by Diane Hoh
“The birds, with their beady little eyes and those yucky wattles hanging from their chins, were going to do something terrible. She knew it.
“She should warn the others. There they went, dancing along the path ahead of her, gossiping about other girls and talking about boys and the upcoming dance on Saturday night as if nothing different or weird or unpleasant could ever happen in their world. But it was about to, Cassie knew that, and she should warn them.
“If she warned them, they would change their minds about her. They would see that she was, after all, a responsible, mature, caring young lady. And they’d stop teasing and tormenting her.
“But … then they’d never be punished for the way they’d treated her.
“She didn’t want to be one of them, after all, Cassie decided. She didn’t want to be like them. They were stupid, and cruel. She would rather just stay who she was.
“Smiling, Cassie turned around on the path and began walking rapidly, lightly, along it in the direction they’d come, away from the others.
“When the screaming began, she didn’t slow her steps. But her smile widened as she imagined, in her mind’s eye, the huge, black birds swooping down upon the stupid, cruel girls and pecking at their eyes and their skin and their heads, maybe tearing at that hair they spent hours fussing with …”
“Oh, God, stop it!” Reed cried. “I read it, years ago, but that was before … before …”
“Before you thought that anything like that could ever really happen?” Link said, closing the book with a snap and thrusting it back into his pack.
Reed nodded. “Yes, exactly.” She shivered slightly, remembering Poe’s claws. “The book is just fiction. I knew that. So it didn’t bother me. Actually, I liked it a lot. I liked Cassie. She had guts.”
“So do you,” Link said admiringly. “I mean, you didn’t faint or have a heart attack when that bird came at you. Some people would have.”
“I wasn’t afraid,” Lilith said quickly, sliding closer to Link in the booth. “I threw things at it.”
“You were screaming your lungs out,” Debrah said drily.
“So were you,” Lilith shot back.
“We all were.” Jude picked up his coffee mug. “I never thought I’d be freaked by some dumb bird, but that one was really nuts.” Turning to Reed, he added, “Weird that they have a bird. I mean, most people have cats or dogs, not a crow.”
“It’s his mother’s. But it’s not a crow. It’s a mynah, and it talks. I mean, it really talks. Says all kinds of things. And it is tame. I couldn’t see it that well, because of the snow coming down, or I would have realized it wasn’t really attacking me.”
“Tell us about your job, even though I still hate you for getting it,” Debrah said, changing the subject. “I’m so jealous. How did you get it?”
Reed decided not to tell them that it had been Link’s doing. Why should they hate him, too? “I heard that Carl had left,” she said, “so I went over there this morning and asked for the job, that’s all.”
“Damn!” Debrah cried, wiping her mouth with a paper napkin. “I’ve been waiting ever since September to catch a glimpse of McCoy, with no luck. And now you’re going to be working for her. There is no justice in this world, and that’s the truth!” She forced a grin but Reed, watching her, realized that the grin didn’t match the expression in Debrah’s chestnut-brown eyes. There was no humor there. None at all.
“Tell you what, Deb,” Reed said hastily. “There might be times when I can’t go to the house. I might have an exam or something and need the time for studying. I could send you instead, if you want. McCoy wouldn’t mind.”
The gratitude she’d expected wasn’t forthcoming. Instead, Debrah’s eyes narrowed and she said coldly, “I’m not anybody’s stand-in, Reed. McCoy missed her chance with me, and she’s stuck with you now. Forget it.”
Reed flushed with embarrassment during the awkward silence that followed Debrah’s words. Had she been patronizing? She hadn’t meant to be.
“Oh, lighten up, Debrah!” Jude said, leaving the booth to slip into his long, black raincoat. “Reed was just being nice. If anyone should be mad, it’s me. I’m the one who’s the next McCoy. But you don’t see me sniping at Reed, do you? Especially after that scare she just had.”
Reed smiled at him. “Thanks, Jude. And I’ll make you the same offer I made Debrah. If I’m sick or busy and can’t go to work, I’ll send you. That way, you’ll get to meet McCoy and impress the heck out of her and learn all her secrets.”
