The Witching Hour

by Anne Rice

  "That's because they didn't speak of it," said Peter in a quavering and slightly theatrical voice. "It was their secret, and they didn't want anyone to know."

  "But who do you mean, they?" asked Ryan. "Are you talking about my grandfather?" His voice was slightly slurred from his drinking. He took a hasty swallow. "You are talking about Cortland, aren't you?"

  "I don't want to ... " whispered Gifford, but Ryan gestured for her to be silent.

  Fielding also motioned for Gifford to be quiet. In fact, the glance he threw her was vicious.

  "Cortland was one of them, of course," said Fielding, looking up at bald-headed Peter, "and everybody knew he was."

  "Oh, that's a dreadful thing to say," said Magdalene angrily. "I loved Cortland."

  "Many of us loved Cortland," said Peter angrily. "I would have done anything for Cortland, but Cortland was one of them. He was. And so was your father, Ryan. Big Pierce was one of them as long as Stella was living, and so was Randall's father. Isn't that so?"

  Randall gave a weary nod, taking a slow sip of his bourbon, the dark-faced servant going unnoticed as he refilled Randall's glass and quietly poured splashes of golden bourbon in others.

  "What do you mean, one of them?" Pierce demanded. "I've been hearing this all my life, one of them, not one of them, what does it mean?"

  "Nothing," said Ryan. "They had a club, a social club."

  "The hell they did," said Randall.

  "That all died with Stella," said Magdalene. "My mother was close to Stella, she went to those parties, there were no thirteen witches! That was all bunk."

  "Thirteen witches?" asked Rowan. She could feel the tenseness in Michael. Through a small break in the circle she could see Aaron, who had turned his back to the tree and was looking up at the sky as if he couldn't hear them, but she knew that he could.

  "Part of the legend," said Fielding, coldly, firmly, as if to distinguish himself from those around him, "part of the story of the doorway and the pact."

  "What was the story?" asked Rowan.

  "That they would all be saved by the doorway and the thirteen witches," said Fielding, looking up once more at Peter. "That was the story, and that was the promise."

  Randall shook his head. "It was a riddle. Stella never knew for sure what it meant."

  "Saved?" asked young Wheatfield. "You mean like a Christian being saved?"

  "Saved! Hallelujah!" said Margaret Ann, and downed her drink, spilling a few drops of it on her dress. "The Mayfairs are going to heaven. I knew with all this money, somebody would work something out!"

  "You're drunk, Margaret Ann," whispered Cecilia. "And so am I!"

  They touched their glasses in a toast.

  "Stella was trying to get together the thirteen witches at those parties?" asked Rowan.

  "Yes," said Fielding. "That was exactly what she was trying to do. She called herself a witch, and so did Mary Beth, her mother, she never made any bones about it, she said she had the power, and she could see 'the man.' "

  "I'm not going to allow this ... " said Gifford, her voice rising hysterically.

  "Why? Why is it so scary?" asked Rowan softly. "Why isn't it just old legends? And who is 'the man'!"

  Silence. They were all studying her, each waiting perhaps for the other to speak. Lauren looked almost angry as she stared at Rowan. Lily looked faintly suspicious. They knew she was deceiving them.

  "You know it's not old legends," said Fielding under his breath.

  "Because they believed it!" said Gifford, her chin raised, her lip trembling. "Because people have done bad things in the name of believing this old foolishness."

  "But what bad things?" asked Rowan. "You mean what Carlotta did to my mother?"

  "I mean the things that Cortland did," said Gifford. She was shaking now, clearly on the edge of hysterics. "That's what I mean." She glared at Ryan, and then at her son, Pierce, and then back at Rowan. "And yes, Carlotta too. They all betrayed your mother. Oh, there are so many things you don't know."

  "Shhhh, Gifford, too much to drink," whispered Lily.

  "Go inside, Gifford," said Randall.

  Ryan took his wife by the arm, bending to whisper in her ear. Pierce left his place and came around to assist. Together they drew Gifford away from the group.

  Felice was whispering anxiously to Magdalene, and someone on the edge of the circle was trying to gather up all the children and get them to come away. A little girl in a pinafore was saying, "I want to know ... "

  "I want to know," said Rowan. "What did they do?"

