by Jane Toombs
"Tragedies, certainly, but I can't believe a curse had anything to do with their deaths."
"Haven't you heard the details of how Delores died by now?" Vincent's voice was strained, muscles twitched in his face.
"I know she killed herself."
"Do you now? That's more than I know. Delores was nearly decapitated. Am I the only one who can't believe she could have done that herself? The rest seem to accept it. It's true she was locked in the room with the key on the inside and no one else in there with her except the baby and her completely decapitated cat, Diablo. His head was gone-- never found."
Vera grimaced.
"Yes, it was ghastly," he went on. "But Delores wasn't the type to kill herself and, if she had been, she'd never have done it that way because she hated the sight of blood. Another thing, she loved both Johanna and big black tom of hers. She wouldn't have harmed either of them for the world."
Vera swallowed. "Who--who found her?"
"Samara went to look for her mother and began screaming when she saw blood trickling under the door--which was locked, of course. John and I were set to break it down when Jose thought of poking the key out onto a piece of paper slid under the door. I'll never forget the blood. Everywhere. The key was sticky with it, we stepped in it, there was--" Vincent's voice broke. "Oh, God," he moaned.
Vera waited until he'd recovered some before asking about Johanna.
"The baby was in an unnaturally deep sleep; she'd obviously been drugged. It's unfortunate the servants blame her in some way for what happened in there. It's as though they're afraid she might bring death to others as she brought it to her mother."
"What nonsense!"
"They don't see it that way."
"Surely no one in the family believes any such thing."
Vincent shrugged. "Maybe not, but the poor little thing isn't popular with anyone--except you, of course."
"Her father--" Vera paused, remembering John's denial.
Vincent gave her an assessing look. "So he's told you, has he?"
"Not exactly, but I was led to believe he may think Johanna is not his daughter."
"He's wrong. Completely wrong." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "You mustn't trust my brother too far. Be careful. Very careful."
"I don't trust anyone," she said.
"Not even me?"
She shook her head. "No one."
Though he was obviously taken aback, he tried to cover it with a mocking smile. "Then why did you ride off with me today?" He reached for her, pulling her to him.
Before she could order him to let her go, he kissed her, nothing like the tentative kisses she'd had from boys when she was younger. His kiss demanded something she wasn't willing to give.
When he let her go, she whirled away from him, mounted Anna K. with the aid of a tree stump and rode off toward the house, hidden from view by a hill.
"My, my, a good sense of direction, too," Vincent said when he caught up to her. "Is there no end to your talents?" She shot him a furious glare and urged the mare into a gallop.
Sal was working near the stable when she pulled up the horse. He caught the reins, saying, "I'll take her now."
"Thanks," she said as she dismounted. Turning toward the house, she paused and glanced back at Sal. None of her business, true, but he did seem like a well-mannered, nice young man…
"I've been thinking Samara should get more exercise," she said to him. "Would you be willing to escort her if I could persuade her to start riding again?"
Sal smiled at her. "Sure. Any time."
John and Stan were in the library with papers spread out on a long table.
"I went up to listen. She's been quiet," he said as he handed her the key.
Before he could ask her anything about the ride, Vera ran up the stairs and unlocked her bedroom door, hurrying into the nursery. She started to bend over the crib and froze in horror. A snake lay coiled next to the sleeping baby.
For endless seconds Vera stood over the crib, afraid to make a sound. She stared at the snake's shiny yellow eyes, then noticed the odd looking tail. Rattles! The snake didn't move, as though waiting to see what she'd do. The room was quiet, so quiet she feared Johanna might already have been bitten and was dead.
She moaned, a small noise of protest and involuntarily reached for the baby. As she did, her elbow struck the crib side and the snake toppled sideways. Again she froze. For several moments she couldn't take in what she'd seen and she gaped at the still coiled rattler, its tail in the air, head buried in the baby's blanket.
"Why--it's stuffed," she said aloud, reaching a cautious finger to touch the snake. Gingerly she picked it up and dropped it on the floor.
