Witch Hunt (3 page)

“Yeah, Mother, they are,” Craig said, his voice weary.

“We are what?” Kamelia asked.

“Nothing that matters,” Craig said.

A gasp, en masse, escaped the Montvue Hawthornes.

“When are the funerals?” Craig asked.

“What?” Vivian’s fair face was even paler than it had been before.

“Funerals,” Craig repeated.

“Oh … tomorrow.”

“What rooms should we take?”

“Those in the east wing.”

Craig moved to retrieve their suitcases.

“Dinner will be served at seven,” Vivian said.

“We ate on the plane. Our inner clocks are ticking to a different metronome. We’re going to crash.”

Vivian seemed startled. “Well … then breakfast is at seven in the morning.”

“We’ll be there with bells on.” Craig led Leigh and the children from the room.

“Am I what?” Leigh demanded when they were alone in their room.

“It doesn’t matter,” Craig said.

“It sure seems to matter to them.”

“I don’t give a flying rat’s ass what matters to them.”

“Please tell me.”

He winced. “God, Leigh, I shouldn’t have brought you. I can already tell it’s going to be like taking sweet Alice on a tour through an ultra-bizarre wonderland.”

That quieted Leigh. She didn’t want him to regret her presence. And she knew that Craig hadn’t kept his secrets for ten years only to suddenly bare his soul to her. She was good at patience. She was content to watch and wait.

Kamelia opened the door and glided into their room, unannounced. “Well, Dad, I’m impressed. Hawthorne Manor sure beats our apartment.”

“You should knock before entering your parents’ bedroom,” Leigh said.

“I always listen first, Mom. Didn’t hear any sex.”

“You don’t always hear sex,” Leigh said. “Someday you’re going to embarrass yourself.”

Kamelia flashed her pretty smile. “I don’t embarrass easily.”

“Craig, I really think all those anatomy books you’ve given her have warped her sensibilities.”

Craig pushed his glasses higher up onto his nose and regarded them both with a serious expression. “Actually, my strategy is to make her so sophisticated and worldly wise that she’ll scare the piss out of any boy who might want to come on to her.” He shrugged. “Then I’ll never have to worry about those things that fathers of girls worry about.”

“Take note of that, Kammi,” Leigh said. “It’s all a diabolical plan.”

“I’ll take my chances.” Kamelia gave them each a kiss. “I promise not to return tonight.” She winked at them and shut the door behind her.

“Well, it seems that we have permission,” Craig said.

“For what?”

He stuck his hands deep into the pockets of his trousers and hung his head sheepishly. “You know, the effword.”

Leigh laughed. “God, you’re so … irreverent.”

He looked up at her, his eyes brimming with love. “About God, maybe. About you, never.”

And that was true.

He pulled her dress up over her head and tossed it to the floor. His lips began on hers and slowly made their way down her body. Leigh’s knees grew weak; even after a decade he thrilled her. After he stripped away her remaining clothes, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bed.

He was out of his own clothes and in bed with her almost immediately. Tenderly, reverently, he explored her body with his eyes, hands, and lips. She responded with a need to reciprocate, but, surprisingly, he restrained her. “It’s Midsummer’s. It’s my day to worship at the gorgeous, brown-eyed, blond altar of womanhood. So let me do my thing, okay?”

It wasn’t the first time he had made such an unusual request. She surrendered to his wishes and lay back submissively, allowing him to make her feel good. He did it well, and it wasn’t long before she floated on a sea of sensual delight.

“Your womb is the cauldron of life, where magic is born,” he said and slowly entered her body.

Craig moved inside her with erotic precision. As her passion peaked, she had to resist the urge to wrap her legs around him and draw him in deeper, because he wanted her to be passive in receiving his adoration.

Old fears ruled her life, and her insecurities always made her eager to please.

“I love you, Daddy. Please don’t cry.”

“If your mother hadn’t tricked me into marrying her by getting herself knocked up with you, I would be a success. Instead …” Grief overcame him again, and he shook with renewed sobs.

The little girl began to cry, too. “I’m sorry, Daddy. You want me to go away?”

“Naw. It’s too late for that now.” He guzzled the remaining whiskey and threw the bottle against the wall, where it shattered.

The little girl jumped, and her tears flowed harder. “I’ll clean it up. It’ll be okay.” She scrambled to pick up the glass, and in her haste, cut her finger. The cut was deep and began to bleed. She was worried he would see and be mad and so tried to hide her hand in the pocket of her smock, but the blood soon soaked through the light cotton. She scooted across the floor and tried to make herself inconspicuous in the corner, but a fat rat was trying to do the same, and the two collided. She screamed, which brought her mother stumbling out of the kitchen. Soon she was hovering over the little girl, breathing sour, wine-scented breath into her face.

