Household (39 page)

“No.” Colin gave her a long-suffering look. “We have a train to catch. Have you bestowed our bags and boxes aboard, Mark?”

“Need you ask?” his grandnephew demanded indignantly. “When have I ever failed you?”

“Never, old fellow. Don’t be so touchy,” Colin begged. “I have enough temperament about me already.” He had a pointed stare for his female companions.

“I’ll let that pass,” Juliet said, sticking her tongue out at Colin. “You’re an absolute wonder, darling Mark,” she continued. “Thank Beelzebub that the full moon doesn’t fall on Friday.”

Lucy said, “Let’s just hope that we are there on time.”

“You are not to fret.” Juliet moved to Lucy. “Swithin’s ill, but Molly has said...”

“I know what she has told you,” Lucy returned impatiently, “but aside from my darling’s illness, I cannot help but feel there are other problems Molly’s not mentioned. I fear for my daughter, too.”

“I beg you’ll not borrow trouble,” Juliet cried. “We have enough as it is.” She paused, staring at Lucy’s stricken face. “Oh, my dear, forgive me. You’ll think I have no heart. Come, we’ll hurry. See you at the station, Mark.”

He nodded, watching the three bats winging their way through the trees. A moment later, striding out of the cemetery, he stopped to alert a policeman to the presence of the unconscious man he had seen lying under a park bench not far from the gates.

❖

Her father had taken a sudden and unexpected turn for the worse. Livia had scarcely left his side during the week following her coming together with Septimus. The time had passed slowly, and in addition to her distress over her father, Livia was struggling with the promptings of a body awakened to an excitement that could be assuaged only in her lover’s arms. That comfort was denied her. Leaving her bed just after midnight on Friday, Septimus had spoken strangely about purification and protection. He had not been very explicit, but he had promised to return on the afternoon of the following Friday—to be with her throughout the night. “You will need me, my love,” he had said. “Above all, you will need my protection.”

“Protection?” she had asked, aware then that he was deeply concerned, even frightened and, in her new knowledge of him, she realized his fears were for her rather than for himself. “What sort of protection?” she had demanded.

“I must fashion shields,” he had said obscurely. “You’ll know what I mean when I return. It’s best not to be too specific now.”

Those elliptical comments had been all she had to comfort her during days that seemed 48 hours long. She had not even the solace of work. She had dismissed the girls and closed the
Mercury
early. She spent most of her time in her father’s room, occasionally relieved by Mrs. Nelson, the housekeeper, and as Friday drew near, she was morbidly certain she would never see Septimus again.

Late on Friday afternoon, Livia, sitting with Swithin, who was awake and restless, was informed by a disapproving Mrs. Nelson that there was a Mr. Grenfall on the front porch demanding to see her, even after being informed that she was tending her sick father.

“Stay with Papa, Mrs. Nelson,” Livia ordered, ignoring the woman’s affronted expression. “I’ll be back in a few moments.”

Hurrying down the stairs, she opened the front door and then stood still, staring at him in dismay. He looked much thinner than he had a week earlier; he was pale as if he might not have been eating enough. “What’s the matter?” she asked anxiously.

“Nothing, my love.” He moved into the hall swiftly.

She read concern in his eyes, but intermixed with that was a look that sent shivers of delight coursing through her. “Papa is ill,” she said. “I must stay with him until he falls asleep. Do you mind waiting in the library?”

“No, but I hope he falls asleep sooner rather than later. Can you not have the housekeeper stay with him?”

“No.” Livia’s lip trembled. “He wants me by his side and... he’s very ill, Septimus.”

“I thought he might be,” he said enigmatically. He put out his arms and let them fall to his sides. “I mustn’t touch you,” he said ruefully.

She gave him an anxious look. “There’s something wrong, isn’t there?”

“It is Friday,” he reminded her, “and you must be protected. Come to the library the minute he falls asleep.”

“I will,” she promised, concerned by his concern, frightened by his fears, knowing instinctively that he was rarely fearful. She led him to the library. There was a paraffin lamp on the desk and another on the table, and since it was dark in the room, she lit both of these.

