Black Rite

by Allen Caraway

  ‘That also got onto the news.’

  ‘It did?’ Lizzy wasn’t surprised, but she did look concerned.

  ‘Yeah. You were caught on CCTV.’

  ‘What’s CCTV?’

  ‘Surveillance cameras.’

  ‘Oh no.’

  ‘I shouldn’t worry about it. You were lucky. Some bright spark had turned off the lights in the Salvation Army store, so all you could see was a dark figure moving around and because - by the time you got to the other stores - you were wearing a coat and a baseball cap with your hair tucked inside and the brim pulled down over your eyes, the cameras didn’t get a decent look at your face. When I first saw the footage even I didn’t recognize you. I had no clue until you told me.’

  ‘But they’ll be looking for me.’

  ‘Sure. But if your fingerprints are still on file they won’t believe the match. They’ll probably think it’s some kind of error. And anyway, it would take one hell of a detective to find you from that surveillance footage.’

  ‘Do you really think so?’

  ‘Yup.’

  ‘I still feel terrible about stealing, though. I left notes, apologizing.’

  I nodded. ‘“I’m so sorry, but I’m desperate.”’

  Lizzy’s eyebrows rose.

  ‘They mentioned that on the news, too,’ I said.

  ‘Really?’

  I nodded again.

  ‘I hate not having the money to pay them back.’

  I smiled sympathetically. My intention was to donate to the Salvation Army and leave enough cash to cover what she’d taken from Walt’s Sporting Goods. As to Four Nations Grocery … Dick Graves, the owner, was an asshole, but a debt was a debt so I’d probably send him an amusingly offensive card with some cash inside.

  Lizzy was silent for a moment, then she looked at me inquisitively. ‘Did you say that you’d read about me?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Someone wrote a biography?’

  ‘Yup, two people. The best was written by Joe Hyams. He also believed you were innocent.’

  She gave me a hard, assessing look. ‘And you?’

  ‘If I thought you were a murderer, you wouldn’t be in here. You’d be outside and trussed up like a turkey while I waited for a deputy to arrive.’

  ‘They wouldn’t believe I was me.’

  ‘I’d just tell ‘em that you burglarized my house. Stole my cookies. That’d be enough.’

  Lizzy smiled. ‘I’d better behave myself then.’

  ‘You’re darn tootin’.’

  Her smile widened. ‘What else do you know about me?’

  Quite a lot, I thought.

  Joe Hyams had thoroughly researched his biography. Various records from the thirties and forties allowed him to confirm that Lizzy was five feet eight inches tall and averaged one-hundred and forty pounds in weight. Vital statistics: 38-24-38. Cup size: 38D. She had a mole on her left thigh and a small scar on her right breast, the result of a prop knife not retracting properly during filming.

  ‘Oh not much,’ I said, shrugging. ‘Just the usual stuff.’

  Lizzy raised an eyebrow. ‘The usual stuff?’

  ‘Yup. Childhood, career, your two marriages.’

  ‘Oh.’ She looked uneasy, her fiercely guarded privacy now violated. ‘You thought it was a good biography?’

  I shrugged again. ‘You’d be a better judge than me. Maybe you should read it.’

  She made a face. ‘I don’t think I’m that desperate for something to read.’ Lizzy was silent for a few seconds, then said, ‘What happened to your brother?’

  When I told her, Lizzy gazed at me in astonishment. ‘You’re kidding?’

  I shook my head. ‘Nope.’

  ‘Oh my god.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘What a horrible way to go. I feel guilty now about hating him so much.’

  ‘Don’t be. He was an evil little shit.’

  The look of astonishment returned to Lizzy’s face. ‘But he was your brother.’

  ‘Yeah and I used to love him, until I found out who he really was.’

  ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Why on earth would you be sorry? You have no reason to be.’

  ‘For what it must have done to you, finding out that he wasn’t the man you thought he was.’

