I kicked at the sheets, which had become as tangled as my thoughts, and they fell to the floor and lay in the moonlight like snowdrifts. Was it still snowing? I wondered. I got up and walked to the window. No. The snow had stopped and the moon had come out, turning the snow-covered trees into gaunt skeletons, their shadows thrown across the clean white expanse of the backyard, reaching toward the house.
One of those shadows detached itself from the edge of the woods and scuttled across the lawn. The shadow-crab. I ran downstairs, threw a coat over my nightgown, and pulled on shearling boots over my bare feet. The fishing creel that Soheila had given me was in the kitchen, hanging from a hook by the back door.
I opened the door slowly, watching for any movement in the shadows. It might be lurking by the door, trying to find a way in to do away with Ralph. It could be hiding in the wedge-shaped shadow of the door that widened across the kitchen floor as I opened it. I waved the wicker creel over the darkened wedge and, when I was sure that I hadn’t let anything in, stepped out into the moonlit night, closing the door behind me.
The backyard was covered with a pure expanse of virgin snow, frozen on top with an icy crust that sparkled in the moonlight – everywhere but in the shadows. There were the shadows of the trees at the edge of the lawn, one thrown by the birdbath in the middle of the yard, a long oblong shadow in the lee of an old stone wall a few feet from the kitchen door, and a delicate tangle of shadows cast by an old lilac bush at the edge of the wall. I studied each shadow carefully, comparing it to the object that made it for any suspicious lumps or movement. There was nothing.
Then a wind moved through the yard, sifting loose snow across the icy crust and stirring the branches. One of the shadow branches cast by the old lilac seemed to swell. I stepped toward it, stepping across the shadow of the stone wall, and felt something brush against my ankle.
I looked down and saw the shadow-crab scuttling toward the back door. I dove for it with the creel open in my hands … and missed. The shadow-crab dodged and headed back toward the woods. I scrambled to my feet and chased after it, stumbling in the snow. The shadow-crab was light enough to move across the surface, but my feet crashed clumsily through the crust. If it made it to the woods I’d never catch it – and Ralph would pine away and die in the Shadow Land. It was nearly at the edge of the woods … about to merge with a large man-shaped shadow …
I reared back as the larger shadow stepped toward me and dropped the creel to the ground.
I looked up, fearing some horrible shadow-monster, but instead I saw Liam’s face, pale and dim in the shadows.
“Liam! What are you doing here?”
“I couldn’t sleep without you, so I went for a walk in the woods. Then I heard a noise from the house and thought somebody might be trying to break in. What were you doing?”
“You couldn’t sleep without me?” I asked, ignoring his question. “I couldn’t sleep without you either.”
He took another step forward to the edge of the shadows. The moonlight touched the top of his hair and the shoulders of his cream knit sweater, but his face was still in shadow and somehow wavery, as if he were underwater or dissolving – but then I realized that was because my eyes had filled with tears.
“Oh Liam, I’m so sorry, I don’t think we’re a mistake, and I don’t want Frank Delmarco or anyone else. I want you.”
He stepped toward me, full into the moonlight, his body taking shape in the light, and pulled me into his arms, which were icy cold, but when I slid my hands under his sweater and found his mouth I felt a spark of heat leap up to meet me. He moaned and slid his hands down my back and under my coat. When his hands found bare skin he gasped and lifted me off my feet. I wrapped my legs around his hips. He stumbled, but then he pushed me up against a pine tree, hard enough that the tree moved, feathery branches releasing a spray of snow and casting shadows across Liam’s face. When he pushed himself inside of me I smelled the sharp scent of bruised pine. The tree swayed in rhythm with us, joining our gasps and moans, as if the tree, the forest, and the whole shadowy night were party to our lovemaking.
After, Liam carried me upstairs to our bed and we lay side by side. I found I couldn’t keep my hands or eyes off him – as if I had to convince myself that he was real. When I closed my eyes I saw him dissolving into the shadows and I would startle awake as though I was the one falling backward into darkness.