  "Yes, tell us about Stella," said Beatrice, glancing uneasily at Gifford, who was now crying against Ryan's shoulder as he tried to lead her farther away.

  "They believed in Black Magic, that's what they did," said Fielding, "and they believed in the thirteen witches and the doorway, but they never figured out how to make it all work."

  "Well, what did they think it meant?" asked Beatrice. "I think all this is fascinating. Do tell."

  "And you'll tell it to the whole country club," said Randall, "just the way you always have."

  "And why shouldn't I?" said Beatrice. "Is somebody going to come burn one of us at the stake!"

  Gifford was being forced into the house by Ryan. Pierce closed the French doors behind them.

  "No, I want to know," said Beatrice, stepping forward and folding her arms. "Stella didn't know the meaning? Well, who did?"

  "Julien," said Peter. "My grandfather. He knew. He knew and he told Mary Beth. He left it in writing, but Mary Beth destroyed the written record, and she told it to Stella but Stella never really understood."

  "Stella never paid attention to anything," said Fielding.

  "No, never to anything at all," said Lily sadly. "Poor Stella. She thought it was all parties, and bootleg liquor and her crazy friends."

  "She didn't believe it all really," said Fielding. "That was the problem right there. She wanted to play with it. And when something went wrong, she became afraid, and drowned her fears in her bootleg champagne. She saw things that would have convinced anyone, but still she didn't believe in the doorway or the promise or the thirteen witches until it was too late and Julien and Mary Beth were both gone."

  "So she broke the chain of information?" Rowan asked. "That's what you're saying. They'd given her secrets along with the necklace and everything else?"

  "The necklace was never all that important," said Lily. "Carlotta made a big fuss about the necklace. It's just that you can't take the necklace away ... well, you're not supposed to take the necklace from the one who inherits it. It's your necklace and Carlotta had the idea that if she locked up the necklace, she'd put an end to all the strange goings-on, and she made that another one of her useless little battles."

  "And Carlotta knew," said Peter, glancing a little contemptuously at Fielding. "She knew what the doorway and the thirteen witches meant."

  "How do you know that?" It was Lauren speaking from a slight distance. "Carlotta certainly never talked of anything like that."

  "Of course not, why would she?" said Peter. "I know because Stella told my mother. Carlotta knew and Carlotta wouldn't help her. Stella was trying to fulfill the old prophecy. And it had nothing to do, by the way, with salvation or hallelujahs. That wasn't the point at all."

  "Says who?" demanded Fielding.

  "Says I, that's who."

  "Well, what do you know about it?" asked Randall softly with a little touch of sarcasm in his voice. "Cortland himself told me that when they brought the thirteen witches together, the doorway would open between the worlds."

  "Between the worlds!" Peter scoffed. "And what has that got to do with salvation I'd like to know? Cortland didn't know anything. Any more than Stella. With Cortland it was all after the fact. If Cortland had known he would have helped Stella. Cortland was there. So was I."

  "There when?" asked Fielding scornfully.

  "You don't mean Stella's parties," asked Lily.

  "Stella was trying to discove
r the meaning when she held the parties," said Peter. "And I was there."

  "I never knew that," said Magdalene. "I never knew you went."

  "How could you have been there?" asked Margaret Ann. "That was a hundred years ago."

  "Oh, no it wasn't. It was 1928, and I was there," said Peter. "I was twelve years old when I went, and my father was furious with my mother for allowing it, but I was there. And so was Lauren. Lauren was four years old."

  Lauren gave a little subdued nod of her head. Her eyes seemed dreamy, as if she remembered, but she did not share the drama of the moment.

  "Stella picked thirteen of us," said Peter, "and it was based on our powers--you know, the old psychic gifts--to read minds, to see spirits, and to move matter."

  "And I suppose you can do all that," scoffed Fielding. "And that's why I always beat you at poker."

  Peter shook his head. "There wasn't anyone who could do it like Stella. Except Cortland, perhaps, but even he was weaker than Stella. And then there was Big Pierce, he had the touch, he really did, but he was young and entirely under Stella's domination. The rest of us were merely the best she could muster. That's why she had to have Lauren. Lauren had a strong touch of it, and Stella didn't want to waste even that much of a chance. And we were all gathered together in that house, and the purpose was to open the doorway. And when we formed our circle and we began to envision the purpose, he was to appear, and he was to come through and be there with us. And he wouldn't be a ghost anymore. He'd be entering into this very world."

