by Nora Roberts
In a last plunge to cheat death, Caroline rolled away. The blade caught the skirt of her dress, pinning it to the floor. On a cry of terror, she ripped it free and stumbled to her feet. She raced toward the doorway, waiting to hear the whistle of steel through the air, the heat of the blade as it cut into her back.
The light in the hall flashed on, blindingly bright after the dark.
“Caroline!” Tucker pounded down the hall, grabbing her as she fell through the doorway. “You’re all right? Tell me you’re all right.” He dragged her close, and holding her there, stared at his sister.
She had the knife in her hand, and in her eyes was a wildness that gripped him with horror. “Josie. In the name of God, Josie, what have you done?”
The wildness faded as her eyes filled. “I couldn’t help it.” As tears spilled onto her cheeks, she turned and ran to the terrace.
“Don’t let her go. Tucker, you can’t let her go.”
He saw his brother hesitate at the top of the steps. “Take care of her,” he said to Dwayne, and pushed Caroline toward him before he raced after Josie.
He called her name. Some of the revelers who were heading home stopped at the shouts and looked up, with much the same curiosity and expectation with which they’d watched the fireworks. Tucker sped along the terrace, dragging open doors, switching on lights. When he tugged on the doors that led into their parents’ bedroom, he found them locked.
“Josie.” After a few frantic yanks, he pounded on the door. “Josie, open up. I want you to let me in. You know I can break it down if I have to.”
He laid his brow against the glass and tried to reason out what his mind simply couldn’t grasp. His sister was inside. And his sister was mad.
He pounded again, cracking the glass and bloodying his fingers. “Open the goddamn door.” He heard a sound behind him and whirled. When he saw Burke come toward him, he shook his head. “Get away. Get the hell away. She’s my sister.”
“Tuck, Cy didn’t tell me what this is all about, but—”
“Just get the hell away!” On a scream of rage, Tucker threw his weight against the door. The tickle of breaking glass was lost under the blast of a single gunshot.
“No!” Tucker went down to his knees. She was lying on the bed their parents had shared. Blood was spreading onto the white satin spread. “Oh, Josie, no.” Already grieving, he dragged himself up. Sitting on the bed, he gathered her into his arms and rocked.
“I’m glad you came to see me.” Caroline poured coffee into two cups before she sat at her kitchen table across from Della. “I wanted to talk to you, but I thought it best to wait until after the funeral.”
“The preacher said she was resting now.” Della pressed her lips together hard, then lifted her cup. “I hope he’s right. It’s the living that suffer, Caroline. It’s going to take some doing for Tucker and Dwayne to put this behind them. And the others, too. Happy and Junior, Arnette and Francie’s folks.”
“And you.” Caroline reached out to take Della’s hand. “I know you loved her.”
“I did.” Her voice was rough with the tears she blinked away. “Always will, no matter what she did. There was a sickness inside her. In the end she did the only thing she knew to cure it. If she’d have hurt you—” Her hand shook, then steadied. “I thank God she didn’t. Tucker wouldn’t have been able to get beyond it. I came here today to tell you that, and to say that I hope you won’t turn away from the brother because of the sister.”
“Tucker and I will settle things ourselves. Della, I feel you have a right to know. Josie told me about her mother, about how she was conceived.”
Under Caroline’s, Della’s hand convulsed. “She knew?”
“Yes, she knew.”
“But how—”
“She found out from her mother, inadvertently. I know it must have been hard on you, and on Mrs. Longstreet, holding on to that secret.”
“We thought it best. She came home that day, after he hurt her. Her dress was torn and dirty, and her face was pale as spring water. And her eyes, her eyes, Caroline, were like a sleepwalker’s, all dazed and dull. She went right on up and got in the tub. Kept changing the water and scrubbing and scrubbing till her skin was raw. I saw the bruises on her. I knew. I just knew. And because I knew where she’d gone, I knew who.”
“You don’t have to talk about it,” Caroline said, but Della shook her head.
“I wanted to go over and take a whip to him myself, but I couldn’t leave her. I held her while she sat in the water, and she cried and cried and cried. When she’d cried out, she said we weren’t to tell Mr. Beau, nor anybody else. She was afraid the two of them would kill each other, and I expect she was right. There was nothing I could say to her that could get the idea out of her head that she was responsible. It was always Mr. Beau for her, Caroline. She was a pretty girl, and young, and she saw a bit of Austin now and again. But she never promised to marry him. That was an idea he got fixed in that hateful brain of his.”
“He had no right to do what he did, Della. No one could think otherwise.”
“She did.” She sniffled and wiped a tear away with her knuckle. “Not that he had the right, but that somehow she’d pushed him to it. Then she found out she was carrying, and Mr. Beau had been up in Richmond the whole two weeks during her fertile time, so she had to figure Austin had gotten her pregnant. There was no question of telling anybody then. She didn’t want the child hurt. She did her best to forget, but she worried. And when Josie would go off wild, she worried more. She had her mama’s looks, Josie did, just like her brothers. But I guess, because we knew, we could see something of him in her.”