“Whatsa matter, little Leigh?” She saw the blood on her smock. “What did you do to my little girl, you bastard?”

“No, Mommy! Daddy didn’t do it!”

Her mother grasped the broken neck of the whiskey bottle, and with an animal cry, staggered toward the couch. Her father tried unsuccessfully to dodge the weapon — he was even more drunk than his attacker. The sound of tearing flesh struck her ears even before she heard her father’s screams.

“No! Mommy! Daddy! No!”

“No! Mommy! Daddy!”

The yells were coming from the children’s room. Leigh forced herself to consciousness and made her way across the hall. She opened the door and pushed the old-fashioned wall button that turned on the light. Adrian was thrashing about in his bed, whimpering and talking incoherently.

“Mom?” Kamelia’s voice was sleepy.

Leigh moved to Adrian and gathered him into her arms, closing her eyes to the assault of tiny fists that lashed out at her face.

“Hush, baby. It’s okay. Mommy’s here.”

Adrian’s struggles quieted, and then he pushed her away with a fierce shove. “They’re going to kill us all. All of us. Everywhere.” His voice sounded strangely mature, like it had been that other time.

“Oh, God, it can’t be happening again,” Leigh whispered.

“Who, son?” Craig asked.

Leigh hadn’t heard him come in. Her heart sank.

Adrian looked around frantically, as if searching for the enemy. “Them. The ones who have always been afraid of us.”

Craig sat down on the bed. “When?”

“Soon.”

An involuntary sob escaped Leigh.

“Where?” Craig asked.

“Everywhere. It’ll start here, but it’ll spread. There will be no place that will be safe. It’ll be worse than the last time. It’ll even be worse than the time before that.”

“Can we stop it?” Craig asked.

“Perhaps,” Adrian said, and then he went limp in Leigh’s arms.

“Adrian!” She began to shake him.

Slowly, Adrian opened sleepy eyes. “Mommy?” His voice was small and confused.

She clutched him protectively to her bosom. “It’s okay now.”

Craig gave her a hard look. “This has happened before?”

Tears filled Leigh’s eyes. Without really understanding why, she had been afraid of him finding out. But it was too late now. She nodded.

“The same vision?”

“No, he saw the plane crash. He saw your father and brother die. He spoke their names. He had never even heard their names before.” She moaned. “Maybe this time it was just a dream?”

“Let’s hope so.” He paused for a moment before he left the room. “You should have told me about this sooner, Leigh.”

She tried to read Craig’s face and tone of voice, but couldn’t decipher them. She could only tell that he was disturbed … with her, with Adrian, with the message Adrian had delivered, she wasn’t sure. She considered her son’s words and decided that this time it probably was just a nightmare.

As Leigh gently rocked Adrian in her arms, she glanced at the old scar on her finger and thought about nightmares — those that were only dreams, and those that came true.

The dining room was imposing. The table and sideboard were solid oak, with heavy claw feet, and the shelf on the sideboard rested on two small wooden griffins. A matching china cabinet was filled with an impressive collection of chinaware. The bronze and crystal chandelier held a dozen wax candles. When Leigh and her family arrived for breakfast, the maid, a striking woman not much older than Leigh, was serving coffee. She smiled at Leigh, who returned the smile gratefully — it was the first gesture of warmth anyone had offered since her arrival.

Vivian, Dori, Glynis, Melanie, and Jason were already seated.

“You may serve now, Helena,” Vivian said.

“Yes, madam.” The maid spoke with a thick Polish accent.

“My significant others here know nothing about our family secrets,” Craig said. “I like it that way.”

“As you wish.” Vivian passed a chilled decanter of orange juice around the table. “Since we’re now all together, perhaps we could toast to Alan and Curtis.”

Everyone filled and raised their glasses.

“Will you propose the toast, Craig?” Vivian asked.

A tense silence filled the room. Leigh held her breath. She imagined he would say something like,
Now that you’re in the know, guys, tell us, is Elvis really dead?
But he surprised her.

“To Dad and Curt. I’m sorry I never said goodbye, but even in absentia, our ties were strong. We’ll meet again.”

“To Alan and Curtis,” voices said.

Glasses clinked.

Adrian dropped his glass and flooded the table with juice.

Melanie shrieked and jumped up to avoid the orange stream. “You little klutz!”