by TJ Vargo
"Somewhere."
"Don't play games with me." She studied him, her brows coming together. "Were you down at the church?"
He sniffed and wiped a drip of water from his nose. "Why, would that be a problem? Was the funeral by invitation only?"
She shook her head and rocked back on her feet, standing up. She turned and banged the toilet lid down, sitting on it. Her chest rose with a deep breath as she looked at the ceiling, shaking her head. The water lapped calmly in the bath. Jackson stared at the long curve of her neck, her throat working as she struggled to talk.
"If you saw something, if you were down at the church, I just want to tell you to be careful." She lowered her chin, her jaw set as she looked at him with huge eyes. "You don't know what can happen to you here if you're not careful. You have to be careful. I don't want you to get hurt."
Watching her stand and turn to leave, Jackson lunged at her, grabbing her by the hand, the water in the bath splashing over the edge of the tub. A bolt of pain heated the inside of his head, but he held her hand tight, not letting go, waiting until she turned to face him.
"Listen. There are coffins down there by the church. All around the graveyard, hidden in the woods. Each one of them has a woman in it that looks just like you. All of them, just like you, except they're dead."
She swallowed hard. Stared at him, her face tight, her mouth slightly open. He could almost see her heart stop and then start again.
"That's not true," she whispered, looking over her shoulder into Jackson's room, then back to him. "Why are you trying to scare me?"
"I saw them. I opened the lids myself. I just hope there isn't a coffin down there waiting for you. Or for me."
He let go of her hand and looked at her as he slid back down into the bathwater. She blinked, her eyes wet. The pain in his head screwed a notch tighter as his voice rose. "What's going on around here Felicia? Why did Nathaniel bring me here? Why did he bring you here? There were things I saw down there today. Actual things... I, I can't even describe what they were."
"Do you love me Jackson?"
He nodded. "I think you know that. And I think you know that we're different than the rest of the town. It's like you and me are animals in the zoo and the rest are here to watch us."
She leaned over and kissed him on the mouth. Her lips were soft, enveloping his in a warm caress. Standing back up, she looked down at him. "That's good. That's all that matters. If you love me, everything will be fine. He'll get what he wants and we'll be fine."
Watching her walk away, the steam of the bathroom following her in a swirl, Jackson yelled, "Who is he Felicia?"
Her body disappeared around the corner, her voice trailing back to him. "I don't know. I don't think anyone does, and I'd rather leave it that way."
He was left alone in the bath, staring out the door where she had left him, staring after her until the water grew cold on his skin and his teeth chattered.
Chapter Fifteen
"Jackson, I'm glad to see you're looking better. How do you feel?" asked Nathaniel.
"Fine. Head's a little loggy, but I'm fine," said Jackson, closing a French door behind him and walking into the courtyard. Nathaniel nodded, his hands steepled in front of the smile that split his beard.
The hired help were busy stringing a line of Japanese lanterns around the border of the courtyard. Ducking under a string that was being hung over the French doors, Jackson took a seat next to Nathaniel in a black wrought iron chair. Nathaniel was the picture of contentment. He lifted a thick cigar to his lips and watched the lanterns being hung, a blue grey haze of smoke snaking out of his mouth. He wore a dark suit with a thick white t-shirt under it, like a movie producer relaxing in Southern California. His hair was slicked back into a shiny black mirror, his eyes calm black pools that took in every action around him.
A suit had been brought up to Jackson's room, but he left it hanging on the doorknob of the closet. He wore a pair of old jeans he took from a laundry room he found in back of the kitchen, leather docksiders and a white cotton dress shirt with the two top buttons unbuttoned. A dull tooth ache pain pulsed in his head. He needed to feel relaxed and the suit was not going to cut it. One knee of the jeans was worn to the white thread. He picked at the worn spot, feeling Nathaniel's attention on him, watching him pick at the worn knee of the blue jeans.
"I found these in the laundry room. Wasn't up to wearing a suit tonight."
"I don't think anyone will mind. As long as your here with us and you enjoy yourself I'll be happy," said Nathaniel.
