Blood Games (36 page)

    The breeze was stronger here. It felt a little cooler than before. Though she wanted to feel it on her skin, she held her blouse shut as she squinted in the direction of Batty’s cabin.

    She couldn’t see it, but she did spot a willow that might be die one concealing the rowboat.

    Not very far away.

    Batty would have a clear view of them.

    ‘You coming or what?’ Finley called from the other side of the inlet.

    She and Cora were already out shiny and dripping and staring at her. Vivian was boosting herself onto the slab of rock at Finley’s feet.

    Abilene leaped. She gasped as the cold water rushed up her body. Dunking her head, she savored the chill. Then she made her way to the other side, set the plastic bottle on the ledge and climbed up.

    Just as she’d expected, the chill stayed with her. The breeze felt wintery against her wet skin. She shivered. But she knew the sensation wouldn’t last long.

    She walked over the rocks, following the others into the woods. Her sodden feet made squelching sounds inside her sneakers, and she was struck by the memory of Helen, long ago, squelching across the restroom floor after stepping into the toilet. Ol’ Yellow Foot She smiled. Then she saw Helen sprawled on the shower room floor, dead, and a clump of ice seemed to form in her stomach.

    She’s in the shower room right now, in the blackness, all alone.

    Though the heat had already melted away the last traces of chill from Abilene’s skin, she crawled with goosebumps. She rubbed her pebbly forearms and thighs.

    
It’s not Helen in the shower room
, she told herself.
Just her body. Her spirit isn’t there. Her soul’s free, doing whatever it is that souls do
.

    
If souls exist.

    
They’ve got to. You can’t just die and that’s it…

    No. Abilene had long ago decided that death was a change, not an end. You leave your body behind, but something goes on. Though raised as a Protestant, she didn’t much care for the concepts of heaven and hell. She rather liked the idea of reincarnation.

    
If you don’t come back, maybe you become part of the universe.

    
Or maybe you stay a soul and go exploring.

    
Maybe anything. No way to know. Not until you go toes up.

    
It’d be nice if Helen could tell us what’s next.

    
When all this is over
, she thought,
maybe we could hold a seance or something. If we can manage to find a medium who isn’t a fake.

    Batty.

    ‘Hold up a minute,’ Abilene said. The others halted. Joining them, she said, ‘I just had an idea. Instead of just bullshitting Batty to get him off guard, why don’t we see if he’ll… run a seance. You know? Maybe we can get in touch with Helen.’

    ‘You gotta be kidding,’ Finley said.

    ‘It’s worth a try. Seriously. If Batty does that kind of stuff… It wouldn’t hurt to ask.’

    ‘You don’t really believe…’ Cora began.

    ‘I don’t know what I believe. But what if we can… communicate with Helen? I know it sounds crazy, but Batty did tell us where we’d find her. Maybe he does have some kind of special powers. If he can get in touch with Helen, we might be able to find out some things. Like who killed her.’

    ‘And where the keys are,’ Vivian added.

    ‘You too?’ Cora asked.

    ‘I don’t see any harm in trying. You never know.’

    Finley shook her head and rolled her eyes upward. ‘The heat’s gotten to both of you.’

    ‘I know it sounds crazy,’ Abilene said. Her throat suddenly going tight, she blurted, ‘I just want to find out if she’s all right. ’ Finley grimaced.

    Cora stared grimly at Abilene.

    ‘I know she’s dead, okay?’

    ‘I think Helen would want us to try it,’ Vivian said. ‘If she were here, she’d be all for it. Hell, she’d love the idea of sitting around with a witch or whatever Batty is and trying to call up spirits of the dead.’

    A corner of Finley’s mouth curled up and she nodded. ‘Yeah. Crap like that would make her day.’

    ‘We’ll see,’ Cora said. ‘But I’ve had enough blood to drink for one day.’

    ‘Yeah,’ Finley said. ‘If it starts getting too weird…’

    ‘We’ll just play it by ear,’ Abilene said.

    ‘Batty might not agree to do it anyway,’ Vivian pointed out. They made their way around the northern end of the lake. As they neared Batty’s cabin, Cora and Finley put their shirts back on and Abilene buttoned her blouse. She wondered how her hair looked, and smiled. It’s like approaching the home of relatives after a long drive, she thought A few blocks away, you brush your hair, freshen your lipstick. But this wasn’t a relative. This was a crazy hermit about to be visited by four young women planning to rob him.

