by Jane Toombs
"I'm sorry. I keep forgetting. What I came for—Corinne went into Porterville with Kevin so we won't have any lessons this morning. Could you take us riding? Mama won't let us go out alone."
Corinne was with Kevin? Why?
"Well, will you?" Johanna repeated. "Please?"
"Is Corinne sick?"
"I don't know. She told Irma to tell us."
"Okay, I'll take you riding if it doesn't rain."
"How soon?"
"About an hour."
"Oh, boy!" Johanna rushed off, presumably to spread the word.
Samara's mind whirled with conjecture as she changed into riding clothes. Why hadn't Kevin mentioned Corinne was riding into town with him? Do they have some kind of understanding? Picturing Corinne--red hair flaming, tawny eyes inviting--made her feel colorless in comparison, like the difference between Technicolor and black and white in the movies.
Did Kevin mean to juggle the two of them? Like Mark, who'd slept with Marie and flirted with Rosita all the while he swore undying love for her. Mark, she was now convinced, had cared for none of them.
Was Kevin the same? Was in interest in her because of the Gregory money? While Sal claimed this was an obstacle in his eyes, might not it be an invitation to Kevin, who couldn't wait to hire his own cook? Samara closed her eyes and leaned her head against the wall. Please, no, she thought, don't let it be that way, don't let me be hurt, I can't go through it all again.
At the stables, she studied the sky while everyone saddled up. Though today's sky was heavy with gray clouds, the winter rains had not yet begun.
"I'm going to get a horse next year," Naomi announced, "'stead of this fat old pony."
"Me, too," Katrina said, but she hugged her pony's head and stroked his nose.
"Daddy said you had to be ten before you can have a horse," Johanna reminded them.
"Brian's only nine and he gets to ride a horse," Naomi pointed out.
"He's a boy,"
Naomi scowled. "So what if he is? He doesn't really belong here, he's just here as a guest. I heard Irma say so."
"Shut up!" Johanna cried. "Brian's going to s-stay at Hallow House f-forever. Don't you d-dare say anything different."
Samara hadn't heard Johanna stutter since she'd come home--not until now, when she was upset. "All right , girls," she said firmly. "That's quite enough. Naomi, it's not polite to talk about someone who's with you, nor is it appropriate to repeat servant's gossip. Any more of this and we unsaddle the horses and go back to the house."
All the children stared at her.
"Button your jacket all the way, Johanna," she added. "The wind's cold. Brian, you've got the cinch too loose--tighten it a bit."
When they finally set off on the ride, Samara decided the wind was more than cold. It seemed to blow from the Arctic as it whipped her hair and blew under her riding coat.
"We'll ride to the south boundary fence and back," she called to the children.
Johanna urged her horse up close. "That's not very far," she protested. "I thought maybe--" she paused to glanced back at the others and lowered her voice. "Can't we go to the cave?"
Samara tried to conceal her shock. "What cave?"
"Oh, you know--the one with the skulls. Brian's mother says you know where it is."
"Marie? What else has she been telling you?"
Apparently hearing his mother's name, Brian moved up on Samara's other side. "I asked Marie about that room up by the towers," he said. "No one wants to talk about it and I wondered why. "She said the room was a place to practice black magic."
Damn Marie. What was she thinking about speaking of such things to the children? She'd probably been drunk at the time.
"Marie told us about Skull Cave, too," Johanna said. "About how you took me there when I was a baby."
Samara felt colder inside than out. "I never took you to the cave and I don't intend to now." Which was the truth. Jose and her father had intercepted her before she got there.
"But why did she say you did? She told us it was at night and Sergei was still alive and--"
"Shut up!" Samara cried. "I don't want any more talk about the cave or about the room with the black door." Or about Sergei, she added silently.
Subdued, Johanna and Brain dropped back behind her. Samara felt the first drops of December rain cold against her face and it all came back to her. Cold rain and night and the small warm bundle that was baby Johanna cuddled against her, no way to know if Sergei was following, would find Johanna anyway despite her efforts, would take the baby from her to the room behind the black door...
"No," Samara whispered.
"I'm getting wet," Katrina announced, breaking the dark spell of the past. "I want to go back."
"Not yet," Naomi objected. "We're not to the fence."
"Another time," Samara said. "Vera will be good and mad if I let you all get pneumonia. Turn around, we're heading for home."
They were all soaked by the time they entered the house. Frances caught them before they reached the stairs. "You went horseback riding in that rain?" she accused. "You children march straight to your rooms. I'll be coming after you to make sure you take off every stitch of those wet clothes. And Johanna--it's a hot bath for you." She herded them toward the stairs.
In an aside to Samara, she added, "Johanna gets every germ that comes along. Not good for her to be out in the wet and cold."
