Within These Walls (36 page)

Having been dragged to Pier Pointe, she had tried to convince herself that perhaps now, with her mother out of the picture, things would be better. But they weren’t. If anything, they had become worse.

But her dad. She still loved him. She couldn’t leave him, not after what her mother had done to them both.

Vivi drew away from Jeff.
I can’t just leave.
She struggled for
words, a way to explain.
If I do, it’ll make me just like my mom.
Jeffrey’s offer was tempting, but she simply couldn’t abandon her father, not until she was sure he’d be okay on his own. But before the words could leave her throat, Jeff’s image shifted like steam beneath the sheen of her tears. He warped the way the street did beneath the burn of a summer sun. Suddenly Vivi wasn’t quite sure why she was so unafraid. How could she possibly have forgotten that the room she was standing in wasn’t hers? That the boy standing before her wasn’t . . . alive?

She jerked back.

He’s supposed to be dead.

But Jeff hadn’t just gone wavy beneath the weight of her emotion. For half a second, seeing the world through the lenses of her own tears, the seventeen-year-old had grown older than her dad, maybe even older than her grandfather. In that moment, she saw the truth. The teenage boy with the beautiful face looked about seventy years old. The youthful serenity was nothing but a mask. Beneath it was an old man’s hard stare. Angry, impatient, a look that told her she was thinking too much, hesitating for far too long. A moment later, he looked young again, his true form wiped from view. Handsome, alluring.

Except that now she was truly afraid.

This isn’t right.
Fear coiled around her insides, choking the bravery it had taken her weeks to summon.

“I . . .” She tried to think of something to say, but the thudding of her pulse derailed her train of thought. If Jeffrey Halcomb was dead, how could he be here and touch her? If he wasn’t really there, how could she smell the musky scent of oiled leather and exotic smoke that seemed to waft off his skin? He was more than a ghost. More than an apparition.

“You . . .” Jeff murmured at her, refusing to give her any extra space.

“I have to go,” she whispered. “I’m sorry, I just . . .”

“You’re just scared.” He finished the sentence for her. “There are different types of people in this world, Vivi. You’re a helper.”

No,
she thought.
He’s putting words in my mouth. He’s telling me what to think.

Her attention veered left.

“And you’re the one who’s going to help us all.”

She choked out a quiet yelp when she saw a girl standing in the corner. Vivi recognized her as Chloe Sears.

“I have faith in you, Vivi. I still believe you have the strength it takes to do the right thing.”

Over his shoulder, here now was Georgia Jansen, flanked by three younger girls.
Shelly.
Her mind paired a name with a face.
Laura.
Roxanna.
And the boys were there, too. They stood motionless, filling the already cramped space of the small room. Their eyes were fixed on her, unblinking, waiting for her to make the right decision. They were waiting for her to do whatever “helping” entailed.

“You wanted this,” Jeff reminded her.

No, I’m not sure anymore . . .

“You’re tired of being overlooked. But being overlooked is all you know.”

I am, but my dad loves me. I’m
sure
he still loves me . . .

“You’re afraid, I understand that. But you have to have
faith
.”

“Have faith,” the others whispered in unison.

“Everything we do, we do for each other,” Jeff said. “Do you understand?”

“I’m just scared.” She echoed his words to herself, trying to convince herself of that very point. “I’m just so scared.”

“You want this,” Jeff said. “You
need
this. It’s not you, Vivi, it’s
them
.”

Her gaze drifted back to Jeffrey, the comfort of his beauty sud
denly overwhelming. He reached out to her again, brushed a strand of blond behind her ear. But the moment his fingers drifted across her cheek, she saw the entire group downstairs: eight bodies lying on the rug. And in the center was the beautiful boy with a blond-haired girl, with
her
hair,
her
face, exhaling a final breath as blood geysered out of her abdomen.

Understanding crashed over her.
That
was what they wanted. For her to become like them. Trapped in some in-between world. She was just a stand-in. That was all.

“Don’t be afraid, Vivi,” Jeffrey said.

She pulled away from him.

