Bellwether

by Jenny Ashford

  Lily reached the little metal landing at the top of the fire escape and gripped the railing in one tiny hand. Even though she was only two floors up, the ground still seemed very far away, the masters’ car even farther. She couldn’t even see them through the darkened car windows; she only saw the blue-white glare of moonlight on the glass, like a huge rectangular eye.

  So, what was she supposed to do now? Simply try to get in? What if she did get in, what then? Father told her not to worry about that, but she couldn’t help it, she was worrying.

  Since the only accessible windows were technically the French doors which opened onto the deck, Lily decided to do the first logical thing, and that was to try the door directly in front of her. Not expecting much to come of this—who left their doors unlocked these days?—she closed her hand over the knob and turned it slowly, waiting for the moment when it would inevitably stop fast in its arc, locked.

  To her surprise, the knob kept turning, and before she realized it, there was a click and the door opened outward. Startled, she could only stand on the fire escape platform and stare into a small, dimmed bedroom that opened out into a short, equally dark hallway, both of which were deserted.

  She didn’t know how long she stood there, but at last, realizing that Mother and Father were probably watching and getting angry in the car, Lily snapped herself out of her trance and took a tentative step forward.

  And promptly crashed headlong into what felt like a concrete wall.

  Lily blinked and rubbed at her smarting nose. What in the hell had just happened? She focused her vision. Yes, there it was, an open door and what was clearly a room on the other side of it, a room that could obviously be accessed by stepping through the open door and over the threshold.

  She reached out, experimentally. Her arm was harshly rebuffed, seemingly by thin air. Or some kind of invisible barrier. Was there, perhaps, a pane of glass there? Although it was dark, Lily was quite sure there wasn’t. Why would someone put clear glass behind a door anyway?

  Now Lily began to understand why Father had told her to worry about getting inside before worrying about anything else. He had probably known something like this would happen. What was causing it? Lily didn’t know if she wanted to risk asking Mother and Father. Surely they would tell her the details when it suited them. Surely they wouldn’t blame her for not being able to get into the house. After all, it wasn’t her fault, was it?

  She tried going through the door again, just in case, just so she could say she had tried more than once or twice. Her hand again bounced off the empty space hovering over the threshold. The effect was unsettling, but at least Lily was certain now; there would be no getting into the house through there.

  She wasn’t sure what she should do now. It seemed as though she had been given a task and had failed, and even though the failure was not her doing, she still felt she should make more effort; it would show Mother and Father how committed she was to carrying out their wishes. Lily glanced to the left. Should she try the French windows, in the interest of exhausting all options? Yes, she decided, this seemed a wise course of action. Besides, deep down, she was afraid that Mother and Father might chastise her for her lack of thoroughness, although she was loath to admit this to herself. She clambered down onto the deck. Sharp pebbles poked into her bare feet, and she winced with every step.

  At last, Lily arrived before the closed windows and considered their glassy reticence. There were curtains, but they were partly open, and through them she could see the same unmade bed and the same framed Carravaggio print she’d seen from the open door. There was still the sound of muted voices floating up from downstairs, and Lily found herself wondering what the mysterious people down there were talking about.

  Cautiously, she gripped the handles—they were silver, with a pretty curlicue design, and the metal was cold on her hands—and pulled. The windows didn’t budge. Locked.

  Well, that was that. She didn’t think Father would want her drawing attention to herself by trying to break the glass, so she stepped back with a disappointed sigh. Glancing up, she noticed that she’d left the fire escape door wide open, and with a muffled curse she clambered up onto the platform to close it. Before she did, she took one last experimental push at the barrier that was keeping her out, noting how the palms of her hands flattened as if pressed against a thick and perfectly transparent glass wall. She knew she was probably taking longer than she should have, but it was just so weird…

  A shuffling noise very close by made her heart leap into her throat, and instead of slamming the door and bolting back down the steps, she froze, her legs rooted to the metal beneath her feet. Her whole body was screaming for escape, but she found that she was unable to move.

  She saw a shadow in the hallway on the other side of the door. Someone was coming; she had to get out of there. Mother and Father would be very angry if she was seen. With effort, she curled her small fingers around the edge of the door. She was scared, but she had to get moving, and maybe she could get the door closed before anyone saw anything…

  Lily moved too slow. By the time she forced her recalcitrant muscles to push the door toward its frame, the shadow inside the house solidified into a tall, thin man with a shock of white-blonde hair and a sharply angled face.

  Lily drew in her breath. It was the man from the music shop, and he stared right at her.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ivan felt tired. He was glad of the talk they’d been having and that everything was finally out in the open. Still, he couldn’t help feeling like they were a long way from resolving the issues.

  The stairs were dark and they creaked softly as he climbed them. He deliberately turned his face away from the landing wall as he passed it, just as he’d been doing since he’d first started having the dreams. It was funny. In the dreams, the place always seemed like such a refuge, but in the cold light of reality there was something not quite right about the spot, something almost sinister in the way the shadows slid across it like drifting phantoms. He shook himself and kept walking.

