by Peter Ponzo
***
When she walked up the driveway the tree began to shake even though there wasn't any wind to speak of. But the light in the window got brighter and that made her feel more comfortable so she edged past the tree, toward the porch.
She thought of how nice it would be if she were home. She would knock on the door and Uncle Kite would answer and he would have his pipe sticking from his mouth, grinning out the side and the fire would be lit even if it was a warm night.
Barbara Finney knocked on the door and the lights in the window went out and it was dark, black. She shivered. It wasn't cold, but she shivered just the same. She heard a sound to her left and held her breath. The tree scraped the porch railing and she let out her breath again in a low sigh.
She imagined Uncle Kite peering through the window of the door and she smiled. His pipe was stuck right up against the window and his nose was pressed flat and he was grinning.
When the light in the hall came on, Barbara jumped. She could see a dark shadow beyond the door, then heard the knob turn with a scratching sound, then the door opened very slowly and a dark figure appeared and held out its hand and she walked in and ...
She couldn't remember, but she must have phoned her uncle because the next morning she was lying in her bed on the farm and the sun was full and warm on her face and she could smell the bacon frying.
Then she cut her hair short; she didn't know why. And somebody was talking to her, way back in her head, in whispers.
***
Barbara Finney blinked twice, slowly turned her head, stared about the lounge, at the tea pot, at the cigarette in her hand then at the ashtray filled with butts. She dropped her cigarette into the tray without putting it out. She ran her hand across her forehead, over her head, smoothing the short hair down to the neckline, then she picked up her nurse's hat, pushed it on her head and pinned it. She was about to leave when Sandy walked in.
"Hi Barb. Is there any tea left in the pot? And how's old man Brubacher? I noticed this morning that he had been moved out of the nursing wing to intensive care."
"Yes. Chronic care. Sick. As a dog. Not much time left. Gone soon. Just waiting."
Sandy Pringle poured the warm tea into a cup and sat down. "What do you mean gone soon? Is he leaving Moss Hill - to go where? He really needs the care he gets here and Miss Brubacher won't be able to provide it. If she takes him away he'll be gone for sure - dead gone. That's what you mean isn't it? Gone soon. You mean he'll be dead soon. Right?"
"Yes. Dead soon." Barbara got up to leave, stopped at the door and looked back at Sandy. "You're on tomorrow. Evening shift. Me too."
Sandy stared at the door as it swung closed. Barb was getting sort of cool, distant. They had worked at Moss Hill Nursing Home for over three years, starting together as part-time and now full-time nurses. They were best friends. Even in nursing school they went everywhere together, studied together, shared boyfriends. But Barb seemed less friendly these days and didn't want to talk. They used to talk for hours over the phone - until her ear was hot and red. Barb had changed her hair style, cut it real short and hadn't said a thing about it. Usually that was something they would discuss for days. And she smoked a lot more than usual. Now Barb was almost unfriendly. And the way she talked. Just a word or two in each sentence, as though she couldn't be bothered to add the rest and wanted to get it over with. Funny.
Sandy Pringle shook her head and stared into her cup, then began sipping the warm tea.
***
Arnie Brubacher was tied down and two tubes ran to his arm and up his left nostril. The device on the side table provided a continuous readout of his temperature and several wires ran from under the covers and were plugged into the side of the table. His eyes were closed. He was heavily sedated. He didn't move.
Barbara Finney walked in with head lowered, gazing at a notebook in her hand. She walked slowly to the bed, took Arnie Brubacher's hand and took his pulse. She didn't see the slim figure sitting by the door. Then her face became ashen, and she shivered and turned to face the dark shadow at the door.
"Oh!" she exclaimed. "I ... I didn't see you." She seemed confused, agitated. "Anything wrong?" she said.
Cassandra didn't move.
"What it it? Why are you here? Something wrong?"
Cassandra's eyes burned and Barbara Finney stood, entranced, trembling, still clinging to Brubacher's wrist.
Cassandra whispered, "Tomorrow night."
