by Ann Self
He reached the darkened gatelodge and flew through it, bumping the heavy iron gate out of the way. It was neither open nor shut, but swayed back and forth in the wind. Driving a hundred yards further he was dismayed at the sight looming in front of him as he slid to a stop on the wet drive, his anti-lock brakes pulsing. Giant oaks lay like a stack of firewood, crisscrossed over the drive as far as the headlights would let him see, their roots ripped up and towering over the car like giant mushrooms with claws. A white board fence hemmed him in on both sides. Brian tried to decide his next move. It was more than two miles to the barn and he knew it could already be too late...
Every hair on Jane’s head stood off her scalp when she detected heavy, raspy breathing on the other side of the tower door. Someone was listening and looking through the hole where the deadbolt had been. Lightning turned the night into daytime and for a split second it illuminated a mask-shrouded eye staring through the hole in the door. Jane gasped and jumped far back to the middle of the room, switching the powerful spotlight on and training it at the door as it flew open. The hood and the ski mask were ripped off and Jane saw the last person she expected to see. Spikes of silver hair floated up like snakes in the wind as the halogen light illuminated the face of Cecily’s madness. Lightning flashed again as if to accentuate the awful sight. Her eyes were wide, dark and unblinking, revealing all the horror that curdled the brain behind them as she held up the axe.
Full-blown madness at its worst.
Cecily’s breath was raspy as her chest heaved with the effort of chasing Jane and climbing two steep flights of stairs. The wind moaned ominously through the slightly opened window, tickling at Jane’s back like icy fingers. She gasped, “Cecily!” as she backed up slowly, her skin crawling the way it always did whenever Cecily was near and in her vile state. The spotlight blazed off the razor-sharp hatchet that Cecily gripped, and Jane’s stomach did a back-flip. Thunder shook the barn. “Cecily...please...” Jane started to cry and shake as she attempted to reason with the woman, but there was no reason in those eyes; they were wild and fixed and had about as much humanity as the rock dogs in front of the mansion.
And just like Lucinda’s, a strange metallic glint.
Jane’s hysteria suddenly transformed them into compound insect eyes; many faceted, fixed-focus and lidless—a hundred little eyes that would find the target for the axe.
Cecily slowly lowered the axe, puffing and struggling to catch her breath. “Nothing...ever...goes...the...way...it’s supposed to...with you...does it?” she snarled between gasping breaths. “You never die...when it’s planned, you...never...do what I expect you to do. You always manage...you...manage to weasel out of things!” Cecily backed off her madness just enough to realize her eyes were blinded, and she began staring at the floor, waiting for her vision to adjust so she would be able to see her victim. She was out of breath, and out of eyesight.
Jane shrunk away, towards the draft at her back. The round tower room was twenty feet across, but much too small to be enclosed with a madwoman carrying a sharp, nasty hatchet.
“I thought...when...the tree fell on your cars...things were going nicely for me—and I wouldn’t have to worry about Sam fixing all my hard work! It wasn’t easy cutting all those wires,” she yelled. “With you it’s always difficult...seems no matter how hard I try...” Cecily stopped a moment, her chest still heaving for air. “For decades, all my plans have worked—until you came along! You were supposed to die and be finished with, the night of Lucinda’s birthday party!” she screamed.
Cecily leaned against the doorframe, totally winded, with the hatchet now hanging next to her boot. “I worked so hard to plan it—it took so damn much work. I had to drive a truck under that trap door and climb up a ladder in the bed to pry out those nails,” she puffed. “I tripped the breaker on the lights—no one noticed the fluorescents not working in the daytime as long as the old bulbs were on. I was going to sneak down later in the afternoon and put Sam’s boots on and park the trailer with the baling spears just under the trap door.”
