Black as Night: A Fairy Tale Retold (The Fairy Tale Novels)

by Regina Doman

  As he waited, the minutes passing, he thought for a moment that he heard a noise.

  A faint, scrabbling scraping noise. Like a mouse creeping over the carpet.

  He lifted his head and tried to hear through the ringing in his ears. Minutes went by.

  There it was again. “Dad?” he tried again, and his voice was more like a croak than a human sound.

  “Arthur? Is that you?” a voice came outside the door, as though from far away.

  “Yes,” Bear whispered. Then he cleared his throat. “Yes,” he said again, hardly believing what he was hearing.

  “I heard you calling.”

  “I need your help,” Bear hesitated over what to say had happened. A fear suddenly rose up in him, of what Elaine might have told his father. He could imagine her going to the bedroom with some lie before she left. “Your oldest son was here, robbing our home. I had to call the police to come and get him.”

  And Dad would believe her. He had always believed her.

  Yet, Dad was outside the door right now.

  “Are you all right? Why are you here?” his dad was saying.

  Bear was fast fighting more and more despair welling up in him. He’ll never believe you. You’ll never get him to trust you again. Especially not after you’ve neglected him for so long…After all, a man as intelligent and sophisticated as his father couldn’t even accept that Elaine was responsible for his shoddy medical care. How much less likely was he to believe this twisted stratagem of Elaine’s? He had lived years under her spell.

  “Dad, I—” he started, and then heard himself saying, “We need to help Blanche. She’s in trouble.”

  There was a pause. Then his dad spoke. “Where did Elaine take her?”

  “To the highway. She said she was going to run over her.” Bear’s words slowed as he felt anew the crushing weight of all the previous times he had accused Elaine to no avail. Years of pain and hopelessness welled up inside him as he remembered the humiliation of his father incredulously refusing to believe that Elaine would try to seduce a high school boy. Now the stakes had only gotten higher. Who was his dad going to side with—Blanche or Elaine?

  Bear waited for his answer, his heart numb.

  “Okay. I haven’t been doing too well lately, but I’ll try to get the door open.”

  “Thanks, Dad,” he said, swallowing again. He heard more soft scraping noises. Then he added, “It might be locked.”

  “I think I can get it,” said his father.

  Bear heard hands fumbling with the lock, heard a knob turn, a click, and the door swung open.

  He had expected to look up and see his father looking down at him, but to his amazement, his father was crouched on the floor, holding onto the doorjamb with one hand, while the other hung lifelessly down, both hands creviced like a skeleton’s. His skin was translucent, and his eyes hollowed. There was no way a man in his condition could stand upright. Bear realized that his father must have crawled down the hallway to get to him.

  “Arthur,” his father said, his voice husky. “Who did this to you?”

  Bear shifted onto his side and blinked. “Elaine,” he finally managed to say.

  IV

  It was night.

  Night, inevitable night, had come upon her.

  Even as she succumbed, falling through deeper and deeper layers of unconsciousness, she struggled to understand what had happened. How it had happened.

  Another flash, this time more like delirium. She was with the old lady, back in the corridor of her old high school. It was red outside the windows.

  The hallway was spinning around her as she tried to get to her feet.

  “Where are you going to run to, Blanche? The enemy’s inside you now. You can’t escape.”

  Blanche staggered down the hallway, and Elaine followed, laughing. The sound began to melt away into music that sounded like one of Bear’s piano pieces played backwards. There were ants climbing all over her leg. Blanche’s hands were shaking, but she tried to brush them off.

  Then all of a sudden she came upon the corpse of what looked like the body of a dead horse, lying in its own blood. Elaine was standing on it, wearing red high-heeled shoes and grinding her teeth. There was something in her hands, something long, white, sharp, and twisted. Her voice spoke again. “I’ve got one last message for you, Blanche. It’s a life lesson, and I never want you to forget it. You can wait forever, and the prince will never show up. He’s not coming, Blanche. He never does. Your trust was in vain. You were better off alone.”

