Curse of Black Tor (16 page)

In a deep voice the figure intoned, “The devil rides the blue flame and he is among us. Form the circle.”

“Around the fire everyone,” Cathleen intoned. “Quickly, form a circle around the fire! Hold hands--find your partner and hold hands--man, woman around the circle.”

Jules started toward the fire, bringing Martha with him. Horrified, she gasped, “No, I can’t.” The scene filled her with horror.

“Don’t be upset--this is just Cathleen’s fakery.”

Martha swallowed the bile in her throat. The cowled figure and the blue-flamed fire were a repetition of a scene from Johann's The Unmasking of Hell. The circle of sycophants—everything. Cathleen had planned this. For her. For Marty Collier.

Chapter Fifteen

Martha had caught a glimpse or two of Bran during the evening. Now she saw him watching her from the partially formed circle, Cathleen's hand in his. Did he know, too? Did everyone know she had been Marty Collier?

There was no place to run. Jules, holding her right hand, pulled her into the circle. Then someone else took her left hand. She glanced to the left and saw it was Charn, and her muscles tensed, but his grasp was firm. Now the circle was complete. Josephine stood to the other side of Jules.

The hooded figure in the center began chanting in a ghastly travesty of the warlock scene from The Unmasking of Hell:

Lord Asmodeus

Demon of dark lore,

We, your worshippers

Bring blood to your altar—

The circle moved widdershins, slowly at first, picking up speed as the chant grew faster.

Martha clenched her teeth, soon now the warlock would throw back his hood and point his finger to bring Nida forth from the others…

The cowl fell from the head of the robed figure, and she stared at the white-haired man inside the circle. It was Matthew, Natalie's husband.

Martha felt a drag on her right hand. The circle slowed. “All right, everyone—refreshments and prizes.” Jules's voice, not Cathleen's. The circle broke up. Martha pulled her hand from Charn's and went to Josephine's side. Cathleen strode past her toward Jules.

“I wasn't finished—we didn't get to the best part. You promised me—”

“I did no such thing,” Jules said. “I told you anything in good taste, and this was rapidly passing that point. I certainly hope you hadn't intended to go on with the rest of that ugly scene. And you, Matthew--”

Matthew, who had come up behind Martha, spread his hands. “Actually, the original work—the novel—was quite authentic,” he said. “Collier perverted it for the movie, to appeal to prurient tastes, but the book—”

“I found the movie offensive,” Jules said. “I've never read the book. Cathleen told me she wanted folk dancing tonight.” He raised his voice. “Back to the house!” he called to the crowd.

“Honestly, Jules, you're such a stick sometimes,” Cathleen said.

“But not a liar,” he told her.

Most of the people had drifted past them and into the woods, heading for the house. Flashlights bobbed among the trees.

“No more liar than she is—your precious nurse who calls herself Martha Jamison.'' Cathleen jerked her head at Martha. “Ask her about the movie, about Johann Collier. She ought to know—she was his wife! She's Marty Collier!”

The few remaining people looked at Martha. She saw the yellow glint of reflected fire in Jules's eyes and spoke only to him.

“I am Martha Jamison,” she said. “I resumed my maiden name. I was Johann Collier's wife, yes. I'd like to forget it. The past was—very painful.”

Matthew spoke first. “Personally, I never believed you were guilty,” he said.

“Guilty of what?” Josephine asked.

“The newspapers hinted of irregularities in Johann Collier's death,” Matthew said. “Scandal sheets—that's all they are.”

“I don't remember much about it,” Josephine said. “Didn't he commit suicide?”

“The police decided he had,” Matthew said. “They—”

“I believe you should rejoin your guests, Cathleen,” Jules cut in. “It's rude to keep them waiting.”

“Martha told me she'd been married,” Josephine said. “She didn't lie to me. What do I care who she was married to? What difference does it make?”

