Authors: Tim Waggoner
“You’re strong, Father. I’ll grant you that. But there’s only one of you. Your will is no match for ours.”
Joanne didn’t understand what Lenora was talking about, but evidently Marshall did, for his eyes widened in shocked comprehension. He moved forward to interpose himself between Lenora and Debbie, but before he could get more than a couple of steps, Lenora held up a hand and Marshall jerked to a stop, as if he were a dog whose owner had just yanked on his leash.
Lenora grinned. “What part of
no match
didn’t you understand? Lenora might not be too fond of Mother, but there’s no need to worry about her safety. A few months back Lenora learned the truth about your relationship with Mother. You have
so
many relatives, Father, and they all plot against you while at the same time seeking your favor. They hunger for tidbits of information they might be able to use against you, hoarding them like gold nuggets. I’m one of those nuggets, and Lenora found out about me from one of her many sexual playthings. She immediately began thinking of a way to use her newfound knowledge against you. That’s why she vandalized Mother’s car and broke into the café the other night — not to harm Mother, but to upset
you
. I can’t say I’m happy my sister scared Mother so badly, but I understand her reasons for doing so. And I must admit, I like her style.”
Joanne felt the pieces of Lenora’s bizarre ranting finally fall into place. “Are you trying to tell us that you’re Carl Coulter? That you’ve … what? —
possessed
Lenora?”
Lenora turned to Joanne and this time the cold blue eyes the sheriff saw were the same ones that had gazed at her in her nightmare about Barrow Hill Mound.
“Something like that,” Lenora — or rather Carl — said.
Despite seeing a flash of Carl at the Deveraux Farm and dreaming of him later, Joanne wasn’t willing to accept she was talking to a dead man whose spirit had sublet the body of his half-sister. But one thing she couldn’t deny. She was unable to move her body from the neck down. And if that kind of power was possible, what else might be?
Debbie smiled at Lenora and tears of joy began to slide down her face. “My boy. My sweet, sweet boy.”
Marshall struggled against the paralysis inflicted on him by his daughter. His jaw muscles were clenched tight, his body shook as every muscle strained, and beads of sweat broke out on his brow. Despite his monumental effort, he didn’t budge so much as a fraction of an inch. Like Joanne before him, Marshall resorted to the only weapon he had left. His voice.
“If you want to ensure your mother’s safety, you should release Joanne and me and depart. Whatever you are, were, or have become, you’re clearly not sane. You’re more a danger to Debbie Coulter than either of us could ever be.”
Lenora turned away from Debbie and walked over to her father. She stopped in front of him and raised the knife. She placed the tip of the blade against the soft flesh just beneath Marshall’s chin. “I came back because of what Lenora did to Mother and because of what Lenora’s …
associate
did.” She gave Joanne a glance filled with dark amusement before returning her attention to Marshall. “I wasn’t happy to see my work copied by an amateur. I’m proud of what I accomplished, even though you still refused to accept me into the family.”
“Sheriff Manchester and Dale Ramsey caught you literally red-handed,” Marshall said. “There was nothing I could do. Believe me, I tried.”
Doubt entered Lenora’s — or was it Carl’s? — gaze, only to depart just as swiftly as it had come. “And where were you when I was strapped down on a table and my veins were pumped full of poison? No one came to claim my spirit, and I was left to drift where I would, alone and unwanted.”
“I carved an icon for you the night after you were found guilty of the murders, and I saved it until your execution. But not even my power or my contacts could get me in to see your body before it was embalmed. Once that process has begun, the spirit flees the body and cannot be found.”
Joanne thought of the tiny stone figure Marshall had touched to the side of Tyrone’s head in the morgue, and of Marshall’s reaction. Is that what he had been trying to do — capture Tyrone’s soul in the stone doll? Even if such a thing were possible, why do it?
Lenora looked confused now. She began to lower the knife, and Joanne could feel the pressure in her head easing up a little. But before she could make another try to draw her weapon, the pressure returned, even stronger than before, making her wince.
“Maybe you’re telling the truth, maybe not,” Lenora said. “It doesn’t matter anymore. Now that
I’m
in charge, I’ll protect Mother. She’s going to keep me company while I go about my new work. I’m going to destroy the Reliquary.”