“Hey, great. Thanks, Reed. You look a little feverish to me, as a matter of fact. I think I see a serious case of … oh, maybe typhoid, coming on.”
“Hah,” Reed said. “No way.”
They walked back to campus through two inches of new snow on the ground and more snow falling from the sky.
Since she didn’t have another class until one o’clock, Reed decided to go straight to the administration building to fill out her work papers. Might as well get it over with.
The clerk was young and pretty, with a mountain of yellow hair piled high on top of her head. “McCoy?” she said when Reed told her why she was there. “That woman has a hard time holding onto help, doesn’t she?” Then, as Reed began filling out the papers, the clerk said, “Do you know Carl Nordstrum?”
Reed shook her head. “Not really.”
The girl sighed. “He’s gorgeous. A jaw made of granite, eyes as blue as Paul Newman’s. But shy, you know? The serious type. Didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would just up and leave a job. But when McCoy called here, that’s what she said he’d done. Left without a word. You just never know about people, do you?”
Without answering, Reed continued filling out the forms.
Lowering her voice, the clerk leaned across the desk and added, “Seems a little fishy to me, if you want to know the truth. I’m a real good judge of character, everyone says so, and I would have staked a month’s salary on Carl Nordstrum being the reliable type.” She glanced around at the surrounding desks. “But no one here wants to talk about it. After McCoy called here, I asked around about her other employees, and all anyone would say was that she had trouble keeping people. I just think it’s weird, that’s all. Carl Nordstrum didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would walk off a job without warning, know what I mean?”
As she handed over the completed papers, Reed felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickling. What was the clerk hinting at? That Carl hadn’t left the job willingly? That something had happened to him? Something sinister?
“You’ve been reading too many McCoy novels,” she said, smiling.
The girl recoiled. “Oh, I don’t read her stuff! It’d give me nightmares.” She stapled the papers together with a wicked blow. “But if you ask me, you have to be a little bit wacko to write books like that. Or,” she added, deftly tossing the stapled papers into a wire basket, “to read them. Have a nice day.”
I’d be having a nicer one, Reed thought as she left the building, if you hadn’t made your stupid remarks about Carl. Silly, the whole thing was too silly for words. Carl had left, that was all. Left the job, left campus, left Salem. People did it all the time.
So why were the hairs on her neck still standing up? And why did she suddenly have the feeling, as she made her way down the wide stone steps, that someone was watching her? She glanced around uneasily.
Nothing. People were hurrying across campus, heads down against the thickly falling snow, but no one seemed to be paying any attention to her.
At least, she thought as she headed for the fine arts building, snow is the only thing falling from the sky. No black-winged birds, shrieking in my ear, diving toward me to tangle their claws in my hair.
But she couldn’t stop herself from continually glancing up through the falling snow, her eyes searching the leaden gray sky for any sign of swooping black wings.
Chapter 5
IT HAD BEEN A great weekend: two parties, one movie, a trip to the mall
. A lot of fun. But now Reed was anxious to get started with McCoy.
At the last minute, she changed her clothes. She put the blue sweater and jeans she had been planning to wear back in the closet and dressed instead in black slacks and a black sweater. She wasn’t sure why, but it felt right. The finishing touch was a pair of heavy silver earrings her little brother had given her as a going-away present. She had never expected to wear them. But they looked great with all that black.
She didn’t walk to the house alone. When she came out of Lester after her morning classes, Link, Jude, Debrah, and Lilith were clustered on the front steps.
“We’re going with you,” Jude announced. “Walking over there alone might not be safe. For all we know, Carl Nordstrum could have disappeared while he was walking to or from work.”
“You are not coming with me!” Reed said indignantly. Of all the nerve. As if she needed an escort! “Ms. McCoy values her privacy. And I am perfectly capable of walking across campus by myself, thank you very much.”
