Wolfsbane (19 page)

Sylvia answered the wind by backing up. She stood against the wall, her eyes pouring out hatred.

Pat pushed Janette toward the front door. “Start the car. I'll be along in a minute.”

“Stay with me, Pat!”

“Go on!” He shoved her out the door. He waited in the open door, his back to the outside, until he heard the sound of the engine cranking. “I ought to burn this house down to the ground, Victoria. I ought to kill that old bag over there with her teeth hanging out”—he glanced at Sylvia—“and burn this house down around both your skinny necks.”

Victoria suddenly appeared in the hall entrance. She laughed, pointing a finger at a bare wall next to Pat's right. An image appeared there, like a large TV screen. A woman, a man, and three younger people. They were partying in a home. Pat recognized his sister.

“Judy,” he whispered.

“Yes,” Victoria said. “With her husband and three children. Miami. Now look at this.”

The picture changed. His brother's image came into view. He was sitting in a leather chair, watching TV.

“Chicago, Strange. Oh, here is his wife. Rather a plain-looking woman, isn't she? And oh, my, now. That's their daughter. She's in her apartment, across town. You've never seen her before, have you? Strange? Oh, that's right, yes, you have. Your brother showed you her picture just after the funeral, didn't he? Isn't she a beautiful young lady. Her name is Natalie. Would you like for me to arrange a meeting for her? My Master knows a very nice young man in Chicago. He can arrange it easily. The young man has a rather peculiar-looking birthmark on his chest. It's in the form of a five-pointed star.”

Again, she laughed. “Or perhaps you'd like to witness your brother having a heart attack? Or your sister being gang-raped. Would you like to see that, Strange?”

“I'd rather not,” Pat said drly.

“Then when you receive the rules—in only a few days—are we in accord with them?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“None whatsoever, my darling warrior.”

“I'm not your darling, you old bitch!”

“You will be, Strange. You will be.”

When elephants fly, Pat thought.

“I can arrange that, too,” Victoria said.

Oops! Pat thought. “How do I know what I'm seeing is actually taking place?”

“Watch.”

The TV set in the picture suddenly vanished. Pat's brother sat upright in his chair. “What the hell?” he shouted. “Ruth. RUTH! My God, what's happened?”

An explosion shook the floor in front of Pat, momentarily blinding him. He looked down.

What was left of a TV set lay in ruins on the floor.

“There were framed photographs on the set, Strange. They are now in front of you. Pick one up—look at it. No, not that one, the one to your right. That's it. Now, what do you see?”

“My mother and father,” Pat whispered. “My brother, my sister and me. I remember when this was taken.”

“There is writing on the back of the picture.”

“Yes. I know. I know what it says.”

“Watch the wall, darling,” she commanded.

Pat lifted his eyes. His brother was gesturing wildly at the wall where the TV set had once been. His wife stood in what appeared to be mild shock.

The wreckage in front of Pat suddenly vanished, the picture was snatched from his hand, cutting one finger slightly as it withdrew. His brother and sister-in-law looked bewildered as the wall in front of them was back to normal, everything in place. They walked, hand in hand, to the set, picking up the pictures.

“My Lord!” the wife said. “There is blood on the corner of this picture.”

“Impossible,” the husband said. “It's all just a dream. . . a hallucination we're having. Those mushrooms we had for dinner. Where'd you get them?”

The picture faded.

“I would imagine the conversation from this point on will be rather dreary, darling. But please, use the phone—any phone—to call your brother in Chicago. Verify what you have just witnessed. It should be an amusing conversation.”

“I'll take your word for it, Victoria.”

“Very well. We have time left us, Strange. Lots of time for me to win the game.”

“Too bad I can't wish you luck.”

“Good night, Strange. And,” she laughed, “pleasant dreams.”

“Yeah,” Pat muttered. “The same to you.” He picked up his suitcase and walked into the warm night, to the Cadillac and Janette.

“God, I thought you were never coming out!” Janette said. She tore down the driveway before Pat could get settled in the seat. “Where to?”

“Let's fall in on Sheriff Vallot. We might catch him in the middle of something—or someone.”

She grinned for the first time in hours. “Pat, you're impossible!”

The silver bracelet on her arm caught the light.

Pat smiled.

Edan was flustered and Stella was embarrassed; it was obvious they had been in bed when Pat knocked on the door. But their embarrassment vanished when he began telling them of the events at Amour House that evening.

