It Begins (18 page)

Lucy went pale. “So you’re saying … that when I held the necklace, I was actually seeing her … her death?”

Without another word she jumped up and started pacing.

“Lucy!”

“No, I don’t
want
this—I don’t want any
part
of this—I didn’t
ask
for this—I—”

“You don’t have a choice.” Byron was on his feet again, beside her in an instant. “You
are
part of it now, whether you like it or not. There’s nothing you can do but accept it.”

“And anyway, when I
did
hold the necklace, I didn’t see anyone!” Lucy babbled, as though she hadn’t heard a single word Bryon said. “I didn’t see the face of any killer! I just felt wind and there were eyes and hands and blood and … and …”

He reached out for her and held her at arms length, forcing her to look at him. “I told you, sometimes it doesn’t happen all at once. The next time you touch it, you might see something else, something more—”

“There won’t
be
a next time! I’m
not
going to hold that necklace! I’m not going to touch
anything!”
Angrily, Lucy broke free from his grasp. “You don’t even know if the guy in Katherine’s visions and the guy who killed her are the same person! You don’t even know for sure if the guy in her visions was real! I mean, maybe she truly was … was … sick, and she couldn’t help it. I’m sorry, but it
is
possible—people can be sick—”

“Like my mother.” Byron’s tone was frosty. “I’m assuming that’s who you mean?”

“I …” Lucy looked at him helplessly. Everything was wrong, everything was falling in on her, the
world
was falling in on her, and she was all alone, and she couldn’t get away. “I didn’t mean—”

“I want to show you something,” Byron said.

Lucy watched him reach into his pocket and pull out a crumpled piece of paper, ragged and soiled around the edges, as though it had been folded and unfolded, read and reread many times.

“This is the last message I got from Katherine. She asks me to meet her at the church. She says she needs to talk to me about something important. And then she ends it with this.”

He thrust it out to Lucy. Reluctantly she looked down at the note, where two words had been hastily scrawled at the bottom of the page.

HE LIVES

A feeling of numbness crept over her.

She handed the paper back.

“I’m going now, Byron. I’m going to climb out of here and find the road and go home. Even if I have to walk all the way back to town.”

“Lucy—”

“No. Don’t talk to me. I just want to go.”

Somehow she made it up the embankment. As she reached the top, she was surprised to see cuts and scrapes all over her hands, and rips in the knees of her jeans. Dusting herself off as best she could, Lucy started walking. From somewhere behind her, she was vaguely aware that Byron was following. But it wasn’t till he yelled after her that she stopped.

“But you can’t ignore it, can you? Because things have been happening to you, haven’t
they? Other things besides the necklace? Things you can’t explain? And they’re scaring you, aren’t they? They’re scaring you to death!”

Lucy spun around, enraged. “Leave me alone! You don’t know anything!”

“Then tell me! Why don’t you tell me? I want to help!”

“How can you help?” Tears brimmed in her eyes and she fought to keep her voice steady. “You couldn’t even help Katherine! You couldn’t even keep her from dying, could you?”

She saw his face, the anger and grief in his tortured expression. “Don’t you think I know that? Don’t you think I’ve been tormented by that? Do you have any idea how horrible it was, watching her go through that? Watching somebody you love suffer like she did, with no explanations and no help?”

His voice quivered with rage. His dark eyes flashed with helpless frustration.

“And the same thing will happen to you. You’ll try to warn people, but they won’t believe you. You’ll try to save people, but you’ll fail. You’ll see tragedies that you won’t be able
to prevent, and you’ll feel every single human grief and suffering and sorrow like a knife thrust deep in your heart. I saw what it did to her. Day by day, and tragedy by tragedy, it wore her down, it poisoned her mind. I
know
in my heart she was happy to die in the end … she was
glad
to be free from that
gift
of hers.”

Lucy stood there, unable to move, watching the anguish pour out of him. It was like watching a dam break in slow motion, and then, finally, wondering how it had ever held up for so long.