I woke up sore everywhere, but when Liam ground his hips into my back I turned eagerly to him and we made love again – making me late for class and so sore I’m pretty sure I walked funny.
“Did you and Poetry Man make up?” Frank asked me as I hobbled past his office.
I looked anxiously up and down the hall to make sure Liam wasn’t anywhere nearby – I certainly didn’t want him to see me with Frank again so soon – before answering.
“We’re fine. He just had a jealous moment, but I explained that there was absolutely nothing to be jealous about and we made up.” I smiled brightly, hiding a wince. Even my lips felt sore and chapped from Liam’s kisses.
“Great,” Frank said. “Then he won’t mind if you come in here and sit down for a moment. I have something important to discuss with you.”
I glanced behind me again and noticed Frank smiling when I turned back. Then I strode firmly into his office and plopped myself down in the chair in front of his desk, wishing I’d finessed my landing a little more gently.
Frank got up and shut the door.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I objected.
Frank sat down on the edge of his desk. “We can’t risk anyone overhearing this. There’s more than your boyfriend’s delicate feelings at stake here.”
I opened my mouth to object again but realized I’d get out of there quicker if I didn’t argue. “What is it?”
“I checked in with our resident vampires last night and I don’t think they’re the ones who are preying on the students.”
“Why? Because they told you they weren’t?”
“No, because I watched them all night and the only blood they drank was imported.”
“Imported?”
“As in not local. Three people arrived at their house last night – all over twenty-one, none glamoured – to volunteer their services.”
“Ew. Why would anyone do that?”
“One was a middle-aged woman from Woodstock who’s writing a paranormal romance and considers herself the luckiest person on the planet to have found real live – or real undead – vampires who are such gentlemen. That’s what she told me when I stopped her leaving their house near dawn. The other two were a couple from Manhattan who are trying to spice up their marriage …”
“Okay, maybe I don’t want to know any more.”
Frank smiled. “Good call. There are some images I’d rather not have in my head either.”
“But just because the vampires weren’t stalking students last night doesn’t mean they don’t ever.”
“No, but I also went by the infirmary and had a little chat with the night nurse. There are no bite marks on any of the students and when I spoke to Flonia Rugova she had no memory – conscious or unconscious – of a vampire attack.”
“How is Flonia?” I asked.
“She’s very weak and appears to have suffered some short-term memory loss, but seems to be recovering. I told the nurse she shouldn’t have any visitors.”
“But if it’s not the vampires draining the students …”
“I don’t know. I’m going to track Flonia’s progress. How do you feel?”
“I feel fine. I think it was just a virus, but I’m over it now.” I got to my feet and gave Frank a wide smile to keep from wincing at the soreness in my legs. “I’ve never felt better.”
But I couldn’t help thinking: if not a vampire, then who – or what – was draining the students. What else could it be but a succubus?
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
I CONSIDERED TELLING Frank my suspicions, but if I did I�
�d have to also tell him that Soheila was a succubus. Somehow I couldn’t bear to betray her secret, knowing how Soheila felt about him. Unless, of course, it was Soheila who was draining the students.
I started keeping track of the students who got sick and then seeing whether they had any contact with Soheila. Both Nicky and Flonia were in Soheila’s Introduction to Middle Eastern Mythology class. So was Scott Wilder, who got so sick he had to take a leave of absence. And of course the dean had had ample contact with Soheila. But when I went to see Liz to share my concerns with her I found her completely recovered.
Her eyes were sharp again, her skin smooth and pink, her silver hair coiled into a gleaming chignon. She was wearing a kelly green tweed suit and pink blouse to celebrate the approach of spring, but her fur coat lay across the back of the couch where she sat and occasionally she reached out to stroke its glossy pelt.
“Is Ursuline better?” I asked, eyeing the coat uneasily.
