The witching hour lotmw-1

by Anne Rice

“Well, I don’t suppose it will come as any surprise to you that there have been times in the last few weeks when I have prayed out loud for help. I’m a little better off now than I was two days ago, however. A good deal better off. I’m on my way to doing … what I feel I have to do.”

  “You have an enormous power, and you don’t really understand it,” Lightner said.

  “But the power is unimportant. What I’m talking about is the purpose. Did you read the articles on me in the papers?”

  “Yes, everything in print that I could find.”

  “Well, then you know I had these visions when I was dead; and that they involved a purpose in my coming back; and that somehow or other, the entire memory has been wiped out. Well, almost the entire memory.”

  “Yes, I understand.”

  “Then you know the thing about the hands doesn’t matter,” said Michael. Uneasiness. He took another deep swallow of beer. “Nobody much believes about the purpose. But it’s been over three months since the accident happened, and the feeling I have is the same. I came back here on account of the purpose. It has something to do with that house I went to last night. That house on First Street. I intend to keep trying to figure out what that purpose is.”

  The man was scanning him intently. “It does? The house is connected to the visions you saw when you were drowned?”

  “Yes, but don’t ask me how. For months, I’ve seen that house over and over again in my mind. I’ve seen it in my sleep. It’s connected. I came two thousand miles because it’s connected. But again, don’t ask me how or why.”

  “And Rowan Mayfair, how is she connected?”

  Michael set the beer down slowly. He took a hard appraising look at the man. “You know Dr. Mayfair?” he asked.

  “No, but I know a great deal about her, and about her family,” said the Englishman.

  “You do? About her family? She might be very interested to know that. But how do you know about her family? What is her family to you? I thought you said you were waiting outside my house in San Francisco because you wanted to talk to me.”

  Lightner’s face darkened for a moment. “I’m very confused, Mr. Curry. Perhaps you’ll enlighten me. How did Dr. Mayfair happen to be there?”

  “Look, I’m getting sick of your questions. She was there because she was trying to help me. She’s a doctor.”

  “She was there in her capacity as a doctor?” Lightner asked in a half whisper. “I’ve been laboring under a misimpression. Dr. Mayfair didn’t send you here?”

  “Send me here? Good Lord, no. Why the hell would she do that? She wasn’t even in favor of my coming, except that I’d get it out of my system. The truth is, I was so drunk when she picked me up it’s a wonder she didn’t have me committed. I wish I was that drunk right now. But why would you have an idea like that, Mr. Lightner? Why would Rowan Mayfair send me here?”

  “Indulge me for a moment, won’t you?”

  “I don’t know if I will.”

  “You didn’t know Dr. Mayfair before you had the visions?”

  “No. Not till five minutes afterwards.”

  “I don’t follow you.”

  “She’s the one who rescued me, Lightner. The one who pulled me out of the sea. That’s the first time I ever laid eyes on her, when she brought me around on the deck of her boat.”

  “Good Lord, I had no idea.”

  “Well, neither did I until Friday night. I mean I didn’t know her name or who she was or anything about her. The Coast Guard flubbed it. They didn’t get her name or the registry of the boat when the call came in. But she saved my life out there. She’s got some kind of powerful diagnostic sense, some sort of sixth sense about when a patient’s going to live or die. She started trying to revive me immediately. I sometimes wonder if the Coast Guard had spotted me, whether or not they would even have tried.”

  Lightner lapsed into silence, staring at the carpet. He seemed deeply troubled.

  “Yes, she is a remarkable physician,” he whispered, but this did not seem to be a full expression of his thoughts. He seemed to be struggling to concentrate. “And you told her about these visions.”

  “I wanted to get back on her boat. I had this idea, that maybe if I knelt down on the deck and touched the boards, well, something might come through my hands. Something that might jog my memory. And the amazing thing was, she went along with it. She’s not an ordinary doctor at all.”

