The Stone Flowers

by Nora O'Keeffe

“You shouldn’t go in there. He’s contagious,” Cole whispered, trying to steer her away.

  Maggie jerked out of his grip. “You’re not stopping me.” She tried to keep her voice even, resisting the urge to scream in the doctor’s face. Whatever was happening to Harness had nothing to do with the man’s understanding of diseases.

  “I can’t risk anyone else getting infected,” Cole continued. “As it is, I should be quarantining Leary.” He nodded to the constable, who was listening to the exchange from his position near the front door. Leary’s face was the colour of wet newspaper, his hand hovering over the cuffs dangling from his belt.

  Maggie eased herself out of the doctor’s grip. It was no use trying to explain what was really going on. If she started talking about demons, she’d probably find herself handcuffed to the nearest chair.

  “I understand.” She let the words out slowly, hoping she sounded calm. “But I’ve already been exposed.” She could see Leary relaxing, but Cole still looked dubious. “I…I was with Harness last night.”

  Leary turned and seemed intent on examining the doorframe, a burst of colour now filling his cheeks. The doctor nodded. She couldn’t tell if he accepted her reasoning or didn’t have the energy to argue, but he stepped away from the door and let her pass.

  Maggie opened the bedroom door, noticing the scent of something sharp in the air. Harness was slumped, half-sitting in the middle of a queen-size bed. His breathing was loud and heavy as if he were sleeping. As she approached the bed, she was startled by the change in his appearance. His cheeks were slightly sunken and his skin, tanned and healthy-looking only hours before, was now pallid with an absence of colour save a bluish tint to his lips.

  Maggie closed her eyes, willing herself to remain composed. When she opened then, Harness was looking at her.

  “You look nice.” He sounded sleepy.

  Not trusting herself to speak, she forced a smile and took his hand. His skin felt cold against hers, his fingers limp. His hand was twice the size of hers. She held it gently, rubbing his palm.

  “That’s nice.” His voice was thick as if he were on the verge of sleep.

  “You need to go to the hospital, Ness.”

  It was as if her words jolted him out of a dream. He pulled his hand away and sat up. “I’m not going anywhere. Not while that thing is still out there.” The last word caught in his throat, setting off a bout of coughing. “The doctor gave me an injection.” He wiped at his mouth. “Once I get some fluids, I’m going back out there and stopping it like I should have done last night.”

  Maggie watched him struggle to stay upright, his breathing rapid and laboured. She didn’t want to risk getting him more agitated.

  “Okay. You’re right. I’m going to go see Agnes and find out where Prapti lives, then I’ll come back and we’ll decide what to do. Okay?”

  Her words had the desired effect. He relaxed and sank back into the pillows. She watched him for another minute until his breathing evened out. Leaning over, she pressed her lips to his forehead. His skin felt clammy and feverish against her mouth. She was about to straighten up when he spoke in a thick, dreamy voice.

  “Be careful, Maggie… I love you.”

  Maggie kissed him again. “I love you, Ness.” But when she stood, he was already asleep.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  At almost nine thirty, the sun was shining in a cloudless sky, promising an Indian summer that might stretch as far as April. Maggie pulled up in front of Agnes’s monstrosity of a house and swiped her arm across her forehead. Leaving Harness had been agonising. Not knowing if he’d last until she returned almost paralysed her. But time was running out, she could feel it, the dread clinging to her like the sweat covering her face and neck. With every minute that passed, the Acheri’s poison worked its way through Harness’s body.

  The garage door was down, making it impossible to tell if Agnes was home. Maggie snatched a quick look around, noting the empty street before stepping out of the car. There were more crows, lines of them standing sentinel along the sharp edges of the modern structure. She couldn’t recall ever seeing so many crows. Over the last few days, they’d been everywhere she turned, almost as if… She stopped walking and gazed up at the birds. Almost as if they’re watching. As if sensing her discomfort, the creatures stopped moving, their beady eyes trained on her. Was she becoming paranoid? Seeing spectres everywhere? She didn’t think so.