Johanna roused, opening her eyes and Vera lifted the baby into her arms, holding her close. Reaction set her to trembling and she eased into the rocker with Johanna.
Who had put the stuffed snake in the crib? No, that wasn't the primary question. How had anyone gotten into the locked room to do it? John had the key, but somehow she couldn't see him putting the stuffed snake in the crib. The aim had been to frighten her, not to harm Johanna. And John wanted her to stay. He wouldn't try to scare her off. Anyway, if he wanted to be rid of her, he could easily dismiss her.
Or had the snake been meant to warn her? But of what? Her fingers touched the healing scabs on the baby's forehead and Stan's words came back to her. The devil's marked her for his own.
Which she'd never believe.
Use rational thought, she told herself firmly. Forget Stan. Forget the horror of what you heard from Vincent today. Someone got into the locked nursery. John had the key. If you don't believe he used it, then the answer has to be that there's another key. Or maybe more than one, for all you know.
That observation send a chill along her spine. She'd felt so safe behind the locked door when neither she nor Johanna had been safe at all.
Vera pushed at the stuffed snake with her shoe, recalling the rattler Vincent had seen on their ride. Or claimed to see. Had he really? Perhaps it had been a subtle way of making sure she'd think the snake in the crib was a rattler. Was he responsible? He'd warned her to leave, even tried to bribe her with his bizarre proposition. Still, he'd hardly have had time to get up to the room with the snake. Unless there was more than one person involved....
Who felt themselves so powerful they'd scratch the baby's forehead and then put a stuffed snake in her crib as an announcement of that power? It was as though someone was saying, "See, I can do anything to Johanna at any time, despite the fact you're here."
If this unknown wanted to kill the baby, why hadn't he or she? Why play games? This last idea allowed Vera to realize there must be more keys to her door and he must know she'd do all she could to change the situation. And if he thought he could scare her off, he was entirely wrong. She meant to dig in her heels, to stay and protect Johanna forever, if need be.
Was the attacker too deranged to see this or did he deliberately set up obstacles to conquer? Did he enjoy playing this diabolical game?
She thought of what Vincent had said about his grandmother. Certifiably mad. Had she been? Was it possible one of her descendants had inherited this tendency? Was there actually a madman loose at Hallow House, someone clever enough to conceal his or her madness?
Vera hugged Johanna close, trying to convince herself she wasn't afraid.
Chapter 12
That night Vera fell into a deep sleep and dreamed....
She stood alone, grayness surrounding her except for a narrow corridor where a hooded red-robed figure drifted closer and closer. It began to whisper to her saying, "Escape. Escape."
Out of the gray mist came John Gregory's disembodied voice, "Stay," he murmured. "Don't go."
She looked in vain for him. The red-robed figure eased its hood back to reveal Delores Gregory's face, white against the crimson robe. "There is no escape," she whispered and turned her head, revealing a gaping wound where her throat should be…
Vera w
oke with a gasp to daylight. She sat up, heart pounding, the warning from the dream the same words she'd heard when she first entered Hallow House echoing in her mind.
Only a dream, she reminded herself. Brought on by the strange beliefs and superstitions she'd encountered since she came here, along with the visit to Delores' room yesterday. She'd pay no mind to Vincent's mention of Indian skeletons without heads, nor Jose and Aaron's conviction the devil was hovering near, nor any other legend about Hallow House.
Her father had had no patience with those who put credence in superstitions and he'd taught her to feel as he did. "Examine rationally," he'd always told her. "Use your five senses and your common sense."
Delores was dead--that was one fact. Beautiful Delores. No wonder the twins were so striking--they'd had two attractive parents.
Vera glanced toward the connecting door to the nursery. Johanna took after neither parent. She was fair instead of dark, sandy hair and gray eyes. John had implied she wasn't his daughter. Without willing it, she began to visualize the other men in the household. Vincent. Stan. Jose. No fair hair or light eyes among them.