“Do not let the housekeeper come in here,” he warned.

“She won’t. She’ll be outside of Papa’s room once he falls asleep.”

“Good.”

As luck would have it, her father was unusually restless that afternoon. It became increasingly evident to Livia that, in addition to his physical discomfort, he was mentally uneasy. More than once, he sighed deeply, saying, “My dearest, I do not know. I just do not know how it came about.”

“What, Papa?” she asked finally.

“Perhaps it will not be as bad as I imagine,” was his only response.

It was not until after seven that he slept. Livia went to fetch Mrs. Nelson, and having left her in the small sitting room adjoining the master bedroom, she went down to the library. Entering, she stopped short on the threshold. The carpet had been rolled back and in the center of the room was an immense circle etched in chalk and having within it a large five-pointed star. Strange symbols were etched upon each point of the star, and a chair had been placed in its center. Her first thought was what would the housekeeper think. She also had an impulse to laugh but that was checked immediately when she met his concerned and somber gaze. She started toward him.

“No,” he said quickly. “Step into the circle and sit on the chair.”

“I do not understand. Why?”

“For reasons of safety.”

“What is the significance of this star?”

“It’s not a star. It’s a pentagram. It will afford us some means of protection. I wish you might have come sooner, but perhaps it was ordained that you could not.”

“Ordained?”

“It will be a contest,” he explained. “The golden bowl is broken. The seals have been stripped from the door.”

“I wish you’d stop talking in riddles,” she complained. “Metaphors rather than riddles.” He suddenly smiled, but it was a strained smile. “The tomes I have been consulting are full of them, and I’m afraid they’ve coated my tongue. Please, my dear, sit in that chair. Now!”

Livia moved toward the circle, but as she reached the edge, she found herself oddly reluctant to obey him. Speaking with a forced lightness, she said, “Septimus, dear, what is all this hocus-pocus? I really need an explanation.”

“They are getting to you. I beg you’ll not heed them. Go into the circle, at once!”

“Who are they? I don’t understand you.”

“You have only to understand that you must get into the circle and remain there until I tell you that you may leave.” She did not like his abrupt manner, and she resented the fact that he was issuing commands. “My dear, I’ve left Mrs. Nelson with Papa. I will have to relieve her eventually.”

“Go into the circle,” he ordered. “Do not make me carry you to that chair. That is what they want. Please, Livia.” Something inside of her was telling her she must not obey him, but she could not resist the appeal in his eyes. She stepped over the chalk-drawn rim and another step brought her to the chair. As she sat down, she felt a lessening of her inner tension. Still, she was curious as to how this diagram could protect her. He had never given her a full explanation of what he meant by protection and purification. “Well, I’m here,” she said, “but I am not sure why.”

“Because we are dealing with forces inimical to us both, and my powers are no longer at their height. But with you in the center and I at the rim...” He gave her a regretful look.

“I wish I did not love you so much, my darling.”

“Why do you wish that?” she asked, happiness flooding through her.

“Because,” he said somberly, “it has filled me with fears that are new to me. If I am to protect you, I mustn’t be afraid.”

“Of what?” she probed.

“Of what can happen.”

“The others!” she exclaimed. “You think they’ll come.”

“Yes, they will come.”

“The doors are locked.”

“Locks will present no problems for them. They will be here at eight. The clock’s already struck the half-hour. That’s why I wanted you to come sooner.”

“I told you why I could not. Oh, Septimus, I am so worried about my father. I... I think he might be dying—and soon.”

“You must not think about that now. It will weaken you. You need all your strength for what lies ahead.”

She rose and moved toward him. “But...”

“Stay in the chair!” he commanded. “Go back to it at once.”

Startled, she obeyed without question.

“Livia, you must stay where you are,” he said sternly. “Know that in the last week I have fasted and prepared myself for this night. I have power and I have increased it, it is not as strong as it might be. I am depending on our combined energies to stand against them, and though you have always been strong, some of your energy has been drained from you, too.”

“How?”

“Because we have been together.”

She smiled mistily at him. “I’ve not lost anything through that, my darling. I have gained in strength. Before last Friday I was only half-alive.”