  He didn’t really want to sleep, not yet, not when he knew the dream would probably be waiting for him. He did want to be alone for a while, maybe curl up under the covers with a good book, and enjoy the warm, pleasant buzz the coffee and chocolate had left in his stomach. He could sit up and read until he couldn’t hold slumber at bay any longer, or until Olivia came up to bed. The prospect pleased him.

  His bedroom was the smallest in the house, but he and Olivia had chosen it because it overlooked the deck and had its own door to the outside. Not that they needed to sneak in and out without the others’ knowledge, but they liked having the option, anyway; sometimes they would open the French doors in the morning and lie in bed, looking out at the sunrise. Besides that, there was a large closet, almost big enough to be another room, where he could keep his guitars and other musical equipment.

  By the time Ivan had turned the short corridor that led to the bedroom, his eyes had adjusted to the dimness, so he had no trouble seeing immediately that the door that led out of the room and onto the fire escape was standing wide open.

  He also saw a small figure in the doorway, silhouetted by the moonlight.

  He wasn’t afraid, not really; the sight startled him, but the figure was clearly solid and not ghostly (for he’d been preoccupied with ghosts and other supernatural phenomena since the dreams had first started coming), and besides that, looked too small in stature to pose any threat. In fact, it was no bigger than a child.

  Ivan tiptoed a few steps closer and looked harder, and then he recognized the figure as the dwarf girl from the church he’d talked to this afternoon. He almost laughed, but a shudder rippled up his back as well. What the hell was she doing here? Stalking him?

  The girl was standing very still; she didn’t seem to have noticed him. One of her hands was pressed against the door frame and the oth
er was held up, palm toward him, as though she were waving or doing that stereotypical Indian “how” thing. She looked very rapt, and so odd that his laughter died in his throat, replaced by a cold trickle of fear. He opened his mouth to ask what she was doing there, but before he could speak, she had seen him. Her eyes went very big, and in less than a second she had slammed the door. In a moment, he heard her scurrying footsteps as she tore down the metal staircase.

  Ivan, breaking his trance, rushed to the door and flung it open. “Hey!” he called. The girl was streaking across the backyard, her tiny malformed legs pumping, toward a car whose engine was already running. Ivan couldn’t see who was driving it, or even tell what color it was in the moonlight; it looked white or silver maybe. “Hey you! It’s okay! Come back!” He tried to remember her name—she’d told him what it was in the parking lot, hadn’t she? Of course she had—but nothing would come. She didn’t seem to hear him anyway, as determined as she was to get away. By the time Ivan was halfway down the fire escape, she had leaped into the back seat of the car, and he could only watch as the big, pale-colored automobile raced toward the road, spitting sand from beneath its tires.

  The others had heard the commotion from downstairs, and a few moments later Martin, Chloe, and Olivia were arrayed in a rough phalanx in the hallway, their breathing ragged from running up the stairs. “What the hell is going on? What’s all the yelling?” Olivia said.

  Ivan shook his head and climbed back up the fire escape. “I’m not really sure.” He stepped into the bedroom, taking one last look out at the now deserted backyard before closing the door and locking it. “They’re gone now, anyway. Let’s go back downstairs.” Suddenly, the thought of curling up alone in the bedroom didn’t seem like such a hot idea after all.

  The others followed him, their mystified expressions almost comically similar upon their three very different faces. Olivia tried to talk to him, but Ivan waved her off, saying only, “It’s nothing. I’ll tell you in a minute.”

  Once downstairs, Ivan poured himself another mug of coffee—his fifth, so there would probably be no sleep tonight, even if he wanted it—and collapsed back onto the sofa in the living room. The others arrayed themselves around him.

  “So there was someone in the backyard?” Olivia prompted.

  “Yes. A couple someones, looked like.”

  “Well, this is a public place now, I guess we have to expect it sometimes,” said Martin.

  “It was someone I knew, though,” said Ivan, and he went on to tell them about the persistent little woman who had accosted him outside the music store.

  “You mean you have a stalker, dearest?” Olivia said, a slight grin curling her mouth.

  Ivan didn’t smile. “I think she’s trying to get me to join her church.”

  Olivia’s grin disappeared. “Jeez, that’s probably the same one my manager joined. Remember I was telling you about all the shit at work? Sammy going to church? It turned him into a total space cadet. Don’t go getting mixed up with them, Ivan.”

  “I wouldn’t, Liv. What do you take me for?” He did smile a little now.

  “Hey, if you want, I could ask Sammy about that girl,” Olivia suggested. “Not that he’d tell me anything, but I guess it wouldn’t hurt to try.”