Then there was the tutor. Sergei had labeled him "Old Grosbeck" but that could be a teenagers exaggeration.... Shaking her head, Vera shut off her useless speculation. She was here to care for Johanna, not to worry about her ancestry. Getting up, she crossed to the window and opened the blind. Sun streamed into the room, promising another nice day.
After changing Johanna, Vera propped her on her own bed, with a few toys, keeping a careful eye on her as she chose a pale blue blouse that was close to the color of her eyes to go with her black skirt. Sister Mathilde had insisted white blouses and black skirts were the proper dress for a nurse if she wasn't wearing white uniforms, but Johanna had also bought three colored blouses with some of the money John had sent. She was glad she'd decided to do so--colors were more cheerful than white.
A knock came at the door when she was brushing out her hair before rebraiding it. Discovering it was Samara, she unlocked the door and let her in.
Samara stared at Vera as though she'd never seen her before. "You look so different. Why, you're pretty."
Vera smiled at her and began to braid her hair.
"No, don't," Samara said. "Your hair is such a lovely color--you ought to wear it loose all the time. "
"Nurses do better with their hair neat. And you have beautiful hair yourself."
Samara shrugged. "We're all dark here."
Not Johanna, Vera thought but didn't say. "I'm glad you stopped by," she told Samara. "I'll bet Johanna is, too." Samara sat on the bed next to her sister and squeezed one of the squeaky toys scattered on the bedspread. Johanna gurgled and reached for it.
"She's better already," Samara said, smiling at Vera. Her smile was quiet, unlike her brother's. In some obscure way she seemed a lesser copy of Sergei as Vincent was of John.
Acting on impulse--since Samara had been the only one taking care of her sister, if seemed unlikely she'd want to harm her--Vera said, "Would you like to take Johanna down to the kitchen for me? I'll be along as soon as I finished braiding my hair."
Alarm erased Samara's smile. "Oh, no." She rose and edged toward the door. "You're here now." Before Vera could say a word, she'd opened the door and fled.
She's afraid of something, Vera diagnosed. It can't be Johanna, even if some others do fear the baby. Maybe, for some reason, Samara didn't want to be seen holding the baby. She was so unlike her self-assured brother. But wasn't that the way with twins--one the leader, one the follower?
No, that was identical twins, those of the same sex. Fraternal twins could be as different as any non-twin siblings might be.
In the kitchen, Vera managed to feed Johanna a bit of cereal and part of her bottle before it was time for her to go into the dining room for her own breakfast. Everyone was at the table when she came in except the two old ladies. She slipped into her seat, arranging the baby comfortably on her lap.
Marie frowned. "Couldn't you have left Johanna with one of the servants?"
"No, she couldn't," John said, without explanation.
Vera thought Marie looked in better shape this morning. Her make-up was faultless and she wore a becoming aquamarine dress. She was quite attractive when she put her mind to it. Marie sipped her coffee, replaced the cup in the saucer and said, "I don't see why I can't come with you."
Vera was taken aback until she realized Marie was speaking not to her, but to John.
"I'm taking no one with me on this trip," he said.
"But you know there's no reason you can't go to San Francisco any time you please."
Marie shot him a sulky look, but said no more.
San Francisco seemed so far away, Vera thought. In time as well as distance. Had she only been gone three days? It seemed much longer.
"How about a horse back ride this morning?" Vincent said to her. "After the baby's asleep of course."
"I don't want to leave Johanna locked in the room for very long. Thanks, anyway." While that was the truth, she also didn't care to be alone with Vincent.
"You do ride?"
Vera nodded, thinking of St. Bianca School on the peninsula where riding had been one of her courses.
"What can possibly happen to Johanna if you have the key?" Vincent persisted.
"If I've gone out of the house with the key to my room, no one can get in. What if she cries?"
"I'll volunteer to hold the key while you ride with Vincent," John said.
Vera looked at him. "Aren't you leaving?"
"Not today. Tomorrow."
