Darkling

by R. B. Chesterton

  The giggle came again, a sound so supremely confident that it ignited impotent rage inside me. Damn that creature. Damn it to hell.

  Pulling myself on the banister, I made it to the third floor. The door to Annie’s room was closed.

  Again, the intimate sound of laughter.

  Taking care not to make any noise, I limped to the door. I slowly turned the knob and pushed. The door eased open on silent hinges.

  The giggle came from deep within the blowing folds of fabric. Annie—or someone—had opened the windows and the door to the balcony, and a breeze off the water set the fabric dancing. The entire room moved in swirls of red and blue and yellow muted in the moonlight, hiding the bastard creature that giggled like a titillated schoolgirl.

  One painful step after the other took me into the room. The wind caught the door and blew it shut, but the click was almost inaudible.

  The only light came from the full moon, but I could see the shapes and contours of Annie’s room. The bed was draped in gauzy material, and it rose like a queen’s chamber out of the swirling fabrics.

  The giggle came from there.

  The material was thick enough to hide the occupant of the bed. I saw the blurry outline of movement. A body swayed like the wind-whipped material. This was not the body of a little boy, though. From the outline cast against the gauzy material I recognized a slender waist, curved hips, and breasts that tipped toward fullness. This was a woman.

  Annie.

  Was she in bed with the creature?

  The thought was so repugnant, I choked back bile that threatened to rise up my throat. Surely not even Annie could be so evil.

  My feet burned, but I forced myself forward, a step closer to the bed. The silhouette of the woman moved in a motion as old as time. She sat atop someone.

  The truth pierced me. My knees almost buckled, but I refused to yield. I held my ground, counting my breath in and out.

  Beneath Annie the man stirred and sat up, pushing Annie onto her back. She laughed and said something soft and suggestive.

  Bob covered her, his lean body clearly defined against the gauzy material of the bed as he lowered himself on top of her.

  32

  Shock kept me upright. I eased out of the bedroom, closing the door and lumbering down the stairs to my door. I wept as I entered, harsh racking sobs that echoed in the empty house. Berta’s betrayal was as bitter as if it were my own.

  When I went to my window and looked out, I could see the glimmer of the bonfire at Paradise Inn. The party was still in full swing. Annie and Bob were safe from discovery, except by me.

  Would I tell Berta? I didn’t know. The messenger who brought bad news was often shot, and it was clear Annie could manipulate Bob, Berta, and Cora to see things however it suited her. Slipping into a rocking chair that looked out toward the old hotel, I tried to calm my thoughts. I had to accept that I was a coward. I should have said something to them—destroyed their carnal pleasure by letting them know they’d been found out. But I hadn’t. I hadn’t.

  Instead I’d tucked tail and cowered back to my room as if I were the one in the wrong. Would I have the grit to tell Berta what she so deserved to know? I rocked harder.

  My view showed me the side lawn, a place of midnight magic. The old clock in the downstairs hall chimed the hour. Halloween had ended and All Saints’ Eve begun. From ancient times, man had feared this season when reality lost its grip and the supernatural gained the strength to manifest.

  The Henderson lawn was incredible in the moonlight. The old oaks, some of them spanning two centuries or more, waved their moss-covered branches, creating a dappled effect on the grass. The scuppernong arbor, now bare of the wild grapes and leaves, rattled its viney fingers, tapping against itself like dried bones.

  An old oak limb pushed against the screen of my window, a creepy sound that made me think to ask Bob to trim it back. Or else I would do it myself. I would ask Bob for nothing. I leaned forward to check the limb. She stood by the arbor, looking up at me. The moonlight struck her full on the face, and I saw how much she resembled Annie. They could be sisters, if not twins.

  Annie, with no memory and no family, had a doppelganger or, more likely, an accomplice. The girl looked up at me with a knowing smile. She made a vulgar sign with her hands and then laughed. It wasn’t the giggle of the Donald creature nor was it the sexually charged sound of pleasure that Annie had made while Bob screwed her. This was something different. Something far more sinister.

