mother made kitchen sink soup. Somehow it was always delicious no matter what got put into it. A bowl of that would be welcome when I get home.” Now that was true, she realized. A steaming bowl of soup and a talk with her mother would be comforting beyond words. The former was unlikely, given the contents of her cupboards, and she didn’t believe in any of the methods that would supposedly allow the latter. Yet she knew her mother would have helped her figure out why that building—and Christa—had gotten under her skin.

  Jason gave a casual parting wave. “I’ll get the revised estimates over by the end of the week.”

  Dina waved back and pushed her way into the crowd for the next uptown train. Usually she didn’t like crowds but tonight, after the inevitable chill she got from being in that building, the warmth was welcome. It didn’t matter that Goranson and Christa had left town two weeks ago—the building made her hands go cold.

  Jostling for position near a strap, she just managed to grab hold before the train moved. Her arms ached and maybe, finally, after feeling so unlike herself for weeks now, she really was catching the flu.

  The train wasn’t that crowded but she felt pushed on from all sides. People were talking loudly—that’s what she thought at first. But then, glancing around, she saw that most were silent, looking as tired as she felt. There was still a lot of noise, though, as if Dina could hear the babble of all those weary thoughts.

  Bricks, she thought. Build a wall of bricks. It was an old trick her mother had taught her as a child, making a game out of a basic calming technique. She started with the first row of big, thick bricks only to lose her mental grip on the image and start over again when they pulled into the next station.

  After a few minutes she realized her gaze had settled on a middle-aged woman across the train from her. Her suit said she was probably in middle management, and the neatly wrapped dreads framed a troubled expression. I don’t want to know, Dina thought, I don’t want—she fumbled the bricks and started again.

  They pulled into Dina’s stop and she made her way off the train, biting her tongue hard to keep from saying, as she passed the woman, “Say yes. It’ll be okay.”

  It was one thing to have these insane flashes of whatever-the-hell they were, but quite another to actually say them. She was not about to become the crazy lady nobody would make eye contact with.

  Soaked by the rain as she walked from the subway to her apartment building, Dina half hoped she did have the flu. Her energy supply was depleted and it was hard work fighting off feelings she didn’t want to have. Long hours, she told herself, it’s just long hours and too many little details.

  She closed her own door behind her and gave up the bricks, letting them turn to water. The day’s held-back impressions and the kept-out intuitions, they all flooded in, soaking her senses with the helpless horror she had felt all around her in Leonard Goranson’s building. She fumbled her way to the nearest chair and let them all come. Inevitably, her thoughts also turned to Christa.

  Christa’s smile and bright eyes were crowded out of her mind by a vision of Goranson. His personal darkness blotted out everything for a minute, leaving Dina gasping. She slammed her mental bricks back into place as the darkness began to drain her—it was like nothing she had ever felt.

  She opened her eyes sometime later and recalled the number of times she had seen her mother in this state. Thanks, Mom, Dina thought. This isn’t something I wanted to inherit. Some “gift.” She hadn’t signed up for crazy impulses to talk to strangers and feeling creeped out just because some designer guy is a jerk.

  She didn’t have her mother’s saintly patience, her depthless compassion for others and unending empathy for anyone in pain. There was no way she could inherit the gift—or curse, depending on your point of view. These episodes of feeling overwhelmed were the result of overwork and poor eating habits. When she made partner, she would completely change her life.

  There, she thought, that was settled. Just a little while longer and she would get a life.

  She downed three Advil tablets and drank half a quart of milk. She had intended to take a long, hot bath, but instead she folded her clothes in the laundry and dry-cleaning hampers for Pedra and tumbled into bed.

  She slipped into the dream before she knew she was asleep. A great cavern opened before her, and she hovered unseen amid stalactites that dripped viscous lemon-lime liquid. The dank smell of rotting peat and trapped water overwhelmed her, and she struggled to stop gagging.

  She became aware of chittering below her. She moved slightly, and drew back in horror. The clicks and mutters came from a hunched demon, a creature of nightmare, encrusted in black, oily muck out of which stared feral, red eyes. It gibbered and cackled as it snatched something out of the air, devouring whatever it was in a single gulp.

  She didn’t want to get closer, but she was slowly drifting downward. She saw a minute flash of silver light, then the demon snatched it out of the air and gobbled it up. Threads—they were like small strands of thread. The brighter in color, the happier the creature seemed. It was feeding steadily, but Dina could sense its hunger growing with every swallow. There would never be enough to satisfy this hunger.