  She was smiling at Blanche, but then her smile slithered off her face and down her arm, a red worm. It was coming towards Blanche. It stretched itself around her bare leg and began to suck. Elaine began floating up to the ceiling in a dance, waving her arms, her shoes shrieking. The unicorn’s horn fell and shattered to the floor. The windows began to slide down the walls. Blanche tried again to walk, but Elaine was everywhere, blocking her wherever she tried to go. “I’m going to make you into a lamppost,” Elaine said to her, and began to twist her around and around, and Blanche felt herself becoming stiffer and colder, like iron. Then slowly the world began to crystallize around her, like glass.

  I’m turning into glass, Blanche thought, and then sank into silence. Only the sirens outside kept screaming. Or was it still Elaine’s shoes, screaming as she ran, ran away?

  Who could find her now, in this darkness?

  V

  After circling around to leave word with Charley for Father Bernard, Brother George had driven back to the Bronx to take the unconscious girl to the Catholic hospital nearest the friars.

  As soon as he and Matt had laid her down on the hospital gurney, the nurses had swarmed around her, taking her pulse, checking her vital signs, and hooking up an IV. A nurse came with a clipboard, and Leon gave her as much information as he could.

  “Do you know why she’s unconscious?” one nurse asked.

  “I know she has a heart problem of some kind,” Leon said hesitantly.

  “Check for digoxin in her system,” Brother George cut in suddenly. “I have an idea that she might have been dosed with it.”

  The medical people immediately pulled the gurney into a curtained-off cubicle to hook her up to a heart monitor. Waiting and praying, the three friars stood outside.

  After some time, a doctor came out. He recognized the friars and came over to them at once. “She’s having life-threatening arrhythmia,” he said, and explained, “Her heartbeat’s abnormal, and, combined with low blood pressure, it doesn’t look as though her brain’s getting enough oxygen and glucose. It seems like she’s gone into a coma.”

  “Are you checking for digoxin?” Brother George asked.

  The doctor nodded. “Normally we’d try cardioversion—electrical shocking—in this case, but because of the possibility of digoxin, we’re putting her on heart-protective meds instead. Her life is in danger. Do you know why she was taking digoxin?”

  Brother George shook his head. “All I know is that this afternoon she gave me a bottle that contained digoxin pills. She said she thought someone she knew was being poisoned with them. A man with a brain tumor. When I said it might make him sick, make him go into a coma, she was upset and hurried off. I warned her to get help, but—” he paused, and his voice dropped. “I don’t know what happened after she left.”

  “Is that why you went looking for her?” Leon asked, after the doctor had made some notes and hurried on his way.

  The older brother nodded. “I asked Father Francis if I could take the car and go looking for her. Just like you, I was driving around the 96th Street station.”

  “Then I saw him, flagged him down and sent him after you,” Matt said.

  “George, this sick friend of hers with the brain tumor—did she tell you his name?” Leon pressed.

  Brother George shook his head. “I don’t even know Nora’s last name. Do you?”

  The two novices each shook their heads. “We don’t know a lot about her, do
we?”

  Leon looked at the curtain behind him, where he could see the shadows of the medical personnel still working on the comatose girl. “Nora, I wish you had told us more,” he whispered.

  VI

  It took Bear’s father a long time to cut the knots on Bear’s wrists, which had gotten tighter during his exertions. It was an excruciating process, and his dad only had one hand with which to use Elaine’s desk knife. By the time his dad had tugged the last cord free, Bear’s clenched jaw ached from the effort not to cry out. He had thought at times that his father would wear out or give up, but apparently the state of Bear’s wrists was so terrible that his father’s anger kept him going. “What kind of monster did this to you?” he said over and over again as he worked at the knots.

  Bear kept repeating, rather lamely, “I did most of it myself, trying to get free.” His father didn’t seem to register the fact that Elaine could have done such a thing, which didn’t surprise Bear.

  When his hands were free, Bear had to admit that they looked pretty awful—the skin all around both wrists was lacerated and bleeding.