  A little hush fell over them. Beatrice stared at Peter as if he himself were a ghost. Fielding too studied Peter with seeming incredulity and maybe even a sneer.

  Randall's face was impassive, behind its massive wrinkles.

  "Rowan doesn't know what you're talking about," said Lily.

  "No, and I think we should stop all this," said Anne Marie.

  "She knows," said Randall, looking directly at Rowan.

  Rowan looked at Peter. "What do you mean that he would come into this very world?" she asked.

  "He wouldn't be a spirit any longer, that's what I mean. Not just to appear but to remain, to be ... physical."

  Randall was studying Rowan, as if there was something he couldn't quite determine.

  Fielding gave a dry little laugh, a superior laugh. "Stella must have made up that part. That wasn't what my father told me. Saved, that's what he said. All those who were part of the pact would be saved. I remember hearing him tell my mother."

  "What else did your father tell you?" Rowan asked.

  "Oh, you don't believe all this!" asked Beatrice. "Good Lord, Rowan."

  "Don't take it seriously, Rowan!" said Anne Marie.

  "Stella was a sad case, my dear," said Lily.

  Fielding shook his head. "Saved, that's what my father said. They'd all be saved when the doorway was opened. And it was a riddle, and Mary Beth didn't know the real meaning any more than anyone else. Carlotta swore she'd figured it out, but that wasn't true. She only wanted to torment Stella. I don't even think Julien knew."

  "Do you know the words of the riddle?" Michael asked.

  Fielding turned to the left and glanced down at him. And suddenly they all appeared to notice Michael, and to focus upon him. Rowan slipped her hand closer to his neck, clasping it affectionately and drawing her legs closer to him, as if embracing him and declaring him part of her.

  "Yes, what were the words of the riddle?" Rowan asked.

  Randall looked at Peter, and they both looked at Fielding.

  Again Fielding shook his head. "I never knew. I never heard there were any special words. It was just that when there were thirteen witches, the doorway would be opened at last. And the night that Julien died, my father said, 'They'll never get the thirteen now, not without Julien.' "

  "And who told them the riddle?" asked Rowan. "Was it 'the man'?"

  They were all staring at her again. Even Anne Marie appeared apprehensive and Beatrice at a loss, as if someone had made a fearful breach of etiquette. Lauren was gazing at her in the strangest way.

  "She doesn't even know what this is all about," declared Beatrice.

  "I think we should forget it," said Felice.

  "Why? Why should we forget it?" asked Fielding. "You don't think 'the man' will come to her as he came to all the others? What's changed?"

  "You're scaring her!" declared Cecilia. "And frankly you're scaring me."

  "Was it 'the man' who gave them the riddle?" Rowan asked again.

  No one spoke.

  What could she say to make them start talking again, to make them yield up what they possessed. "Carlotta told me about 'the man,' " Rowan said. "I'm not afraid of him."

  How still the garden seemed. Every single one of them was gathered into the circle except for Ryan, who had taken Gifford away. Even Pierce had returned and stood just behind Peter. It was almost twilight. And the servants had vanished, as if they knew they were not wanted.

  Anne Marie picked up a bottle from the nearby table, and with a loud gurgling noise filled her glass. Someone else reached for a bottle. And then another. But the eyes of all remained fixed upon Rowan.

  "Do you all want me to be afraid?" Rowan asked.

  "No, of course not," said Lauren.

  "Indeed not!" said Cecilia. "I think this sort of talk could ruin everything."

  " ... in a big shadowy old house like that."

  " ... nonsense if you ask me."

  Randall shook his head; Peter murmured no, but Fielding merely looked at her.

  Again the silence came, blanketing the group, as if it were snow. A rustling darkness seemed to be gathering under the small trees. A light had gone on across the lawn, behind the small panes of the French windows.

  "Have any of you ever seen 'the man'?" Rowan asked.

  Peter's face was solemn and unreadable. He did not seem to notice when Lauren poured the bourbon in his glass.

  "God, I wish I could see him," said Pierce, "just once!"

  "So do I!" said Beatrice. "I wouldn't think of trying to get rid of him. I'd talk to him .... "

  "Oh shut up, Bea!" said Peter suddenly. "You don't know what you're saying. You never do!"