“Don’t you see? You’re the answer to our prayers.”

“We’ve been waiting a long time,” said one of the girls.

“Waiting for you,” said another.

No.

Being part of something bigger than herself was one thing, but dying to be loved . . . ?

No, this isn’t me. I’m not that girl. I’m Vee, not Vivi. I’m Vee. Virginia Graham!

Vee shoved herself away from the window and ran for the bedroom door. She had to get out, she had to find her dad and run. She managed to fling the door open, and it swung wide and banged against the wall, trembling in its frame. And there was her father, as if sensing her desperation.

Dad!

She wanted to run to him, but something pulled Vee back. An invisible hand lifted her off the ground and threw her across the room. She briefly saw her father being flung in the opposite direction. Like two magnets with the same polarization, they were cast apart, having gotten too close.

Her back hit the far wall of the room. She crashed onto the bed.
Scrambling away, Vee ran into her closet, snatched up the silver cross she’d left there, desperate to have some form of defense. That need for self-defense was back. She had no idea what would happen if she tried to stab Jeffrey, only that she had to protect herself somehow.

“Stay away,” she whispered, holding up the cross like a naive girl in an old vampire movie.

Except, instead of hissing in pain and shielding his eyes, Jeffrey smiled, then shook his head with a tsk. “Vivi,” he said.

That’s not my name!
she wanted to scream.

“Don’t you understand? God is on
my
side. He’s the one that put me here, to lead
you
to salvation.”

The group chuckled among themselves, enjoying the joke.

Vee blinked at him, her back pressed hard against the wall. She tried to put as much distance between herself and the grinning ghosts as she possibly could.

“No. My father told me you tricked everyone,” she said, still holding the cross at arm’s length. “You said you were going to make everyone live forever, but they
died
.” She shot a look at Chloe Sears, at Georgia Jansen and Shelly Riordan. “Don’t you get it?” she said to them. “He’s a phony! If he was real, you’d all still be alive!”

It was a long shot. Perhaps she could bring them to her side, turn Jeff’s little following against him and save herself at the same time. For a second, she swore she could see their hideous grins waver like a desert mirage.

But Jeffrey moved toward her, leaned in, and placed his hands square against the wall just above her shoulder. His lingering smile vacillated between tolerant and annoyed.

“Vivi,” he said, his words slower than before. “You’re confused. You believe the words of a man who doesn’t even know
you’re
alive. Your father is a liar.”

“
No
,” she whispered. “You aren’t even real. I want to see my dad. Right now.”

“Fine.” He shrugged as though Vee’s request was of no consequence to him, then gave his group a look. “Let’s go see Dad,” he told them. “After all, a proper introduction is long overdue.” With that, the eight figures that stood around the room murmured as if in some sort of approval. Before Vee could comprehend what was happening, they had vanished, as though never having been there at all.

55

Monday, March 14, 1983

Three Hours Before the Sacrament

A
UDRA HADN’T SEEN
the world beyond the house for nearly three months—not a trip to the grocery store, not even a walk on the beach with Shadow by her side. She no longer knew what day it was. Her only hint at the month was suggested by a calendar that hung on the kitchen wall just shy of the fridge. But the days didn’t matter anymore. Her confinement seemed, at times, imposed by the weather rather than by the people she had once considered her friends. The bleakness of a Washington winter left the sky the color of steel. The ground was wet with cold rain, sent sideways against the windows by an unforgiving wind. If it wasn’t the rain, it was her exhaustion. Nearly nine months pregnant, she had swollen feet, and her fatigue was out of control. But it couldn’t dull the memory of Claire’s garbled scream. Every time Audra closed her eyes and began to drift, she found herself back in the Stephenson home—the floor smeared with Richard’s blood, a butcher knife held fast in her hand.

Despite her guilt, Audra had to focus on the baby.

