“What?” Now he’s psychic?
“You’ve taken up smoking since you’ve been here. Your intake sheet indicated that you are a non-smoker. Some of my guests prefer to smoke during our interviews; however I haven’t any cigarettes of my own to offer you.”
“I said I’m fine.”
“Then I shall take you at your word. Tell me why you are so angry at Bobby?”
“How many times do I have to say it? Someone just tried to kill me. Both of us. He saw who it was and he’s denying everything.”
“Did he at anytime tell you that he saw someone?”
“No.”
“Did he acknowledge anyone with a gesture perhaps?”
“No.”
“How is it, then, that you are so certain that he saw what you saw? Everyone’s perceptions are different. What looked and appeared to be a human figure at the top of the cliff may have appeared to be something different to our young friend. You believe what you saw was real. I respect that. Perhaps Bobby’s belief in what he saw, or did not see, is equally as deep.”
Damn him and his logic.
“Tell me about your dreams last night.”
“I didn’t have any dreams.”
“Are you certain? No disconnected images floating around in your brain this morning, perhaps a memory of something which isn’t a memory after all, but a fragment from a dream?”
Madelyn de Winter. The name came to her out of nowhere. Elizabeth flinched as though an electric shock had bolted through her body.
“Elizabeth?”
A goat. She remembered the goat on the hillside, staring at her and Bobby right before the rocks fell…and, most inexplicable, a memory of seeing Jewel St. John leading a goat through the hall.
Fire. Something burning.
Dr. Abernathy studied her, leaning toward her from his distance on the other side of the desk, and now that distance seemed to grow smaller until she felt his eyes upon her, studying every inch of her face.
The goat…and the strong odor of burning, right there inside the house, as if something was on fire.
“Now that you mention it, it was the strangest thing. When I woke up this morning I thought I smelled something burning, right here inside the house, as if there had been a fire. I opened the door to my bedroom, and as clearly as I see you now I saw Jewel St. John leading a goat through the hall.”
Dr. Abernathy took out his notebook, opened it, and entered a note.
“Tell me more about this smell. Olfactory dream memories are a rare occurrence, but not entirely uncommon accompanying a hallucination.”
“Why do you say I was hallucinating?”
“I did not say that you were, but if you permit me to probe a bit deeper we might be able to determine whether this smell of burning was a phantom smell or a holdover from your dream state. Would you describe this smell for me?”
“I’m not sure that I can.”
“Able or willing are two different things, Elizabeth. Imagine that you are in your room at this very moment, it is early morning, and you have just awakened. You are in a strange place, a new environment to you, overwhelmed by a number of unfamiliar sensations, subtle as they may be, the textures of the sheets, the scent of detergents in the towels, the fragrance of the old wooden floors and furnishings, the salty tang on the air from the ocean.”
Dr. Abernathy’s voice was quiet and low. He spoke slowly, his words in synch with the steady rhythm of his breathing.
“Do you enjoy being this close to the ocean, feeling and smelling it around you throughout the day? Have you noticed how at certain times the sound of the waves crashing against the shore seems to be amplified within the rooms of this old house? It can be a very disconcerting sound to some, hypnotic and soothing to others. You have noticed this phenomenon, haven’t you, Elizabeth?”
“Yes.”
“How do you feel when you hear the sound of distant waves appear to be in the very room where you are sitting?”
“At first I was puzzled.”
“Yes?”
“At another time, serene.”
“Would you say you felt peaceful?”
“Relaxed.”
“Are you relaxed now, Elizabeth?”
“I am.”
“Do you feel that you can sense that something is burning?”
“I do.”
“Can you smell the burning now, Elizabeth?”
“I can smell it now.” It was strong, hot, as though it was right there in the room with her, only she was no longer in Dr. Abernathy’s office. She was in the bedroom upstairs. She could hear Dr. Abernathy’s voice, low, calm, precise, grounding her in the reality of his office while her other senses experienced being in her room while the sharp smell of fire permeated her nostrils.
“Describe this smell to me now,” said Dr. Abernathy.
She saw the flames, golden hot tongues eating their way up the length of the window curtains. A part of her wanted to cry out, but the doctor’s voice was an anchor which steadied her.
“Describe for me what you see.”
“The curtains,” Elizabeth said, feeling oddly disconnected from the sight, as if it wasn’t happening at all. But she could feel the heat from the flames, smelled the burning of the curtains. Yes, this is what she smelled, the acrid sting of burning cloth. “The curtains are on fire.”
“Which curtains are on fire?”
