Authors: R.L. Stine
Dance of Death (6 page)
Deborah shrugged. “To tell you the truth, no one really knows,” she answered. She led Madeline back down the hall.
“She was living in the house when Marcus and I bought this place. It was a condition of the sale that she be allowed to stay.”
What a strange arrangement, Madeline thought. But Deborah and Marcus appeared to be very poor. Perhaps the price of the house was low because Auntie would have to continue to live here. They may not have been able to afford any other place.
“I'm sorry if she frightened you,” Deborah continued. “This is her part of the house. What on earth were you doing so far from your room?”
Should I tell her? Should I tell her that the man I saw in the road this afternoon slipped into my bedroom? And that I chased him down this hallway?
Madeline remembered the conversation she overheard in her room between her cousins. Deborah and Marcus were already worried because they thought Madeline was imagining things.
What would they think if she told them the man was here, in their own house? In Madeline's very own room?
They'll think I'm insane. Just like Mama.
I can't tell them. I can't tell anyone.
“I tried to come downstairs to find you and Cousin Marcus,” she stammered. She hoped Deborah couldn't tell she was lying. “I got confused by the corridors in the dark and lost my way.”
Deborah stared at Madeline, her eyes sharp. Madeline's heart began to pound. What would she do if her cousin said she didn't believe her?
“How unfortunate,” Deborah said at last. “It appears you've had a fright for nothing. But let's not think about that any longer. I have exciting news. You received an invitation. Who do you suppose it's from?”
Madeline felt her heart give a great leap. There was only one other person who she knew in Shadowbrook.
“Is the invitation from Dr. Fear?” she asked, trying to hide the eagerness in her voice.
“Dr. Fear,” Deborah teased as she led Madeline into her own dressing room. “My dear, how coy you are. Of course the invitation is from
Justin.
I could tell at once that he was quite smitten with you. He's considered quite a catch in Shadowbrook, you know,” Deborah confided.
She guided Madeline to a soft chair. “All the other girls will be terribly jealous. Now, you must allow me to lend you a dress for your visit. I know you have clothes of your own, but I have something that I think is absolutely perfect.”
Madeline watched as Deborah flung open her wardrobe and began sorting through a row of dresses.
“But, Cousin Deborah,” she protested. “You and Cousin Marcus have already given me so much. I can't take one of your dresses, too.”
Cousin Deborah laughed gaily. “Nonsense, my dear,” she said. “We must help you make the best possible impression on Justin. Ah, here it is.”
Madeline's breath caught in her throat at the sight of the beautiful dress her cousin held up. The creamy white satin gown had long, sheer sleeves, a high back bustle and a long train. Tiny brilliants were stitched all over it. The beads sparkled and winked in the candlelight.
Deborah pulled Madeline to her feet and held the dress up against her slim form. Then she turned her around to face the large oval mirror.
“Oh, my dear. You're breathtaking,” Deborah exclaimed.
Madeline felt herself blush as she admired her reflection. The pale white satin set off her dark hair and eyes to perfection.
I look like a fairy princess, she thought dreamily. Or like aâ
“I can't wait to see the expression on Justin's face when he sees you in this dress,” Deborah gushed. “My dear, you're going to look just like a bride.”
A bride!
Justin's bride.
Madeline shivered. This room is so drafty, she thought.
“Heavens, my dear,” Deborah exclaimed. “What a strange reaction. You look as if somebody just walked across your grave.”
10
A
s she strolled up the stone walk to Justin's house, Madeline spotted Justin in the rose garden. She walked toward him, then stopped at the garden gate.
She felt her mouth go suddenly dry and her heart thudded with anticipation. Justin is so handsome, she thought, as she watched him moving among the fragrant flowers. His well-cut garments molded his perfect body. The clear morning sunlight turned his hair the color of spun gold.
What will he think of my new dress? Will he like it? Or will he think that it is too obvious? That I'm making a bid for his attention? Asking him to picture me as his bride?
Justin moved from rosebush to rosebush. At each bush, he stopped and stroked his fingertips across the
petals of one of the blossoms. The bushes shivered and swayed at his touch.
Madeline leaned against the gate and it creaked beneath her weight.
Justin spun around instantly. “Madeline!” he cried.
“Hello, Justin,” Madeline shyly greeted him.
Justin smiled. He walked over to her and eased the gate open. “I'm so pleased you could come this afternoon,” he told her. “How are you feeling? Is your head bothering you at all?”
“Oh, no,” Madeline told him. “I had an excellent doctor.”
Justin grinned at her. “I thought we could have tea in the garden,” he said. He gestured to a small table surrounded by rosebushes.
“That sounds wonderful,” Madeline replied.
