Mother (68 page)

Awareness filtered into her eyes and she fixed Dave in a hard stare. “I fucked you. I fucked
you
, Father Flannigan.” Her voice cracked and she coughed hard. “But you already know that, don’t you?” She wept, but the fight had gone out of her.

Dave had waited so long to hear the truth, thinking perhaps he might find some compassion for her after the things she’d done … but now that he’d heard it all, he felt no pity for the creature beneath him. He willed himself to speak calmly. “You’re a monster, Priscilla Martin. Perhaps God will absolve you, but I cannot.”
 

The door exploded open, revealing a wall of flames. Fire snaked across the rug and began feeding on the stuffed dogs on the floor.
 

“Forgive me, Father, please!” Prissy’s eyes begged, and in them Dave saw terror. Terror, and resignation. It was strange to see such vulnerability in those eternally defiant eyes. And he saw his own reflection too, and the fire rising behind him.

“No.” He was fading fast. “Your deeds are unforgivable. There is no redemption.” He took a deep breath, coughed, and spoke his final words as fire climbed the bedspread. “You’re a monster. And so am I. This is what we deserve. I’m going to escort you to Hell.”

She coughed, deep in her lungs. The desperation in her eyes was gone now, and she turned her head, went still, resigned to her fate. Her eyes rolled back, and the last thing Dave saw before his vision darkened was her hand, curled into a claw, clutching a golden hank of her dead son’s hair.
 

And then the flames came and turned the bed into a sea of fire.

Babs ran toward Prissy’s house when she saw the front door open. Jason was carrying Claire in his arms, but by the time she arrived, he had set her down and he and Steffie Banks had their arms around her waist, supporting her. They were staring up at the house from the front walk.

“Claire!” she cried. “Are you all right?”

“Aunt Babs, we’re fine. We’re waiting for Paul and Andy-”

 
Just then, the two men appeared. Frederick was in Paul’s arms. Andy toted a folded wheelchair and Claire’s crutches.

“Dad!” Claire called.

“What’s going on?” asked Babs.

American Pie
rose from Hank’s radio, singing to them about the day the music died. The neighbors began to crowd around. Roddy Crocker pushed his way through. “What’s burning? Something’s burning.”

“I don’t smell anything.” Aida sniffed the air.

“You will,” the cop said.

 
Father Andy unfolded the wheelchair and Paul helped Fred into it.
 

“Oh dear God,” said Babs looking up at the house. Smoke, thick and black, rose from beneath the eaves.
 

Phyllis Stine shrieked and fell into her husband’s arms as flames shot from a vent on the roof.
 

“Holy shit!” Hank Lowell said. “Someone call the fire dep-”

“No,” said Andy. “Not yet.”

There was a ripple of murmurs.

Babs whispered to Carl as they watched smoke seep from windows and eaves and pour from more roof vents until they could see nothing but flames and dark smoke.
 

Andy turned and faced the crowd. “Not yet.” He looked directly at Roddy Crocker. “This is a last request from Father Dave. We’ll call the fire department before it threatens any other houses. But not until we’re sure it’s … over.”
 

Roddy’s confusion turned to understanding. He nodded and looked uneasily at the neighbors. “I’m with Father Andy on this. But we
all
need to agree. Right here, right now.”

Babs stepped forward. “Listen to them. Do as they say.” She nodded at the cop. “I’m in full agreement.”

The neighbors looked at each other, looked at Roddy, looked at the priest. No one said anything.

“Do it.” Claire spoke up. “As a favor to me, my father, and my baby. Do it.”

One by one, heads nodded their agreement. The crowd moved closer together. Husbands put their arms around wives.
 

Babs was pleased to see there were no children present. Carl put his arm around her and, together, the residents of Morning Glory Circle watched as fire devoured Priscilla Martin’s home.
 

The roof broke open. Black smoke poured out. There were gasps, but no one spoke, they didn’t have to. Their silence spoke for itself.

Roddy nodded at Andy. “It’s time.”

The priest pressed 911.

The neighbors watched solemnly as more of the roof collapsed into the second floor. As the house burned, and the wail of sirens neared, Babs thought of what Morning Glory Circle would be like without Priscilla Martin.
It’s been a neighborhood full of rumors, deceit, and lies, a place where no secret has ever been safe.
But not any longer. Now, finally, it would be home.
 

And this, Babs knew as she looked at the faces of her neighbors, was one secret that Morning Glory Circle would keep safe forever.