Marshall paled at Lenora’s pronouncement. “You can’t be serious! You have no idea what will happen as a result!”
Lenora laughed. “You should see yourself, Father! The look of fear on your face right now is priceless! I know exactly what will happen if the Reliquary is destroyed. The Crosses will lose the source of their power, and when that happens, you’ll be no different from ordinary humans.” Lenora’s mouth stretched into a wicked smile. “You’re going to come along, too. After all, you wouldn’t want to miss the end of everything you and your family have worked for all these long years, would you?”
“Like hell I’ll go with you!” Marshall said. “I’ll die first! I may not be able to break free of your domination, but I can still use my powers to burn out my own mind.”
Lenora regarded her father for a moment. “You know, I think you’d really do it. But what about her?” Lenora pointed toward Joanne. “Is preserving your family’s power worth
her
life?”
Marshall avoided looking at Joanne as he answered. “It’s not just a matter of power, Carl. If you and Lenora share any consciousness, surely you understand that by now. But you’re mistaken if you think there’s anything between Joanne and me. Do with her as you wish.”
Joanne knew Marshall would respond this way, perhaps the only way he
could
, but it still hurt to hear him speak the words.
“You know, Father, for someone who’s had so much practice lying, you’re not very good at it. If you willingly come with Mother and me to the Reliquary, I’ll spare your friend. If you don’t, I’ll kill her just for the fun of it.”
“Don’t help her … them. Whatever,” Joanne said. “I won’t help this lunatic in any way, even if it’s just as a bargaining chip.” Joanne didn’t know why it was important to protect this Reliquary — whatever it was. She just did. Call it a Feeling.
Lenora fixed Joanne with an arctic stare. “I can give you a push and turn your brain into tapioca. You’d be dead before you hit the floor. Not as satisfying as using a knife, but it
would
be neater.”
Marshall looked from Lenora to Joanne to Debbie then back to Lenora. His face was impassive, but Joanne knew inside he was furiously calculating odds and exploring various strategies. At last he said, “Very well. I’ll do as you say as long as you spare Joanne’s life.”
“Don’t do me any favors,” Joanne snapped. “Whatever’s going on here, it needs to stop — now!”
Lenora moved close to Marshall, stood on her tiptoes, and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “I knew you wouldn’t let me down, Daddy.” Her voice inflections were different, as if for a moment Lenora was in control of her own body once more. Then she turned toward Debbie, took the woman’s hand, and it was Carl who next spoke. “Come, Mother. Father will follow. Now that he’s submitted himself completely to my will, he hasn’t a choice.”
Lenora led Debbie toward the bedroom door, the older woman smiling contentedly. Marshall trailed after, giving Joanne a glance that she interpreted as,
Don’t you dare try to follow us
.
Frustrated, Joanne tried once more to break free of whatever strange spell held her immobile, but it was no use. She still couldn’t move.
Lenora stopped at the bedroom door just as she was about to step over the threshold. “One more thing.” She turned to look at Joanne, her blue eyes gleamed, and Joanne screamed as she found herself plummeting into darkness.
• • •
“What did you do to her?” Marshall demanded.
Joanne lay on the floor, curled into a fetal position and sobbing.
“I promised I wouldn’t kill her,” Lenora said. “I didn’t promise not to make her suffer. Forget her. We have work to do.” Lenora turned and continued through the doorway, pulling Debbie after her as if the woman were a small child that couldn’t be trusted to walk on her own.
Marshall had to follow as well. He’d allowed himself to be mentally dominated by his two children who now inhabited the same body, and he must obey their commands. Whatever they’d done to Joanne, he might’ve been able to counteract it —
if
he’d been free to use his powers. But he wasn’t, and all he could do was give Joanne a sympathetic look as he walked out of the bedroom and left her sobbing on the floor, alone.
I’m so sorry
, he thought. He did his best to put Joanne out of his mind then and turned his thoughts to the task of trying to figure out a way to stop his children before they could carry out their mad plan to destroy the Reliquary.