“Oh, God, Byron,” Lucy whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

She moved toward him at last. She reached out and gently touched his cheek, and for a brief moment, the walls remained down and unguarded.

“All right,” she murmured. “I’ll tell you everything.”

With almost numb detachment, Lucy recounted every strange and frightening event of the past few days. They sat together on a low outcrop of rocks, facing each other while she admitted her doubts to him, questioned her
reasoning and wild imagination, allowed for the possibility of coincidence.

Byron listened attentively … but it wasn’t until she’d finished that he finally allowed himself to comment.

“You can’t
really
believe you imagined all that.” His tone was slightly incredulous. “You
can’t
believe those are coincidences. And especially after what just happened now in the woods.”

Lucy let out a weary sigh. “I don’t know what I think anymore.”

For an endless moment silence settled between them. Then Byron said quietly, “Katherine warned you not to tell anyone, didn’t she? Because your life could be in danger.”

“Yes.” Reluctantly Lucy nodded. “So … why? Because she was afraid he’d kill me, too?”

“What did he say in the confessional? When you asked him who he was?”

She shuddered, merely thinking about it. “He told me he was my salvation.”

Byron looked thoughtful. He ran his fingers slowly along his chin. “You said he wasn’t there
when you found Katherine. He may not even realize yet that she passed her powers on to you. In fact … he might not even know you were there at all.”

“If that’s true, then why is he suddenly so interested in me?”

“I’m not sure. But I think if we can figure out what his connection was to
Katherine
, that might help us figure out what his connection is to you.”

Lucy’s shoulders sagged. Lowering her head, she covered her face with her hands and groaned. “And what if we don’t? What if we never do?”

“He could have been here today,” Byron speculated, dodging her question. “Tricking us into getting separated. Untying the boat. Hoping you’d be alone …”

“So what you’re telling me is, he could be anywhere. He could be anyone. Watching me. All the time.”

“That’s why we have to go back and get the necklace. I think we need to start there. It’ll give us a clue to who killed Katherine. And why.”

“I just hope it’s still there at the church,” Lucy said glumly.

“You said some priest had it?”

She nodded. “Matt. Father Matt.”

“And what’d he do with it?”

“He just said he was going to put it back where he found it—by the altar. In case whoever dropped it came back for it. But if you want to talk to him, I think he’s going to be there all day, going through storage closets and stuff.”

Byron hesitated. “I don’t think we should go back till he leaves.”

“Why not? Why would he think anything about it?”

“You’re the one who heard voices in the confessional. You tell me.” Then, at Lucy’s distressed look, he said quickly, “Look, I just think the less people who know about any of this, the better. Doesn’t that make sense?”

“You’re right,” she agreed “And by the way, how did you get into the church this morning, if Father Matt wasn’t there yet?”

Bryon raised an eyebrow. “Gran used to be the cleaning lady at the church. I have a key.”

“So you weren’t lying. You
do
have all the keys. To just about everything.”

She thought he almost smiled at that. He stood and pulled her to her feet.

“Do you really think the necklace is going to help me?” As Lucy gazed up into his face, her eyes were almost pleading.

Byron stared down at her, a faint frown creasing his brow. Then, with wary tenderness, he lifted his hand and lightly touched her cheek.

“Only if we find it before the killer does.”

Luckily, they didn’t have far to walk.

As they finally came out on the other side of the woods, Byron recognized the driver of a passing pickup truck and flagged him down for a ride.

“Well, Byron, what brings you up today?” The old man greeted Byron with a grin.

“Just checking some cabins, Ray.” Byron introduced Lucy, then added, “Do you think you could help me out? I borrowed Mac’s boat, and it came untied back there at the cove. I don’t have time to look for it ‘cause I need to get Lucy back to town.”

Ray gave them a wink. “Don’t you worry. I’ll tow it back, and nobody’ll ever know it was gone.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it.”

As they neared the cabin where Lucy had
left the car, Byron casually asked if anyone had noticed any suspicious activity around the area.

“Haven’t seen anything like that,” Ray said anxiously. “Why? Something wrong?”

