by Harvey Click
Okpara drove slowly, thinking of the man’s exquisite manners, his beautiful clothing and immaculately groomed appearance. Even his fingernails, Okpara thought—they were so elegantly manicured.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Ben sat in Ed’s front room loading the magazine of his Springfield 1911 with the .45 caliber hollow-points that he and Ed had cast from Hermesium. It was an awkward job because he was wearing rubber gloves. There were eight cartridges, seven for the magazine and one for the chamber. When he finished with his Springfield, he loaded Sarah’s Ruger with the five cartridges they had made for her. Five and eight would have to do: Ed didn’t have much of the metal, and he wanted to keep a few rounds for himself in case Stonebrenner knew where he lived, as Darnell did.
“These are .38 Special, but we loaded them plus P, so they’ll have a little kick,” Ben said.
“That’s okay,” Sarah said.
“And remember, if you unload this thing you need to wear gloves. Ed says if this stuff kills Longevitals, it may not be too healthy for us measly mortals.”
“Probably not EPA-approved,” Ed said. “Well then, let’s have some lunch.”
They were eating ham and Swiss sandwiches with potato chips at the kitchen table when Sarah’s phone rang. “It’s Okpara,” she said.
She stepped out into the hallway, but Ben could hear her voice. She wasn’t doing much of the talking, but a couple of times he heard her say, “This is nuts!”
When she came back to the kitchen her face was pink with anger. “Unbelievable!” she said. “Un-fucking-believable! Okpara just accused me of every damn thing you can think of. Maybe I was in cahoots with Darnell, some kind of drug-running operation or something like that. Maybe I even killed Paul Finney, just like I killed Howard. Oh, and you hanged your wife, Ben. He’s lost his damn mind.”
“He’s been ensorcelled,” Ed said.
“What does that mean?”
“It means Stonebrenner has cast a spell on him. Your detective will certainly be no help to us from now on.”
“Oh yeah, I forgot,” Sarah said. “He also said Stonebrenner’s the world’s perfect gentleman, an outstanding example of civilization. He even raved about how nicely he manicures his fucking fingernails!”
“McClosky mentioned his fingernails,” Ed said. “He said they’re yellow and cracked.”
“Well, they’re not the only thing that’s cracked,” Sarah said. “So now what do we do?”
“Reconnaissance,” Ed said. He got a sheet of paper and began to draw a map. “Coming from Mount Vernon, we approach Stonebrenner’s house from the north. If you remember, it’s on our left, on the east side of the road, and set pretty far off the road.”
He drew a rectangle for the house.
“There’s a large barn about 50 yards before we get to the house, and it’s set the same distance off the road. And maybe 80 or 90 yards past the house is the little cemetery. A dirt lane leads to it from the road, and it’s inside a grove of trees that will hide a car pretty well. Teenagers park there to make out, and later on I get to hear their spooky stories.”
“So we park there and do what?” Sarah asked.
“We window peep with binoculars, and if we see Darnell that’s probably enough for the cops to get a warrant. Better yet if we can get a photo. I have a good camera with a telephoto lens, and I’ll pick up some super-fast film for night shooting. Ben, do you have a decent camera?”
“Just a plain-Jane digital one.”
“Bring it anyway—just be damn sure the flash is shut off. And don’t you have some sort of night viewer thingy?”
“No.”
“Too bad, but of course bring your binoculars. I have an extra pair Sarah can use. Fortunately my car is black, and with the lights out it should disappear pretty well behind the trees in the graveyard. Unfortunately your car is silver.”
“Gunmetal gray,” Ben said.
“Whatever. Sarah, what color is your car?”
“Bright red.”
“You young people love to be flashy. Okay, here’s what I have in mind for you, Ben. There’s a cornfield about 20 yards before you get to the barn, and between the cornfield and the barnyard there’s a dirt lane so a farmer can drive his tractor all the way from the road to the fields that are back there east of the barn and the house. So I’m thinking you could drive your flashy silver car a little way down this lane until you’re hidden behind the barn, and then no one in the house can see it.”