“The curtains covering the window in my bedroom.” She could see and smell the burning just as if it was really happening. But it hadn’t happened. When she awoke that morning she had only had the slightest sense of the burning smell. There was no fire, certainly not in her room. Elizabeth was confused, but comfortable. It was as though Dr. Abernathy had tied a rope around her and was guiding her into the imagery, ready to pull her back at any moment. She allowed herself to go deeper.
“Everyone is running into my room, Bryce is there, and you, and Chet, and Bobby. Everyone is screaming for me to get out of the bed, but I am too terrified. It’s as though I’ve become mesmerized by the flames. Dakota and Jewel pull me from the bed. Bryce and Bobby and Chet are pulling the burning curtains from the window. They pull the curtains down and they are stomping on the curtains on the floor, stomping out the flames.”
Elizabeth frowned.
“Yes?” Dr. Abernathy’s voice sounded so close he could have been whispering in her ear.
“Bryce is hitting Chet, punching him, hard. I can hear the blows. He’s beating him pretty bad. You and Bobby are pulling Bryce off of Chet. Chet’s face is bleeding. Bryce is in a rage.”
Elizabeth felt her heartbeat quicken, but still she felt relaxed. She heard the doctor’s voice in her ear, soothing, calming, telling her everything was okay.
“Now, Betty” said Dr. Abernathy. “Tell me about the goat.”
Elizabeth blinked her eyes several times. The diffused light filtering through the windows was bright and painful.
“You mentioned you saw a goat.”
“Yes, on the path from the beach. It just stood there staring at me, the ugly thing.”
“I take it you don’t like goats?” Elizabeth saw that Dr. Abernathy was seated in his chair behind his desk and she once again became acutely aware of the distance between them. His lips were drawn back in that peculiar, almost feral way of smiling.
“Was there a fire in my room last night?”
“No.”
“I asked Mrs. Valdez. I told her I smelled something burning in my room. She said that the winds sometimes carry the smell of the bonfires up from the beach.”
“There, you see? There was no fire.”
“But someone did come into my room last night.”
“Who do you think it was?”
“I don’t know. It was as though someone leaned over my bed and was watching me.”
“Can you see their face?”
“No.”
“Can you tell who it is?”
“No, I said I can’t see them. It’s not
hing more than a blur, but I can feel someone standing there, watching me. I can feel it now when I close my eyes.”
“Tell me how it feels.”
Elizabeth squeezed her eyes as if the strain of remembering was painful. “Perhaps it wasn’t in my room. It feels distant, like something that I felt a long time ago. It’s like…it’s like someone took a photograph and their thumb was over the lens so that all that remains is a picture with an indistinct blur on it.”
Elizabeth looked past Dr. Abernathy into the gray void beyond his window. She tried to concentrate on the blur. The memory seemed right there for her to see if only she could wipe away the blur.
“Go on, Betty.”
Elizabeth jumped. She felt she was on the verge of being able to see what was behind the blur, but the sound of Dr. Abernathy’s voice yanked her back to reality.
“You called me Betty. That’s the second time you called me Betty.”
“I didn’t realize. I apologize. Don’t you like the name Betty? It is your nickname, isn’t it?”
“It was. Only two people ever called me Betty in my life, my father, and Sven. You caught me off guard.”
“If it disturbs you, I won’t use it again.”
Wake up, Betty.
“Are you still angry with Bobby?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “Why should I be? Bobby saved my life.”
Dr. Abernathy smiled at her, that strange grimace of his which had seemed almost predatory at first now appeared to be something softer, more…human.
“Elizabeth?”
“Yes?”
“Is there something you wish to tell me?”
She knew there were things which disturbed her, important things she needed to tell him, but for the life of her she could not remember what.
“Puzzles.”
Dr. Abernathy studied her. “What do you mean?”
“When I was a little girl I opened all of my puzzle boxes and poured all of the pieces into one box.”
“Were you able to sort all of the pieces out again?”
“I never did. They weren’t simple children’s puzzles. They were complicated: pictures of a forest with deer, a snow capped mountain reflected in a lake, waves crashing against rocks on a sea shore.”
Crashing waves.
“Dr. Abernathy, what happened to Madelyn de Winter?”
Elizabeth thought she saw the man flinch. He remained composed in his chair, his expression unchanged, but he seemed startled by the question nevertheless.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Madelyn de Winter, the wife of the man who built this house. Surely you must have heard the name before?”
“Of course. Roland and Madelyn de Winter. Why do you ask?”
“No reason. Jewel has been doing some research into the de Winter family. There’s a book in the library about old Hollywood directors which mentions that Roland de Winter died in prison after he was convicted of a scandal, but there was no mention of what happened to his wife.”