So could she, Caroline thought, but said nothing.
“She wasn’t to know. Not ever. But since she did, I wish she’d come to me so I could have told her how her mother tried to protect her.” Della sighed and dabbed at her eyes. Then she went very still. “But she knew. Lord help us, she knew. Is that why she … Oh, my baby, my poor baby.”
“Don’t.” Caroline cupped Della’s hand between both of her own and leaned close to comfort. There was much that had been said in that shadowy bedroom that would remain there. In the dark. “She was ill, Della. That’s all we know. They’re all dead now—Josie, her parents, Austin. There’s no one to blame. I think because of the living, because of the ones we love, the secret should be buried with them.”
Struggling for control, Della nodded. “Maybe Josie’ll rest easier that way.”
“Maybe we all will.”
She’d hoped he would come. Caroline had wanted to give him time, but it had been a week since Josie’s funeral, and she’d hardly seen him. Never alone.
Innocence was doing its best to lick its wounds and go on. From Susie, Caroline had learned that Tucker had been to see the family members of each victim. What had been said behind those closed doors remained private, but she hoped it had brought a kind of healing.
The summer was passing. The delta had a short respite from the heat when the temperatures dropped to the eighties. It wouldn’t last, but she’d learned to appreciate each moment.
After hooking the pup’s bright red collar to his leash, she started down the lane. The flowers her grandmother had planted years before were thriving. It took only a little care and patience.
Useless tugged at his leash and she quickened her pace. Perhaps they would walk all the way down to Sweetwater. Perhaps it was time to try.
She turned at the end of her lane and saw Tucker’s car almost instantly. It looked as snazzy and arrogant as it had the first time she’d seen it barreling toward her. The sight of it made her smile. A heart wasn’t as easily healed as mangled metal, but it could be done. With care and patience.
With a cluck of her tongue she pulled Useless back onto the lawn. She knew where to find Tucker.
He was fond of water, of still, quiet water. He hadn’t been sure he could sit here again. Coming back had been a kind of test. But the deep green shade and the dark, placid pond
were working their magic. Contentment was still out of reach, but he’d gotten a grip on acceptance.
The dog raced out of the bush, barking, and plopped his forelegs on Tucker’s knees.
“Hey there, boy. Hey, fella. You’re getting some size on you, aren’t you?”
“I believe you’re trespassing,” Caroline said as she moved into the clearing.
Tucker offered a halfhearted smile as he scratched the dog’s ears. “Your grandmother let me come and sit here a spell from time to time.”
“Well then.” She sat on the log beside him. “I wouldn’t want to break tradition.” She watched the dog lick Tucker’s hands and wrists, “He’s missed you. So have I.”
“I’ve been … hard to be around lately.” He tossed a twig for the dog to chase. “Heat’s let up,” he said lamely.
“I noticed.”
“I expect it’ll be back before long.”
She linked her hands in her lap. “I expect.”
He stared at the water awhile longer, then went on staring at it when he spoke again. “Caroline, we haven’t talked about that night.”
“And we don’t have to.”
He shook his head as she reached for his hand, and stood to move away. “She was my sister.” His voice was strained, and as he continued to study the water, Caroline saw how tired he looked. She wondered if she’d ever see that carefree grin again, and hoped.
“She was ill, Tucker.”
“I’m trying to see that. The same as if she’d had cancer. I loved her, Caroline. I love her now, too. And it’s hard, remembering her, and how full of life and spit she was. It’s hard, remembering all those graves she’s responsible for. But it’s hardest, closing my eyes and seeing you running out of that room, and Josie just behind you, with a knife in her hand.”
“I can’t tell you it’ll go away, not for either of us. But I’ve learned not to look back.”
He bent down for a pebble and tossed it into the water. “I wasn’t sure you’d want to see me.”
“You should have been.” She rose, as agitated as the pup who ran in circles with a twig in his mouth. “You started this between us, Tucker. You wouldn’t let it alone. You wouldn’t listen when I said I didn’t want to be involved.”
He threw another stone. “I guess that’s true. I’ve been wondering if it wouldn’t be best if I just let you go on your way, pick up where you were before I got messed up in your life.”
She watched the pebble plop and shoot out its spreading ripples. Sometimes you accomplished more by stirring things up, she decided, than by letting them run smooth.
“Oh, that’s fine. That’s just like you, isn’t it? Head for the door when things get complicated with a woman.” She grabbed his arm and shoved him around to face her. “Well, I’m not like the others.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“I’ll tell you what you mean,” she tossed back, giving him a hard thump on the chest that had his mouth falling open in surprise. “It’s been nice, Caro. See you around.’ Well, forget it. You’re not going to stroll in and change my life, then walk away, whistling. I’m in love with you, and I want to know what you’re going to do about it.”