Epilogue: Halloween

It was late afternoon when Jason parked in front of Babs’ house, but the jack o’lanterns were already lit and the smell of burnt pumpkin permeated Morning Glory Circle.
 

“It’s Halloween,” Claire said, looking over her shoulder at little Michael in his car seat between Paul and Steffie. The infant was dressed in the smallest Superman costume ever and he was adorable.
 

It was the first time Claire had returned to the sac since the fire, and she found herself avoiding the empty lot where Mother’s house had stood. She almost hadn’t come, but Babs and Carl wanted to give their honorary grandnephew a special first Halloween - with a walk around the cul-de-sac. Every house was decorated, even the Deans’, and once twilight fell, the whole street would be twinkling with lights. Next door to Babs, the Collins house held a new family. Claire was glad.

They piled out of the minivan and Paul scooped up the baby and handed him to Claire, who kissed him on the forehead, then let Jason snuggle him against his chest. Meanwhile, Paul and Steffie helped Fred move from the rear seat into his wheelchair. In the absence of drugs and Botox, Dad was able to smile and speak now. His speech wasn’t perfect, but it was the best he’d ever sounded to Claire.
 

They started up the walk as Babs came outside to greet them. “I’m so glad you decided to come!” Babs hugged Claire, then turned to Jason, who held baby Michael firmly in his arms. “Hello, Michael!” Babs cooed. The baby cooed back and grabbed her finger.
 

“Would you like to hold him?”
 

“I thought you’d never ask.” She held the baby close and spoke softly into his ear. Michael gurgled happily.

Claire smiled. “What did you tell him?”

“That his Great-Aunt Babs is going to spoil him rotten.”

“You can call yourself Grandma if you’d like, Babs. You were more of a mother to me than
she
ever was.”

Babs’ eyes welled. “Do you mean it?”

“Of course.”

“I’d love that.”

Claire turned to Carl. “And how do you feel about being Michael’s Grandpa Carl?”

Carl grinned. “As long as it’s okay with his real grandpa.” He turned to Fred. “You don’t mind sharing the title, do you, Fred?”

Fred smiled. “Glad to.”
 

“Good.” Claire looked down the street. “No one’s putting out the witches this year?”

“Nope,” said Babs. “Prissy required us all to have matching decorations, but we’ve done away with that. No more rules. Decorate if you want to, however you want. Mow your lawn, or don’t. We’re happy these days.”

“I can see that.” Claire looked at Aunt Babs. The woman positively glowed.

“Happy Halloween!”

They turned and saw Andy Pike strolling toward them.

“Father Andy!” Claire hugged him. Jason held his hand out, but the priest pulled him into a quick hug.
 

“It’s good to see you again, Father,” said Jason.

“You, too. How’s the business?”

Jason looked at Paul, then back to Andy and said, “Couldn’t be better. It’s a dream come true.”

Paul had promoted Jason to general manager of the flight school, and had just completed work on a new one. This was Paul’s last night in Snapdragon. Tomorrow, he and Steffie were flying back to Brimstone where the second Schuyler’s Flight School was ready to open. He and Steffie had been inseparable since that night in March, and it filled Claire with joy to see them both so happy.

Carl joined them at the front door, and handed Claire a plastic jack o’lantern. “Here you go. Michael’s first trick-or-treat pumpkin. I already put half a dozen Reese’s Cups in there - your favorite, right?” He grinned.

“Right.” Claire started to fish one out.

“Wait until after dinner. It’ll be ready in an hour,” Carl said. “Corn chowder, cranberry muffins, and salad. I’m the chef tonight. Why don’t you take little Michael around the cul-de-sac before it gets dark? You can gather lots more candy for yourselves.” He looked at Paul and Steffie. “Do you two want a trick or treat pumpkin, too?”

“I’m on a diet,” said Paul.

Steffie laughed. “Maybe Michael will let us snitch a peanut butter cup or two from him.”

“If that’s what you want,” Babs said. “We have a whole bowl of them inside.”

Fred worked the controls of his new chair like a champ. “I’ll take one.”

“Come around back,” Carl said. “You can wheel right in through the sliders.”

“Do you need any help with dinner, Carl?” asked Andy.

“No, why don’t you go with the kids?” Carl and Fred headed up the driveway, speculating about Dr. Hopper’s upcoming trial.
 