Cathleen put an arm over Josephine's shoulders. “Now that we know who Martha is, we also know what kind of person she is. Hardly fit to care for an innocent like you, Josie.”

“I'm not Josie! Don't you call me that!” Josephine flung off Cathleen's arm and looked about the clearing, her eyes wide and distraught.

Jules took Josephine's arm. “We're going back to the house,” he said. Then he glanced at the group left under the flickering lanterns. “Charn, you lead and I'll bring up the rear so no one will lose their way.”

Martha hurried to her room as soon as they reached the house. She closed her door and sat on the bed. Would Jules want her to leave immediately? Was there a way off the island at night?

Jules hadn't looked at or spoken to her after learning that she was Marty Collier. He saw it as deception, pure and simple. I'm Martha Jamison, she said to herself. Always. I tried to be what Johann wanted—Marty. But I couldn’t be. I was just Martha, after all.

Josephine burst into the room.
“
Oh, please don't go away from Black Tor, Martha!” she cried. She sat on the bed Indian fashion and touched Martha's arm. “I know how you don't want to be Marty—why you didn't want to say you were. Cathleen was mean to tell like she did in front of everybody. She's jealous because of Jules. But I need you here. I need one friend. Please, Martha.”

“I think whether I stay is up to Jules, don't you?” Martha said. “After all, he may feel I shouldn't be your companion.
”

“That's silly,” Josephine said.

But Josephine didn't remember what the newspapers had hinted—that Marty Collier was the model for the depraved Nida.

Martha smiled wanly at her. “Why don't you go down and join the party,” she suggested. “You'll miss the prizes and—”

“I don't care about Cathleen's old party,” Josephine said. “She thinks she's so irresistible, anyway, hanging on to your—your friend Bran so he couldn't even speak to you tonight.”

Had Bran been in the group who had heard Cathleen denounce her? Martha wondered. She hadn't noticed; all she'd seen was Jules's set face, cold and unfriendly. Josephine had been there and Charn. And Matthew.

“I was surprised to see your Uncle Matthew as the—in that costume tonight,” Martha said. “He seems so quiet.”

“Oh, Cathleen probably told him it was to educate everyone about folklore or old customs or something like that. He's sort of a fanatic about those things.” She giggled. “Aunt Natalie will be furious when she finds out.”

She stared at Martha. “What was that movie all about? Sex and witchcraft?”

Martha nodded. “More or less. My—Johann wasn't quite...well. He wasn't normal. He saw life as he portrayed it in The Unmasking of Hell. Distorted.” Josephine grimaced.

“He sounds awful. No wonder you don't want to be Marty Collier.”

Not awful, Martha thought, but before she could say anything there was a knock at the door and Jules came in.

“Please go to your room, Josephine,” he said.

“I want Martha to stay at Black Tor,” she told him quickly.

Martha touched Josephine's arm. “Do what your brother says, Josephine. Please.”

Josephine got up from the bed and went to the door, giving Jules a black look as she passed him. He shut the door behind her.

Martha remained seated on the bed. He stood over her in silence.

“You could have told me,” he said at last.

She shook her head. “You wouldn't have hired me.” She nervously fingered the coral necklace under her shirt.

“I'd like you to stay on until I can make-—other arrangements,” he said.

“Of course.” She didn't look at him.

“Martha...I must apologize for tonight's—performance. I had no idea Cathleen meant to—” He broke off.

“Expose me?” she asked, her words clipped. “Perhaps it was for the best. At least now I’m sure it wasn’t you who…” Too late she realized what she was saying.

“What wasn't me?”

She took a deep breath. “The first night I was at Black Tor, a man came into my room—I hadn't locked my door—and he tried to—” She rose from the bed, walked to her dresser and unhooked the coral necklace. “He thought I would let him—make love to me because he knew I was Marty Collier. I screamed and reached for the light, and he ran. I never did see who he was. I decided later it was probably Simon, but I never did know for sure. After that I kept my door locked at night.”