  Maggie hurried towards the front door, handbag clutched to her side. She couldn’t shake the feeling that the birds were watching – waiting. But the certainty that Agnes was connected to Prapti and the Acheri pushed her on. Agnes had introduced Prapti as a travel writer, indicating she had some knowledge of what the woman was doing in Thorn Tree. Then there was the mayor’s strange behaviour at the town meeting. Maybe Maggie was grasping at air, but she was sure Agnes was the key to finding Prapti and the demon. What she’d do when she found them depended largely on Manjula, and what she could tell Maggie about stopping the demon.

  She pressed the doorbell, listening to its chime echo inside the building. After a slight pause she pressed the bell again, then knocked on one of the glass panels decorating the double-door entry. Nothing. If the mayor was home, she wasn’t answering.

  She stopped knocking and waited a few seconds before stepping back and surveying the front of the house. Her eyes landed on the stone bench in the front garden where she and Harness had sat on Saturday night, now home to two crows. The house had been lit up with thousands of fairy lights, the place alive with music and voices. Maggie thought about the party and realised that she’d never been to Agnes’s house for any other reason but a party; nor had she ever entered through the front door – guests always came through the side gate and used the bathroom in the pool house.

  Sticking close to the building, Maggie slipped across the front yard. She took a quick look around to make sure no one was watching. No one human. Then she opened the gate and walked through to the rear of the property.

  She hadn’t planned on breaking into Agnes’s place, but now Maggie decided it might be the only way to get the information she needed. She didn’t have Agnes’s number stored in her mobile and she wasn’t prepared to waste time trying to track her down. Her gut told her she’d find the answers she needed inside the mayor’s house.

  Maggie moved along the side of the house, looking for an easy way in. Just before the building ended and opened up to the back yard and pool area, she spotted a single glass panelled door, most likely the laundry exit. She jerked the handle, not surprised to find it locked. Maggie cursed and looked around.

  “Now what?” Her voice sounded loud and out of place.

  Her only option was to break in. She thought of Harness. The last time she’d seen him, Mary was helping the doctor set up an intravenous drip. If she backed out now, he didn’t stand a chance.

  “Okay. I can do this.” It occurred to her that burglars didn’t usually have conversations with themselves when they were trying to be stealthy. The thought almost made her laugh, more with nervous energy than amusement.

  She scanned the area, looking for something heavy to break one of the door’s glass panels. A garden bed ran along the side fence filled with dark purple petunias, the earth held in place by a row of white rocks. Maggie grabbed for one, and after a slight struggle, managed to pull it out of the earth.

  The rock was about as big as her fist and weighty. Pulse racing and hands sweaty, she hit the rock against the panel nearest the door handle. Glass exploded, shattering with a stark crash that cut through the mid-morning tranquillity like a thunderclap. Maggie waited a few seconds, half-expecting to hear angry shouts from the neighbours. When nothing happened, she let out a breath and put her hand through the broken pane, careful to avoid the shards. Her fingers found a small lever which she clicked, unlocking the door.

  A jolt of fear mixed with excitement sent a not altogether unpleasant ripple through her stomach. Maggie snatched a quick look back a
t the gate before entering the house. I’m actually breaking into someone’s house! Her shoes crunched on the broken glass as she made her way through the laundry. It was a large house, but surely if Agnes was home, she’d have heard the noise by now. What if she did hear me and is calling the police? Leary’s face came to mind. With the havoc spreading through town, Maggie doubted a burglary would be his first priority.

  Just to be safe, she turned and untucked her T-shirt, using it to wipe the door handle. The laundry room led into a spotless kitchen, gleaming with stainless steel appliances that looked untouched by human hands. There was an odour in the air, something floral mixed with another scent, maybe cleaning products.

  She moved farther into the house, looking for an office or study where Agnes might keep phone numbers or records. She entered a large sitting and entertainment room decorated with white furnishings and cream walls. It was hard to imagine Agnes sitting in this house relaxing, watching a movie or reading.