Nurse Finney whispered, "Tomorrow night."
Cassandra rose and turned to the door, pausing to look back at the nurse. Barbara dropped Brubacher's arm and stared at Cassandra, her eyes fixed and blank.
"Tomorrow night," said Cassandra, then walked out.
"Tomorrow night." The voice repeated it, echoing in her head. "Tomorrow night."
Then she shook her head vigorously as though to clear it and picked up Brubacher's arm again.
Arnold Brubacher's eyes were wide open, wild and fearful, but he couldn't speak.
CHAPTER 25
Twins
Cassandra Brubacher walked to the window and placed her hand against it. Branches spun slowly out and brushed against the glass.
"Yes, my sister. You understand. Soon you will be with me again. Soon."
She put her forehead against the glass and closed her eyes, humming softly. The coils quivered, swaying from side to side.
It was Friday morning and the meeting would be tonight. Tonight she would begin the ritual to restore the soul of her sister. The Friends of Willow would all be there - tonight. They would bring the child - the unborn child.
She had not been able to keep her mother alive. Melissa had died. She grew old and died. But she, Cassandra Brubacher, would not die. She would never die so long as Willow lived. She had aged with every sacrifice. She had aged during the weeks that the bones were removed. But now she would never die. Willow lived and she would live - forever. And soon her sister would be with her. Soon.
They had removed the bones. Inspector Jaffre had kept them. A meddling old fool. Sacrilege. Profanity. They had violated Willow.
But no more. The bones now lay quiet and resting, beneath the new Willow, held precious in the roots of the tree, providing sustenance, life, immortality, the immortal soul of Willow. She had placed roots in the soft ground, touching the bones, embracing the bones. Roots of the old tree, embracing the bones. Willow had grown strong and tall, her sister, her tree, embracing the bones.
She put a hand against the window and the coils spiralled up and outlined her hand.
Melissa had died and now she was alone - with Willow. But they had talked of it often - she and Melissa and Willow - and she knew exactly what to do. Yet why had she failed? Why had the Prince denied her? Again and again he had taken the soul and returned nothing. Again and again she had called upon the Friends of Willow and they had pleaded to Ahriman, but to no avail, and Cassandra became unsure, doubting the alliance with the Prince of darkness, but Melissa had been certain.
Cassandra wept, for Melissa was gone and now she was alone and must continue the struggle. It was her pledge, her sacred trust, for one day she would succeed and be joined by her loved one and Melissa would return and together they would rejoice.
Tonight, the Friends, they would come with the unborn baby. This time she would succeed. No more failures. It was time.
Tonight.
***
Liz dropped the newspaper on the floor and smiled. Bryan picked it up after she had left the living room and looked at the article:
Mr. Arnold Brubacher was found dead in his bed last night at the Moss Hill Nursing Home. The feeding and antibiotic tubes had been removed as well as all vital sign electrodes. Nurse Sandra Pringle is being held for questioning. Miss Barbara Finney, another nurse on duty, confirmed that Miss Pringle was the last person to see Mr. Brubacher alive.
Mr. Brubacher had been in the Nursing Home for four years and in the intensive care
unit for several days. His wife, Melissa Brubacher, died earlier in the same Home.
He is survived by his daughter, Cassandra Brubacher of Dune Road.
Liz had read it and said nothing. She should have said something. She should have been surprised, annoyed, confused ... something.
This was Friday. The meeting of the Friends of the Willow - it was tonight. Cassandra Brubacher. Bryan would see her again, dancing, the circle of people slowly moving about the table. He shivered, leaned back on the sofa, dropping the paper to the floor.
Liz was standing behind him and her eyes flashed. She was smiling, a small, curious smile and her hands were raised, fingers pointing delicately in his direction.
"Early to bed. Tonight. Tired," Liz said in a whisper.
"That's good Liz. You need the rest - both of you need the rest - you and the baby. I'll just stay up and work for a while, maybe read a little, maybe work on my research paper."
"No ... you're tired ... come to bed."