• • •
Dale had heard the phrase
screeching halt
before, of course, but until he slammed on his Jeep’s brakes in front of Sanctity’s main entrance, he’d never actually experienced one before. It felt damned satisfying.
As he got out of his vehicle and started for the front steps, he started to look for the Beast before remembering with relief that the creature wasn’t his problem anymore. What
was
his problem was getting into Sanctity. He hadn’t been able to call Marshall or Althea on his cell since he didn’t have numbers for any of the Crosses, and while he could always fall back on the meddling reporter’s old stand-by — pounding on the door and demanding to be let in — that would only result in the appearance of one servant or another, one that had undoubtedly been well trained not to permit near-hysterical old men to enter Sanctity’s hallowed halls. He would need one hell of a good excuse to get inside. It wasn’t as if he could say,
Pardon me, but if you don’t let me in there’s a good chance more people will die before morning — a
lot
more
. That would get the door slammed in his face for sure.
As he reached the door and rang the bell, his exhausted mind still hadn’t coughed up any usuable lies, and he doubted it would deliver any in the few seconds it would take for a servant to answer the door. The best plan he could come up with was to knock whoever opened the door on his or her ass, dart past them, and run like hell through Sanctity’s corridors, shouting Althea’s name the whole way and hoping to draw her attention.
He’d already curled his right hand into a fist and was raising it to strike when the door opened.
“There’s no need for such foolishness,” Althea said. “Eve called to let me know you were coming.”
As Dale lowered his hand with no small amount of embarrassment, he remembered something that Eve had said to him.
My sister and I may have different philosophies regarding our roles in the county, but we still talk from time to time
. He was grateful that this was one of those times.
“If Eve called, then you already know — ”
“Everything,” Althea interrupted, and then smiled. “But then I usually do, don’t I?” Her smile fell away, and her eyes caught and held Dale’s gaze with an intense, penetrating look, as if she were peering into the deepest recesses of his being and weighing what she found there. “The time we’ve both been waiting for is finally upon us, Dale Ramsey. Are you prepared to do what must be done?”
He remembered walking among trees, a little girl sleeping huddled against his chest as he carried her, implicitly trusting him to keep her safe, no matter what.
“I won’t let Joanne down,” he said.
Althea raised an eyebrow. “You made a vow once. Do you still intend to honor it?”
Dale remembered a darkness empty and cold as space, and from within that vast nothingness, a soundless voice asking him a question. He answered now as he had then.
“Yes. As long as it helps Joanne.”
Althea considered a moment before replying. “Tonight it will.” She opened the door wide and beckoned him to enter.
• • •
It was cold and dark and she was so alone. The stone felt like ice beneath her bare feet, and she held her arms crossed over her bare chest in a vain attempt to shield her sensitive nipples from the air’s chill. Her breath came in ragged gasps, and she shivered from head to toe so violently that she feared she might lose her footing and fall to the ground. The stone beneath her feet was jagged, and as much as it hurt to stand on, she figured it would hurt a hell of a lot worse if she fell on it. She tried to will herself to stop shivering, but it was no use. She was too cold, too frightened.
She had no idea who she was or how she’d gotten here. Though she tried, she couldn’t recall any details of life outside the dark and the cold. A terrible possibility occurred to her then. What if there
wasn’t
an outside world? What if there was only this awful place and she was the only person who inhabited it? If that was true, then she was profoundly, horribly alone.
She drew in a deep breath of frigid air and then released it in an ear-shattering scream. Pain and fear gave power to her voice, and the sound seemed to continue on after she ran out of breath, as if it had taken on a life of its own. Her scream continued to grow, increasing in volume until it seemed to fill the entire universe. She pressed her hands to her ears to try to shut out the scream, but it didn’t help. The sound was within her now as much as without, and she knew it would never stop. She couldn’t hear her own sobs as she collapsed to the ground, couldn’t feel the hurt as the cold, uncaring rock cut and bruised her naked flesh. The scream had become her entire existence, and she knew with numb certainty that she would never be free of it. Never.
She felt a hand on her shoulder and the scream was cut off, drying away without so much as a last echo. Light flooded her vision and she found herself looking into blue eyes that were cold but not altogether unfriendly.