  “No, I quite agree with you there,” said Lightner. “And what happened?” he asked.

  “Nothing, that is, nothing except that I got to know Rowan.”

  He paused. He wondered if this man could guess how it was between him and Rowan. He was not going to say.

  “Now I think you owe me some answers,” Michael said. “Exactly what do you know about her and her family, and what made you think she sent me here? Me, of all people. Why the hell would she send me here?”

  “Well, that’s what I was trying to discover. I thought perhaps it had to do with the power in your hands, that she’d asked you to do some secretive research for her. Why, it was the only explanation I could think of. But Mr. Curry, how did you know about this house? I mean, how did you make the connection between what you saw in the visions and … ”

  “I grew up here, Lightner. I loved that house when I was a little kid. I used to walk past it all the time. I never forgot it. Even before I drowned I used to think about that house. I aim to find out who owns it and what this all means.”

  “Really … ” said Lightner, again in a half whisper. “You don’t know who owns it?”

  “No, I just said I aim to find out.”

  “You don’t have any idea … ”

  “I just told you, I aim to find out!”

  “You tried to climb over the fence last night.”

  “I remember. Now would you mind telling me a few things, please? You know about me. You know about Rowan Mayfair. You know about the house. You know about Rowan’s family-” Michael stopped, staring fixedly at Lightner. “Rowan’s family!” he said. “They own that house?”

  Gravely, Lightner nodded.

  “That’s really true?”

  “They have for centuries,” said Lightner quietly. “And if I’m not sadly mistaken that house will belong to Rowan Mayfair, upon her mother’s death.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Michael whispered. But in truth he did. Once again the atmosphere of the visions enveloped him, only to dissolve immediately as it always did. He stared at Lightner, unable to form any of the questions teeming in his head.

  “Mr. Curry. Indulge me again. Please. Explain to me in detail how the house is connected with the visions. Or more specifically, how you came to know it and remember it when you were a child.”

  “Not till you tell me what you know about all this,” said Michael. “Do you realize that Rowan-?”

  Lightner interrupted him:

  “I am willing to tell you a great deal about the house and about the family,” he said, “but I ask in exchange that you speak first. That you tell me anything you can recall, anything which seems significant, even if you don’t know what to make of it. Possibly I shall know what to make of it. Do you follow my drift?”

  “All right, my info for your info. But you are going to tell me what you know?”

  “Absolutely.”

  It was worth it, obviously. It was about the most exciting thing which had happened, outside of Rowan coming to his door. And he was surprised how much he wanted to tell this man everything, absolutely every last detail.

  “OK,” he began, “as I said, I used to pass that house all the time when I was a kid. I used to go out of my way to pass it. I grew up on Annunciation Street by the river, about six blocks away. I used to see a man in the garden of that house, the same man I saw last night. Do you remember me asking you if you saw him? Well, I saw him last night by the fence, and back farther, in the garden, and damned if he didn’t look exactly the same as he had when I was a little kid. And I mean I was four
years old the first time I saw that guy. I was six when I saw him in church.”

  “You saw him in church?” Again the scanning, the eyes seeming to graze Michael’s face as Lightner listened.

  “Right, at Christmastime, at St. Alphonsus, I’ve never forgotten it, because he was in the sanctuary of all places, you know what I’m talking about? The crib was set up at the altar rail, and he was back on the side altar steps.”

  Lightner nodded. “And you are certain it was he?”

  Michael laughed. “Well, given the part of town I come from, I was certain it was him,” he said. “But yes, seriously, it was the same man. I saw him another time, too, I’m almost sure of it, but I haven’t thought about it for years. It was at a concert downtown, a concert I’ll never forget because Isaac Stern played that night. It was the first time I heard anything like that, live, you know. And anyway, I saw that man in the auditorium. He was looking at me.”

  Michael hesitated, the ambience of that long-ago moment returning, without a welcome, actually, because that had been such a sad and wrenching time. He shook it off. Lightner was reading his thoughts again, he knew it.