“Perhaps she is off somewhere writing a book of her own. But tell me why you are concerned with the fate of people who lived in this house so long ago.”
“I’m not concerned, just curious,” Elizabeth assured him, but she detected something different about his demeanor, however subtle.
“Now then, if there is nothing further you wish to discuss, I wish you good afternoon.” He seemed suddenly anxious to get rid of her.
“Thank you, Doctor,” Elizabeth said. He held the door for her as she slipped into the hall. The hall was dim and cool. She felt disoriented as she approached the foyer, not sure of what had happened during the session with Dr. Abernathy. She forgot to mention the voodoo doll. Or had she? Did she mention it the day before? She couldn’t if she did or didn’t talk about the doll, but at the moment it didn’t seem important. It was as though something had come along to cover it up.
She found the front parlor empty and lifting the receiver of the telephone, listened to be sure the line was clear before she dialed Gavin’s number. The ringing on the other end went on for several minutes. She was surprised the call was not picked up by the answering service. Maybe Gavin or his assistant had forgotten to forward the calls. She hung up, intending to try the call again later, but picked up the phone again and immediately redialed the number. She listened to the incessant ringing. She counted at least twelve rings before her mind clouded over and she lost count. So unusual. Where could they be?
Puzzled, she hung up the phone and started across the hall to see if there was anything left from lunch. Chet was just leaving the drawing room and as Elizabeth looked up at him the smile vanished from her face. The left side of his face was swollen. A blackish purple bruise surrounded his eye.
“My God, what happened to you?”
Chet grinned sheepishly. “It’s not as bad as it looks. I guess I had it coming.”
Elizabeth’s stomach dropped, not unlike the feeling of being on a funhouse ride where the floor drops out beneath you.
“Chet, tell me what happened.”
“You don’t remember?”
This was unreal. She felt dizzy. Blackness swam up in front of her eyes. Chet’s hand touched her arm to steady her.
“Hey, are you all right?”
“I’m fine. I was just on my way to lunch. I haven’t eaten.” The touch of Chet’s hand on her arm, the smell of his sun kissed flesh, all made her understand that this was all too real. “Did…did Bryce hit you?”
“Look, Elizabeth, I’m sorry. I had no intention of hurting you, I swear to God I didn’t. I haven’t had a relapse since I have been at the Clinic. I’m not prone to blackouts. I mean, when I set those fires at NASA I knew exactly what I was doing. I was powerless to keep myself from doing it, but I was completely conscious each and every time.”
Elizabeth began to feel frightened. “Chet, what are you talking about?”
“You don’t remember?” he said again.
“Do you mean the fire in my room?”
He nodded. “So I guess the secret’s out, not that secrets can be kept very well around here. And yes, I knew full well what I was doing, but believe me I had absolutely no control over it. I was completely powerless to stop myself. If Bryce hadn’t pulled you out of that burning room…anyway, I’m glad you’re okay, I would have felt terrible if anything more serious had happened.”
Elizabeth’s mind reeled. Now she was even more confused. What she thought had only been a dream was now reality? But why couldn’t she remember more of the details? Why did it seem like a scrap of film picked up from the cutting room floor?
“Chet, it’s all right, really it is. I…I guess I’m having trouble remembering what happened. I’m not angry with you.”
Elizabeth felt a twinge of sadness for the man. It must be awful to have his life dream shattered due to some deeply rooted psychological affliction over which he had no control.
“You should put ice on that. It looks painful.”
“Either that or a raw steak. I still don’t believe you can’t remember the fire in your room. Your screams woke the entire household. You were scared out of your wits. I can’t say as I blame you”
“I thought it was a dream. I thought I smelled smoke in my room this morning when I awoke. It was all so strange. I asked the others and everyone says there was no fire in the house last night.”
“That was big of them.”
“But maybe that’s the part that I dreamed. I’m sorry. I guess I’m not making any sense.”
“Morphenol will do that to you.”
“You don’t seem to be a big fan of Morphenol.”
“I don’t like dreams, period. It’s like being forced to watch a movie where you can’t walk out of the theater.”
“They say we dream all night long,” Elizabeth said, “but that most people don’t remember them, and the majority who do only remember bits and pieces of the most recent one you had before waking. That’s how it’s been with me so far, only I’v
e just started taking it, so maybe it hasn’t had a chance to take full effect. Right now I can only remember bits and pieces. And I’m having trouble distinguishing the dream stuff from reality.”
“That’s the problem with Morphenol,” said Chet. “I take that stuff and I’m dreaming all night long, one thing after another. I tell you some mornings I am so worn out I can’t even think straight.”
Night of the Pentagram Page 17