  It occurred to Maggie that she knew very little about the mayor of Thorn Tree. She’d often talk to her at fetes and various other town events, and of course there were the parties, but she didn’t know the woman on a personal level. She’d heard rumours about the woman’s husband. Loretta Vernhouse, the woman who ran the gift shop on Prosperity Street, went to school with the man. She’d once told Maggie in a stage whisper that Agnes had killed her husband. A fact Loretta swore everyone knew but could never prove. Maggie didn’t know if she believed Agnes was a murderer, but there was something about the woman she didn’t like. The mayor was always polite, friendly even, but there was an empty quality to her that reminded Maggie of an old toothpaste commercial – all fake smiles and brittle chalk. Yet here I am creeping about Agnes’s empty house about to go through her personal belongings like a thief. Maggie felt another little shiver. She wondered what that said about her as a person, but decided to leave the self-analysis for another day.

  At the far end of the sitting room stood a staircase and another hallway. Maggie decided to head towards the hallway and check upstairs last. As she moved through the room, she kept her eyes on the stairs, watching and listening for any sign of movement. Maggie’s right foot hit the leg of the coffee table. The blow knocked the table forward, displacing a glass statue. The heavy piece rolled off the table and bounced onto the thick carpet with an audible thud.

  Maggie sucked in a breath and froze.

  “Please!” The sound was more a wheeze than a word.

  Maggie turned back to the kitchen, intending to make a run for the laundry.

  “Please!”

  Something in the voice, desperation, was so clear, it made Maggie stop. It had to be Agnes. If she thinks I’m a burglar, she might be pleading with me to leave. The thought of trying to explain herself to Leary or worse, spend hours at the police station, got Maggie moving. Almost reaching the kitchen, another sound echoed through the house, this time stopping her in her tracks. Coughing, wet and harsh. Realisation struck her. Agnes was sick, that’s why she didn’t answer the door or come to investigate the sound of breaking glass.

  Without realising it, her fingers touched the red scarf tied at her throat. She was right about one thing, Agnes had been in contact with the demon. Maggie backtracked, heading through the sitting room.

  “Agnes? It’s Maggie. Where are you?” She entered the hall, not sure which direction to take.

  “Please...”

  Maggie followed the voice, noticing an unpleasant acidic aroma hanging in the air. The white walls and pale floors seemed stark, more like an abandoned hospital than a home. Another moan led her to an open doorway where Agnes lay sprawled on the floor. Spotting Maggie in the doorway, the mayor attempted to raise herself on one scrawny elbow, a string of white foam hanging from the corner of her mouth. Maggie grimaced and resisted the urge to back away.

  “It’s okay, Agnes.” She tried to sound reassuring, but stepping around a pool of yellow vomit, it was all Maggie could do not to gag.

  Agnes grabbed the leg of Maggie’s jeans, her nails rasping on the thick fabric. Maggie wanted to pull away, but instead leaned down and grasped Agnes under the arms.

  “I’m going to stand you up, but you need to help me,” Maggie said, trying to ignore the pungent smell of urine mixed with whiskey-soaked vomit.

  Agnes gave a pained moan which Maggie took for a yes.

  The mayor wasn’t a large woman; her small stature made Maggie’s job a little easier as she struggled to pull the woman to her feet. It took a few attempts, but Maggie finally got her up.

  They stood for a moment while Maggie positioned Agnes’s arm around her neck and put her own arm around the woman’s waist.

  “I’m going to walk you through to the sitting room. Okay?”

  “Yes.” The word came out in a rush of sickly smelling breath.

  At a halting pace, it took almost five minutes to reach the sitting room. By the time Maggie sat Agnes on one of the white couches, both women were drenched in sweat.

  Maggie made sure Agnes was seated securely and then hurried into the kitchen to get her a glass of water. When she returned, Agnes was still sitting up, which Maggie took as a good sign. She offered Agnes the glass, but it quickly became clear that she was too weak and shaky to hold it herself. Maggie held the glass to Agnes’s lips and watched with a mixture of pity and disgust as she sucked down the liquid.

  “Don’t drink it too fast, Agnes; you might vomit,” Maggie warned.

  When the mayor finished drinking, Maggie put the glass down on the floor. Instead of phoning for help or sitting on the couch, Maggie positioned herself on the coffee table directly in front of the woman. She leaned forward so their knees were almost touching. Agnes’s eyes were closed as if she was drifting off to asleep. Somewhere in the huge house, a clock ticked.