“We’d love for you to come along,” Claire told Andy. She didn’t want to hear about Eugene Hopper’s trial and hoped she wouldn’t be called to testify.

“Then I’d love to,” Andy said.

They headed to the former Collins house, now the Newcomb house, where Snickers bars were added to the pot, then passed the darkened Pruitt residence, where a
For Sale
sign stood sentry. Babs told Claire that Duane and Jerry had moved a few months ago, unable to live so close to such bad memories. They lived in an older part of town now and were fixing up a Victorian and talking about adopting a child of their own.
 

At the Sachs’, they were invited in and Candy made a huge fuss over Michael, saying he reminded her of Billy when he was a baby.

When they left the Sachs’ place, Claire’s stomach began to knot. Mother’s property was a vacant lot and had just been sold for enough money that she and Jason could buy the huge beautiful house Paul was vacating tomorrow. It was a single-story rambler with easy wheelchair access at one end that would be turned into an apartment just for Dad. He was overjoyed. So were Claire and Jason.
 

Jason handed Michael over to his godparents, Steffie and Paul, then put his arm around Claire as they paused in front of the property. Claire had stayed away, but Jason had overseen much of the demolition. The basement had remained, for the most part untouched, though much of what was down there had been destroyed by the water from the fire hoses. Before it was filled in, Jason had had a look around at the burst cans of old food, the big boxes of hangers, and piles of lamps. Whatever else was still down there would remain.

Claire leaned against him and he held her close. “It’s all gone,” she said. “All of it. It’s such a relief to know Michael will never see what was here.” She looked at Father Andy just as he crossed himself in prayer. His eyes opened and she smiled at him. “I’m so sorry Father Dave died in the fire.”

“It’s what he wanted. He’d been consumed by guilt for a very long time and this was his penance, his sacrifice.”

“I appreciate what he did, but I’m sorry it had to be done. If she had lived … it wouldn’t have ended.”

“I know.” Andy cleared his throat. “I came back after the house was razed and sowed the ground with salt.”

Claire kissed his cheek. “Thank you. And bless Father Dave for slaying the beast.”

“Amen,” said Jason. He paused. “Let’s keep moving. I’d love to say hello to Hank. Maybe he’ll invite me to have a beer with him sometime.”

Claire smiled. “Okay.” But for a moment, she couldn’t move, couldn’t tear her eyes away from the place where the house had stood.
Goodbye, Mother
. She didn’t know where souls went after the body died, but she chose to believe it was to someplace happy, someplace where she, Tim, and everyone she loved, would never see Priscilla Martin again.
 

As she looked at the dark salted earth, a cold breeze ruffled her hair. For a moment, she thought she caught the faint scent of
Opium
perfume; but, like a fleeting ghost, it was gone.
All the ghosts are gone.
She shivered. “Goodbye, Timothy.”

Claire took Jason’s hand and they joined their friends - their
family
- and continued down Morning Glory Circle.

About the Authors

Tamara Thorne's
first novel was published in 1991, and since then she has written many more, including international bestsellers
Haunted, Bad Things, Moonfall,
Eternity
and
The Sorority
. A lifelong lover of ghost stories, she is currently working on several collaborations with Alistair Cross as well as an upcoming solo novel. Learn more about her at:
http://tamarathorne.com

Alistair Cross
grew up on horror novels and scary movies, and by the age of eight, began writing his own stories. First published by Damnation Books in 2012, he has since co-authored
The Cliffhouse Haunting
and
The Ghosts of Ravencrest
with Tamara Thorne and is working on several other projects. His debut solo novel,
The Crimson Corset,
an Amazon bestseller,
is available now. Find out more about him at:
http://alistaircross.com

I
n collaboration
, Thorne and Cross are currently writing several novels, including the next volume in the continuing series,
The Ravencrest Saga
. Their first novel,
The Cliffhouse Haunting,
was an immediate bestseller. Together, they also host the horror-themed radio show
Thorne & Cross: Haunted Nights LIVE!
which has featured such guests as Laurell K. Hamilton, Christopher Moore, Chelsea Quinn Yarbro, Charlaine Harris, and Christopher Rice. Thorne and Cross are hard at work on several upcoming collaborations, including a sequel to Tamara’s
Candle Bay
, which will feature plenty of vampy action as the Darlings and Julian Valentyn are joined on a road trip to Eternity with Michael and Winter from Alistair’s The Crimson Corset. It’s going to be a harrowing ride!