  I drank my third cup of coffee while the house slumbered around me. Dawn had broken, and the pale gold light of autumn tipped the slate waves of the Sound with a glimmer of liquid gold. It was just after six o’clock and I went inside and called the Mobile County Sheriff’s office. I had to report Margo’s shoe. I was tempted to report Bob. Surely there was some crime involved in his sexual relationship with a teenage girl who was his ward. I didn’t pursue that, though. First things first.

  “Deputy Mark Walton, please.” I spoke softly. I didn’t want to wake the house. I wanted to talk with Mark first, to show him what I’d found so we could determine what it meant.

  The call was patched through, and in a moment Mark’s groggy voice answered.

  “Come to Belle Fleur,” I told him.

  Something in my tone warned him of the direness. “Did Margo call?”

  “Not exactly. Just get here as quickly as you can. I’ll meet you on Shore Road.” I hung up and left the house. Walking was difficult. I’d re-bandaged my feet, and put on thick socks and soft shoes. I could feel the blood oozing. Walking on my wounds was my penance for the cowardice I’d shown by not stopping Bob and Annie. I was as much a part of the betrayal of Berta as they were.

  I made slow progress toward the road. Somehow I would have to walk through the woods with Mark to show him Margo’s shoe. I should have left a note on the kitchen table for Berta, telling her that I’d run an errand, but my brain hadn’t been functioning.

  I stood in the sunshine and listened to the water kiss the shore. The marsh grass whispered, and for the first time that I could remember, there was a sinister undertone. It was almost as if the Sound spoke. Gulls called as they swooped and dove, angry sounds that mingled with the murmur of the water and grass.

  Moving off the road, I eased into the marsh, careful to put my feet upon solid ground. The whole area became aquatic when the tide came in. Now, though, it was low tide and the area was semi-solid.

  The whisper came again. “Don-nald.” It sounded almost as if the water called out. I backed away quickly. It was just my imagination, because I’d been so stressed.

  “Fuck you,” I said to the water as I turned my back. In the distance I saw the brown patrol car coming my way. Mark was breaking land-speed records. He pulled up and stopped while I climbed into the passenger seat.

  “You look like hell,” he said, a furrow between his dark eyebrows.

  “I hurt my feet last night. Walking is painful.”

  “So why are you walking down here? I could have driven to the house to pick you up.”

  I shook my head. “No. I want you to see this before we tell anyone.”

  “What?”

  “I found Margo’s shoe. In the woods.”

  “Shit,” he said softly. “Are you sure?”

  “I am. Yesterday I was hiding the clues for the party and I stumbled across it. I didn’t say anything. I—” Tears choked me. “I knew it was a bad sign. I—”

  He pulled me against his side, and I melted against him. “Hey, let’s take a look. Maybe it isn’t anything.”

  But I could tell from his voice he knew that wasn’t true. The comfort of his body against mine couldn’t protect me from the truth. A teenage girl didn’t disappear and leave a shoe deep in the woods unless there was a reason for it.

  33

  By the time the sheriff’s deputies and the search and rescue members gathered on the front lawn of Belle Fleur, the sun was occluded by thick gray clouds. The storm h
ad rolled in off the water, blown in from the barrier islands by a strong southeasterly wind that brought the tang of salt.

  Donald, Erin, and I sat on the front steps. Bob and Berta were on the lawn talking with the searchers. Bloodhounds, on the sheriff’s order, were brought over from the Louisiana state prison. The dogs were the best trackers in the Southeast, and Mark would use the shoe to hopefully put them on the scent.

  No matter how hard I tried, my mind kept going back to Berta’s face when Mark told her about the shoe, how I’d found it, how he wanted to bring in tracking dogs. Cadaver dogs, specially trained to find buried bodies. Mark didn’t say it, but he didn’t have to.

  Margo had been gone for two months. Berta wasn’t stupid. She knew the searchers and the dogs were looking for a body. When Mark held out the shoe to her, she’d slumped almost to the floor. Only Bob’s quick reaction saved her from hitting the ground. If she knew the truth about her husband and Annie, she wouldn’t allow him to touch her.