  ‘Yeah, well …’

  It felt as if I had lost him twice. First his death, then learning about the real Gary, the evil person who bore little resemblance to the thoughtful and protective older brother. It made it easier to deal with the absence of my parents. They had died at a time when we were proud of him. The truth would have destroyed them. I let my thoughts slide away from Gary and as I did so, I recalled the conversation I’d had with Lizzy as we walked up to the main house.

  ‘Why does the entity want to punish you so much that it went to the trouble of resurrecting you?’

  ‘Because of what I know about the man it once was and because of what I did to him.’

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  I stared at her in amazement. ‘What you did to him?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘I can’t tell you. It’s not safe for you to know.’

  I frowned. ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because if you knew what I know, then I would be afraid that it would target you as well and I have a feeling that it could hurt you, really hurt you. It probably knows that you’ve taken an interest in me and there’s a strong possibility that it already sees you as a threat.’

  ‘Me? Why?’

  ‘Because it knew I would come here and I’m guessing that it also assumed you would try to help and protect me. If I told you what happened, then it would definitely attack you in an effort to protect itself. I don’t want that to happen.’

  ‘You make it sound as if you blame yourself for this. It’s not your fault, you know.’

  ‘Yes it is. Every night it comes looking for me. That’s why I have to stay away from you. I’m putting you in danger. When you moved in, it was probably curious, which is why it accessed your thoughts and feelings. I’m very surprised that it didn’t react violently when you pushed it out.’

  ‘I see your point of view, but bear in mind that something got in when you weren’t here so I can’t see how you being in the house is going to make any difference.’

  Lizzy made an I-guess-so face.

  ‘Anyway,’ I said, ‘I’m thinking about calling Father Kearney and asking him to come back. Perhaps this place needs to be exorcised.’

  ‘That’s a bit drastic, isn’t it?’

  ‘Is it?’

  She thought for a moment. ‘Perhaps not.’

  ‘You said it can’t hurt you, but that it tells you stuff. Like what?’

  ‘It says horrible things that the people I loved supposedly did. Whether they’re true or not I don’t know. I like to think that most, perhaps all are just lies. It also says that they’re being abused and tortured in Hell for what they did and only I can save their souls from eternal damnation by doing whatever it wants me to do. When it’s not doing that it curses and harasses me. Goads me into harming myself. It also tries to scare me, which it usually succeeds in doing. And it makes threats, all kinds of threats.’

  ‘And do you believe it?’

  ‘I think that most of it is just that: a threat. I’m absolutely positive that it doesn’t have the power, yet, to do anything. But it can get to you.’

  ‘Then I’ll call Father Kearney tomorrow.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘Now, like I said, you’re welcome to stay. You can have the bedroom next to mine.’

  I watched Lizzy’s face as she considered my offer.

  ‘I don’t like the idea of living off someone,’ she said.

  ‘Then I’ll put you to work on the ranch. Happy?’

  Lizzy grinned. ‘Okay, I’ll stay for a few days. Thank you. It’s very kind of you, ta
king me in like this.’

  ‘Not a problem.’

  She did take the room next to mine. It had been her mother’s, apparently.

  ~

  The following morning I woke up wondering if I had only dreamt of meeting Lizzy. Then I smelled coffee and burnt toast. Not a dream, then. Grinning like a kid on Christmas morning, I got out of bed, put on my bathrobe and walked downstairs.

  Lizzy stood behind the u-shaped kitchen countertop pouring coffee from my French press into two mugs. She was barefoot and wearing my spare robe and I could see an eye watering amount of cleavage. I’d had worse starts to the day.

  Curled up in the corner were Mick and Keith. They turned their heads towards me and hearing the thump thump thump of their tails against the floor, Lizzy looked up and smiled, then noticed that her robe was becoming loose. She blushed and retied it.

  Damn.

  ‘Morning,’ she said.

  ‘Morning. There is a coffee machine, y’know.’ I pointed at it.

  Lizzy looked over her shoulder. ‘Oh. I’ve never seen one of those before. Very neat.’ She pointed at my French press. ‘I found this in a cupboard.’

  ‘Did they have French presses in the forties?’