“Oh yes! She pretended to be a dog and we took her to the Goodnoughs’ clinic. She enjoyed being a dog so much I’ve agreed that she can spend a few hours each week at the dog park so she can see Abby and Russell with their Rottweiler Roxy – as long as she behaves.” She injected a note of sternness into her voice but patted the coat fondly. I wondered how Ursuline liked the hours she spent as a coat but thought it might be rude to ask. Instead I told her my suspicion that the “flu” that was going around might be caused by a succubus.
“I suppose that’s possible, but the only succubus on campus is … Oh! You can’t mean Soheila? She would never do such a thing! And especially not to students!”
I felt instantly guilty for even suggesting the possibility, but I persevered. “If not Soheila, then is it possible that there’s a succubus – or incubus – on campus we don’t know about? I mean, you don’t always know who is and who isn’t a supernatural creature, do you?”
Liz frowned. “No, I’m afraid it’s not always possible to tell. With you, we suspected something when you told us about letting the bird out of the thicket. But if someone really wanted to hide their true nature … Oh my, it would be awful if I hired a succubus or incubus who was draining the students. I’d never forgive myself!” She looked stricken. “I’m going to do a thorough background check on all recent hires. I’ll ask Mara Marinca to help me … if you can spare her.”
“Sure,” I said a little too readily. As useful as Mara had been I’d found our sessions awkward and exhausting – especially now that she was focusing on the erotic passages in Dahlia LaMotte’s books. I wouldn’t mind having my afternoons free again. I was actually disappointed when Mara volunteered to do both jobs but told myself that I was being ungenerous. Clearly the girl needed all the money she could get from her work-study jobs.
As the semester went on fewer students got sick and many who had been sick recovered. The exceptions were Nicky who became so sick she had to move back into her grandmother’s house, and Mara, who missed class the last day before spring break. She texted me from the infirmary saying she was sorry she had missed class and that she wouldn’t be able to come by that day to work on the Dahlia LaMotte manuscripts. My first reaction was relief. I could go home and take a nap instead. But then I felt so guilty at that thought that I went by the infirmary after class to visit her. Lesley Wayman was in her room, fluffing her pillows and straightening her blankets.
“Poor dear,” Nurse Wayman said, laying a motherly hand on Mara’s pale forehead. “She was weak as a kitten when she came in last night. She should have come sooner.”
“I hated to miss class and work,” Mara said through blueish lips. “I could lose my scholarship and get deported.”
Nurse Wayman clucked her tongue. “Nonsense, dear, I’m sure no one’s going to take away your scholarship because you’re sick. Isn’t that right, Professor McFay?”
“Of course not,” I answered, patting Mara’s hand.
“But we were making so much progress on cataloging Dahlia LaMotte’s books. I could still come to your house over break to work on them …”
“Don’t be silly, Mara. Those manuscripts will still be there after break and you should really use the time to rest.”
“That’s what I intend to do with my break,” Lesley Wayman said, bustling me out of the room. “I’m going to spend the whole week in my hot tub.”
“I bet this has been rough on you, having so many sick students at once.”
Nurse Wayman yawned and arched her back, kneading her sacrum with one hand, a gesture which made me feel the ache in my own back.
“At least it wasn’t stomach flu. Most of them get better with a little rest. I hear Nicky Ballard’s still pretty bad, though. I’m afraid that fool mother of hers has got her running around taking care of old Miz Ballard instead of resting.”
“Hmm. Maybe I should drop by and see how she’s doing,” I said, seeing the possibility of an afternoon nap slipping away.
“If you do, could you take these iron supplements with you? I ordered them for Nicky and called JayCee to pick them up, but she said she was too busy.” She snorted. “Can you imagine? Too busy to pick up her sick daughter’s vitamins? I went to school with JayCee and she was a nice enough girl back then so I hate to say anything bad about her, but …” Lesley Wayman shook her head and folded her lips together as if to suppress her criticisms of JayCee Ballard. I offered to take the vitamins and wished her a good break.
“You, too,” she said. “Get some rest and put some meat on your bones. You’re still looking peaked.”