There was no reason not to give John the key. Since he'd hired her to look after Johanna, surely he had no reason to want her harmed. In any case, this was his house.
"I don't like to impose," she said, not quite certain she could trust anyone.
"Nonsense. You need some time to yourself. I'll be in the library most of the morning. When you're ready, bring me the key." He smiled and again she felt the warmth as her own, given to her, a gift from him."
She returned his smile. "Thank you."
She now had no choice but to go riding whether she wished to be alone with Vincent or not. Since she'd decided to pack her ancient riding clothes at the last minute, there was no excusing herself on that point, either.
Later, with Johanna sleeping soundly in her crib in the locked rooms and John holding the key, Vera left the house with Vincent. Stone paths fanned out from the front of the house and today Vincent led the way along one that led into the pine grove. Among the trees was a saint's grotto with a pink marble carving of St. Francis. Vera stopped to admire it.
"I don't believe I've ever seen an owl on his shoulder before," she said. "Usually it's a smaller bird and animals at his feet. Come to think of it, though, I did hear an owl hooting on the day I arrived."
"We have them here. I've heard there used to be a deer on his right and a cougar on his left, but those disappeared before my time. The only animal I recall is a rabbit at his feet."
"That's missing, too," she said.
"It hasn't been gone long. Only since--" He paused. When he went on, he'd changed the subject. "The wolves at the gate are carved from the same pink marble."
"The marble is fabulous. But I didn't see any wolves."
"That's right, you arrived in a tule fog. They'll wait. They've been here since my grandfather built the place. I've told you the wolf symbolized his nature."
They walked on through the grove to the stables and, by the time they got there Vera found she was less uneasy with Vincent. She'd been dreading a repeat of yesterday's strange proposition but so far he was behaving himself.
Jose had saddled her a neat little mare--Arabian from her looks--called Anna K. The young man who helped at the stables, Sal, held the bridle while Vera mounted.
"Delores liked to ride at one time," Vincent said as they rode off. "Anna K. was hers. Now I believe Sergei rides her."
"Not Samara?"
Vincent fr
owned. "She doesn't ride much any more."
Vera remembered how crazy she'd been about horses in her teens. Most girls who had a chance to ride, loved horses. She couldn't recall a single one at St. Bianca who didn't enjoy the course. Samara was different, apparently.
"What does Samara like to do?" she asked.
"Reads a lot. She and Sergei used to be inseparable, but not lately."
It occurred to Vera that Samara might not be feeling well. "Has she been ill?"
Vincent shook his head. "Not exactly. Lethargic, maybe."
"Has a doctor seen her?"
"No. Things have been unsettled here the last year or so. Delores wasn't--didn't look after the twins the way she had earlier. Or the house. And then--well, you know what happened just over a month ago."
Suddenly Vincent reined in his horse, cutting in front of her so sharply she had to pull Anna K. up short. Tsar, the handsome gelding he rode, whinnied and danced sideways. "What--?"
"Rattlesnake in the brush right there. "Damn, I forgot my pistol. Turn your horse and head for those trees."
As they angled off to the right, Vincent said, "Late in the season for rattlers. "The sun must have lured him out."
"I didn't even see the snake. And I've never seen a rattler. Are they common here?" Vera examined the ground somewhat apprehensively.
"We usually bring a gun when we ride in the spring and fall--that's snake weather. They stay put when it's too hot or too cold."
"Can a rattler kill a horse?"
"Not usually. Most horses will try to stomp the snake to death with their hooves. Which means the rider gets spilled."
"Do you have any other wildlife around I should know about?"
"Occasionally a cougar's attracted by the cattle," he said. "While there are black bear, I doubt you'll ever see one. Lots of deer."
They came to a grove of trees, the leafless branches of sycamores arching above the live oaks like skeleton hands pushing out from green sleeves A small stream lined with willows trickled through the grove.
Vincent dismounted. "You're a fair rider," he said.
"That's because Anna K.'s a reasonable horse. I don't know how well I'd do with a skittish one."