She sighed irritatedly and took another moment to breathe deeply. “But that stupid kid dilly-dallied getting the stalls done. He was in and out of the cellar all afternoon—I could’ve brained him! Usually he gets the stalls done much earlier, but on this day of all days, he decides to leave them until later...” Cecily stopped again for a few more gulps of air before taking up her ranting. “I hate it when people don’t follow the plans. See what happens? I just couldn’t slip away to the barn in time to set it all up for you. We would’ve been saved all this, you’d be dead and buried instead of Bill—who at least had some value to us—and everyone’s problems would be over.”
Cecily hoisted up the gleaming axe head to look at it, mesmerized by the sharp steel reflection, still waiting for her eyes to adjust to the bright lamp. Rain pelted away at the windows as her voice drifted up the scale to a lighter, more girlish tone, startling Jane, and sounding exactly like Lucinda: “We would’ve all been at my birthday party while you were just careless when you did your nightly check on Winter Smoke. Didn’t watch what you were doing and fell to your death. It would have been so perfect, a perfect twenty-sixth birthday present.”
An image of her footsteps in the dust walking across the trap door paraded through Jane’s mind . Thank you Dylan, she prayed.
Cecily looked up again, holding one hand up to shield her eyes from the blazing light, and her voice dropped back to its normal pitch. “You have no life anyway—there’s no use in you living and getting in our way. Lucinda is far more important than you’ll ever be, and I intend to see that things go right for her.”
She straightened and moved closer, taking a firmer grip on the axe, still avoiding looking directly at the lamp. Her anger was refueling itself as she recovered, and her voice lowered to a growl: “I was so mad that I couldn’t kill you on Lucinda’s birthday I tried to put the rooster in your room instead, during the party. At least I could have that! I snuck down here in Travis’ van and got the rooster out of the trailer. I can usually handle the stupid thing as well as Reggie, but he was in a nasty mood from being locked in the trailer and we had an awful fight.” Cecily’s eyes drifted out of focus. “He actually gouged me in the side and escaped and I almost couldn’t stop the bleeding so I could get my gown back on and get back to the party.”
Her eyes slitted as she looked back at the floor in Jane’s direction. “I tried to stop Lucinda from coming down here with her guests, because the rooster got away from me and was running around loose instead of in your room—but she wouldn’t be dissuaded. I thought with all those men with us, it probably wouldn’t matter. When Lucinda was attacked, I wanted to kill you on the spot—but then I decided it would be much better to make you suffer before you died. Suffer as much as possible for causing me and my family so much trouble for two lousy years. Our plans were all moving along nicely until you—this stupid penniless no-account waif shows up on the scene to ruin everything! EVERYTHING!!” she screamed at Jane. “Getting your face plastered all over the papers—that should have been Lucinda!” A crack of lightning made the tower windows as brilliant as daylight, startling them both.
Cecily stopped for a moment to collect herself, scowling and panting. “I had Travis finally get that rooster in your room, and that was all for nothing too. One little scratch! Hardly worth the effort!” she spat. “The second time I set the trap door for you, I got everything done right—nothing screwed it up. Only you didn’t make your usual nightly rounds because of the headache excuse, and then the damn vet shows up and falls in the cellar. I was about to tear my hair out, but I realized it didn’t really change anything. Everyone was gone except Reggie and I had already drugged him senseless. I went into the attic over your room and saw you sleeping in your clothes with the light on, so I went back out to the corridor and banged on your door. Then I ran to the loft and hid behind the door to watch.”
Cecily almost giggled. “It worked! I saw you stagger out
and go down to the first floor. I couldn’t wait to finally watch my scheme unfold. I threw some hay down the rack in the stall next to the trap door and slid down into it for a front row seat. You never even knew I was s-o-o-o close. I could hear your feet shuffling down the aisle, heard your hands on the bars and heard you slapping around for the light switch. I probably should’ve reached through the bars and screeched and clawed at your face so you would’ve stepped backwards—but hindsight, you know. I was sure you were going to fall, I didn’t see how you could possibly not step into that big black hole in the dark. How did you know the trap door was opened? HOW?” she screamed, startling Jane.
“The smell...the horrible smell...”
