by Jane Toombs
"Aren't you joining me? It's far too cool in the grove for snakes. There's a possibility you'll get to see one of our owls--he roosts in the tallest of the live oaks.
Vera slid to the ground, hoping Vincent hadn't brought her out there to renew his bizarre proposal.
Trying to forestall any such attempt by keeping control of the conversation, she said, "Sergei took me to see his mother's portrait yesterday. She was beautiful."
"Undeniable."
"He showed me the towers, too," she went on. "What a breathtaking view."
"He didn't take you into that other room, did he?" Vincent's voice was harsh.
"You mean the room with the black door? No, he said it was locked and his father had the only key. I can understand why everyone would want to avoid that room after what happened."
"What was behind the black door had a bad reputation long before Delores' time. Our illustrious grandmother, Tabitha, practiced her weird rites inside. She died there, too." He took a deep breath. "So did my mother."
"Are you trying to frighten me?"
He smiled mirthlessly. "The truth sometimes is frightening. It was rumored Tabitha was certifiably mad. Mad or sane, her purpose was trying to ward off the Indian curse Grandfather Boris had incurred in building Hallow House. According to family tales, after their marriage, when Boris his new bride over the threshold, she fainted and didn't come to for hours. She told her companion, who was also some kind of shirt-tail relation, that someone had whispered to her that all who lived in the house were doomed and that there was no escape."
Vera's nape prickled. No escape.. A moment later she was telling herself if Vincent knew this, its must be common knowledge in the family. Anyone could have been hidden outside by the front door in the fog and whispered similar words to her. It was even possible Vincent had.
"So there you have the infamous Indian curse, which picks off the Gregory brides, one by one. Tabitha, my mother, and now Delores.
"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 doted on Johanna and loved that 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.
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 scrat
ch 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? Why play games? This last one 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 13
Finally Vera got up from the nursery rocker and, carrying Johanna, brought the stuffed snake to the library where John, now alone, was still looking over papers.
She plopped the snake down on the table in front of him and said, "I found this in Johanna's crib. Someone got in through the locked door."
He stared at the snake, then looked back at her. "I fail to understand who'd find this amusing. It seems an idiotic thing to do." He shook his head. "I should have realized in a house as old as this, with all the locks having skeleton keys, that there might be other keys around that would fit your lock. I'll have a new one put your door as soon as possible--Vincent will take Jose into town to get it."
"Thank you," she said. "I believe the snake was meant to frighten me. Which it did till I saw it wasn't alive."
"I hope you're not telling me you want to leave."
Vera shook her head. "That may be what this person wants, but Johanna needs me and I have no intention of being frightened away."
"Good. We do need you here and I'll do all in my power to see nothing like this happens again."
Warmed by his words--he'd said "we"--Vera took Johanna into the kitchen to feed her.
Later, when she brought the baby to the dining room with her for the evening meal, Vincent wasn't at the table. Evidently he hadn't yet gotten back from town with her new lock.
John glanced around the table. "Before we begin eating," he said, "I have something to say." He went on to tell them about the stuffed snake being put into Johanna's crib.
"Well, don't look at me," Marie told him. "You can't possibly believe I'd do such a senseless thing." She sent a frown toward Vera. "Come to think of it, Johanna was getting along all right until Vera came here."
Vera sat straighter in her chair, her cheeks burning with outrage. Johanna, who was sitting in the highchair next to the table, banged the tray with a spoon and babbled away.
"I consider that a ridiculous assumption, Marie." Though John spoke quietly, his tone was steely.
"What do you know of this girl?" Marie went on. "Everyone's aware of what nurses can be like."
"Miss Morgan's credentials are not in question." Ice edged John's words. "Nor her character."
Marie shrugged.
Vera wondered why the woman disliked her. She felt Marie herself didn't believe what she was saying, but merely wanted to discredit Johanna's nurse. Why?
No one else responded to John's comments about the snake. Samara ducked her head until hair hid her face. Sergei concentrated on his food.
Stan stared around the table, but said nothing.
Dinner passed with everyone eating in silence.
Vera excused herself, plucked the baby from the high chair and was leaving the dining room when John caught up to her.
"Aunt Adele would like you to bring Johanna by after dinner," he said.
So Vera stopped by the old ladies' suite before going to the nursery. Theola let her in.
"John Gregory didn't tell me your last name when he introduced us," she told Theola, "so I'm not sure what to call you."
"Everyone calls me Theola," she was told.
"Adele will do for me," the other old lady said from her rocker.
"Then you both must call me Vera." She sat the baby in Adele's lap as she spoke, then glanced around the room.
On her first visit she'd had an impression of mustiness and overcrowding. The reason for the latter, she decided was the heavy Victorian furniture with gewgaws strewn over every available surface--china figurines, black wooden boxes with elaborate Russians scenes painted on them, photographs in silver frames, religious icons in shadow boxes. The mustiness probably arose from the tapestries of classical hunt scenes hanging from every wall, some overlapping.