From somewhere inside the castle someone turned on a stereo. The music, a floating light jazz that was precise and calming, lapped over the courtyard from hidden speakers. The help finished hanging the last string of lanterns. Someone threw a switch and the lanterns glowed in a sedate luminescence against the light of early evening. Jackson turned in his seat, seeing maids wheeling empty stainless steel carts away from a table that held light appetizers and a fruit bar. A young man in a white coat and black pants was busy smoothing white table cloths and lighting a single white candle in the center of each table.
"So what kind of freak show do you have planned tonight?" said Jackson, his voice flat. He looked at Nathaniel, his face numb with the overdose of aspirin he'd taken to mask the pain in his head.
"Just a gathering of friends. Everyone's still a little full from last night." He grinned. "I thought it would be nice to relax tonight. Just relax and let things happen."
Jackson followed the cloud of smoke that slid from Nathaniel's mouth. The air was still, letting the smoke pool in a shifting haze around them. He dropped his gaze from the smoke to Nathaniel, who had turned the side of his face to Jackson. Even with his head turned, Jackson could feel Nathaniel's attention on him, a snake watching its prey.
"You don't need me then. I'll relax in my room, let things happen there," said Jackson. He raised out of his chair and began walking, the glow of the lanterns casting his face in yellow light as he reached for the sliding glass door. His hand stopped, hanging on the door handle as Nathaniel's voice caught him.
"That's too bad. Tonight's the night Felicia earns her keep. Gives back to the town that has done so much for her. I thought you might be able to enjoy the night with her and the rest of us."
Nothing could help the pain that peaked in his temples, pounding with the increase in his blood pressure. Jackson took his hand off the handle on the door and pivoted on his feet to stare at Nathaniel. He massaged his forehead, watching Nathaniel stare blankly across the courtyard. Cigar smoke rolled out of the little smile buried in his beard.
"What are you going to do to her?" Jackson asked.
"Nothing comes free Jackson. She's just giving a little back. When you're here long enough, I'll expect you to do the same."
Jackson stared at Nathaniel. He was rigid, his hands clenching into fists. Something bad was planned for Felicia tonight and he was the honored guest that was supposed to watch, probably so everyone could enjoy his reaction. Blood pounded in his head. Pain circled his temples in a vice grip. He could barely see straight. He dug the nails of his fingers into his palms, trying to distract himself from the pain in his head. You want a little payback from Felicia? Maybe I'll have a little payback for you, you son-of-a-bitch, he thought, watching the smoke curl out of Nathaniel's face.
He slid a foot forward, intending to deal some of his anger out on Nathaniel. A corner of his mind tilted, spilling the memory of his afternoon in the graveyard into his head. A flash of sweat broke up his spine in a cold tail. Those things coming out of the forest for Fletcher. His breath caught in his throat as Nathaniel shifted his gaze on him, his eyes dead and flat. A little crinkle gathered in the skin at the corners of Nathaniel's eyes. Nothing more than a wrinkle of crow's feet. But it was enough to show Jackson that Nathaniel was concentrating on him, making something happen inside of him. With an odd sense of disorientation he took a step back. Something was peeling back a corner of his mind, turning rocks o
ver in there - reaching around and looking for where he kept his nightmares hidden and trying to set them free. The air around Jackson gathered thickly, pressing on him and growing excited. It had the same feeling as the air did in town right before those things came out of the forest.
Jackson moved his throat in a dry swallow and turned his back on Nathaniel. He had to get out of the reach of those fingers dabbling in his head. He walked quickly away from Nathaniel back into the castle. Even with the sound of the door thunking closed behind him he could feel the burn of Nathaniel's eyes on the back of his neck. But the air around him had cleared. And his head, thank God, his head - whatever had been rooting around in there was gone. Oh God. He inhaled deep. He stopped for a moment before moving on, taking a last look back at Nathaniel. Those eyes, black and shiny and bursting with interest, were pinned on him. He looked away and began walking away. Any place would do, as long as it was out of Nathaniel's sight.
