by Mark Tufo
Ellen put a hand on Lilly’s arm. “How did your father die?” asked Ellen.
“It was in a train accident. A track switching error, causing two trains to collide head on.”
“I’m sorry, Lilly. Please go on.”
Lilly nodded. “Well, despite my mother’s status as a widow, she was well-respected in the neighborhood, had adequate money thanks to my father’s industriousness and executive position with American Telephone and Telegraph, and your father was one of her suitors.”
“Tell me what you’re not telling me,” said Ellen.
Lilly nodded. “One evening, your father stayed the night. It wasn’t that unusual, and they slept in separate rooms. At least that’s what I believed. Of course I was naïve at that age. Anyway, I haven’t any idea what time it was, because I was in a dead sleep, suddenly I was awakened to a hand over my mouth.”
Allyson bristled, both as herself and as Ellen.
“The hand changed to a rag tied over my mouth, and in the dark I saw your father on top of me, but only briefly. He pulled my nightgown over my head and . . .”
“He raped you?”
Lilly nodded. “Yes, but it was more than that.”
Ellen’s hand went to her mouth. She was numb.
“What do you mean, more?”
“Ellen, he didn’t care who knew. He pulled the nightgown up, and while my face was covered, he slapped me, punched me in the stomach, then once he was good and ready, he took my virginity in a horrible, violent way.”
Tears ran down Ellen’s cheeks. “Isabel is my half sister.”
Lilly nodded.
“I’m so sorry, Lilly. What was done to him? How was father punished?”
Lilly shook her head. “He wasn’t.”
“So your mother never turned him in to the police?” Ellen was shocked.
Lilly shook her head. “No. Instead, I was so interested in films and actresses and the like, I named her after Isabel Jeans, the actress in the Hitchcock film we were to see today – but I don’t think we’ll feel up to it anymore.” She smiled sadly.
“I think you’re right. So what happened to him?” Ellen asked.
“It’s not what happened to him. It’s what happened to me. He promised my mother that he would make me a movie star; he would make all my dreams come true, and that my success would provide great riches with which to raise my child.”
“And in return, my father – the rapist – remains free.”
Lilly took Ellen by the hands again. “Think of it, Ellen. All a man needs to say is that I was a willing co-conspirator, that it was mutual consent. Despite my age, men have ways of supporting other men. What was done was done. Nothing could undo it, but I did get what I always wanted.”
“And what was that, Lilly?”
A tear ran down Lilly’s cheek and she swiped it away with a petite handkerchief. “I’m a star,” she said, throwing her hands out dramatically. “I’m a big star.”
*****
Allyson concentrated, and withdrew from the image slowly, returning to the present, and finding herself back in the recliner. She opened her eyes, blinked twice, and looked at Peter, Matt and Isabel.
“Bring her out,” Allyson said.
“But you’ve only been in like 10 minutes,” Matt said.
“Yes, and that’s like an hour and ten minutes, so I think it’s long enough. Isabel?”
“Yes, dear.” She put her hands over Emma’s, then slowly slid the photograph from her grasp. Emma seemed to go into a slight panic for a moment as she withdrew, then her eyes fluttered open. She stared at Isabel in front of her.
“Are you okay, Emma?” asked Isabel.
Emma just stared at her.
“Em?” Peter said. “Isabel, what’s going on? Ally, are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Allyson said. “Isabel has something she needs to share.”
But Emma stood slowly from the couch and put her arms around Isabel, pulling her into an embrace. She held tight to her.
“Isabel,” Emma said. “My God.”
Peter looked at Matt quizzically and shrugged. Matt shrugged back.
“You’re my daughter.”
Isabel nodded and pulled back to look into Emma’s eyes. “Suffice it to say that much has been blocked in my memory. I didn’t actually realize it until I saw these photographs. It began to come back to me much, much stronger then. But still, I didn’t feel it was my place to tell you then. And there are other things I will not share until the time is right.”
“Then you’re my . . . sister,” Allyson said.
Isabel nodded again. “As much as I am Emma’s daughter, I am your sister. Though technically, I’m related by blood to Ellen Carver. We share the same father.”
“This is ridiculous,” Matt said. “Isabel’s how old? In her late 60’s? She can’t be either one, right Pete?”
“Doesn’t seem so. You guys need to start talking, because you’ve lost us completely.”
“I’m 80 years old,” Isabel said.
They all looked at her, stunned.
“The years have been good to me, but I have the advantage of being a witch.”
“So now we’re all witches.” Matt looked at Emma.
“She was about seven when I saw her,” Allyson said. “And that was around 1939. So it makes sense.”
“And how are you a witch?” Peter asked.
“Because Ferguson Carver is Murdock Vickar, and he is known as The Evil One. He is my father, as much as I wish it weren’t true.”
Peter wasn’t sure what to say. This woman who was supposed to be helping them, was she really? Was she helping them, or leading them to their demise? Could she be trusted if she were really the spawn of the one they had been reincarnated time and time again to destroy?
“So how can we trust you?”
“You must understand. The Evil One’s first damage perpetrated toward Lilly began when she was only fourteen years old.”