“I have an idea,” Stella said. “But I don't want to speak of it here. I want us to be near my grandmomma when we talk about it. We'll go see her at first light.” It was not a question.

“Yes, dear,” Sheriff Vallot replied meekly.

Pat grinned. “You're hooked,” he said, winking at Edan. “Might as well put a ring on her finger and get hitched up, man starts saying ‘yes, dear' in that tone of voice.”

Janette punched him in the ribs. “Get our luggage out of the car, Pat.”

He looked at her, read the message in her eyes, and felt something gentle tug at his heart. “Yes, dear,” he said.

“Tell me ever'ting that happen at Amour House las night.” Annie leaned forward, listening intently as Pat related the events of the previous evening.

Marie Latour, still a beautiful woman, sat quietly on the porch, listening, saying nothing.

“So,” Annie leaned back in her chair, a grim smile on her face, “old witch-woman gonna bring her revenge on us all, eh? Got to happen on the date of her husband's death. And you got a plan, child?” She looked at Stella. “Hokay, let's hear it.”

“We wear her down,” Stella said simply.

“Hah?” the grandmother said.

“These are the names on the list Blaine gave Edan.” Stell tried to hand the list to her grandmother. The old woman waved it away.

“I know the names, child.”

“Not all of them,” Pat said.

Marie shifted her gaze to him. “What you mean, boy?”

“Eli Daily's name is on that list. That's one you didn't mention. Also Edan's grandfather and Blaine's grandfather.”

“I knowed 'bout Edan and Blaine's
grand-pères.
But what's dat 'bout a Daily. Wasn't no Daily on dat posse.”

“His name was included in the paper as being there,” Edan spoke.

She nodded. “I had troubles concentratin' when dat was goin' on. I 'mit dat. But if a Daily was dere, he was a bad one, and he done all de talkin' and started de shootin'. I betcha. 'Cause I heard Claude Bauterre laughin' jes 'fore dey shot him. Never could understand dat.”

“Why was he laughing?” Janette asked.

“Big joke on somebody, I guess. Maybe hisself. Tink he wanted to die.”

Pat said nothing about seeing the man at the mansion.

“So we include Eli Daily in the names?” Stella asked.

Annie shrugged her indifference. “Don't know you plan.”

“Pat said she told him she's been here for three centuries—more, probably. Her powers have to be weakening. She's dying.”

“Hokay—'at's probably rat,” Annie agreed. “So what?”

“We get all the people on this list together, explain what is going on. I don't think it will take much to convince them. Then we start working in teams, day and night, harassing her, forcing her to use her powers constantly, anything to keep her awake, to wear her out.”

Marie spoke for the first time. “She'll soon figure out what you're doing. Then it will get dangerous for those not protected with the power.”

“Your husband's on that list.” Annie looked at her daughter.

“Earl and I have not exchanged a word in ten years, momma.”

“Still you husband. No divorce.”

“You may include him if you wish. But don't depend on him for anything. He's weak, and he's a coward.” She was silent for a few seconds. “The three of us, momma, Stella, and me, will have to work together, very close to the Amour grounds.”

“Hokay,” Annie agreed.

“And we'll get Father Huval,” Stella said.

Annie laughed and her daughter joined in, the laughter almost derisive. Marie said, “Black magic and prayer . . . momma, you think the priest will go along with that?”

“He got no choice. His name's on de list, too, 'member?” She winked at her daughter. “ 'Sides, it was me what caught him wit dat Montespan gal back when he was almost a priest Cooo! What dem two was doin!' ”

“Grandmother!” Stella giggled. “You'd blackmail a priest?”

“Shore. But it won't come to dat, believe me. For now, I put some tings together—come into town wit you all. But”—she held up one gnarled finger—“someting you need to know: dis probably gonna kill me. I'm old woman. I figure I live out dis year, maybe 'nother—but no more dan dat. But dis all rat. I kin go out doin' good tings; I shore been 'cused of doin' 'nuff bad tings in ma life.”

“Grandmomma.” Stella leaned forward and put her hand on her grandmother's knee.

“She knows what she knows, Stella,” Marie said. “And I know what she knows. So leave her be. Her time is not far off.”

“I don't understand any of this,” Pat bitched.