In the kitchen, Jackson had to dodge through bodies busying themselves with preparing food and drinks. He banged his hip into the side of a counter, in a rush to get to the door that led up the staircase to Felicia's room.
"How about a drink, Jackson old boy? A fucking cold shot of the stuff. It'll grease you good so you can join in tonight, I promise."
Kirtland raised a tumbler of bourbon, the ice cubes clinking as he shook it at Jackson. Jackson flipped his middle finger toward Kirtland and opened the door leading up to Felicia's room. Did that old coot say "fucking?" That wasn't right. Guys as old as him shouldn't even know what that meant anymore. He ran up the stairs, torchlight from above flickering down on him.
Banging the side of his closed fist on Felicia's door, he stuck his nose in the door jamb, whispering loudly, "Open the door Felicia, now."
He kept at it when she didn't answer immediately, his pounding an insistent rhythm that didn't stop. Finally he heard a door open inside the room. Footsteps came toward him from the other side of the door.
"It's me, Jackson. Open the door," he said, turning the knob back and forth.
The lock clicked. He pushed the door open, grabbing Felicia by her hand and pushing her back into the room as he shut the door behind him and locked it. He wiped his hand on his pant leg, noticing that her hand was wet. A white towel was wrapped over the top of her head. With her hair covered her eyes seemed bigger than ever. The white towel she'd wrapped around her body snugged tight over her hips and she held it bunched on her chest. A rivulet of water wiggled down her neck into the towel knotted at her cleavage.
"C'mon, get dressed. We're leaving," he said, opening one of her dresser drawers. He grabbed a pair of khakis and a sweater and held them bunched in one hand while he opened and closed more drawers, searching for underwear and socks.
"What are you talking about? Where are we going?" Felicia said, her voice shrill.
Spinning around, Jackson threw the clothes at her. "Just get these on and let's get out of here! Move!"
Her face colored with anger, the clothes he threw at her hanging in her hands. Looking at Jackson, her mouth opened then snapped shut. Three loud knocks echoed from her door.
She looked at Jackson, her brow knit. He shook his head, then looked at the door.
Throwing the clothes back toward Jackson, she crossed the room. The door's hinges creaked in protest as she opened it. No one there. She stepped into the hall, turned her head both ways, and came back in the room. Patting her face with an edge of the towel on her head, she pushed the door closed. She looked at Jackson, her face pale. "No one's out there."
Her feet made a sticking sound as she walked to the bathroom, not lifting her face once to look at him. He could see the faint outline of her footprints on the floor. He looked at the door leading to the hall, shook his head and strode to the bathroom.
"We've got to leave Felicia. Now. Something bad is going to happen to you tonight."
She took the towel off her head and scrubbed it through her hair. Her face had stayed pale. She watched herself in the mirror, trying unsuccessfully to hold her voice steady. "Nothing is going to happen to me. We're just having a party, that's all."
"What's your problem? Why are you acting like there's nothing wrong?" Jackson thrust a finger toward a window. "He's going to do something tonight. He told me so. And he told me you're going to be the main entertainment. Let's get out of here now while we're still in one piece."
"He'll find us," she said in a tiny voice.
Jackson ran his hand through his hair in frustration. If she didn't have the strength to leave, he'd have to have enough for both of them. He grabbed her wrist. The towel fell from her hand to the floor. "He won't find me," he said, cocking his head and grinning. "And if you're with me, he won't find you either."
A light of hope burned deep in her eyes. She wanted to believe, he could sense that and he worked on it, holding her gaze with his own. Then the light in her eyes faded as she said, "Only one person has ever left here and not been found by them. One. The rest are probably in those coffins you saw today - if you weren't lying to me about that."
"Felicia, I wasn't lying. I saw them. They..."
She pulled her wrist away and bent over to pick up her towel. "Just leave. I've got to get ready."
Turning on his heels, in disbelief at her acceptance of whatever her fate was, Jackson took a step and then stopped.
"You said someone left here. Who was it?"
"Never mind," she said, closing the door to the bathroom. Her voice came out muffled behind the door. "I'll see you outside."