Samara knew Frances always anticipated the worst, but she felt guilty anyway, saying, "I thought we'd be back before the rain started."
After she'd changed her clothes back to the red skirt and sweater, she went down to warm herself in front of the library fire, unsure whether the chill that seemed to settle in her bones came from the ride or memories she wanted to forget.
Stan Aarons sat in one of the leather chairs near the fireplace.
"Am I disturbing you?" she asked.
"Not at all," he assured her. "I'd enjoy your company. You provide a bright spot of color in this gloomy day."
She toasted herself before the flames until the chill was gone, then sat in the chair opposite Stan.
"There's something comforting about a fire," he said. "Hypnotic, too. In ancient times people believed the flicker of the flames foretold the future."
Lulled by the warmth, she nodded drowsily.
"Pyromancy, it's called. Divination by fire," Stan's voice seems to come from farther and farther away.
Dimly she heard him going on, but she wasn't really listening, taking in only a word here, a phrase there.
"...three candles. That's called lychnomancy. Of course the candles must be absolutely identical."
She stirred when he rose, trying to focus her sleepy eyes on him. He pulled a small table between their chairs and placed three red candles in brass holders on it, arranging them in a triangle. After lighting them he sat down.
"Now we'll see," he said.
Samara stared at the three flickering points of light.
"Wavering is supposed to mean a change of circumstances, "Stan said. "I've always wondered how one can be sure it's not a draft."
The candle closest to her began to sputter and for some reason she felt a flicker of fear. Suddenly she was wide-awake.
"Because your candle isn't burning well, you're in for a disappointment," he said. "Mine has a steadier flame."
"The center one is the brightest of all," she said.
"General good fortune for the household. I--" he broke off and, without warning, sprang up and snuffed out all three candles.
"Why did you do that?"
"Because I half believe all this."
"But my candle was going out anyway."
"I caught it before that happened." His voice was grim.
She raised her eyebrows.
After a moment he shrugged. "I bore everyone with my hobby. I forget most people aren't as interested in the occult as I am."
"What would it have meant if my candle had gone out by itself?" she asked.
&nb
sp; Stan looked uneasy. "Well--misfortune. Which I wouldn't wish on anyone, especially not you. Sometimes I blame myself for talking too much to your brother."
She turned her gaze to the fire. Circles, she thought. He life so far had gone in circles of dread and disappointment. Why should she think her future would be any different?
Here at Hallow House Sergei haunts us anew in Brian's face. Johanna wants to know about the room behind the black door where she came so close to death twice, where our mother did die. Tabitha, too, all those years ago. Celia. And where Mark practiced his own evil magic of betrayal of the country and of me. Will Kevin betray me, too?
"Have I made you feel bad?" Stan asked.
"What? Oh, no, I was daydreaming."
"Not pleasant dreams."
"No," she admitted, "but not because of you." Making an effort, she smiled. "I'm glad you're here, Stan. Maybe you can help me talk Daddy into taking Vera away for awhile after the holidays. She hasn't been well."
"I'm for that. John never goes anywhere. 'What good is money if you don't spend any for enjoyment?' I ask him. But this house holds him like a prison."
"Daddy loves Hallow House."
"I know. Still, it imprisons him."
The center light flicked on and they both turned toward the door.
"What are you two plotting here in the dark?" John asked as he approached them.
"Plotting to get you and Vera away from this place while Samara is here to look after the household and I'm here to keep an eye on the business," Stan told him.
John looked from one to the other of them, then sighed. "Vera hasn't been herself. Perhaps a change would be good for her."
Samara and Stan exchanged pleased glances.
"Will you join me in a pre-dinner cocktail?" John asked Samara. "Stan, I know you prefer wine." He smiled. "I'll tell Vera at dinner. She can have the fun of planning where to go."
Samara enjoyed Vera's surprise and pleasure at dinner and her father's obvious delight in seeing his wife animated and eager once again. At the same time she could hardly wait for the meal to be over so it would be time for Kevin to call. Surely he'd remember.
At eleven she gave up and went to her room. Not to sleep, she felt like she'd never sleep again. She'd brought a book with her chosen at random from the fiction shelf in the library. Forever Amber by a new author--Kathleen Winsor. Set in early England. Maybe she could immerse herself in another place and time.
But Amber's seduction soon after page one made Samara close the book with a bang. Men, she thought angrily. You can't trust any of them.
She shut off the light, slid down in bed and closed her eyes. Sleep refused to come. She found herself so tense her jaw ached, Resignedly, she turned on the bedside lamp again. The book lay on the floor. She stared down at it and shook her head. Was there anything else to read? She got up and, after finding nothing, she remembered the journal in her lingerie drawer. She grimaced, but it was either that or Amber's seduction.