  “Thanks, Dad,” he said.

  His dad was pale, but his one working eye was concerned as he tilted his head over his son’s hands, “We need to get something for those cuts, Arthur.”

  “We need to find Blanche first. And we need to call the police,” Bear said, starting to untie his legs from the couch.

  “Right.” But his father sounded bewildered. “I knew Elaine was jealous of Blanche. Still it’s hard to believe...”

  “Dad, don’t worry about it right now. We’ll work it out somehow.” The cords came free and Bear turned anxiously to his fragile father. “Let me help you back to bed.”

  “No, I won’t go back to that bedroom,” his father sounded surprisingly vehement. “Help me downstairs.”

  Bear shouldered his father’s good arm, frightened at how light his father was. “Dad, what’s happened to you?” he asked as he helped him down the stairs.

  “Don’t you know? Brain tumor,” his dad said, the working side of his face tense as though he were holding in pain. “The doctor said I’ll probably go into a coma soon, most likely for good.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t know,” Bear fumbled for the words as they reached the first landing.

  “I wrote to you—didn’t you get the letter?” his father queried, tilting his head at him.

  “No, I never got anything,” Bear said.

  “I gave the letter to Elaine to mail,” his father said, his voice sad.

  His father was still trying to absorb everything that had happened, and Bear knew that would take time. A shudder of fear passed over him. They were not safe yet. Down below them, the stained glass mirror glimmered.

  Bear realized that the front door was opening and barely had time to push his father down and shield him before the gun went off.

  One bullet sank into the wall with a thud and the beams of the house reverberated. The second bullet ricocheted off the marble railing and disappeared into the ceiling. But Bear was unhurt, pressed against the steps, covering his father. He stared down at Elaine, whose jaw was thrust forward, her eyes blue steel as she leveled the semiautomatic at him again.

  There was a shout, and Elaine spun around, only to be slammed into by Fish, who flew through the door in a running leap. Both of them fell to the ground, Fish on top, but Elaine’s gun arm was pointing out the open door. Through the entranceway, Bear could see Rose standing breathless at the outer door, holding it open. She froze when she saw the gun pointed at her.

  “Rose move!” Fish shouted, pinning Elaine’s arm to the ground and grabbing at the gun. Elaine shoved her arm free and fired off a shot at Rose. The bullet skittered across the marble tile but Rose had leapt out of the way just in time. Fish, grappling swiftly, tried to force the gun up and away from the doorway, but Elaine changed direction, yanking the gun towards her own head. She broke her arm free of his grip, and viciously cracked him on the side of the face with the gun.

  Stunned, Fish fell back and then crawled forwards, disoriented, his face bleeding. But she shoved him aside and got to her feet first, her long black coat whipping around her, two hands on the gun.

  “Freeze!” shouted a deep and terrifying voice, and Bear caught a glimpse of Hunter running up the front steps, grabbing Rose and sweeping them both behind the door jamb just as a jumpy Elaine fired another clip at their shadows. Fish tried to grab the gun muzzle, burned his hand on the hot barrel, and released it with a yelp. It was happening too fast. She fumbled with the gun, then leveled it at Fish’s head, getting her hand on the trigger...

  Bear leapt down the stairs, seizing her from behind and lunging for the gun. He narrowly missed Elaine’s wrist as she swung her right hand up over her head to point the gun over her shoulder.

  She was trying to shoot him over her back. Quickly he grabbed her waist and the wrist of her gun hand. She fired straight past his face, deafening him. He drove all the force of his arm against her weapon hand, forcing the gun down as she writhed in his grip and shot wildly. Glass shattered and a wild spider web of cracks spread across the mirror’s shining surface as a bullet went through.

  He was trying to pry her fingers off the handle with one hand. “Elaine, drop the gun!” he grunted in her ear. “Drop it!” But she screamed in answer and suddenly kicked her heel against his left shin, making him stumble. They began to fall, but with vehement tenacity, he didn’t let go of her gun hand. She fired again as they fell through the mirror. And again as they hit the floor amidst a shower of broken glass. The last shot sounded strangely muffled.