She had no due date. No doctor to tell her the baby was healthy or whether it was a boy or a girl. None of those things seemed to matter to anyone, and she was left to pretend that it didn’t matter to her
just the same. Every time the baby shifted or rolled or kicked, it was a reminder that she would soon be a mother. The closer she inched to the birth of Jeffrey Halcomb’s offspring, the more she wondered if the child would know it had come from her womb. Would they allow her to raise the baby as her own, or would it be passed around among the girls?

Part of her wanted to believe that, had she been born again, she would have loved to have so many women doting over her. The adoration would have been a welcome change to the harsh, pointed peering of her own mother. Locked away in the house, Audra had a lot of time to think about things she wouldn’t have otherwise considered, like how, perhaps, turning her own mother into a grandma would improve their relationship. Perhaps a baby would jump-start something in her mother’s heart—that maternal instinct Audra couldn’t seem to pull away from herself. Because no matter what Jeff and the family believed,
she
wanted to be Mama. This was
her
baby, her little bundle. Samson if it was a boy, Sylvie if it was a girl. Sam or Vivi. It didn’t make a bit of difference to Audra which, just as long as she was the one raising it as her own.

But there was something wrong—not with the baby but with the group. Audra had sensed a shift in the past few weeks, but only now did she understand what was going on.

“We have to go to the clinic,” Gypsy said, motioning for Audra to get herself together and come downstairs. Clover had been posing as Audra for the past couple of months, smiling and presenting Audra’s driver’s license at the front desk. Nobody had asked questions. But now something had changed. “The prescription ran out,” Gypsy announced. “So you’re gonna have to fix it.”

And so they went to the clinic to fix it. Except it didn’t go the way the family had planned.

Now, with Audra sitting in the back of her own hatchback while Gypsy sped away from the pharmacy, the tension was worse than ever. Three months without seeing the outside world, and her reintroduction had taken place at a clinic counter. Her prescription couldn’t be refilled, nor could it be extended for a week, or even a few days.
I don’t even take them,
she wanted to say, but she had held her tongue and given the girl a pleading look.

“I’m sorry,” the counter girl said with an apologetic shake of the head. Audra could see her gaze bouncing from Jeff to Clover to Gypsy, the three of them seated in the small waiting area behind her. The girl leaned in with a murmur. “You shouldn’t be taking those types of pills while you’re with child, Ms. Snow. Have you spoken to your doctor? Is he aware you’re expecting?”

The answer was clear. No, her physician wasn’t aware of the baby. If he had been, the prescriptions would have been different, and they certainly wouldn’t have been expired.

“Please,” Audra said, “just refill it this once. Just a couple of days’ worth so I can make a doctor’s appointment. I haven’t had time to see him. If my father finds out I’m not . . .” She quieted herself, having said too much. Would it be so bad if her dad found out? Maybe this was exactly what she needed—a change of routine to alert him that something was wrong. He’d drive down or at least call. And while she was sure that her phone call would be monitored by someone looming over her shoulder, maybe she could let him know she needed his help in some secret, undetectable way.

Staring down at the counter, the receptionist discreetly slid a slip of paper Audra’s way.

Do you need help?

I don’t know,
she wanted to scream.
I don’t think so, but I’m scared. I hope not, but I’m terrified.

“I have to go,” she mumbled. “I’ll be back.”

“O-okay.” The counter girl looked worried as Audra turned away. Jeffrey stood from his seat, followed by Gypsy and Clover in kind. Jeff pushed the door open with the soft ding of a bell while Clover and Gypsy rushed her out of the building and back into the car.

“What the hell happened?” Jeff demanded after Gypsy pulled the hatchback onto the road. “Where are the pills?”

“The prescription is expired.” Audra spoke toward her hands. Perhaps, had they not locked her up for so long, she would have realized it was up for renewal. And yet, for some reason, she couldn’t help but blame herself for the mistake. Maybe now they’d really abandon her, except they’d take the baby with them and Audra would be left empty and alone.