"A bit more weight and Johanna will be quite pretty," Adele said. You're doing a fine job, young woman. Don't let them drive you off."
"Who?" Vera asked eagerly, hoping the old women knew something that would pinpoint the person.
"The ones who whisper, the ones you never see."
"I don't think I understand." Even as she said the words, Vera thought of the whisper from nowhere she'd heard when she entered Hallow House for the first time.
"I've never heard them," Adele said, "and neither has Theola. "But Delores must have. And Tabitha said she did. Tabitha was the first, you know. She had no idea what she was getting into when she married my brother. I must be grateful because he rescued me from the terror in Russia, but it doesn't change what he was--selfish, a man to satisfy himself at the expense of everyone else."
"Adele, you must start at the beginning," Theola warned. "You'll confuse Vera."
Adele clucked at Johanna and the baby babbled back at her.
"Delores named this child after her father," Adele said.
Vera couldn't think how to respond.
"I'm aware John denies the child is his," Adele added. Theola made a small, shocked sound.
"Be quiet," Adele ordered. "Vera has certainly heard this before--John makes no secret of how he feels. He's wrong, of course, though I can't prove it. For one thing, no matter what Delores was up to with other men, this baby has Tabitha's big gray eyes. Most distinctive."
"She does," Theola confirmed. "Exactly the same."
Adele sighed. "Gregory men are all hard-headed. Won't listen. Like my brother Boris." She paused and leaned forward. "Do you like this house, Vera?"
"Why, I--it's interesting. I've never lived in such a large place before."
"That is not an answer. Do you like Hallow House?"
"Sometimes I feel shut in," Vera admitted. "And there is something wrong here. But that's not the fault of the house."
"I told you, Theola," Adele crowed. "I knew from the moment I met her that Vera would be perceptive."
Vera told herself that, considering the scratches on Johanna's forehead, the stuffed snake in her crib and the general uneasiness of the household, it didn't take much perception to understand malice lurked behind at least one closed door in the house.
"Tabitha kept journals. I have some of them here. Others have been missing since she passed on."
"She died young, I think someone said."
"Soon after the twins were born. Micah and the unnamed one.
Micah was dark like the Gregorys. We think the poor little unnamed one might have been fair like this girl child on my lap, but he was dead long before being born. I always felt it was a mistake not to have told Tabitha she had borne twins. Before this she was no more than slightly odd. After the birth, though..." Her voice trailed away.
"Quite likely Tabitha would have gone completely mad if she'd seen the shriveled, mummified thing she'd borne," Theola said.
"Perhaps. I prefer to think she might not have fallen into her strange ways if she'd known the truth."
"Her journals indicate her mother was prone to believe she could foresee the future. That is not a normal perception.”
Adele pressed her lips togethe
r. "You knew very well the Holy Men in Mother Russia can foretell what will happen."
"But they are Holy Fools and not ordinary people."
"Nevertheless, " Adele said, "Tabitha bore a second child, not a thing. How sad to bury him in an unmarked grave with no name. She knew about him in her heart, poor girl, even though the secret was kept from her."
"It was pitiful to see her wandering the grounds searching for she knew not what," Theola agreed. "If it hadn't been for Alicia, I do not know what we would have done."
"Alicia?" Vera asked, the name new to her.
"Tabitha's companion." Adele spoke shortly, making Vera realize she hadn't cared for Alicia.
"The journal, tell her about the journal," Theola urged. Adele shot her a reprimanding glance. "I was just about to. Tabitha wrote in the journal before the births that she lived in dread of bearing twins. She wrote that she wished Boris had never built Hallow House and brought her here. It was because of the prophecy."
Adele handed Johanna back to Vera, closed her eyes, leaned back in her chair and began to chant in a low sing-song:
"By the gate the two wolves lie
Of children two, the one must die.
God hears not the prayers you send
Death and destruction mark the end."
Vera skin prickled with unease; she couldn't think what say.
"I have no doubt Tabitha made up the prophecy herself," Adele said, opening her eyes and sitting up straight again. "The words defy God's will. Not listen to prayers? I do not say He answers them all, but hear them He does."
"Tabitha believed in the prophecy," Theola said.
"I can't deny that. And her belief killed her. Boris was a fool to marry her. He allowed her to change that room up between the towers to suit her, and put blasphemous icons in there. Then she had the door painted black. No one knew what kind of heathen practices she was up to behind that door..."
"She wrote about what she did," Theola said.
"No one's ever found the missing books," Adele countered. "If they exist."
"Why did Tabitha want that room?" Vera asked.
"To try to counteract the prophecy. Even though everyone thought they'd kept the twin birth a secret from her, somehow she knew. Instead of trusting in God, she resorted to heathen magic. She died locked in that room."