  “They are not clear when you’re upset,” said Lightner softly. “But this is most important, Mr. Curry-”

  “You’re telling me! It’s all got to do with what I saw when I was drowned. I know because I kept thinking about it after the accident, when I couldn’t focus on anything else. I mean I kept waking up, seeing that house, thinking yes, go back there. It’s what Rowan Mayfair called an idée fixe.”

  “You did tell her about it … ”

  Michael nodded. He finished the beer. “Described it to her completely. She was patient, but she couldn’t figure it out. She did say something that was very on the money, however. She said it was too specific to be something simply pathological. I thought that made a lot of sense.”

  “Let me ask for just a little more patience,” Lightner said. “Would you tell me what you do remember of the visions? You said you had not entirely forgotten … ”

  Michael’s faith in the man was increasing. Maybe it was the mildly authoritative manner. But nobody had asked about the visions with this kind of seriousness, not even Rowan. He found himself completely disarmed. The man seemed so sympathetic.

  “Oh, I am,” said Lightner hastily. “Believe me, I’m entirely sympathetic, not only to what’s happened to you, but to your belief in it. Please, do tell me.”

  Michael described briefly the woman with the black hair, the jewel that was mixed up with it, the vague image or idea of a doorway … “Not the doorway of the house, though, it can’t be. But it’s got to do with the house.” And something about a number now forgotten. No, not the address. It wasn’t a long number, it was two digits, had some very important significance. And the purpose, of course the purpose, the purpose was the saving thing, and Michael’s strong sense that he might have refused.

  “I can’t believe that they would have let me die if I had not accepted. They gave me a choice on everything. I chose to come back, and to fulfill the purpose. I awoke knowing I had something terribly important to do.”

  He could see that what he said was having an amazing effect upon Lightner. Lightner didn’t even attempt to disguise his surprise.

  “Is there anything else you remember?”

  “No. Sometimes it seems I’m about to remember everything. Then it just slides away. I didn’t start thinking about the house till about twenty-four hours afterwards. No, maybe even a little longer. And immediately there was the sense of connection. I felt the same sense last night. I’d come to the right place to find all the answers, but I still couldn’t remember! It’s enough to drive a man mad.”

  “I can imagine,” said Lightner softly, but he was still deeply involved in his own surprise or amazement at all that Michael had said. “Let me suggest something. Is it possible that when you were revived you took Rowan’s hand in yours, and that this image of the house came to you then from Rowan?”

  “Well, it’s possible, except for one very important fact. Rowan doesn’t know anything about that house. She doesn’t know anything about New Orleans. She doesn’t know anything about her family, except for the adoptive mother who died last year.”

  Lightner seemed reluctant to believe this.

  “Look,” Michael said. He was getting quite carried away now on the whole subject and he knew it. The fact was, he liked talking to Lightner. But things were going too far. “You have to tell me how you know about Rowan. Friday night when Rowan came to get me in San Francisco, she saw you. She said something about having seen you before. I want you to be straight with me, Lightner. What’s all this about Rowan? How do you know about her?”

  “I shall tell you everything,” said Lightner with the same characteristic gentleness, “but let me ask you again, are you sure Rowan has never seen a picture of that house?”

  “No, we discussed that very point. She was born in New Orleans-”

  “Yes … ”

  “But they took her away that very day. They made her sign a paper that she’d never come back here. I asked her if she’d ever seen pictures of the houses here. She told me she hadn’t. She couldn’t find a scrap of information about her family after her adoptive mother’s death. Don’t you see? This didn’t come from Rowan! It involves Rowan just as it involves me.”

  “How do you mean?”

  Michael felt dazed trying to compass it. “I mean, I knew that they chose me because of everything that had ever happened to me … who I was, what I was, where I’d lived, it was all connected. And don’t you see? I’m not the center of it. Rowan is probably the center. But I have to call Rowan. I have to tell her. I have to tell her that the house is her mother’s house.”