“Isabel, the first was before that, as it turns out,” said Emma. “It’s my guess that the railroad track switching error was also Carver’s handiwork, freeing up Lilly’s mother for himself.”
Isabel nodded. “I believe that, too. You already know that Lilly herself dies in a similar manner, but from a derailment.”
Everyone was in a stupor. So much information and such important implications.
Isabel turned to the others. “Let me explain this to the rest of you. When she was just fourteen, my father raped Lilly Morris. I was born when my mother was fifteen. So this makes me Lilly’s daughter. This was but one of many harmful things that sorcerer has done to all of you over the centuries.”
Peter shook his head, his eyes sad. “My question remains – can we trust you?”
“I am not from only him. I am from you, Emma. From Lilly and from Margaret, too, and all in-between. This means I have goodness in me, perhaps more than darkness. When I was young and began to develop my powers, I kept it to myself. But He knew. The Dark One, the Evil One, he knew. And he came to me one day and he made me forget. Everything.”
“So how did you remember?” Allyson asked the question.
“When I held the first photograph, I knew much. It began to come back to me bit by bit from there. I got excited, for while I didn’t know your purpose yet, I knew you were fulfilling your destiny, all of you.”
Isabel shrugged. “So, whether by the power drawn from all of you, or the photos themselves, I don’t know. But I began to remember.”
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Emma asked. “Don’t you think it was important for us to know?”
Isabel shook her head and sat in the wooden chair that had, over the years, become seemingly worn to her shape.
“You would discover it on your own, I knew. I felt, and I still do, that you had to do this. I had no intention of denying anything you learned about me, as you now know.”
“So what happened to him? Your father? Ellen’s father?” Allyson asked.
�
��That is still blocked,” Isabel said. “I don’t know.”
“About how old was he when this happened?” Peter asked.
“I believe he was in his late twenties,” Emma said. “He looked about that old then.”
Peter looked at Isabel. “So he died at some point,” he said. “Or he’d be over 100 years old. 105 or something like that.”
“No, Peter,” Isabel said. “I found the birth record of Ferguson Carver. He would be 108 years old today, if alive. He was born in 1904.”
“If alive?” Matt said. “He can’t be! He’s dust by now!”
Isabel shook her head. “You don’t understand yet, Matthew. None of you understand everything yet. He is a sorcerer. A powerful one. I don’t feel him, but with his blood connection to me, he may be able to shield himself from my vision, my senses. I feel a dark presence, but it can just as easily be the new incarnation of him. Allyson has suspicions, and Peter, I know that you do, too. Your father, Allyson. And Peter, your brother Glenn.”
“We never found a death notice for Carver,” Peter said. “And we looked.”
“Nor have I, but I know he was alive when you all passed, because he is responsible,” Isabel added. “So the lack of a death announcement doesn’t mean anything.”
Allyson’s forehead wrinkled with worry. “If you’ve got his blood in you, Isabel, so have I – or I once did, anyway. How do we know that I won’t work on his behalf to destroy you, or stop these people I love from finding his identity?”
“Because,” Isabel said. “Your soul is age-old. It has had its energy and purpose since it was in the body of the one called Katherine, the original bearer of that soul. You have only goodness inside of you, despite the blood that ran through your veins in a previous life. Your soul is pure and unaffected. And it is strong, I might add.”
“How can you be positive of that?” Allyson asked. Tears ran down her face, and Peter put his arm around her and held her.
“Because for you to be evil not possible,” she said. “The soul may take the powers from the blood, just as I did from my father, but only if they are lacking in the first place. Since your soul has always been that of Katherine Burroughs, as all of yours have been that of the original four, you would never have needed to glean any power or ability from the blood that ran through your bodies. It already existed.”
Isabel seemed to be getting frustrated trying to find the right words to explain it all.
“You were always placed in close proximity to one another. You were always destined to become close friends, or lovers, or even family members. This is the part of the original spell that did work; the part that allowed you to always have a chance to discover your purpose together.”
“Then why the hell do I feel so far away from achieving that goal?” Matt said. “Why, with all this information, do I think that this bastard’s going to destroy us before we can destroy him?”
“Because you have humility and doubt, as all humans do,” Isabel said. “But have faith. I feel we are closer than we know.”
*****
The next morning Peter retrieved the newspaper from his driveway and opened it as he walked back to his living room. He stopped dead in his tracks. The headline read:
DEFENSE ATTORNEY GLENN WEBSTER TO CHALLENGE CERRANO FOR SENATE SEAT IN 2012
Peter dropped the newspaper on the coffee table, fell down onto his worn out sofa and picked up his cell phone. He dialed Glenn’s number.
No answer.
He dialed Emma. She answered on the third ring.
“Webby, what’s up?”
“Glenn’s running for the US Senate.”
“What party?
“I don’t know, but I’ll bet it’s the most likely party to win, according to whatever polls are saying. He’s never been particularly political, but I think he’s a registered Democrat. I’m sure he thought that would give him the advantage here in California.”
“I wouldn’t exactly describe your twin bro as a bleeding heart liberal, Web.”
“He told me he was considering a run for Mayor of Laguna, not the United States Senate.”