  "And you do, I suppose," said Lily sharply, obviously protective of Bea. "Come here, Bea, sit down with the women. If it's going to be war, be on the right side."

  Beatrice sat down on the grass beside Lily's chair. "You old idiot, I hate you," she said to Peter. "I'd like to see what you'd do if you ever saw 'the man.' "

  He dismissed her with a raised eyebrow, and took another sip of his drink.

  Fielding sneered, muttering something under his breath.

  "I've gone up there to First Street," said Pierce, "and hung around that iron fence for hours on end trying to see him. If only I'd ever caught one glimpse."

  "Oh, for the love of heaven!" declared Anne Marie. "As if you didn't have anything better to do."

  "Don't let your mother hear that," Isaac murmured.

  "You all believe in him," Rowan said. "Surely some of you have seen him."

  "What would make you think that!" Felice laughed.

  "My father says it's a fantasy, an old tale," said Pierce.

  "Pierce, the best thing you could do," said Lily, "is stop taking every word that falls from your father's lips as if it were gospel because it is not."

  "Have you seen him, Aunt Lily?" Pierce asked.

  "Indeed, I have, Pierce," Lily said in a low voice. "Indeed I have."

  The others registered undisguised surprise, except for the three elder men, who exchanged glances. Fielding's left hand fluttered, as if he wanted to gesture, speak, but he didn't.

  "He's real," said Peter gravely. "He's as real as lightning; as real as wind is real." He turned and glared at young Pierce and then back at Rowan, as if demanding their undivided attention and belief in him. Then his eyes settled on Michael. "I've seen him. I saw him that night when Stella brought us together. I've seen him since. Lily's seen him. S
o has Lauren. You, too, Felice, I know you have. And ask Carmen. Why don't you speak up, Felice? And you, Fielding. You saw him the night Mary Beth died at First Street. You know you did. Who here hasn't seen him? Only the younger ones." He looked at Rowan. "Ask, they'll all tell you."

  A loud murmuring ran through the outer edges of the gathering because many of the younger ones--Polly and Clancy and Tim and others Rowan did not know--hadn't seen the ghost, and didn't know whether to believe what they were hearing. Little Mona with the ribbon in her hair suddenly pushed to the front of the circle, with the taller Jennifer right behind her.

  "Tell me what you saw," said Rowan, looking directly at Peter. "You're not saying that he came through the door the night that Stella gathered you together."

  Peter took his time. He looked around him, eyes lingering on Margaret Ann, and then for a moment on Michael, and then on Rowan. He lifted his drink. He drained the glass, and then spoke:

  "He was there--a blazing shimmering presence, and for those few moments, I could have sworn he was as solid as any man of flesh and blood I've ever seen. I saw him materialize. I felt the heat when he did it. And I heard his steps. Yes, I heard his feet strike the floor of that front hallway as he walked towards us. He stood there, just as real as you or me, and he looked at each and every one of us." Again, he lifted his glass, took a swallow and lowered, it, his eyes running over the little assembly. He sighed. "And then he vanished, just as he always had. The heat again. The smell of smoke, and the breeze rushing through the house, tearing the very curtains off the windows. But he was gone. He couldn't hold it. And we weren't strong enough to help him hold it. Thirteen of us, yes, the thirteen witches, as Stella called us. And Lauren four years old! Little Lauren. But we weren't of the ilk of Julien or Mary Beth, or old Grandmere Marguerite at Riverbend. And we couldn't do it. And Carlotta, Carlotta who was stronger than Stella--and you mark my words, it was true--Carlotta wouldn't help. She lay on her bed upstairs, staring at the ceiling, and she was saying her rosary aloud, and after every Hail Mary, she said, Send him back to hell, send him back to hell!--and then went on to the next Hail Mary."

  He pursed his lips and scowled down into the empty glass, shaking it soundlessly so that the ice cubes revolved. Then again, his eyes ran over the circle, taking in everyone, even little red-haired Mona.

  "For the record, Peter Mayfair saw him," Peter declared, pulling himself up, eyebrow raised again. "Lauren and Lily can speak for themselves. So can Randall. But for the record, I saw him, and that you may tell to your grandchildren."