    
We can’t steal his stuff if he gets in touch with Helen for us. It wouldn’t be right We’ve gotta have that shotgun.

    
It won’t be exactly stealing if we bring the stuff back when we’re finished.

    
Forced borrowing.

    ‘Batty!’ Cora shouted. ‘It’s us again! Hello?’

    Startled from her thoughts, Abilene gazed past the others. She saw only more trees in the gloom ahead, and wondered why Cora had called out Down the shore to the right however, she spotted the rowboat rocking and bobbing on the choppy water. She looked again into the trees. This time, she was able to make out the vague shape of the cabin.

    Her stomach knotted.

    
Oh Christ, we’re here.

    Heart thudding, she took a deep breath and followed the others toward the porch.

    ‘Hello!’ Cora called again. ‘Batty! It’s us!’

    ‘We’ve got something for you,’ Finley added, hoisting Helen’s sleeping bag overhead.

    The screen door swung open. Batty stepped onto the porch, the shotgun cradled in his arms. Her arms, Abilene thought The old lunatic looked uglier and wilder than she remembered. And somehow, now, more like a woman than like a man.

    Batty studied them with squinted eyes. ‘Find y’friend?’

    ‘We did,’ Cora answered. ‘She’s dead.’

    ‘Can’t help that. Get away from here.’

    ‘We brought this for you,’ Finley said, and dangled the sleeping bag by its draw-cord.

    ‘Got no use for it.’

    ‘What do you have a use for?’ Cora asked.

    Batty just stared at her.

    ‘We’d like you to do a seance for us.’ The pale blue eyes shifted to Abilene. ‘We want you to contact the spirit of our friend. Do you do that kind of thing?’

    ‘Mebbie.’

    ‘We’ll give you whatever you want If we’ve got it, it’s yours.’

    ‘Anythin’?’

    ‘Within reason.’

    ‘Get on in here.’ Batty turned away and entered the cabin. The screen door banged shut.

    Cora in the lead, they climbed the creaking plank stairs and crossed the porch. She held the door open, then followed them inside.

    Amos, on the rocker, raised its head off its paws and gazed at them. The white fur of its face was clean.

    Maybe some other cat… No, it had been Amos. Lapping up Helen’s blood.

    Beast.

    But at least it’s here, Abilene told herself. It didn’t get trapped inside the changing room with Helen, after all. Thank God for that.

    ‘Sit,’ Batty said, using the shotgun to gesture toward the table.

    Each went to the same chair she’d occupied that morning, and sat down.

    Batty propped the shotgun against the wall near the head of the bed. ‘Ain’t simple, y’know, callin’ up dead folk.’

    ‘But you can do it?’ Abilene asked.

    ‘Done it plenty. Y’ friend got herself killed, did she?’

    ‘She was murdered with a knife,’ Cora said.

    ‘Figgers.’

    ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Finley asked.

    ‘Y’ don’t dally ’round the ghost lodge ’less y’aim to get y’guts spilled out.’ Batty pulled the big knife from its scabbard, stepped between Cora and Vivian, and swept the blade down, ramming its point deep into the center of the table. ‘Gotta fetch some items.’

    ‘So you’ll do it?’ Abilene asked.

    ‘Gimme what I want, I’ll call her up.’

    ‘What do you want?’

    ‘Jest a finger.’

    ‘A fingerT Abilene gasped.

    ‘Jest a one. Don’t matter which, ’r who gives. Want her whole, though, right off at the first joint. TTiere’s the knife right there.’ With that, Batty hobbled out of the room.

    Finley met Abilene’s eyes. ‘Play it by ear, huh?’

    The back door clapped shut.

    ‘I didn’t expect anything like this,’ Abilene muttered.

    ‘Wants to put it in a jar, no doubt’

    A grim smile formed on Cora’s face. ‘So. Anyone want to donate?’

    ‘Here’s your big chance, Hickok. This was your idea.’

    ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Vivian told her.

    Reaching out, Abilene clutched the knife handle. She tugged at it, working the blade back and forth until its tip jumped from the wood.

    ‘Hey!’ Finley gasped. ‘You’re not…’

    ‘Now we’ve both got knives,’ Abilene said.

    Finley looked relieved.

    ‘I may be gullible, but I’m not crazy.’