“Cerrano isn’t retiring or resigning, so what are the odds he’ll get in? He’s a damned popular Republican, and he’s on his second term. Won in a landslide last election, I’m pretty sure.”
Peter thought hard. “Cerrano’s so popular, I think he’s set to run unopposed. Nobody willing to go up against him. Except my fucking brother.”
“Jeez, Webby. The F-bomb. That’s not like you.”
“Getting more like me, I’m afraid. I’m worried, Em. If he is who we suspect he might be, this is a first step toward the ultimate office. We saw what Obama did and how fast he did it, going from the Senate to the top job in one pop. There’s no way we can allow Glenn to even get close.”
“His brother – nay, his twin brother – coming out against him publicly could hold a lot of sway. I mean, if your twin brother not only doesn’t get behind you, but actively campaigns against you, voters would run for the hills, don’t you think?”
Peter nodded subconsciously. “You’re right. I know. But if he’s the sorcerer we suspect him to be, then he could just cause me to have a little accident, especially if he has some vision about what I’ll do.”
Silence.
“Em?”
“I’m thinking.”
I hate to keep bugging Isabel about this stuff.”
“She’s in deep, Web. She doesn’t mind. She has as much to gain and as much to lose.”
“But to kill her father? Does she know how hard that’s going to be for her? Whether she participates or just allows it, it’ll be the same. Her father will die.”
“I don’t think it’s like he ever dropped her off at prom or played catch with her, Web. I mean, he raped her mother, right? That’s her call.”
Peter picked up the paper again. “It says he’s using the Cudrick-Markov agency for his campaign.
“Never heard of them.”
“They must know their shit or Glenn wouldn’t have chosen them. Must be PR people extraordinaire.”
“Does it say where they’re based?”
“It doesn’t.”
“Whose campaigns they’ve worked on before?”
“Nothin’.”
“Google ‘em.”
“I will.”
“Right now.”
“Geez. Okay. Hold on.”
Peter grabbed his laptop and clicked the Google link. He typed in Cudrick-Markov and hit search.
“Just one hit, Em.”
“And? Fuck, Web, do I have to pull everything out of you?”
Just an address and suite number in Laguna Niguel. On LaPaz Road. No phone.”
“Well, I don’t know if it’s important, but write it down so we have it, okay?”
“You got it. What are you doing today?”
“Got my walking cast, buddy. I’ll be at work in half an hour. I can’t wait. Need some distraction, plus I missed my work. I haven’t cut anyone open in way too long.”
“That’s awesome, Em. At least you’re saving lives.”
“Hope so, but not all of them. Ally’s stopping in later, too. I’ve got another body for her to take a look at.”
“Tell her hey, and ask her to call me if she gets a chance, okay?”
“Got it. Do something useful. Maybe drive over and recon that PR firm.”
“I might do that, Em. Have a good day back at work.”
He hung up the phone. Then he thought of Isabel. The Evil One’s daughter. Peter knew he had to speak with her right away.
The drive down PCH to Broadway was a mess. He hit the side streets, but it didn’t matter. He dropped down the intensely steep Third Street and jetted past the police station to make a right on Laguna Canyon Road, but now the Sawdust Festival was going on and he wanted to tear his hair out. Mini-buses, trolleys, pedestrians enough to make him want to be behind the wheel of a plow like in that movie Soylent Green.
But he ch
ecked his temper and eventually got to Isabel’s house. He parked under the shade of the many trees and Isabel’s door opened before he even hit the remote to lock the car.
“Peter,” she said, seating herself in the porch swing that hung by rusted chains, the wood itself looking nearly too weak to hold the eye bolts that held the suspended bench seat up. “I expected you.”
“Of course,” Peter said. “That’s what I’d expect you to say.”
He sat beside her on the bench and put his hand over hers. “How are you?”
“I’m well,” she said. “I’ve been up all night for several nights in a row.”
“You need to sleep,” Peter said.
“I’m old. I don’t need too much now.”
“What have you learned?” Peter asked.
“First you have questions. Ask them.”
“The trunk. The pictures. One of them knew, Isabel. Who knew?”
Isabel smiled. “You are the only one who has questioned where it came from, who put these clues and portals together for you.”
“Do you know?”
I believe I do.”
“And how do you know?”
Isabel hesitated. “Peter, by telling you this I give you information better discovered on your own. I feel in the deepest part of my soul that you must learn some of it by yourselves to grow strong enough to fight Him.”
Peter’s eyes pleaded. “I have this feeling . . . I can’t explain what it is, but I feel like we’re running out of time. Something’s going on with my brother – he’s running for the United States Senate. He said nothing about it. Ordinarily, he’d have spouted this off to my brother, my mom, everyone. He’d have called me a dozen times to remind me how damned smart and successful he is. I need to know what you know, Isabel.”
She slowly nodded, then spoke: “Galen Bishop, from whom you were created, could not see as Katherine did – or does. But I have been able to gather much information from some old texts put together through interviews of those close to the four. They all lived just outside of Andover in a village called Ellsworth. They all had many friends there who knew their secret and loved them like family.”
“My God, Isabel! This could move us forward much faster, right?”