  “Please don’t do that, Michael.”

  “What?”

  “Michael, sit down, please.”

  “What are you talking about? Don’t you understand how incredible this is! That house belongs to Rowan’s family. Rowan doesn’t even know anything about her family. Rowan doesn’t even know her own mother’s full name.”

  “I don’t want you to call her!” said Lightner with sudden urgency. “Please, I haven’t fulfilled my side of the bargain. You haven’t heard me out.”

  “God, don’t you realize? Rowan was probably just taking out the Sweet Christine when I was washed off that rock! We were on a collision course with each other, and then these people, these people who knew everything, chose to intervene.”

  “Yes, I do realize … all I ask is that you allow for our exchange of information now, before you call Rowan.”

  The Englishman was saying more, but Michael couldn’t hear him. He felt a sudden violent disorientation as if he were slipping into unconsciousness, and if he didn’t grab hold of the table he would black out. But this wasn’t a failure of his body; it was his mind that was slipping; and for one brilliant second the visions opened again, the black-haired woman was speaking directly to him, and then from some vantage point high above, some lovely and airy place where he was weightless and free he saw a small craft on the sea below, and he said, Yes, I’ll do it.

  He held his breath. Desperate not to lose the visions, he didn’t reach out for them mentally. He didn’t crowd them. He remained locked in stillness, feeling them leave him again in confusion, feeling the coldness and the solidity of his body around him, feeling the old familiar longing and anger and pain.

  “Oh, my God,” he whispered. “And Rowan doesn’t even have the slightest idea … ”

  He realized he was sitting down on the couch again. Lightner had hold of him, and he was grateful. Otherwise he might have fallen. He shut his eyes again. But the visions were nowhere near. He saw only Rowan, soft and pretty and beautifully disheveled in the big white terry-cloth robe, her neck bent, her blond hair falling down to veil her face as she cried.

  When he opened his eyes, he saw that Lightner was sitting next to him. There was the horrifying feeling that he had lost seconds, possibly
minutes of time. He didn’t mind the presence of the man, however, The man seemed genuinely kindly and respecting, in spite of all the incredible things he had to say.

  “Only a second or two has passed,” said Lightner. (Mind reading again!) “But you were dizzy. You almost fell.”

  “Right. You don’t know how awful this is, not remembering. And Rowan said the strangest thing.”

  “What was that?”

  “That maybe they didn’t mean for me to remember.”

  “And this struck you as strange?”

  “They want me to remember. They want me to do what I’m supposed to do. It has to do with the doorway, I know it does. And the number thirteen. And Rowan said another thing that really threw me. She said how did I know that these people I saw were good? Christ, she asked me if I thought they were responsible for the accident, you know, for me being washed out to sea like that. God, I tell you I’m going crazy.”

  “Those are very good questions,” said the man with a sigh. “Did you say the number thirteen?”

  “Did I? Is that what I said? I don’t … I guess I did say that. Yes, it was the number thirteen. Christ, I’ve got that back now. Yes, it was the number thirteen.”

  “Now I want you to listen to me. I don’t want you to call Rowan. I want you to get dressed and to come with me.”

  “Wait a second, my friend. You’re a very interesting guy. You look better in a smoking jacket than anybody I’ve ever seen in the movies and you have a very persuasive and charming manner. But I’m right here, exactly where I want to be. And I’m going back to that house after I call Rowan … ”

  “And what exactly are you going to do there? Ring the bell?”

  “Well, I’ll wait till Rowan comes. Rowan wants to come, you know. She wants to see her family. That’s got to be what this is all about.”

  “And the man, what do you suppose he has to do with it all?” asked Lightner.

  Michael was stopped. He sat there staring at Lightner. “Did you see that man?” he asked.

  “No. He didn’t allow time for that. He wanted you to see him. And why is what I would like to know.”

  “But you know all about him, don’t you?”