“You ain't 'pose to,” Annie smiled. “But I gonna tale you someting,
mercenaire:
nighttime, you put a board 'tween you and Janette till dis over. She ripe dis time of the month. Don wants no evil child come from your
faire l'amour.
”

“How do you know about . . .?” Janette blushed.

Annie laughed. “Lady, was I forty year younger, I'd give you a run for dat man.” She winked at Pat. “Les go. I gets ma tings.”

 

“You can't be serious!” Eli Daily said. “Werewolves. Aw, come on, people.”

Sinclair Charlevoix leaned over and whispered something in Ruth's ear.

Jeff Bethencourt, the son and sole heir of the Bethencourt fortune, yawned. “Ridiculous!”

Bares, Lejeune, and Trahan sat quite still. They did not belittle Edan's words. Neither did Blanchet.

Ken Sheppard's hands were shaking and his head pounding from a party he had attended the night before, breaking up just at dawn. “You got any aspirin, Edan? Jesus, my head hurts.”

Father Huval crossed himself, then silently wished he had not done so. There were no such things as werewolves. Everybody knew that.

“It's true.” Stella said, rising and facing the doubters. Her eyes found the wife of Nick Vincent. “Where is your husband, Betty Jane?”

She put her face in her hands and began crying. “I don't know, Stella. He didn't come home last night.”

Doctor Lormand moved to her side and put his arms around her.

“Nick . . ,” she stammered. “We had a big fight. Said he was going to spend some time out at his camp.”

Edan looked at his chief deputy and nodded. Blaine left the room. “We'll check it out, Betty. Meanwhile, where are your kids?”

“At their grandparents'. I don't believe any of this, Edan. I wanna go home. Take me home, Don.”

“I am going home,” Bethencourt said, rising to his feet. “Werewolves!” he snorted.

“Sit down, sonny,” Trahan said. “What the sheriff be sayin' is true. You in as much danger as the res of us.”

The young man swung his eyes to the older man. “Are you serious, Louie? Come on, now, you knew my father. Are you saying my father helped kill a man forty years ago?”

“He shoot into Claude Bauterre lak the res of us, yeah.”

“Guilbeau, Campbell, and Callier?” Doctor Lormand asked. “They were there as well?”

“Them or their daddies or granddaddies, yeah. I tought dis all done pass away into history.” He shrugged. “I was wrong. Knew I was wrong when Eddie call me to home couple months ago—tell me a Mississippi fisherman seen at crazy boy of mine in de swamps. I had heard all dem Bauterres done come back to Amour House. I knew it was startin' up all over again. Den dey found Eddie's fodder-in-law . . . all de blood sucked out of his body.” He shuddered.

“He didn't die in his house fire?” Edan asked.

“Non,
” Tony Lejeune said, looking around the room. “But the evil ain never really quit. When ma boy was kidnap back in the forties—I knew what it was. We all did. Beth was attack in de fifties and give burth to a crazy wolf-boy—me and Trahan knew what attack her and why. Bares' boy was kilt on the grounds of Amour House back in the sixties. So it ain never really stop.”

“So either everyone here had a direct hand in what happened back in '34, or some relative did?” Doctor Lormand asked.

All nodded their heads in agreement.

Bethencourt sighed in disgust. “I still maintain this is ridiculous.”

“How did your fodder die, Jeff?” Trahan asked.

The younger man's face reddened. “We don't know how he died, or what happened. You know that. The body was never recovered.”

“He was attack,” Annie Metrejean said. She sat alone in a straight-backed kitchen chair, apart from the others.

“What do you mean?” Jeff asked. “What do you know about how my father died?”

“Jes what I said. He was attack. I seen him dat day. Early. Tole him not to go into de swamp; not to go no futter into Blind Bayou. Turn 'round, go back. Said he wasn't 'fraid. I tole him bein 'fraid had nuttin to do wit it. But common sense oughtta tale him to stay 'way. He din listen to me. He never come out neither.”

“How did you know something was going to happen to my father?”

She sighed and shook her head. “'Cause a
cauchemar
done tole me, 'at's why.”

“A what?” Sinclair asked. “A catch-ee-who?”

“A spirit,” Ruth said. “Can be good or evil. My grandmother used to tell me about them—when I wouldn't go to bed without kicking up a fuss.”

Sinclair's expression was pained. “Kicking up a fuss? How quaint, dear.”