“It’s not that I—” He broke off. His eyes closed, as if on a pain, then he laid his hands on her shoulders, rested his brow against hers. “Oh, God, Caro.”
“I want you to—”
“Shh. Just hush a minute. I need to hold you.” He drew her closer, his grip tightening until she felt his muscles tremble. “I’ve needed to hold you so much these past few days. I was afraid you’d back away.”
“You were wrong.”
“I was going to try and be noble and let you go.” He buried his face in her hair. “I’m not much good at being noble.”
“Thank God for that.” Smiling, she tilted her head back. “You haven’t answered me.”
“I was thinking more of kissing you.”
“Nope.” She put a hand on his chest to hold him off. “I want an answer. I said I loved you, and I want to know what you’re going to do about it.”
“Well …” His hands slid away from her. He found the best thing to do with them was to jam them in his pockets. “I had it pretty well worked out before—before everything happened.”
She shook her head. “There is no before. Try now.”
“I guess I was thinking about you going on this next tour. You do want to go?”
“I want to go on this one. For myself.”
“Yeah. I was thinking. It occurred to me that you might not object to company.”
Her lips curved slowly. “I might not.”
“I’d like to go with you, when I could. I can’t leave for weeks at a time, with Cy to look after, and Sweetwater—especially since Dwayne’s going to be up in that clinic for a while—but now and then.”
“Here and there?”
“There you go. And I was thinking that when you weren’t touring or playing somewhere, that you’d come back here and be with me.”
She pursed her lips in consideration. “Define ‘be with.’ ”
He let out a deep, shaky breath. It was hard to get it out, he discovered, when he’d spent most of his life being careful to hold it in. “I want you to marry me, have a family with me. Here. I guess I want that more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.”
“You’re looking a little pale, Tucker.”
“I guess that goes with being scared to death. And that’s a hell of a thing to say after a man’s just proposed marriage to you.”
“You’re right. You’re entitled to a simple yes or no.”
“Hold on. There’s nothing simple about it.” Terrified, he grabbed her close again. “Just hold on and hear me out. I’m not saying we wouldn’t have to work at things.”
“There’s one other thing you’re not saying. One very important thing.”
He opened his mouth and closed it. The steady patience of her gaze had him trying again. “I love you, Caroline. Jesus.” He had to take a moment to be sure he had his balance. “I love you,” he said again, and it was easier. In fact, it was just fine. “I’ve never said that to a woman. I don’t expect you to believe me.”
“I do believe you.” She lifted her lips to his. “It means more that it cost you some effort to get it out.”
“I s’pose it’ll get easier.”
“I s’pose it will. Why don’t we go on back to the house so you can practice?”
“Sounds reasonable.” He whistled for the pup as he slipped an arm around Caroline’s waist. “This time you didn’t answer me.”
She laughed up at him. “Didn’t I? How about a simple yes?”
“I’ll take it.” He scooped her up as they stepped into the sunlight. “Did I ever tell you about one of my great-great-aunts? Might’ve been three greats. Her given name was Amelia. That’s a nice soft name, don’t you think? Anyway, she ran off and eloped with one of the McNairs back in 1857.”
“No, you didn’t tell me.” Caroline hooked an arm around his neck. “But I’m sure you will.”
To
the Colonel
and
his Yankee
DIVINE EVIL
A Bantam Book
PUBLISHING HISTORY
Published by
Bantam Dell
A Division of Random House, Inc. New York, New York
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved
Copyright (c) 1992 by Nora Roberts
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 2004041055
Bantam Books and the rooster colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.
eISBN: 978-0-307-56740-6
www.bantamdell.com
v3.1
Contents
Master - Table of Contents
Divine Evil
Title Page
Copyright
Part One
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Part Two
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Part Three
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Part One
_____
Men would be angels, angels would be gods.
—Alexander Pope
What’s past is prologue.
—Shakespeare
Chapter 1
The rite began an hour after sunset. The circle had been prepared long ago, a perfect nine feet, by the clearing of trees and young saplings. The ground had been sprinkled with consecrated earth.
Clouds, dark and secretive, danced over the pale moon.
Thirteen figures, in black cowls and cloaks, stood inside the protective circle. In the woods beyond, a lone owl began to scream, in lament or in sympathy. When the gong sounded, even he was silenced. For a moment, there was only the murmur of the wind through the early spring leaves.
In the pit at the left side of the circle, the fire already smoldered. Soon the flames would rise up, called by that same wind or other forces.
It was May Day Eve, the Sabbat of Roodmas. On this night of high spring, both celebration and sacrifice would be given for the fertility of crops and for the power of men.
Two women dressed in red robes stepped into the circle. Their faces were not hooded and were very white, with a slash of scarlet over their lips. Like vampires who had already feasted.