Cecily face contorted in sullen anger. “The smell!? Are you kidding? So once again you defy me and rob me of my moment—I never got to hear the scream..! When you ran back out of the wing, I jumped out to follow you. I was so enraged I nearly fell in the trap door myself, so I had to stop and get my bearings. Then you came back in with that stupid light, forcing me to duck into another stall. I wanted to sneak out and come up behind you and shove you into the cellar with my foot, but you started swinging the spotlight all over the place again and I had to stay hidden. Nothing worked out that night either.” She scowled at Jane. “I had to take my secret way back to the mansion, and that was a long tiring walk.”
Cecily took another step forward in Sam’s rubber boots, and they slapped on the plank floor. She was wary about moving away from the door, lest her victim escape. Jane took at least one step backwards. Cecily suddenly turned back and slammed the tower door shut, sliding Reggie’s metal tool chest in front of it with her boot. Jane wished fervently that Sam was in the boots instead of Cecily. She wondered if Sam was even alive, or if he had been dispatched with the axe. She was afraid to ask. Afraid of the answer.
They heard the faint, far-off sound of barking dogs. It distracted Cecily, but only for a second. She swung back to face Jane and snapped: “I had to keep Elliot and my mother from throwing you out too soon. I needed to implement some new plans. Couldn’t have you floating around out there out of my reach,” she laughed cynically. “And you thought you were so safe last night, holed up in your room with bodyguards. While you and your so-called bodyguards were sleeping, I made good use of the time to turn this whole barn into a trap you’d never escape. Hour after hour I worked on my trap and spun my little web—all through the night. Were you shocked to find no bolt on this door? Ha, I’ll bet you were! I’m going to make damn sure the only way you’ll leave here tonight is like Bill—zippered into a body bag!”
Cecily panted angrily for a few moments, before continuing. “And how you escaped injury from that mad horse, I’ll never know. Just about everyone who has entered his stall has been badly injured and disfigured. But no, not you! All the trouble I went to, to save that horse from the killers and have him drugged and shipped to the barn! As long as you’re alive, Lucinda will never be able to win, you’ll always steal the glory from her. Even if you leave here, you’ll just move to some other stable and you’ll keep on showing up in the ring to steal Lucinda’s place in the sun and her rightful awards—just like you’ve been doing for years!”
Her chest heaved indignantly, and Jane resisted the impulse to apologize. Cecily glared at Jane, and her voice became a snarl: I followed you to the clock tower that night before the show—to see what you were up to, but you almost caught me. I ran halfway down and hid in the attic, and you ran right by and fled back into your room. When you locked the bolt, I was looking down at you from my spy hole. Ha! I watched you packing and getting ready for the show. You and all your brilliant friends didn’t even know I had spyholes all over this barn—I used to watch you constantly, there wasn’t anything going on that I didn’t know about.”
Jane took another slow step back, alarmed that Cecily’s eyes seemed to be adjusting to the glaring spotlight. She never looked directly at it, but just to the side, or to the floor, sizing up the victim behind it. The conversation was only a stall for time—she was being mesmerized and drawn in by the story while the madwoman caught her breath, adapted her eyes, and got a bead on her intended victim. She didn’t want to swing and miss this time. The older, shorter woman had to be especially devious to capture young, long-legged prey.
Cecily shook her head, her voice inexplicably higher and girlish again, sounding eerily like Lucinda: “Letting you ride Charmante was a big mistake. Great for you, but a lot of good it did us. Mother should’ve killed you when she had the chance, then none of those important socialites would ever know you existed.” Her voice suddenly lowered again, as she nodded. “Your friend is almost as irritating as you. I put a small dose of arsenic in her coffee and the detective’s coffee the day of the show, to slow them down and get them out of my hair, and some in Dylan’s soda. I gave Elliot a bottle of wine to give to Lars when he left the skybox, and it had a little something extra in it. Bingo with Dylan and Lars. Removed from the gameboard! But damn the detective and your girlfriend, they never finished their coffee. And you all kept moving around so much I couldn’t make another attempt. Nearly drove me crazy...”
Arsenic! Jane thought about Dylan and Lars.