  Now she was hugging herself, rubbing her arms, moving around. There was a frenetic element in her actions. If she stopped, she might explode.

  “Is Margo dead?” Donald asked the question.

  “I don’t know.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. I had no proof. But I knew.

  “Should I call Peggy Cargill?” Erin asked. “She’d want to know if Andrew is with Margo.”

  “I don’t think so. We should wait to see if the searchers find anything.” It would be worse for Berta if Andrew’s family was here, terrified and waiting.

  “Why didn’t you tell about the shoe last night?” Erin asked.

  “It wouldn’t have made any difference. They couldn’t start searching until today. Until daylight. So much time has passed … I didn’t want to spoil your party.”

  Erin brushed tears from her face. “Why would she and Andrew go off into the woods?”

  “I don’t have any answers.” I wanted to go inside. Watching Berta was like waiting for a dog to run out into traffic.

  “Look, they’re heading into the woods.” Erin stood up. “Should we help search?”

  “No, and neither should your mother.”

  “Annie’s going.” Erin pointed to the slender figure in a car-coat and boots running from the backyard to the path to the old hotel. She caught up with Bob and fell into step beside him. I felt the urge to chase after her. And kill her.

  “Berta!” I called out to the lone figure left standing in the front yard. Berta stomped her feet and stared after the disappearing men. I understood why she hadn’t gone to search. If they found what they all expected, she would never recover from the sight. “Berta!” I waved to her. “Come back to the house.”

  Reluctantly she came toward us. She made no effort to stop the tears. “Do you think they’ll find her?” she asked.

  “I don’t know.” I hated those words.

  “Mark said the dogs could pick up a scent even if it’s months old.”

  I nodded. Cadaver dogs weren’t necessarily following a scent. They sniffed for decomposition.

  “Margo never went into the woods. She was afraid of snakes and she hated the mosquitoes and she didn’t like to sweat.” Berta patted her face, as if she were waking herself from a nightmare.

  I took her hand and urged her up the steps. When she was seated at the kitchen table, I made coffee and toast. She’d lost at least fifteen pounds since Margo disappeared, but in the last few weeks, she’d been eating better. Now it was as if that small gain had disappeared. She was gaunt and nervous. I knew there were sleeping pills in the medicine cabinet in their bathroom. It occurred to me that it might be smart to crush one up in her coffee.

  “I don’t feel well.” Berta pushed back from the table, the toast untouched. “I’m going to lie down.”

  “I’ll call you when we hear news.”

  She slipped out of the kitchen and I heard her sob before she closed her bedroom door.

  “If Margo is dead, I don’t think Mother will recover,” Erin said. She was crying, too.

  “Berta is strong. She has you and Donald to fight for and love. She may think she wants to die, but she won’t.” It was cold comfort.

  Erin wiped her runny nose with her sleeve. “I’m going to my room.”

  “Me, too.” Donald looked as lost as his sister.

  “I’m going to walk a little ways toward the search.” My feet would prevent me from walking any great distance, but the compulsion to check up on Bob and Annie couldn’t be denied. Bob should be here with Berta. Instead, he was in the woods with Annie.

  “Shouldn’t you stay with us?” Donald asked. He tugged at my shirttail. “I don’t want to be alone.”

  “Erin is here. And Berta.” I had to get out of the house.

  “Mimi, do you believe in evil?” Donald asked.

  “What an odd question.” Donald’s timing was peculiar. “Why do you ask?”

  “Annie says that some people are evil. She says they intend to do bad things. She says we have to be careful about them.”

  “Did she say who was evil?”

  Donald shook his head. “But she scared me. Do you think an evil person hurt Margo?”

  “Let’s just wait and see if Margo is hurt before we try to decide who caused her injury.” I rumpled his blond hair and kissed his forehead. “Why don’t you read your Hardy Boys book? You like that, and it’ll take your mind off things.”

  “Will you come read to me for a little bit?”