“And you thought I... ?”

Martha turned to face Jules. “I didn't really know who the man was,” she told him. “So I said nothing. I understand why you want me to leave Black Tor. But I want you to understand me, too. I'm not—not Nida, not the heroine of Johann's movie. I never was.”

He grasped her arms.

“Please, Jules,” she said.

“I want you,” he told her. “I've felt you respond to me.”

“Let me go. Please.” Tears filled her eyes.

“You could stay in Victoria,” he said. “I'd—”

“No!” she cried, twisting from him. “Go away! You're like all the rest—you're like Johann. You want to believe I'm Nida—a windup sex doll. And I'm not, I'm not! Go away, oh, go away!”

He stared at her for a moment, then turned and left the room. She locked the door behind him, threw herself on the bed and cried until she was exhausted. Then, numbed, she changed into her nightgown and crawled under the covers.

She dreamed of Bran, with his brown beard blowing in the ocean breeze. But when she looked at him again she saw it was Jules, instead, Jules with his grandfather's beard—with old Abel's beard. Jules against the gray sea, the two of them on a boat that rocked in choppy waters. The black fin of a killer whale followed the boat, and every so often the black-and-white head would pop up for a look and smile its sinister smile...

Someone was knocking on her door. Martha's eyes flew open to daylight.

“Are you all right, Martha?” Josephine’s voice

She got out of bed and unlocked the door, still bemused by her dream. Was that why she'd dreamed of old Abel before she'd seen his picture? Combining Bran and Jules?

“I heard you crying last night,” Josephine said.

“I'm all right now,” Martha told her.

“Are you—did Jules say... ?”

“I'm going to be here for a little while, anyway.” Let Jules explain to his sister.

“I went downstairs for a while last night,” Josephine said. “Cathleen was nasty to everybody and the party broke up early. The people who were going to stay at Black Tor went to the Empress, instead. Bran told me to tell you he was coming by to pick us up about ten this morning and we'd have lunch out.”

“But Jules....”

“Bran said he asked Jules before the party and Jules thought it would be a nice outing.” Josephine made a face.

Martha thought of the scene with Jules in her room and the earlier nastiness of the circle in the clearing. She wanted to be away from Black Tor and its people. Except for Josephine.

“All right, let's plan to go,” she agreed. “Did Bran say where?”

“He said he'd surprise us.”

Sarah ran into the room and jumped on the bed, bouncing. “What's a surprise?” she said.

Josephine looked at Sarah for a moment, then at Martha. “Maybe we could—take her along?” she asked.

Martha hesitated. Josephine's glance had been calculating. Did she intend to run off and see her mysterious Diego while they were out that day, hoping that Sarah would distract both Martha and Bran?

“We'll have to see,” Martha said. “Maybe.”

“I saw Uncle Matthew last night,” Sarah said. “He was dressed in a costume. I asked him if he was a monk, but he said he was a sorcerer. Then I asked him if he could call Shishchuikul out of the mountain, and he said he could.”

She couldn’t tell Sarah the truth about last night, so she asked, “Who's that?”

“Shishchuikul? Oh, he's sort of a monster who lives inside the mountain. He's got red hair. Only really bright red. Not like yours, Martha.”

Josephine laughed. “You've been listening to Uncle Matthew's Indian stories again. I don't know how you remember all the names. You ought to tell them to Bran today. I’ll bet he'd like to hear about Shishchuikul,”

“Are we going out with Bran? The one who took Martha on the tallyho?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

“Don't you like him?” Josephine asked.

“Maybe he won't want to take me,” Sarah said.

“Why not?”

“Oh, just because.”

“You're silly,” Josephine told her. “Don't you want to go?”

“Oh, yes, I do want to.”

Martha watched the two of them and felt her throat constrict. I’ll miss Sarah, too, she thought. Josephine and Sarah. They seem almost like my family. Maybe because they feel as displaced as I do.