Bryan looked back over his shoulder. He had let the newspaper slip to the floor and he looked down then up again at Liz. She was still behind him, dressed, almost, in a thin negligee which fell transparent to the floor. Even pregnant she was beautiful, perhaps more beautiful. She leaned over him and placed her head on his, ran her hands down over his chest, caressed his cheek, her breasts, now swollen with her pregnancy, enveloping his head.
"Come to bed."
He remembered the tape. What had she said to Sam? He couldn't remember. Sex. Yes, that's what she had said.
Sex. He'll sleep. I'll leave. Always happens. Sleeps like a baby.
"You go to bed Liz. I'll be in shortly. Just have to finish writing up the introduction to the paper. It should be a good one - maybe good enough for a promotion to Associate Professor. I'll just -"
"Come to bed. Come to bed."
She wasn't going to leave. She was stubborn and would stay until he agreed, caressing his cheek, her warm body pressing his neck.
Sex. He'll sleep. I'll leave. Always happens. Sleeps like a baby.
Surely he could stay awake. He would pretend to sleep. That was it - he would pretend. She would sneak out for the meeting at Willow Towers, thinking he was asleep, and he would follow her and ...
"Come to bed."
"Okay sweetheart. You know I can't resist when you put on the charm."
Bryan followed her into the bedroom. She had slipped out of her negligee and stood there, naked, beautiful, her skin pink and glowing, arms held out - he held her closely and she moaned into his ear.
***
He wouldn't sleep. It was wonderful. Liz was wonderful, but he wouldn't sleep. Close his eyes, pretend. She lay there quietly at his side, breathing softly, her finger tips touching his, her mouth slightly open. He could hardly see the stone fence. She slipped her hand away and the hills seemed to rise from the distant mist, across a thousand miles of wild flowers, goldenrod, Queen Anne's lace and wild strawberry, oxeye daisies and blue violet. He was high in a tree and the horizon was a million miles away and the clouds were clinging to the hazy purple hills. The tree began to sway and he reached out to steady himself on a thick and twisted branch. It spun around his wrist, its teeth biting, grinding, screaming. He drew back and fell. It was a thousand miles to the ground and he fell for hours and the branch caught him just before he reached the ground, pulling him high into the air, spiralling about his waist then his neck then he couldn't breath and he turned his head from side to side trying to free his arms then tearing the coils from his face, gasping, then he screamed.
He sat up, sweating, the collar of his pyjamas clinging to his neck and cheek. He had fallen asleep, dreaming again. He looked quickly beside him.
Liz was gone!
He looked at his watch. Almost 11 o'clock! Bryan jumped out of bed and ran to the hall, pulled open the door and ran down the stairs. He flung open the front door and ran to the car. It was still there. Liz had gone with Sam - yes, in Sam's car. He slid into the car and drove to Willow Towers, hands clamped white to the steering wheel, leaning forward, breathing quickly, heart pounding.
***
Cassandra stood by the open window, tender branches caressing her cheek.
"Yes, my sister, tonight," she whispered, pulling a fragile limb to her lips.
In the room, behind her, gathered the Friends of Willow, standing solemn amid the rising and luminescent mists of Ahriman. She turned to address them.
"Tonight, my Friends, we shall appease his Holiness and offer unto Him a soul, safe to His keeping." She paused and they all repeated, softly, "... safe to His keeping."
"Tonight, my Friends, we shall defy Ahura-Mazda and bless his enemy with a soul tainted of mortal sin." She paused and they all repeated, softly, "... tainted of mortal sin."
Cassandra moved among them and they parted and she went to the door and out, and the giant willow rose and the congregation followed and fell to their knees before the tree, and one by one, each was caressed by its fingers, gently, as the moon rose ochre in a darkened sky, and the glowing shapes hovered above the prostrate figures, and the humming and singing began.
Prince of the Night, we ask in thy name,
to take a soul defiled.
That the soul of Willow may arise and rejoice,
complete and whole,
union and life.