Byron’s answer was casual and calculated. “Just wondering. It looks like someone might have tried to break into the Millers’ place.”

“Well, I’ll sure keep a lookout,” Ray promised. “If I see any strangers, I’ll be sure and report them right away.”

Squeezed tightly together in the front seat, Lucy gave Byron a grateful smile. When Ray let them out at the cabin, they waited till he was out of sight, then locked up and headed back into town.

“How about I pick you up around seven?” Byron asked her. “The church should be locked up again by then.”

“I think we should meet somewhere,” Lucy suggested instead. “Angela’s way too nosy, and Irene’s been in a horrible mood. I’d rather not borrow more trouble.”

Byron agreed. “What about the Festival, then?”

“Well … I’m pretty sure Angela will want to go back. But she’s supposed to be grounded, so I’ll have to see if we can sneak out again.”

“Can you lose her once you get there?”

“No problem. The less she has to be with me, the more she likes it. Besides, I think she’s been hanging out with some guy there she doesn’t want her mom to know about.”

“Perfect. I’ll meet you at the carousel.”

After letting Byron out at his house, Lucy went on to the car wash. She hadn’t realized how exhausted she was, but now, with the turbulent morning behind her, she could feel all her emotions letting down at last. She drove through the car wash, relishing the blasts of water and churning brushes all around her, feeling in some strange way almost as cleansed as the Corvette.

It gave her time to collect her thoughts. Angela would demand an explanation when she got back; that much she could count on. She told herself she had to act normally, think clearly, come up with some logical excuses for being so late. She remembered the few times Irene had suggested that Lucy go shopping for
new clothes, mentioning stores where she could use Irene’s accounts.

Yes. Good cover.
Glancing down at her stained jeans and jacket, Lucy thought how funny that was. On a whim, she stopped at the same fast-food restaurant she’d stopped at that morning, and slipped into the women’s restroom. Using bunches of paper towels, she did her best at a hasty cleanup, then ran a comb through her hair.
Fine. That’ll work.

Driving home, her thoughts kept wandering, even though she tried to keep them in check. Thinking too much was dangerous to her now, she decided—the slightest little thing might send her over the edge. How could a day start off so innocently, then turn so deadly? How could your life change completely in a matter of seconds? And how could she and Katherine—a girl she’d never met and would never even know—become so tragically intertwined?

So much for fate
, Lucy thought wearily.

How strange it was, the way events wove themselves together, pulling innocent people into the middle of darkness, into the middle of bad surprises. If only she hadn’t gone for a walk
the other night, none of this would have happened.
If only Mom hadn’t died, I wouldn’t be here in the first place. If only … if only …

No use going there, she told herself sternly. There was nothing she could do about any of it till tonight.
Except drive yourself crazy with worrying.

She heard the battle before she was even halfway in the back door. Irene and Angela in the kitchen, voices raised at fever pitch. Angela’s furious tears, and Irene’s unyielding authority.

“You were
seen
there last night, Angela!” Irene was livid. “I
told
you you were grounded, and you
deliberately
disobeyed me!”

“It wasn’t my fault!” Angela whined.

“Did you actually think it wouldn’t get back to me?” Irene countered. “In this town where I know so many people? I can’t trust you for a minute, can I? But I
told
you what would happen, and now you have to accept the consequences. No car. Period. Not to school, not anywhere. And your credit cards—as of right now—are canceled.”

“You can’t do that!”

“I just did.”

“I’m not giving them to you!”

“Angela, it doesn’t matter. I have all the numbers right here in my briefcase, and it’s as good as done. Now go upstairs.”

“Daddy would
never
have treated me this way!”

“Well, he’s not here. And if he
had
treated you a little more this way, you wouldn’t be so selfish and self-indulgent.”

“I’ll run away!”

“Oh, Angela, don’t be ridiculous. You couldn’t survive for one night without all the comforts of home. Just once I’d like to be able to walk out this door and leave this house without having to go through all these theatrics.”

“I swear I will! I’ll run away where you’ll never find me—”