His girlfriend looked at him. “How'd you like to have a punch on the snoot?”

Sinclair shut his mouth.

Annie gazed at Ruth. “You believe in de
cauchemar?”

“I . . . yes! Yes, I do. I think there might be something to many of the old ways and beliefs.”

“You might make it,” Annie replied. “Him”—she looked at Sinclair—“I don know.”

“To quote William,” Sinclair said, “it maketh not a damn to me.”

“There was not a drop of blood left in any of the bodies,” Edan said, putting an end to the bantering.

Silence in the den.

“I thought only vampires drank the blood?” Sheppard asked.

“Not according to what I've been able to read,” Doctor Lormand said. “They both are reported to drink the blood of their victims.”

Jeff Bethencourt walked to the door. “Ladies, gentlemen, I refuse to take part in any more of this ridiculous nonsense. I do not believe in black magic. I do not believe in werewolves or in vampires or in warlocks or witches. I am leaving. Rest assured, I will say nothing of this foolish gathering. I would be laughed out of town.”

Bethencourt took his arrogance and his royal bearing and marched out the door, into the late afternoon. He got in his car and drove away. But when he reached the tumoff to his street, he could not turn the steering wheel. He tried, but the wheel would not turn. His car gathered more speed. He put his foot on the brake: the pedal went all the way to the floor. The last thing he remembered was a huge oak tree. The speedometer needle was on sixty when he smashed into the tree.

When the police and firemen reached the scene, they found only an empty car, with blood on the seat.

Bethencourt was gone.

 

Split up into teams of three, the men and women put Stella's plan into action.

Those who held regular jobs asked for time off. If it was not given, they quit.

Suddenly, as if on cue, the townspeople began avoiding them. If they were spoken to, it was barely civil. Usually, the townspeople acted as if they were not visible.

“What's happening?” Edan asked Annie.

“Her power workin'. Jes look at dem peoples in town, walkin' 'round lak zombies. When dis over, Edan, dey wont 'member a ting 'bout it.”

“She's got that much power?”

Annie nodded. “She got hep, boy—don forgot dat.”

“Why,” Don asked, “if the devil is helping her, doesn't he just grab us all up in this possession, or whatever the hell it is?”

“Takes two teams to play a game,” Annie said.

“Game?” Edan questioned.

“Shore. God and devil fight all de time, boy. I ain't sayin' God lak it, but what He gonna do—jes sit back and not play? Devil win all de time if He do dat.”

Don looked at Father Huval. “Do you go along with that?”

“It's an oversimplification, of course, but basically correct. It is a game to Satan; very serious to Madame Bauterre.” The priest sighed. “Obviously, if all this is true, Victoria Bauterre is one of his most valued people, or he would not allow this to happen.” Again, he sighed. “And I suppose it is true.”

“Believe it,” Pat said.

“You're an odd choice, Mr. Strange,” the priest said. He then smiled. “But I must bear in mind that God moves in mysterious ways, His wonders to perform. But I also must urge you to exercise a bit of caution. I understand that Madame Bauterre has more than a passing interest in you. Be very cautious and be prepared for anything.”

“Don't you worry about that,” Pat assured him. “Padre, how often does this happen? And why doesn't it come to the public's attention?”

The priest shrugged. “How often? Only God could reply to that. I would not even venture an opinion except to say that Good and Evil have been battling since the beginnings of time. As to why something like what is occurring in Joyeux does not come to the attention of the press . . . Annie Metrejean answered that. She has. . . powers; don't ask me to explain them . . . I'm confused enough. I'm just a country priest, and probably not a very good one, at that. I will admit, Pat, that at this point in my life, I am troubled.” He walked away, back to his church, his sanctuary.

Sheriff Vallot's radio began squawking. Edan answered the call, talked for a few moments, then returned to the group, standing in front of the Catholic Church.

“That was Blaine,” he informed them. “He's found what was left of Nick about two miles from his camp. Dead. You know the rest of the story.”

The afternoon shadows were deepening, pockets of darkness touching the town, battling the light for supremacy. This was the end of the second day of their vigil, and none felt they were any closer to beating the powers of Victoria Bauterre. To a passerby, life in the small town would seem to be normal, but the small group that had banded together knew differently. They were ostracized without the citizens even knowing of it. The small group was as alone as if stranded on an island, surrounded by sharks.