  The demon
gave a sudden yowl of frustration. Momentarily, there were no more threads. It scrabbled across the cavern floor to a twisted and chewed coil of thick, reddish strings and fed on it briefly. Dina sensed it held itself back from eating too much, as if this was the only guaranteed food and must be devoured only at utmost need.

  At the moment she realized she could understand the creature’s primal thoughts, the hunched figure looked up, right into her eyes. All in an instant it bared its teeth and launched itself upward, talons extended.

  Her own scream terrified her more than the demon’s attack. She tried to move but was nightmare frozen as the razored claws reached for her throat—only to rebound on the barrier between her nightmare and its reality. It howled in frustration, and the cavern dissolved like a chalk painting in the rain.

  She had no sensation of waking from the nightmare. Her eyes were open as if she had never slept. The dreamcatcher that had been her mother’s was rocking on the wall as if from a light breeze. Her only proof that time had even passed was the sweat-drenched sheets.

  The thud of hoofbeats approaching brought Rahdonee to her feet along with most of the others who sat enjoying the early evening fire. She did not recognize the Englishman or the horse, but he rode as if he carried a heavy burden and was in great haste.

  She fetched her bodeb from her tent and was already walking toward the man when Sinhaya beckoned to her. Sinhaya had learned the language of the Dutch, but struggled with the English.

  “How can we help you?” Rahdonee studied the man as he assessed her. A soldier, it was unmistakable. If he was startled at being addressed by a young female, he didn’t show it. Yet his face was clearly lined with tension.

  “My daughter is ill. A fever that began two days ago. We have heard you had medicines.”

  “I am the medicine keeper. My medicines are not welcome in your town. By some.”

  “I will protect you with my own life, if necessary.” The mare shuffled on the cold ground, and the soldier brought her effortlessly under control. “We are desperate. No matter what”—he stopped to swallow—“we will be generous to you for coming.”

  Her mind flashed with the image of young Christabel, and she accepted the Great Mother’s prompting. If it was Christabel, then she had to complete the duty the Great Mother had sent to her. She struck her bargain.

  “Our pigs sickened after harvest. The sickness was in your town as well. We need stock to start again.”

  “Done,” he said. “Have you a horse?”

  “No. Will your horse carry two?”

  He offered a hand to pull her up in front of him, but she shook her head. “It will be faster if I go behind. What is your name and house place?” She repeated the answers to Sinhaya, should he want to find her, and accepted Sinhaya’s cupped hands onto the horse’s back. He handed up her cloak, and she wrapped her arms around the man’s waist.

  “I can stay on,” she told him. “Ride at your best speed.” The words had barely left her mouth when he wheeled his gallant mare into the forest.

  “It’s been all day since she has wet.” Ma’s voice came from a great distance. All the way from England, maybe. Christabel opened her eyes and peered down a long, dark tunnel. There were people at the other end, but they were not looking at her.

  “We must make her drink—”

  “She must be bled!”

  “No.” The new voice was firm, but gentle. Familiar. “Liquids to replace what you have taken. Water to make her body work.”

  “Doctor? How can tea hurt her?”

  “It can’t, I suppose, but she must be bled soon.”

  “No. Tea from these leaves.” A dark-haired woman handed something to Ma. “I can make her drink.” After a moment she added, “Do not worry, I think it is not too late.”

  Ma left, but Christabel could hear her crying. She’d been such a bother to Ma these last few days.

  The dark-haired woman was leaning toward her—it was Rahdonee. Christabel wanted to jump for joy, but couldn’t manage even a smile. Suddenly the tunnel threatened to collapse, leaving her lost on the other side, but even as darkness closed in, it seemed as if a bolt of pure green light flooded into Christabel’s mind and pulled her to Rahdonee’s side of the tunnel.

  A voice clearly said, right inside her head, “You are not going yet.”

  When Ma brought the tea she tried to cooperate and swallow, but she didn’t blame Rahdonee for having to pinch her nose and jab her in the ribs. The tea was kind of tingly going down.

  “I don’t know if we’ll ever get her hair unmatted,” Ma said. “Maybe I should cut it.”

  “We’ll work it out together,” Rahdonee said. Her voice was lovely, Christabel remembered. Like bells from a distant hillside. “I will need to stay for a day or two.”

  “Is she really going to be right again?”

  “I believe so. I will sit with her tonight. You need to sleep or you will not be useful to her tomorrow.”

  “I can’t,” Ma said.

  “You can.” Rahdonee touched Ma’s cheek gently. “Sleep for a while. I will wake you if anything changes.”