    Cora shoved back her chair, rushed across the floor, and grabbed the shotgun. As she whirled around, die others sprang from their seats.

    ‘Let’s get!’ Finley blurted.

    Cora shook her head. ‘We’ve got some business to finish.’ She shouldered the weapon and aimed its long barrels toward the kitchen entryway. With a glance down at the breech, she muttered, ‘Wonder if it’s loaded.’

    ‘I’m sure it is,’ Vivian said.

    ‘We oughta get more shells before we…’

    A screen door bammed shut. After a few unsteady shuffling sounds, Batty stepped into the living room and halted. Cupped in her hands - or his - was a human skull. A skull with bulging eyes. Abilene wondered if they’d come from the jar Cora had dropped in the shed. She imagined Batty scurrying around, crouching and picking up a couple and stuffing them into the sockets.

    ‘Come in here and sit down,’ Cora said. She nodded toward the table.

    ‘What’s this foolishness?’

    ‘Doit!’

    Batty carried the bug-eyed skull to the table, set it down, then sank onto one of the chairs.

    ‘For starters, take off the shoes.’

    ‘No,’ Vivian said. ‘They were fair payment. We don’t take them.’

    ‘Suit yourself.’ Squinting down the sight ramp at Batty, Cora asked, ‘Where do you keep your extra ammunition?’

    ‘Yonder.’ A nod at the shelves.

    ‘I’ll get the ax,’ Vivian said. As she bolted from the room, Abilene and Finley scanned the shelves.

    ‘I see ’em.’ Finley rushed across the floor, reached up, and plucked a small red box from between a black candle and a bowl. It was the same bowl, Abilene realized, that they’d used for the bleeding ritual.

    ‘Y’gonna rue the day y’tampered with old Batty.’

    ‘Screw you,’ Finley said. She flipped open the flimsy lid and dug into the box. Her hand came out full of shotgun shells. She dumped them into a pocket of her shorts, then tossed the empty box aside.

    ‘That’s all?’ Cora asked.

    ‘Y’take my over ’n under, I’m gonna call down a curse on all y’heads. It’ll be my killin’ curse.’

    ‘Curse away, bat brain,’ Finley said.

    ‘We’re only going to borrow it,’ Abilene said. ‘This, too,’ she added, raising Batty’s knife. ‘We need to have some weapons. But we’ll bring everything back to you. I promise.’

    The way Batty looked at her, she wished she’d kept her mouth shut. ‘Doubt it. But I’ll get’m back. I’ll pick ’em up my own self outa y’dead hands.’

    ‘Not if you’re dead first, gonzo,’ Finley said. ‘Hey, Cora, go ahead and blow his fucking head off. Or hers. Or whatever. We don’t want that curse on us, do we?’

    Abilene couldn’t tell whether or not she was serious.

    Cora kept the shotgun trained on Batty’s face, but didn’t pull the trigger.

    Vivian hurried back into the room. An ax rested over one shoulder. ‘We ready to go?’

    ‘Find something we can use to tie Batty up,’ Cora said.

    ‘Right here,’ Finley said. She stepped up close to the side of the chair. ‘Get your arms up. Good. Keep them that way. Touch me and you’ll be sorry.’ Crouching, Finley unbuckled Batty’s belt and pulled it from the few remaining loops of die faded, cutoff jeans. The knife scabbard dropped to the floor. She tossed it to Abilene.

    Abilene sheathed the knife and slid it under the waistband of her skirt. It went under the side of her panties, too, but she decided that was all right. The leather case felt smooth and soft like doe skin.

    Finley was standing upright now, frowning at Batty, the belt in her hands.

    ‘What’s the problem?’ Cora asked.

    ‘Just trying to figure out the best way to…’

    Abilene glimpsed a flying streak of white. Amos. ‘Look out!’

    Cora yelped, staggered forward under the impact and twisted around. The cat had hit her just above the waist. It clawed its way up her back, ripping cloth and skin.

    Before the others could move to help her, Batty’s upraised right hand darted sideways, clutched the front of Finley’s shirt, and yanked. Buttons popped away. A quick stumble, and Finley dropped across Batty’s thighs.

    Like a kid about to be spanked.

    Cora dropped the shotgun, tucked, and jumped. In midair, she flipped herself heels over head. The cat rode her down. Her back slammed it against the floor.