Part of her believed it would be better that way.
Just give them the baby and forget this life.
You were never meant to be part of this family. And you were never meant to have a family of your own.
Maybe her dark fantasy of her mother finding her hanged in the summer home would come true after all. Except that a year and a half ago, her suicide would have been a way to spite her parents for their neglect. Now, killing herself would be nothing more than a cowardly way out of her own hopelessly lonely life. Because if a man like Jeffrey couldn’t love her—a man who loved so many unconditionally—if her
own mother
couldn’t have been bothered to care, it meant that there was something truly wrong with Audra Snow.

If they do let you keep the baby,
she thought,
it’ll be a wonder if it’ll be able to love you, either.
And then what? Would she grow to resent her own child? Is that what happened to her own mom?

Jeffrey sat motionless in the passenger seat for a long while, then slammed his hands against the dashboard in a rage, snapping Audra back to the present. It would be a matter of days, perhaps a week,
before her father would know about the expired prescription. Even if Audra managed to get an emergency appointment with her physician, the medication would change. The red flag would fly. The family’s time in Pier Pointe was up. It was time to pack, time to move on. She only wondered if they’d take her with them. It was one thing to find a place for nine grown adults, but to find a new home not for ten people but for ten, a dog,
and
a newborn child? Impossible. No, it was too tall an order. They’d leave her. They had to. There was no other way.

“Fuck!”
The profanity startled her as it came barreling out of Jeffrey’s throat. She’d never heard him curse like that before, had never seen him lose his cool so completely.

“It’s fine,” Gypsy said after a moment. “We’re close enough.”

“It couldn’t have been long now,” Clover added, her gaze drifting to Audra’s belly. “Maybe a week or two away.”

Audra furrowed her eyebrows at that. She shook her head, not understanding. “A week or two away from what?”

“From the birth,” Clover said.

“We have to deliver it now.” Gypsy’s voice was steady. “Today.”

“What?”
Audra’s heart leaped up into her throat. “What are you
talking
about? Deliver it . . .”

“Don’t be afraid,” Clover said, reaching across the backseat to place her hand on Audra’s stomach. Audra slapped it away, as though Clover’s touch had stung. Clover’s expression went hard. She faced forward, glaring through the windshield.

“I want to go to the hospital.” The request seemed a simple one. Logical. Of
course
she was going to deliver in a hospital. How else was her baby going to come into the world? But Gypsy shook her head from behind the wheel.

“Hospitals are full of demons,” she said. “Men and women who
want to inoculate unborn children into a system of unhappiness and pain.”

“It’s where the pain starts,” Clover murmured, though she kept her eyes straight ahead. “It’s where the downfall begins. Doctors. Drugs. The system.”

“School,” Gypsy cut in. “Work. Taxes. Death.”

“Lack of enlightenment,” Jeffrey said, calmer now, more to himself than to any of the girls. “A life, wasted. But this life won’t be wasted.
This
life will be spared of pain and suffering the minute it comes into the world. It will spare us the same pain and suffering.”

“Faith will prevail,” Gypsy and Clover echoed back in unison.

“Now is our time,” Jeff said.

“Patience will prevail,” the girls called back.

“What are you talking about?” Audra felt ready to choke, somehow unable to pull in air despite the cold wind drifting in through the partially rolled-down window. “I want to go to the hospital,” she repeated. “I’m having my baby at a
hospital
.”

“You’re having
my
baby,” Jeffrey said, his tone eerily composed. “That’s all that’s important. The where of it is of my choosing, of my making. You are the vessel. I am the father.”

She wanted to scream.

What’s happening?

Had the hatchback had rear doors, she would have yanked on the handle, tried to get out, thrown herself onto the unspooling road.

“We sacrifice ourselves for each other,” Jeff told her, not bothering to twist in his seat to look her way. Reassurance was gone. Comfort was but a shadow of a memory. “Our lives mean nothing separately. Together, we are eternal.”

Those words reverberated in her head. She’d heard them before, moments before Jeff had guided the blade of a knife involuntarily clasped in her own hand across Claire Stephenson’s throat.

A strained cry squeaked out of Audra’s throat.

“Who
are
you?” she whispered, her words all but obliterated by her own strangled sobs.

“Fear is to be expected,” Jeff said. “You’re weak. The weak are afraid of everything.”