  ‘I can’t remember. I used a percolator.’

  ‘You figured it out pretty quick,’ I said, walking over.

  Lizzy gave me an amused, mildly reproachful look. ‘It wasn’t that hard to figure out. I was looking for something I recognized, saw that, stared at it for a moment, then thought, “A-ha.” Do you take milk or sugar?’

  I shook my head and took the proffered mug.

  ‘I was about to bring it up to you.’

  ‘Really?’ The thought of her bringing me coffee in bed seemed like a surprisingly intimate gesture for a relationship that was barely fourteen hours old.

  ‘Uh-huh.’ Lizzy smiled, a knowing look on her face as if she could sense the ungentlemanly thoughts that had appeared in my mind.

  I stopped fantasying about her taking off the robe and joining me in bed and said, ‘Sleep well?’

  ‘Like a baby. You?’

  ‘Pretty good.’ I took a sip of coffee. It was good. Strong. ‘Did it come to you last night?’

  Lizzy shook her head. ‘No, thank God. You’d know if it did.’

  I nodded. ‘That’s interesting. I’d have thought that it would have tried to get to you if it could.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘When did you last see it?’

  ‘When I was camping in the forest. If it does try, the dogs will warn you first. Animals are very psychic.’

  ‘That’s why I got them. Well, one reason.’

  ‘To also deter burglars and for company?’

  ‘Uh-huh. You hungry?’

  ‘Famished.’

  ‘Cooked breakfast or cereal?’

  ‘Cereal.’

  As Lizzy put a packet of Cheerios and two bowls on the table and I reached into the fridge for the milk, I said, ‘I was thinking that we could go into Wickham, or maybe Eureka, and get you some clothes and whatever girly stuff you need.’

  Lizzy shook her head again. ‘You’ve been far too generous already. I couldn’t accept. And I have clothes.’

  ‘Outdoorsy stuff, sure. Not very flattering.’

  ‘But practical.’

  ‘You need more clothes and don’t have any money. I have money and I’m more than happy to get you what you need. Although I draw the line at Chanel suits.’

  ‘And how am I going to pay you back?’

  ‘Well, if you don’t fancy working on the ranch, the supermarket in town is hiring. You could be a cashier girl.’

  ‘Oh sure!’ Lizzy said, laughing.

  ‘You’re not too good at accepting help, are you?’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘Look, if you really want to pay me back, we’ll discuss it later, but you do need some new stuff. Okay?’

  Lizzy sighed and then smiled. ‘Okay.’ The smile suddenly fell away and she frowned. ‘What if I’m recognized?’

  ‘I think it unlikely. The authorities are looking for a corpse, not a thirty-four year-old woman and people on the street are not going to be thinking, “Ooh look, Elizabeth Dashwood, back from the dead. Lemme take a photo”. I don’t want to hurt your feelings, Lizzy, but even with the recent media coverage, most people probably don’t know who you are and those who are old enough to remember you or who are into old movies will think you’re just a look-a-like.’

  My words clearly hurt – tact had never been one of my strong points - but Lizzy also looked relieved.

  ‘Do you really think so?’ she said.

  ‘Yes. And because you can no longer live under your own identity, we’ll need to create a new one.’

  Lizzy thought for a few seconds. ‘How about we say that I’m my great-niece who came to visit my grave and take a look at North Oak Ranch and while here, hit it off with you and as a result moved in a few days later? People are going to assume that we’re …’ Lizzy blushed. ‘You know … anyway.’

  I grinned at her. Lizzy’s bashfulness surprised me. It was not what I expected from a former actress.

  ‘True,’ I said. ‘But I thought your sister didn’t have any kids?’

  ‘She didn’t. I have an older half-brother. Had an older half-brother. He’ll be dead now.’

  ‘Oh, okay. What about a name? Any ideas?’

  ‘Madeleine. It’s easy to remember.’