  I tamped down my impatience. My job was to mind the children, and I couldn’t forget that just because I was trying to birddog Bob and Annie. Just as I was about to agree, I saw the small blond creature tucked behind a bush in the backyard. He wore Donald’s snap-buttoned cowboy shirt and blue jeans. I walked to the window and gripped the kitchen sink. “You little bastard,” I whispered.

  “What?” Donald’s voice registered shock. “Mimi, I—”

  “I wasn’t talking to you.” I recovered as quickly as I could. “I don’t have time to read. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Ignoring the pain of my feet, I hurried out the back door and across the yard to the place where the branches of the shrub still quivered.

  34

  Thunder rumbled, a sound like cannons in the distance. The creature led me into the woods. We angled toward Crystal Mirror Lake, away from the search party. Ahead of me the Donald-creature moved slower than I’d ever seen it. Almost as if it were trying to accommodate my feet. Why did it want me to follow?

  When I was out of earshot of the house, I called out to it. “Hey! Hey, you! Stop!”

  It ignored me, moving steadily away from the house. I had some concern for the children upstairs, left without protection, but Berta was home. She was upset, but she ought to be able to mind her children for a little while.

  The creature paused up ahead. “Hey!” I yelled as loudly as I could.

  It turned to face me, Donald’s innocent features corrupted by a mouth filled with needle-like teeth. Saliva ran from a corner of the creature’s mouth.

  “Can you talk?” I stopped walking. My feet were on fire, and I could feel my left shoe filled with blood.

  The creature watched me, tilting its head as if he was viewing an anomaly, some animal it had never seen and couldn’t comprehend.

  “Do you speak English?” I asked.

  “Mimi, save me.” It spoke in Donald’s voice.

  “Stop, damn you!”

  “Mimi.…” It giggled. “Save me. Save little Donald. Save little Donald from being my supper.” The last three words were spoken in a thunderous voice. The smell of something long dead and rancid drifted to me.

  “What are you?” I gagged out the question.

  Instead of answering, the creature bounded down the path. Gritting my teeth, I followed as quickly as I could. It led me north, deep into the acreage that was part of Belle Fleur. The remnants of an old trail, slightly recessed as if heavy wagons had once moved along it, could be detected, but the trees had grown so close t
o the road and the underbrush was so thick, I knew not even Erin had explored the area on Cogar.

  The creature showed no hesitation, though, as it took a fork that was angled into the dim grayness of the day. The brooding storm moved in, and to the south lightning bloomed inside the heavy clouds. The sky could open any minute.

  I lost sight of the creature in the dense foliage and gloom. It was as if the grayness had swallowed it. I slowed, wondering if I’d been lured into the middle of nowhere on a fool’s errand while the creature doubled back to Belle Fleur to harm the humans I loved.

  Spinning a hundred and eighty degrees, I heard a soft giggle. The little bastard enjoyed playing with me.

  “I’m done with your game of follow the leader.” I aimed south toward home.

  “Poor Margo. Poor, poor Margo. Find her bones.”

  It was Margo’s voice that came to me. Not Donald’s. Dread settled over me, as oppressive as the storm clouds. Slowly I turned. The creature, now a good foot taller, stood in the path not thirty yards away. All traces of Donald were gone. Long blond hair brushed the shoulders of the figure, and a swirl of shifting light blocked the face. The blur began to clear and Margo’s features emerged.

  “Don’t abandon me, Mimi. Don’t leave me to rot, all alone, in the woods. Take me home to Mama.”

  “Margo!” I stumbled toward her. “Margo?”

  Vile, vile creature. It opened its mouth to reveal rows of deadly sharp teeth. Laughter bubbled out of it before it sprang down the path, its dog-like claws digging into the rich loam and sending clumps of it flying into my face.

  “Margo’s gone, Mimi, but you can have her rotting flesh.” The creature bolted so fast that it disappeared before I could react. This time I knew it was gone. It had led me to the point where it no longer needed me, and it had fled.

  Just ahead I saw open space, and in the distance I heard the baying of hounds. I had no idea where I was on the Belle Fleur property. I’d lost all sense of direction, and the clouds obscured the sun. The clearing might give me a chance to get my bearings.