  Christabel was vastly relieved when Ma left. Ma needed her sleep. Rahdonee was like a warm blanket of caring. She was saying something in her own language. The cadence was like prayer.

  Christabel let the darkness come back, but this time it was sleep and not oblivion.

  When she next woke it was to drink more tea. She found she could help a little. After, Rahdonee cleaned her face and hands, and slipped clean sheets under and over her. It felt heavenly.

  She woke at the cock’s crow, aware of where she was and no longer feeling far away. A quiet noise made her turn her head. Rahdonee was rising out of Ma’s chair and smiling at her. Her long, brilliant hair was tied back, and she looked so...pure in her simple buckskin dress.

  “You are back, aren’t you?”

  “I feel like it,” Christabel managed to croak. “I’ve been so much trouble to you and Ma now.”

  “Yes. But you will do better in the future.”

  Christabel liked her for not saying it was no bother. Bitsy’s mother was always saying things were no bother when they obviously were. “I’m hungry.”

  Rahdonee grinned. “I’ll tell your mother. She has been baking something from the moment she woke.”

  The something turned out to be Christabel’s favorite skillet cake, with lots of oats and butter and some of the precious brown spice from India. A while after that, Ma’s eggs and rashers of bacon were very welcome indeed.

  She ate, slept, and then felt well enough to toilet herself, not shy at all when Rahdonee helped her into a fresh dressing gown. After all, Rahdonee had seen her unclothed once already. She was settling into sleep when Pa knocked on the door.

  He spoke first to Rahdonee. “I’ve sent the stockman up the island with a pregnant sow and three one-year-olds. One of them is a male from a different litter.”

  “Thank you,” Rahdonee said. “That is more than generous.”

  “It’s not enough,” Pa answered. He sounded gruff. Then he cleared his throat and smiled down at me.

  “You’ll need to rest up a few days, I imagine.” He put a book on the coverlet.

  Christabel touched the cover. It was the book of myths that he’d taken back because Reverend Gorony said women didn’t need to read such things. “Thanks, Pa. I’ve been a lot of bother.”

  “That you have,” Pa said, but I could tell he wasn’t angry. He glanced at Rahdonee. “You should thank this girl, though. She brought her own medicines for you.”

  She almost said that she already knew Rahdonee, but remembered just in time. “I will, Pa.”

  Pa started to say something, but snapped around to the doorway in response to a sharp, prolonged knock on the front door. Ma was first subdued, then more agitated.

  Reverend Gorony burst into the room, and Christabel clutched Pa’s book to her, suddenly deeply afraid. Pa stood in his way. Then Rahdonee also stepped between the Revere
nd and her.

  “You have brought the devil’s tool into your home! I warned you of the consequences.”

  “Reverend, I am a Christian woman,” Rahdonee said, carefully. “I was saved by Reverend Downing.”

  “Christian? Eve in disguise. You wear your temptations like a common strumpet, your harlot legs exposed—”

  Christabel never forgot what happened next. Pa lifted Reverend Gorony up with one hand around his neck, right up off his feet. “You’ll not damage my honor, sir.”

  Reverend Gorony clawed at Pa’s hand, but Pa shook him like a puppy. “This is Goodwoman Geraldine, a Christian Manhattan woman, and an honored guest in my house. I am sure you are delighted to make her acquaintance.” Pa let the choking man drop back to his feet.

  Rahdonee said, “Delighted to meet you, I’m sure.”

  Christabel had a fit of weak giggles, but swallowed them when Reverend Gorony glared at her. He looked down at her dressing gown, and Christabel felt ashamed to be undressed in front of him. She pulled the coverlet up to her chin, but she could still feel the pressure of his eyes.

  But she wasn’t relieved when his gazed turned to Rahdonee. He looked at her with eyes of fire. Rahdonee met his fierce gaze, and Christabel marveled that she showed no signs of fear, only a firm constancy. As if she would always be there, had always been there, facing him.

  Reverend Gorony glared at Pa, his face twisting. Then he stormed out of the room and subsequently the house.

  “The priest begat unbelief,” Pa muttered.

  “And unbelief begat rage,” Rahdonee added, but Pa didn’t hear her.

  Chapter 7

  “Just one more, Bella! One more!”

  I ached from my hips down, and if ever I had wanted out of my shoes it was now. This was supposed to be a cocktail party, and we were still in the lobby of the London Windsor Hotel, surrounded by paparazzi. Leo had no intention of shooing them away. All publicity was good publicity, he said, as long as they mentioned my LG designer apparel.