  Silence.

  In that catastrophe of shattered glass, he didn’t dare to move, more for fear of cutting himself than of gunfire, deafened by the ringing in his ears, completely tense, waiting for Elaine’s next move. The smell of blood crept across his nostrils. His left shoulder throbbed and his vision swirled, but he couldn’t move. The fall had been hard.

  He became aware that Hunter was bending over him warily. He saw the big man step on the gun and slide it away from Elaine’s grasp. She did not resist. He realized that her body had become a dead weight.

  Tears sprung to his eyes.

  Hunter picked up the gun. He was silent for a moment, then his impassive eyes traveled to Bear.

  “You okay?” his lips said.

  Bear made out what he was saying, and nodded. His ears were still humming loudly. “How’s my dad?” he managed to ask, but he couldn’t hear his own voice.

  Hunter nodded, and spoke again, inaudibly, and, gently pushing the body away, gave Bear a hand up.

  Bear staggered to his feet, brushing glass shards away from his clothes and cutting himself in the process. His hands were shaking, and he decided to leave the rest of the glass until he had regained control. Sweeping his eyes around the room, he saw Fish...Rose in the doorway...his father on the steps...all looking at him, and all breathing hard.

  His hearing was returning. He saw Hunter punching numbers in his cell phone. Calling the police.

  “Are you all right?” his brother asked, and Bear could make out his voice, and nodded.

  “When did you get here?” he managed to ask Fish.

  “About forty-five minutes ago. But we couldn’t get in until Elaine drove up and...” Fish halted as Bear suddenly pivoted and ran out the door and down the steps.

  There was a car parked at the curb, a white car. He pulled open the door on the passenger side. A black blanket lay crumpled in the front seat. He yanked it out. The seat was empty.

  She could have put Blanche in the front seat, and covered her with the blanket...

  Slamming the door, he ran to the front of the car and forced himself to get down on his hands and knees and look at the bumper and front tires. They looked smooth and black. He felt them, trying to see what was on them with only the help of a streetlight. They were dry.

  He sensed Fish and Rose coming out. There was a heavy tread beside him, and Hunter
stood by him.

  “She had taken Blanche with her,” Bear made himself say. “She was unconscious. Elaine said she would dump her body on the parkway and run over it...”

  Fish and Rose were silent. Hunter squatted down beside him, pulled out a flashlight, and checked the car.

  “It doesn’t look to me like she ran over anyone with this car tonight,” he said.

  Bear prayed a silent prayer of thanks and nodded. But someone else might have run over her by accident, he told himself.

  A patrol car pulled to the curb just as they were standing up, and Hunter took charge of the situation. He talked to the first policeman, who radioed a message immediately for another car to go and look for a body on the parkway. Hunter then led the policeman inside while a second policeman blocked off the area with yellow tape, and an ambulance pulled up behind the police car.

  The police took Bear’s personal information and a brief statement from him, as well as a gunpowder analysis test to verify who had fired the gun, before sending him off with another policeman to the parkway.

  His bleeding hands still shaking, Bear thrust his head out the window as they slowly crept up the ramp, looking for any sign of her, anything—

  Up and down the parkway and the surrounding streets, around and around the ramps they went in the night, until Bear was forced to admit the reality.

  There was no sign of Blanche. She had vanished again.

  Bear was persuaded to go to the hospital to have his cuts treated. While he was waiting for the emergency room doctor, Fish and Rose, who had already been checked over and treated for minor injuries, sat with him. There was still no word about Blanche.

  Elaine had been pronounced dead from a self-inflicted wound upon arrival to the hospital. Her husband was in a stable condition, overall, and was being kept overnight for observation.

  Breaking a silence of some duration, Bear said, “Fish, thanks again.” His brother was still holding an ice pack to his bruised and cut face. “I’m always indebted to you somehow, tonight being no exception.”

  “Thank Rose,” Fish said, unexpectedly.