  “I guess it wouldn’t.” Ivan sat back and sighed loudly, closing his eyes. It seemed that the caffeine surging through his veins had made him more exhausted and more wired, all at the same time. “This whole thing is getting weirder and weirder,” he said.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Lily was silent on the short ride back to the church. She had failed, and she knew it. Father had said she’d done a good job, but Lily could see the coldness in his eyes, hear the tightness of his voice. Mother, of course, hadn’t said anything, but her silence was thick with disapproval. Lily knew they were probably wishing they had brought beautiful Rose along instead of her. Rose wouldn’t have messed up such a simple task. Rose wouldn’t have got herself seen and recognized by the pretty man with the guitar, and even if she had, she would have wheedled some good out of the failure with her lovely, flirtatious ways. Lily sighed miserably. How was she supposed to know, really? She didn’t know the man (Ivan, she thought, he said his name was Ivan) lived there. He saw her trying to break into his house, and now he would never join them. She would never get to hear him sing songs to her, never get to hold his hand as she slept, never get to sit on his lap and laugh with him as Rose stared on in bitter envy. She would never have any of those things now, because she had screwed everything up. Lily put her chin in her hands and sulked.

  After Father parked the car in front of the lighted window of Bellwether, he turned in his seat. “Don’t worry too much, Lily,” he said. His voice was still hard and flat. “You shouldn’t have gotten yourself seen, but in other ways this wasn’t really your fault. It was too soon for us to go back to the house. There is still a lot of work to do.” He got out of the car and opened Mother’s door, supporting her with his big, strong arms.

  Lily didn’t know what Father meant, but her spirits lifted slightly, knowing that Father didn’t entirely blame her for the events of the evening. The problem with Ivan was another matter, of course, but it was one that she kept to herself for now. She slid out of the car and followed her masters, keeping a discreet distance and her head lowered.

  Sammy, Alvin, Rose, and a couple of newer girls were sitting around inside the church, and they all turned when Father opened the door, their faces expectant. Father led Mother into the back room and closed the door without saying a word, leaving Lily to face the hopeful expressions. She hated to have to let her family down, but she had to tell them the truth. “It’s too soon,” she said, knowing that they didn’t understand what this meant any more than she did, but also knowing that they, like her, would realize that it wasn’t good, that the mission had not succeeded. Their faces fell, and Lily’s already low spirits plummeted back down with them. “We just have to work harder, that’s all,” she said, trying to keep her voice light, buoyant, encouraging. It was very difficult. “We just need to keep bringing people into the fold.” The others looked mollified somewhat; a few of them even smiled and nodded.

  Father returned then, and Sammy and the others bowed their heads down as he passed. He said nothing, just waved vaguely at the disciples before disappearing into another back room and closing the door. After a few moments, the girls began talking in low voices, and then Sammy and Alvin joined in the conversation. Soon, they were all absorbed in planning new tactics for gaining recruits.

  Lily sat close enough so that it would not look as though she was isolating herself, but not so close that their discussion could distract her from her own thoughts. She hated to admit it to herself, but in a way she felt superior to all the others, even Rose; after all, she’d been the first chosen, the first of Mother’s disciples, before Father even. In fact, she brought her sister Rose into the fellowship. She was, Lily thought only half seriously, their prophet and messiah. Being first, after all, had to count for something.

  Eighteen months ago, she hadn’t even known Mother; she and Rose traveled the southwest with a small circus, mostly doing trapeze acts, but also getting into some clown-type things and acrobatics. Obviously, deformed Lily was the one doing the comic relief; Rose was always the princess in the pink spangled costumes. Lily would ride around on a Shetland pony, trying to get the kids to laugh, but making them scream in terror more often than not. It was degrading work, but it was a job, and on most days she didn’t mind it—the world of the circus was a world unto itself, with its own standards and norms, and rules of conduct wildly different from those of the wider society. Circus folk were accepting of far stranger things than a run-of-the-mill dwarf, even a deformed one, and Lily liked feeling as though she were part of a family, a more extended one than her beautiful twin sister could ever provide.

  Mother had come ab
oard somewhere around Tulsa. At first, she’d worked as a fortune teller, calling herself Madame Crimson. She had never really shown her face; even then she had always worn a long, swirling cape with a hood, and later on she started augmenting that with a dark cloth completely concealing her features. Perhaps she thought it added to her air of mystery and ill-gotten wisdom. Lily didn’t remember Mother leaving much impression when she first joined the crew; she seemed like just another mediocre palm reader, with her dangling gypsy bracelets and worn pack of tarot cards forever at hand. She seemed no better or worse than any of the others who had drifted through during the few years that the Briar sisters had called the circus home.

  Gradually, Madame Crimson morphed into something quite different. She put together a stage act—hypnosis, a few card tricks, some mind-reading stuff, strictly small time. She would use volunteers from the audience as subjects for most of her tricks, making them do and say ridiculous things while supposedly hypnotized, and eventually putting them into trances where they spoke in the voices of the dead. Lily watched a few of the shows, and at first she was amused by the clumsiness and obvious fakery, but after a while, the tricks got better and better. It got to the point where Lily didn’t want to watch Madame Crimson anymore, because the act was getting creepy and making her uncomfortable.

  By that time, Lily knew her enough to say ‘hello’, but she was still practically a stranger. In fact, Madame Crimson remained a stranger to nearly everyone, as she rarely came out of her trailer, and never mixed with the rest of the circus folk. Lily was very surprised when Silver Steele, the sword swallower and the only person in the circus to have actually halfway befriended the faceless fortune teller, brought Lily a message saying the woman wanted to see her in her trailer after the last performance.