  Maggie thought of Harness. His skin looked bleached of colour, almost translucent, and his eyes were ringed with dark smudges. A flicker of anger swallowed up any pity she felt for the woman. Maggie was certain the mayor was involved with Prapti and the deaths of all the children. As far as she was concerned, that made Agnes as guilty as the demon.

  She tapped Agnes on her left knee, but the woman’s eyes remained closed.

  “Where’s Prapti.” Maggie snapped off the words, her voice loud and flat.

  Agnes’s eyes blinked open and rolled up to Maggie’s face. The whites of the woman’s eyes were tinged with yellow, the colour matching the splashes of vomit staining her nightie. She regarded Maggie blankly, making no attempt to answer. Maggie searched her mind, trying to decide what her next move should be when Agnes spoke.

  “Call an ambulance. I need to get to the hospital. Can’t you see how sick I am?” Agnes’s voice was breathless, but still carried the same I’m in charge here tone she used at town meetings.

  “No.” Maggie let the word hang in the air, watching the defiance run out of the mayor’s sickly face. She needed answers and didn’t intend to waste time playing games.

  “Tell me where Prapti is or I’ll pull the phone out of the wall, throw your mobile in the pool.” Maggie leaned closer, ignoring the foul smell. “I’ll lock the doors when I leave, you’ll be dead before anyone finds you.” Maggie felt a ripple of grim satisfaction as the mayor winced in fear.

  Outside of disgust and anger, Maggie realised she felt nothing for the woman. She’d made the threat hoping to scare Agnes into spilling her guts, but now the words were out, Maggie knew she was more than capable of leaving the woman to die, just like Eddie had died before he’d had the chance to experience his first laugh. The realisation should have frightened her, but once more, she felt nothing but anger. Maggie waited, letting her words sink in before continuing.

  “I think you know all about Prapti and what she’s doing in Thorn Tree. And I think you know exactly where she’s hiding.” Maggie paused, keeping her gaze fixed on Agnes’s face. Just for an instant, something flickered in the old woman’s eyes. It could have been guilt or maybe just a tri
ck of the light, but Maggie took it as a crack in the woman’s resolve.

  She stood. “Suit yourself.” Maggie shrugged, ready to turn away.

  “I didn’t.” When Agnes finally spoke, her voice was thick, halting, as if her throat was constricted. “I didn’t hurt – anyone.”

  Maggie supposed she should feel sympathy for the mayor. Anyone willing to sell out their friends and neighbours for a few dollars or whatever Prapti used to buy Agnes’s compliance deserved pity. But instead, Maggie wanted to shake her until the old woman’s bulging eyes rolled around like marbles.

  “Just tell me where she is.” Maggie clenched her teeth and waited.

  “There’s an old… shearer’s cottage… on… a dirt… road.” Agnes paused, struggling for each breath. “It’s off… Knoll Road. Goes up… to the hills—”A savage coughing spell cut off her words. Maggie watched unmoved as Agnes wrapped her frail arms around her body as if trying to hold herself together.

  After a minute or so the hacking subsided to short gurgles. Maggie picked up the glass and held it to Agnes’s lips. She took a small sip and then pushed Maggie’s hand away with less strength than a kitten. Maggie shrugged and put the glass on the coffee table.

  “I’m going to call Dr Cole now and tell him you need help.” Maggie picked up her bag, preparing to leave.

  “No… An ambulance. I need to get to the hospital.” Agnes let her head tip back against the couch.

  Maggie held the phone. She had the information. It would be easy to just turn her back and leave the mayor to die. God knows she deserves it. In that moment, Maggie saw herself leaving the house, driving away without a backward glance. No one would ever know what she’d done. I’ll know. Would a moment’s satisfaction be worth the remorse? In the end it was the realisation that she wouldn’t feel remorse that convinced her to make the call. The cold, empty void in her heart would be worse than guilt.

  Dr Cole answered instead of Mary, explaining that his wife was still with Harness. She told him why she was calling and relayed Agnes’s request for an ambulance. Before hanging up, Maggie walked into the kitchen so Agnes wouldn’t hear her.