Samara pulled open the drawer and blinked, certain she'd put the journal in this top dresser drawer. But it wasn't there. Quickly she checked the other drawers. No journal. Someone must have taken it. But who? Why? No one knew it was there. Well, that wasn't quite true. Johanna had come into the room when she was shutting Tabitha's journal away.
Johanna? She frowned, the conversation while riding coming back to her. Marie's talk about Skull Cave and the room behind the black door. What had possessed the woman to spill out past tragedies to children?
Samara grabbed a robe, thrust her feet into slippers and hurried to Johanna's room. The girl wasn't there. With growing dread, she then checked brain's room. He, too, was missing from his bed. She looked in on the twins and found them both asleep.
No light came up the stairs from the first floor. The dim corridor lights were the only illumination. Samara stopped at the closed door to the third floor staircase and gazed at it with apprehension.
I can't go up there. Not at night and alone.
As she hesitated, she though she heard something from above. Could Johanna and Brian possibly be up there? Her mind superimposed Sergei's face over Brian's. No. he wasn't Sergei. He wouldn't harm Johanna. He was only a nine-year-old boy.
But she had to find out if they were up there. Easing open the door, she looked up the stairs to where a crack of light showed from under the closed door of the north tower and relaxed slightly. If they were in the north tower, no harm could come to them.
She had to make sure they were all right, though. Climbing the stairs she asked herself why she'd been so sure they were in the middle room. The black door was locked and its special key not available. Still, they shouldn't be creeping around the house in the middle of the night. She swung open the north tower door, planning to tell them so.
The room was empty. As she stood there, fear escalating, she heard a voice coming from behind the locked black door.
No. Impossible. Daddy had said he'd locked it forever and she knew he wouldn't be careless about the key. She stood in the doorway of the north tower with a wedge of light spilling onto the black door, unable to bring herself to take the few steps necessary to cross to that door and try to open it. Never.
To her horror, she suddenly remembered there'd been another key. Mark's key. But he was gone for good. Wasn't he? As she stared with dread at the black door it began to open and her breath caught in her throat. A man's figure stood silhouetted in the light, his back to her.
"Mark!" she screamed.
Then blackness swirled around her, dragging her into a whirlpool of silence.
.
Chapter 31
In her world of darkness, Samara heard a child crying, Johanna? She struggled to find her way back to the light. When she opened her eyes she found herself supine on the floor with Kevin's scarred face above her and Johanna lying across her legs.
"Oh, K-Kevin," Johanna sobbed, "please don't let her be d-dead."
Everything rushed back to Samara--Johanna and Brian missing from their beds, Mark coming out of the room behind the black door. No, that was wrong. Not Mark.
She raised her hand to touch Johanna while she stared into Kevin's jade eyes. "What are you doing here?" she asked him.
"You fainted," he told her. "I'm sorry you were frightened, I hoped no one would come up here."
Confusion tangled her thoughts. What did Kevin mean?
"Are you really all right?" Johanna asked, inching up to lay her wet cheek against Samara's.
"Who's Mark?" Kevin asked. "Did you expect to find him up here?"
Samara struggled to sit up, burdened by Johanna clinging to her. Kevin helped her. "Not Mark," she said slowly as her mind began to function coherently. "It was you."
"What was me?"
"Coming out of that terrible room." She stared at him in horror. "You had Johanna in there with you. What kind of monster are you?"
"I didn't—" he began.
"I saw you." Samara pulled away from him, cuddling Johanna against her. "Don't cry, sweetheart, everything is all right," she crooned.
Johanna wriggled free. "I have to go see if Brian's okay. He got scared and ran downstairs when we saw you on the floor. We thought you were dead."
Kevin reached a hand to help Samara to her feet.
"Don't touch me!" she cried.
"Let's hurry and find Brian," Johanna urged.
Samara stood, leaning against the wall until her head stopped whirling. "You and Brian shouldn't have been in that room," she told her sister. "No matter who--"
"That's what Kevin told us." Johanna shivered. "I didn't l-like it in there anyway. I was scared."
Samara remembered the journal missing from her room. "Did you take that book from my drawer? Do you have Tabitha's journal?"
"I s-saw you hide her book," Johanna admitted. "Brian said we n-needed to find out all we could about the room, so I went in and t-took it. Are you awful m-mad at me?'
"Let's go downstairs." Kevin suggested.
&
nbsp; "How could you bring the children into this?" she demanded.
"They brought me here."
"I don't believe you!"
"That's your privilege." His voice was cold.
Downstairs, they found Brian crouched on his bed, eyes defiant. His face, though, was pinched with misery.