Debrah grinned. “Okay, okay. We figured this would be our chance to catch a glimpse of McCoy. Don’t be so selfish. Learn to share.”
“Well, why didn’t you say that in the first place, instead of acting like I can’t take care of myself?” Reed asked.
“You’re not superwoman, Reed,” Lilith pointed out. “That bird could get out again, like he did last Thursday, and you’ve got your red jacket on. That bird could see you and think you’re McCoy’s son, like it did before …”
“Stop it, Lilith!” Reed demanded. “All right, you can all walk with me. But only to the clearing. Then you have to leave. If I can talk McCoy into an autograph session on campus, you can all meet her then.”
Debrah looked disappointed, but Lilith didn’t, and Reed could tell that Lilith had no intention of turning around the minute they got to the cottage. That golden hair might look like a halo, but it wasn’t one. Reed had been with Lilith at the mall on more than one occasion when the item Lilith wanted wasn’t on the shelves. She’d watched as Lilith insisted that the clerk go into the storeroom in search of it, waiting impatiently until the item was located. On one of those occasions, it hadn’t been located. “Out of stock,” the clerk had apologized. At which time it quickly became apparent that there was some part of the word “no” that Lilith didn’t understand. Or refused to accept.
Reed had withdrawn in embarrassment as Lilith shouted like a ten-year-old.
Later, Lilith had said, “Look, my father says if you want something, you have to keep trying until you get it.”
Reed hoped she never had the dubious pleasure of meeting Lilith’s father.
No one talked on the way across campus. The snow had partially melted and then frozen again, creating jagged ruts in the ground that made walking difficult.
They were almost to the pine grove when Link, walking directly behind Reed, called out, “Hey, what’s this?”
She turned on the path.
Link was holding a gold metal circle in his hands. The sun’s rays bounced off the metal, making it glitter like a jewel. “It’s a watch,” he said as everyone gathered around him to look. Link extended his open palm. “A guy’s watch. Fairly expensive. It was over there,” he gestured, “in the bushes.”
Reed moved closer to get a better look.
Link turned the watch over in his hands, peered inside the band. “ ‘C.N., June 7, from Mom and Dad,’ ” he read. “Probably a graduation gift. Who do we know whose initials are C.N.?”
“I don’t know anyone …” Reed began, and then realized that she did. Or knew of someone, anyway, with those initials.
Debrah said it first. “Carl Nordstrum.” Her dark eyebrows lifted. “Wonder what it’s doing out here?”
“The watch must have fallen off his wrist when he was on his way to or from McCoy’s,” Reed said. “He would have come this way to get to the house.”
Link regarded the watch thoughtfully. “This isn’t a cheap watch, Reed. It’s got a good clasp. It wouldn’t just drop off someone’s wrist. And wouldn’t you think if someone lost it, they’d come looking for it? Wasn’t that hard to spot, even after a snowfall. Must have been in plain sight before we got that snow. So why didn’t Carl find it?”
“How should I know? Take it to lost and found at Butler Hall. If he comes looking for it, they’ll give it to him.” Reed turned away to resume walking.
“Well, from what we’ve heard,” Jude said, “good old Carl himself might be at lost and found. But unlike his watch, Carl would be in the ‘lost’ box, not the ‘found’ one.”
“Then that’ll work out fine,” Reed said lightly to cover up a feeling of uneasiness. “He and his watch will meet up there and live happily ever after.” Did they have to keep talking about Carl Nordstrum? Maybe the fan club shouldn’t be reading McCoy’s novels, if the books were going to send their imaginations into overdrive.
With the exception of Link, they all loved the house. Reed could see by the looks on their faces that they felt the same way she did. Ugly, yes, grim, yes. But appropriate. You could write some pretty creepy books in a place like this.
Only Link said, “With all the money she’s got, you’d think she’d want something nicer.” Glancing at Reed’s clothes, he said, “Is that why you’re dressed in black? Goes with the house, right? Looks like a funeral home.”