He walked across the room and closed the door quietly behind him.
Looking into the mirror above the sink, Felicia exhaled shakily. "Get a grip girl," she said to herself. "It'll be worth it. You'll get yours if you get a grip. It'll all be worth it."
From the look on Nathaniel's face, the night was shaping up nicely, which made Jackson turn and circle in place with the irritation of a lion in a cage. He stopped long enough to watch another group of townspeople file in and walk over to Nathaniel to receive a smile and a handshake, exchanging a few pleasantries before moving to the bar for a drink. The sound of drums syncopated in a jungle beat over a hot jazz rhythm wove its way over the crowd, pouring some heat into the cool of the night. Jackson forced himself to stand still and raised his glass of mineral water to his lips, noticing the slight shake in his hand. Drinking water instead of liquor, keeping control of himself - not an easy thing to do knowing that something was going to happen to Felicia. But he would drink no more alcohol tonight. Even though her refusal to leave confused and angered him, he was determined to have his head on straight. To watch out for her, and if it came to it, fight for her. He patted the belt buckle he kept in his pocket. She was a good person, someone that needed to be protected. Taking another drink of his water he tightened his hand on the glass to control his shakes.
Moving to the food table he filled a small plate with a stem of grapes, honeydew melon slices and cantaloupe. The succulent fruits crushed wet and sweet on his tongue, wetting down the cotton mouth left over from his afternoon drinking binge. He popped a red grape in his mouth, crushing it and searching the growing crowd for Felicia. There was an anticipation he could sense in the townspeople - or more exactly, the townsmen. He could see it in their faces, the tinge of hot blood simmering under their skin.
Tom Commons, Frida's husband, walked toward Jackson, heading for the food. It was just a small glance, Tom's eyes meeting his for a moment, but Jackson inventoried the man in that space of time. An excited flush was in Tom’s face. He didn't want to hold eye contact. Too much nervous energy in him, as there was in all the men, unable to stand still as they grinned and paced and gestured flamboyantly. All of them red-faced and laughing too hard at the slightest thing. The women were more reserved, watching their men with side long glances while they held conversations in quiet clusters.
Jackson nodded pleasantly at Tom, watching him balance a drink in one hand and a plate of food in the other. Tom nodded
back as he edged his belly by Jackson, carefully holding his plate up high. A smell hung in the air from Tom being so near. A cloying scent of dampness and sweat and something else. A musky animal smell. Jackson watched him walk away. Why was he all worked up? Hearing a burst of laughter through the crowd, Jackson looked past Tom's wide back and saw a group of men with one man grabbing his crotch. The men in the group were laughing way too hard, showing their back molars, their eyes wild. The man with his hand on his crotch sensed Jackson's attention and shifted his gaze toward him, slipping his hand from his crotch into his pocket. He smiled at Jackson and said something to the men around him that stopped their laughter. As one, they looked Jackson's way. Jackson couldn't help but notice the men's eyes, shifting his gaze from one to the next, and the next... Those were eyes that were waiting. Impatient to see something that excited them almost beyond their control.
Finally the men looked away. Jackson sucked in a breath, exhaled quickly and took another. He realized he'd been holding his breath the whole time they had been staring at him. Like a deer caught in the headlights. He rubbed his eyes, feeling his pulse in his temples. Gradually slowed his breathing. I need something to relax me, he thought. It doesn't help to be on edge like this. Seeing an attractive older woman light a cigarette nearby, he walked over to her, taking a last glance at the group of men. If he couldn't drink he was damn well going to smoke. Coming up on her shoulder she turned to face him before he had a chance to announce himself. Big cat's eyes balanced over full lips that softly encircled her cigarette. And one hell of a well preserved body that swelled in all the right places under her flaming red dress. But even with her thick layer of make-up, she couldn't hide the age on her face. Once upon a time she had been a rare beauty. Now her skin had slipped off the bone a notch or two, showing her years. Even so, she was still a woman that demanded lust.
"Can I bum one of those off you?"