“You would’ve had a much larger dose. After the show I was so angry at the way you were elbowing in on our VIPs, I was going to poison you on the spot.”
Jane listened carefully to the pitch of Cecily’s voice. It seemed to be at its normal register now, and she didn’t sound like Lucinda.
“I didn’t even care if anyone saw me, or if it didn’t look like an accident, I was so mad at the attention you dragged away from Lucinda. I was waiting and waiting for you to get some damn food, so I could bring you a nice refreshing lemonade—you looked very tired and thirsty after all—then sit at your table and congratulate you and make nice. I could’ve gone back to my table and we would all have watched you flop around on the floor and die! Finally die, damnit! But you didn’t follow that plan either, did you? You ran out of the place without so much as a bite. I blame Lucinda for that. She didn’t know she was wrecking my plans scaring you off like a little ninny.”
“I wasn’t...” Jane began to defend herself, but thought better of it.
“I will have things the way I want them, I will have Lucinda succeed, and you will be eliminated from her path!” Cecily screeched at her. Then she took a deep breath and moved forward. “And I will probably get away with this now. They’ll never be able to tell who killed you, since I’ve taken all my usual precautions again.” She crept closer. “I have to do this job personally. Take care of you myself. Never put off until tomorrow what you can do today!”
Cecily had a firm, businesslike grip on the hatchet, and Jane knew she was a strong woman, used to hard farm work and grappling with strong horses. Cecily, the plain wren of the family, was actually the puppetmaster in the dark wings of the stage. There now seemed to be two people in her head; Lucinda had taken up residence, and Cecily was slowly being gobbled up by the dark side of her brain, plunging into the bowels of total madness.
“You almost weaseled out of tonight’s plan too,” she announced. “Before I could finish with Reggie, you rushed out of the office and banged at his door. Made it hard for me to think. Then you ran for the outside door. I unlocked Reggie’s door and opened it a crack to watch you. I thought you were going to make a break and run for it and I was really rattled, I thought you were getting away once again.”
She sighed irritably and lowered the axe to study it as if she were reading. “But you changed your mind and ran right past the door where I was standing and into the office. I didn’t even have a chance to pick up this axe. It would have been perfect; If I’d known you would run right back I could’ve hacked you down on the spot. No fuss and bother and chasing, like now.” She edged closer. “I had to climb to the second floor again and race through the lofts to the skybox. You’re much too young and too fast...I needed to get someplace ahead of you to give myself the advantage of surpri
se. And you were running around swinging that light making it really hard to get close enough to use the axe.” She ran her thumb over the axe blade. “But no matter—no matter how hard you try to escape, I will hack you to pieces, then toss you out one of these windows, and the family will finally be rid of you. The rain will do a nice job of destroying any evidence.”
Cecily’s dogs began barking furiously right outside the tower door. Cecily screamed “Silence!” and the dogs went mute. She hefted the axe in her hand. “I’m just going to do a bit of weeding, then the path will finally be cleared for Lucinda to be a star in the show ring.” She moved closer, squinting warily at Jane, obviously worried about the heavy lamp, but not deterred by it.
“Cecily...” Jane’s teeth rattled as she shook from head to toe. “You’ll never get away with this!” she cried.
The older woman’s voice was light and girlish again. “It doesn’t matter; Mother may have to pay for this, but after tonight, my life will be just fine.”
Jane wondered if Lucinda was the real puppet-master. They could both be psychopaths—she and Madeline hadn’t bargained on two—and their combined psychosis could have merged in Cecily’s brain. Then again, she wondered, did they really conspire, or was all this in Cecily’s imagination? Maybe Lucinda didn’t even know what she was up to. Maybe...
The wind still howled like a hound. Jane edged back toward her left, toward the slightly open window, and Cecily interpreted her sideways movement as an attempt to work around toward the door. Cecily moved to the side also, to block her. “You’ll never make it to that door, my dear,” Cecily snarled in the older woman’s voice. “And if you did—by the time you bent over to move that tool chest, you’d have this axe in your back.”