Actually, every funeral home Reed had ever seen had been beautiful, as if the owners were trying to pretend that death was as cheerful and welcoming as their establishments. Anyone who’d ever turned the pages of a McCoy novel knew better.
“What time do you get done?” Link asked.
“I don’t know how long I’ll be here. Depends on how much work there is to do.”
“We’ll be here at four,” Link said firmly. “It gets dark at five these days, so tell her you have to leave at four.”
“I won’t do any such thing,” Reed said just as firmly, and without saying good-bye, hurried over to the house and knocked on the door. When she glanced over her shoulder, they were still standing there, partially hidden behind the trees. Of course. Lilith would refuse to leave until she caught a glimpse of Victoria McCoy.
The author, all in black again, seemed glad to see her, and to Reed’s relief, never glanced over Reed’s shoulders toward the woods. So she never saw the others outside. Reed was glad. McCoy might not have liked it,
“I have a ton of fan mail for you to answer,” McCoy said, drawing Reed into the house. “I’ve borrowed my son’s old typewriter and set it up on my desk in the living room, next to the fire.” She shivered under her black shawl. “The cold gets right down into the bones this time of year, doesn’t it? This is when I miss the house in California the most. It never gets this cold there.”
She began talking about California then, about the beautiful house she owned high on a cliff overlooking the ocean in La Jolla. “I’ve kept it, of course. It has all my antiques in it. The staff is still there, waiting for me to give up this nonsense of living back East and return to a warmer climate. I will, one day. But for now …”
Reed had to gently prod her into collecting the fan mail so the work could get started.
“I’ll be in my office,” Victoria McCoy said when Reed had everything she needed. She pointed. “Back there, behind the kitchen.
“I’m not to be disturbed,” the author added as she turned to leave. She gestured toward the headphones hanging around her neck. “I work to organ music from the old classic horror movies. Puts me in the mood. The headphones keep out distracting sounds. This old house is so full of them. There is wood there beside the fireplace if you’d like to keep the fire going, and help yourself to anything in the kitchen. I’m afraid the telephone isn’t working again. It does that whenever there’s a snowfall, but I don’t mind. It’s a nuisance, anyway.” Then she added anxiously, “You won’t be needing to make any calls, will you? You can go home at four o’clock. That’s not so long to go without a telephone, is it?”
/> “No, it’s okay.” But how did people function without a working telephone? That would be worse than having no television, Reed thought, suddenly realizing that she hadn’t seen one of those around, either. Only an old stereo on one of the bookshelves.
The bronze raven on the top shelf glared down at her. She turned away quickly.
The room seemed even darker and grimmer than Reed remembered it, and the fire in the fireplace did nothing to dispel the sweet-sour smell of mildew. The dampness tugged at her bones, struggling to slip inside, and the house creaked and groaned.
Perfect, Reed told herself. It’s supposed to be like this. But she didn’t think it as enthusiastically as she had on Thursday.
Poe’s cage was covered, so the shrieking that Reed had dreaded didn’t occur. Napping. Good. She hoped he napped at this time every day. She didn’t think she could stand the sight of him, even though she knew he hadn’t meant to attack her.
She finished the fan mail in short order, her fingers flying over the typewriter keys. When she had the letters addressed and waiting for McCoy’s signature, she sat back in the old swivel chair and glanced around aimlessly. What to do next? McCoy hadn’t given her any other tasks, and she had made it very clear that Reed was not to disturb her.
She reread some of the fan letters she had answered. It was interesting how some readers liked McCoy because she was “scary” and others chided her for not being scary enough.
Can’t please everybody, Reed thought, and let her fingers roam about the desk surface, playing with a paper clip, a pen cap, snapping rubber bands across the room.
Glancing at her watch, she saw that it was only three-thirty. Half an hour left: What to do with it?
What was McCoy working on now? It would be exciting to see the new manuscript in rough form, while the author was actually struggling with it. Did McCoy still struggle? Or was it easy for her now, after so many?
Maybe she sometimes worked at this desk. There could be notes jotted down in the drawers, hinting at what she was working on now.