And they rose without another word and followed Cassandra, for they would go to the place of genesis, to the ground which first held the tender body of Willow, to the site of first alliance with the Prince of Darkness, and there they would appeal to Ahriman and He would take the unborn child from a willing womb and together they would carry the infant to Willow, to lay the child among the roots of the tree and invoke the power of the Lord of the Night to raise the sister of Cassandra from the cold ground, complete and whole, and they would all rejoice in the union.
***
Bryan couldn't remember how he had come, what streets he had taken, what stop lights had been red, but now he was parked at the road in front of Willow Towers. He stared at the sign: friends of WILLOW. He opened the car door and slid out, then ran to the side of the building. The concrete blocks were still there. He reached down and saw that he had no shoes. He was still in his pyjamas. He shook his head to clear his thoughts. It was dark and the ground was bumpy with roots and he couldn't slide the blocks so he carried them and placed them under the window. First one, then the other.
The window was dark. Was this the night? Had he forgotten what night?
He climbed carefully onto the unsteady blocks and peered into the window, his hands clinging fiercely to the sill. Dark.
He looked at his watch. Too dark to see, but it must be about 11:30.
Then he saw the faint glow through the window. It seemed to be coming from the floor, rising and shimmering, a willowy shape, luminescent, rising from the floor of the room. The glow brightened and he saw the people, standing in a circle, hands raised. Then he heard the humming, rising and falling, and saw the table in the middle of the room, dark and sinister. Then he heard the voices, softly at first then more loudly, rising in pitch.
***
Cassandra began to sway, shadowy spirals coiling about her naked body, her eyes crimson with inner fire. The Friends had gathered to celebrate the sacrifice. Cassandra moaned softly and they laid the body of the woman on the table and began their chant.
Prince of the Night, attend us now.
Before you, a child unborn.
Take this soul, tainted of man.
Take this life, safe to thy keeping.
The dark figures began to circle the table, moving slowly, singing.
Cassandra stepped forward, from the dark into the glow, covered in streaks of black, moving lines which spiralled from her feet to her neck, the spirit of Ahriman, and she raised her hands, swaying and singing.
She stood before the table and the willowy shapes glowed, brighter
, shimmering, hovering luminescent above the table.
"Prince of Darkness, hear us and acknowledge. We seek to please Thee, to place before thy most unholy countenance the soul of an unborn child. Acknowledge and give us thy blessing."
Cassandra stroked the swollen belly and the dark shadow of Ahriman left Cassandra's body and covered the woman, blessing her, and she screamed - and she gave her child to the arms of the Prince and all moaned and chanted and wept with the joy of the sacrifice.
***
Outside the window, Bryan began to shake, his chest pressed against the cold brick, his face screwed into a frantic, quiet, terrible frown. He couldn't blink; he stared into the dark yet glowing room.
Someone was lying on the table. A woman. Distorted. Bloated.
Pregnant!
Then she began to scream!
He stepped back, sucked in his breath, slipped off the blocks, clambered back. Who was the woman?
Liz? The woman - pregnant and naked on the table - was it his wife?
Something slid over his bare foot. It was dark and he could see nothing. He kicked and fell backward into the tangle of ... of willow roots spinning up, coils, black and serpentine, and he pushed with his legs and skidded across Willow Walk onto the wet grass and the coils followed, scraping against the gravel. He jumped ... ran ... to the car.
He drove randomly, away from the building, down the block, across town, Main Street - thinking only of Liz - on the table. Was is really Liz?
He stared up at the winking light and saw the sign: New Bamberg Police Department. He was parked at the curb, staring at the sign and couldn't remember driving there. Bryan slid out and ran up the stairs, pushing open the door.
The officer looked up, turned off the TV and walked to the desk.
"Yes? Something wrong?"
"My wife ... they're ... uh, I think they're killing her. Her baby, my baby - on the table. You must do something - before it's too late. Something ... uh, Willow Towers - Friends of the Willow ..."
"Slowly. Wife's name?"
"Name? Elizabeth Anne Laker. Please hurry. There's no time - hurry - "