“Let's take a walk around the garden first,” Justin said. “I've some rare and precious treasures here,” he confided.
The fragrance of the roses hung heavily in the air. Madeline breathed in the perfume deeply. A feeling of nausea swept over her. Bile rose in her throat. She swallowed down the bitter taste.
What's the matter with me? Madeline thought. I love the scent of roses.
I'm just nervous about being alone with Justin, she decided. That's all.
“It was very good of you to invite me,” Madeline said. “I hope I'm not interrupting your work.”
“I would never mind an interruption from you, Madeline,” Justin assured her. His blue eyes glowed warmly as he spoke. “I will always be pleased to see you. I hope you'll believe that.”
“I want to believe it,” Madeline answered.
I didn't mean to say that! she thought.
Justin's eyes burned with a brilliant blue fire as he looked down at her. Madeline felt her whole body begin to flush.
How can I have such strong feelings for him already? I only just met him. Everything is happening much too fast!
But she couldn't seem to stop the feelings of warmth and dreamy contentment that spread through her. Warmth that seemed to pour into her from Justin's eyes.
Feeling hypnotized, she watched as he placed two fingers under her chin and tilted her face up.
He's going to kiss me, Madeline realized. She felt sleepy, almost drugged. A strange heaviness filled her limbs. She felt powerless to stop him. Not that she wanted to.
Justin smiled, as if he knew her thoughts. Then he brought his lips down on hers.
Justin's lips were firm and demanding. Madeline felt herself beginning to respond. She wrapped her arms around his neck and put her whole being into her kiss. Justin's arms tightened until she couldn't catch her breath.
I want to stay in his arms forever. This is where I belong.
The kiss ended and Justin pressed his lips against Madeline's forehead.
“I knew it,” he murmured. “I knew you were the one.”
They stood with their arms around each other for a moment. Madeline could feel Justin's heart pounding. She knew hers beat just as furiously. She felt light-headed and weak.
I mustn't rush into anything. I should take more time, Madeline thought.
“Come,” Justin finally murmured. “We better do something a little more proper or we'll shock the whole neighborhood. I know, I'll cut a rose for you.”
He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. Then he drew her toward the far end of the rose garden.
“This is my newest variety. My pride and joy. I'm going to call it a bridal rose. What do you think?”
Madeline stared down at the roses. The delicate white petals were splashed with red, like drops of blood. Thick red thorns studded the slim stems.
Madeline shivered.
“What's the matter?” Justin asked. “Don't you think they are beautiful?”
“Of course I do,” Madeline stammered. “I've just never seen roses like them. It looks like the whole bush is ⦠spattered with blood.”
“Blood,” Justin echoed. He studied the rose for a moment. “It does, doesn't it,” he said. “I never thought of it that way before.”
A strange smile flitted across his face. Madeline shivered again.
Justin knelt and cut a single rose from the bush. He stripped the thorns from the stem with his pocket knife. Then he tenderly placed it in Madeline's hands. He curled her fingers around it, pressing them tightly down.
A sharp pain swept through Madeline's palm and up her arm. “Justin,” Madeline cried. “Stop. You're hurting me.”
But Justin only pressed her hand more tightly around the stem. Fiery jolts of pain shot up Madeline's arm. Justin pressed her hand again.
Blood ran from between Madeline's clenched fingers and dripped into the folds of her beautiful white dress.
She struggled, trying to twist her hand out of Justin's grasp. Her efforts only increased the pain.
“Justin,” she gasped. “Please, let go.”
Justin wrapped his other hand around hers and squeezed it, tighter. And tighter. Black spots danced in front of Madeline's eyes. Her ears rang. Her lungs ached with the effort of breathing.
“Justin,” she panted.
“Justin. Let go!”
“Oh, Madeline,” Justin murmured. “We're going to be so happy together. Can't you just feel it?”
He raised her bloody hand and pressed it to his lips.
Madeline screamed.
Justin jerked his head back. Blood ran from the corners of his mouth and dripped down from his chin.
He licked his lips once. Twice. Then he smiled.
Madeline gasped at the sight of her blood smeared across his perfect white teeth. Justin ran his tongue across them. Madeline felt herself gag and pressed her hands over her mouth.
Justin flipped her hand over and pried Madeline's fingers open. One rose thorn was embedded in the very center of her palm.
“Oh, no,” Justin cried. He yanked the thorn out. Madeline felt the terrible pain in her arm begin to ease a little, though her head still swam.
Justin raised her hand. Madeline felt his teeth bite into the flesh of her palm.
“Justin!” she cried. “What are you doing?”
Justin fastened his lips to the wound he created. And then he began to suck Madeline's blood.
11
Shadowbrook, New York, 1793
T
obias opened his journal and began to write.