  ~

  Our shopping trip was the most fun I’d had in ages. We drove to Wickham, which has a decent sized department store, on a lovely sunny morning and I bought Lizzy some clothes, shoes, make-up, glasses (she was shortsighted) and other bits and pieces, and then I took her to a beauty salon. After window-shopping for three hours, I returned to find her sitting in the waiting area, reading a copy of Vogue. She looked up when I walked in and beamed at me.

  ‘Wow,’ I said, stopping in front of her.

  Lizzy had changed into some of the clothes I had bought: a stylish ensemble that really enhanced her innate aristocratic-like elegance. Her hair was now shoulder length, a hint of make-up on her face, nails manicured. Silver dangle earrings swaying when she moved her head. She looked stunning.

  ‘Wow,’ I said again.

  ‘You approve?’

  ‘Hell yeah.’

  We wandered around Wickham until late afternoon - Lizzy drawing a number of appreciative looks from passers-by - then motored home in high spirits.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said as I pulled up in front of the house. ‘For everything. I haven’t had such a happy and enjoyable day in a long, long time. It means a great deal to me.’

  Then she leaned over, placed her hand on my forearm and kissed me on the cheek. I smiled at her but didn’t reply. Talking would have ruined the moment.

  ~

  Over the next few weeks, we spent a great deal of time together and despite the promising start, Lizzy soon fell from the pedestal on which I had placed her. The goddess became human. At first, living with her was very difficult as Lizzy was frequently moody and distant. She would disappear into her room for hours and I often heard her crying. During this period, I removed all alcohol from the house, put my medication where I thought she would not find it and tried to give her space and be as understanding as possible. It felt as if I was tiptoeing around her emotions as there were times when she didn’t want to be comforted and yet on other occasions Lizzy would wrap her arms around me and not let go for hours. Several times she fell asleep in my arms and I had to carry her up to bed.

  Her first husband’s observations about her bad habits were spot on. Crockery accumulated in various rooms – including her own – but instead of putting up with it as he had done, I attempted to break the habit and, as patiently and as politely as possible, persuaded her to clean up after herself. It took a long time and an inordinate amount of patience, but when she couldn’t find any clean plates or m
ugs, Lizzy gradually came to see my point of view and adjusted her habits. The lip picking was most definitely unattractive, but I did agree with Alford when it came to Lizzy twirling her hair around her fingers: it was surprisingly seductive, especially when she caught me watching her and smiled as if Lizzy had guessed what I was thinking.

  As I slowly got to know the real Lizzy and as her black periods became shorter and less frequent and then finally came to an end, the obsessive passion that I had felt gradually changed into a deep and genuine love and it became harder and harder for me to leave her. One morning as we ate breakfast, Lizzy referred to these dark periods for the first time.

  ‘I’m sorry if I’ve been difficult to live with. It hasn’t been easy for me since I came back.’

  I stopped buttering a piece of toast and looked at her. ‘You don’t need to apologize. You’ve been through hell.’

  ‘No, you deserve an apology and an explanation. You’ve been very kind to me and there have been times when I have been decidedly unsociable. However, I think the worst is behind me. I haven’t felt this good in a long, long time.

  ‘When I first came back, I was a mess.’ She smiled wryly. ‘Unfortunately, death and then resurrection didn’t activate a reset button. On the night that I crawled out of my grave, I was exactly the same person I had been when I took my own life: a complete wreck. But I’m better now. Better than I’ve ever been. You’ve been a very calming influence.’

  That surprised me. ‘Really?’

  Lizzy nodded. ‘Definitely.’

  We grew closer after that conversation, sharing more and more about our pasts. The days drifted by, the unsettling events that had taken place the previous year soon forgotten and I remember thinking at the time that it was the happiest I had been since Gary died. All I wanted was to be with Lizzy. Everything else became secondary, even painting, which was once an all-consuming hobby. The only time I sat down behind my easel was when Lizzy was making dinner. She announced on the drive home from Wickham that she was going to take over running the house. In short, the whole housewife routine, not that she used that word. Her decision to learn how to cook surprised me.

  ‘I thought you didn’t have any interest in cooking?’