Before I left the campus I texted Liam to tell him I’d meet him at home later. He texted me back to say he had an appointment with the dean and would be back around five. I walked out the southeast gate, passed my house with a longing look, and turned down Elm Street. The Ballard house looked more decrepit than ever in the sunshine, although there were some cheerful crocuses peeking up through the sooty snow on the front lawn. I wondered who had planted them. Someone had cared once about making the house look more cheerful. I noticed, too, that stacks of newspapers, tied off neatly with twine, had been left for the recycle pick-up. Maybe Nicky had been cleaning up while she was home – an admirable endeavor, but probably not the best way to recuperate.
I knocked on the door and waited. I could hear a radio playing inside – W.F.A.I., the college station – and an occasional thump. I knocked again and heard some muttered curses. Then the door was yanked open. JayCee Ballard, in the middle of lighting a cigarette, scowled when she saw it was me.
“Let me guess, you’re here to check up on Nicky. Don’t you people have any other students to worry about up at the college of ours?”
“Why, has someone else been to visit?”
JayCee squinted through her cigarette smoke and then smiled slyly. She folded her arms across a faded Phish logo on her tight ribbed tank top. “So you didn’t know your boyfriend came here this morning. Inner-resting … He even brought muffins! Can you feature that? A man baking! If he hadn’t stared at my tits so hard I’d have said he was a homo.”
“Oh, Liam was here?” I said, trying not to sound surprised. “He did say he was going to drop by sometime. I didn’t realize he’d gotten around to it. I’d like to see Nicky, too. I’ve got some vitamins for her.” I took the bottle out of my pocket and JayCee snatched them out of my hand.
“I’ll give ’em to her. She’s asleep. Your boyfriend’s visit tired her out. If I find out there’s any funny business going on between them I’ll sue that college for sex harassment.”
“Liam would never take advantage of a student,” I sputtered. “He cares about them too much …”
“‘Too much’ is right. He was holed up in Nicky’s room for half an hour. Nicky said they were talking about her poetry, but I saw his eyes. Bedroom eyes, if you know what I mean.”
To my horror, I blushed.
“I guess you do know what I mean.” JayCee snickered. “My advice to you, honey, is keep your man satisfied so he don’t go prowling ar
ound here looking for younger meat.”
With that sage advice delivered, JayCee slammed the door in my face. I almost knocked again but decided it wasn’t worth the effort. I retreated down the steps and along the unshoveled front path which, I noticed now, did have large footprints that matched Liam’s size 13 L.L. Bean snow boots. So JayCee hadn’t been lying about him visiting. Which was no big deal. It was just the kind of considerate thing Liam would do – even the baking part. So why did I feel funny about it? Surely I wasn’t taking JayCee’s obscene hints seriously. Liam would never take advantage of a student that way. But still there was something about Liam visiting Nicky that bothered me …
“Yoo hoo! Yoo hoo!”
The call, which might have belonged to a migratory waterfowl, pierced my consciousness as I was stomping up Elm Street. I turned and found a petite middle-aged woman in a bright red sweater and jeans waving at me from the front porch of a Craftsman bungalow. I recognized the house as the one I’d gone into on Thanksgiving Day with Dory to check the pipes for its owners who wintered in Florida. A glance at the R.V. in the driveway suggested they were back.
“Hello?” I answered back, holding my hand over my eyes to shade the glare. “Are you talking to me?”
The woman came down her steps and then looked at the snow on her unshoveled path and the red slippers on her feet with dismay. “Oh dear,” she said as she began to pick her way gingerly through the snow. “We came back early and forgot to tell Brock to shovel our paths. Or to turn up our heat. And now we’ve found that we’ve been broken into! Harald’s on the phone with the sheriff. Can you believe it? Here in Fairwick? I’m Cheryl Lindisfarne, by the way, but everyone calls me Cherry.” She held out her hand when we reached each other on the middle of the path.
Incubus Page 35