“Oh, my love,” he said yearningly. “I wish I could hold you in my arms, but as I told you earlier, I dare not touch you or I will be weaker yet. If I’d only known how much I would love you, but what could a child, dedicated to Satan before his first breath, know of love? How could I recognize it until...” He groaned.

“I am glad you didn’t recognize it,” she said softly. “If you had, you might have become afraid of it—of me. Perhaps you’d not have come to me. Whatever happens, I shall never cease to be thankful that you did.”

“Livia,” he moaned, “I want to make love to you. My body craves you, my soul adores you, and that is the way it has been this whole agonizing week. And that worries me. I have to be strong. Listen to me, my dearest. Those who are my followers, I have trained them well in evil. They will send you dreams, but they’ll not seem like dreams. They’ll entice and beguile and summon. They will send you pain; it will be an illusion but will not seem like an illusion. That is why you must not step beyond the circle, and it is why you will want to flee from it, but you must not, no matter what happens or...” He broke off as the windows rattled. “It is beginning. Stay in your chair. Do not leave it.”

“That’s only the wind,” she said soothingly, surprised that his strange exhortations were not frightening her.

“It’s not the wind.” He stepped into the circle, standing at the perimeter, his body tense.

Livia rose from the chair. “Septimus, dear.”

“Sit down!” he commanded.

She hesitated. She wanted to be with him, but finally she obeyed. As she did, she felt a pressure around her as if the air had suddenly grown heavy,, had developed substance.

“Livia...” Septimus’s voice sounded fainter, as if rather than in the circle and only a few feet away from her, he was a room away. “There is still power to be used, your power, weakened but present because of your heritage. You must not let them take you. They’ll try, even though without me to lead them, they are also weakened. I am on your side. Remember.”

“I...” She paused as she heard the doorbell ring, heard the sound almost gratefully because of the strangeness of what he was telling her, because he seemed to think that a circle drawn in chalk on the floor could afford protection—from what?

“Do not doubt me,” he warned.

She flushed. It was almost as if he had read her mind, but no one could do that. “Darling,” she said, “someone is at the door. I’ll have to let them in. Mrs. Nelson’s with Papa. He’s no longer sleeping downstairs, but you know that. We took him to his own room when he became ill. It is more comfortable.” She rose.

“Haven’t you been listening to me? Sit down,” he cried. “But...” she began.

“Sit down!” he ordered.

“Ohhhh...”

Livia stepped forward. “That’s Marian. She sounds as if she’s in pain. What’s she doing here?”

“It’s not Marian. Sit down please. They know about the circle. They want you out of it. On your life, remain where you are.”

She sat down but looked at him unhappily. “It sounded like Marian.”

“Oh, Miss Blake, help me!”

Livia clutched the sides of her chair, staring at Septimus. It was no good telling him that was Marian calling to her, his glance anticipating her assurances.

“Stay where you are!” he commanded.

“Livia, why have you left me alone? I need water, child,” her father called from just beyond the door.

Terror filled her. He had come downstairs in his condition! There was no mistaking his gentle, feeble tones. He had woken up, and Mrs. Nelson must have been out of the room.

Livia did not look in Septimus’ direction. She rose and started toward the door, but as she stepped over the rim of the circle she was thrust back. She fell hurtfully. She was on her feet in an instant, her ankle aching, but she was also remembering that never, even in extremis, would her father have been able to rise from his bed and come down the stairs. He was too ill. She limped back to her chair and looked toward Septimus, glad he had not scolded her.

He was not there. She stared around the room and did not see him anywhere. Angered at her disobedience, he had left her alone.

“Septimus,” she called frantically.

“Septimus!”

“Septimus!”

“Septimus!”

“Septimus!”

“Septimus!”

Shocked and terrified, Livia heard the name shot back at her like echoes in a cavern, booming at her from all sides of the room, but he was not there.

A wind was rising outside, and it seemed to her that his name was on the wind, only it was Septimus’s voices he heard in its wail. “Stayyyyyy... stayyyyyyy...” it urged. “Where are you?” she cried.

“You!”

“You!”

“You!”

“You!”