“Sounds like the barn would also be hiding the house so I couldn’t see it.”
“True. But if you get out of your car you can duck into the corn field just to the north and walk through it till you’re east of the barn, where you’ll have a good view of most of the windows that I won’t be able to see from the cemetery. The corn is as tall as you, so it will keep you hidden, but bring a can of pepper spray in case Stonebrenner has dogs.”
“Ed, I think this may be the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard,” Ben said. “What if Stonebrenner calls the cops?”
“In the first place, he won’t,” Ed said. “I think the last thing Stonebrenner wants is more cops sniffing around. In the second place, I’m very well respected around here, and the police are going to believe me a lot quicker than they’ll believe some stranger who looks like a Halloween decoration.”
“Tell that to the judge,” Ben said.
“I think it’s a great idea,” Sarah said. The two men stared at her, and she said, “Look, Ben, Darnell knows how to find me wherever I am. So just how safe do you think I’m going to feel as long as he’s walking around free?”
“I guess you’re right,” Ben said. “Okay, Ed, I’ll do this under one condition. I want Sarah to stay home.”
“No way,” she said. “Besides, what makes you think I’d be any safer at home?”
“She’s right,” Ed said. “Right now she’s not safe anywhere.”
“Okay,” Ben said. “If you insist on going, I want you to go in Ed’s car. That’s because if I have to sneak around through a cornfield, that either leaves you all alone in my car, which I don’t want, or else sneaking through a field with me, which I want even less. You two should be pretty safe hidden in the cemetery—but, Ed, I want you to be right there beside her all the time, and if you need to step out of the car to get a good view, I don’t want either one of you to be more than ten feet away from it at any time. And at the first sign of any trouble, I mean even if a raccoon farts, I want both of you back in that car immediately with the pedal to the metal, hightailing it back here as fast as you can. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” Ed said.
“Don’t I get any say in this?” Sarah asked.
“No,” Ben said. “You’re already outvoted two to one. And before you say I’m some sort of domineering sexist pig, let me say that getting you killed isn’t a very good way of protecting you.”
“All right,” she said. “I’ll go with Ed and try to be good if you promise not to go any farther from your car than absolutely necessary to see around the barn.”
“Fair enough,” Ben said.
“Don’t forget to turn your dome light off so it won’t come on when you open the door,” Ed said. “Set your cell phones to vibrate—you don’t want them suddenly blasting out Beethoven’s Fifth while you’re sneaking around. Go home now and put on black clothes and get all the stuff you need. I think half an hour after sunset should be dark enough, so meet me back here no later than sundown. And whatever you do, don’t forget to wear those medallions I gave you, or I swear I’ll skin you alive!”
Chapter Forty-Nine
While Angel stood naked in the kitchen eating more of the delicious raw ground meat, Stonebrenner stripped off her bandages. All of the wounds were healed, even the big X-shaped one, leaving scars of pink new skin. Using a small pair of scissors, he began removing the stitches.
Lovely pink stigmata, she thought, and she felt ashamed of the suspicions she had harbored toward Baby during the worst of he
r illness.
He smiled and said, “Welcome to the long future, my love. You’re a Longevital now.”
“What day is it?” she asked. “I’ve lost track.”
“Sunday, the eleventh of August.”
“Darnell’s birthday,” she murmured. The thought troubled her for some reason. She reached for her glass of water and sipped it thoughtfully.
“Is something the matter?”
“No.” She smiled at him. “I feel so good today, better than I’ve ever felt. Baby, I love you.”
“I hope you’ll love me for the many years to come,” he said. “For today we shall be married.”
Her hand reached instinctively to her bald head.
Baby smiled. “Don’t worry, I’ve bought you the best wig that money will buy. But don’t imagine that you’ll remain bald like me. When your hair grows back out, it’s certain to be nicer than ever. I’ve also bought you a lovely white gown, as befitting a virgin.”
Angel was suddenly aware of how bad she smelled, long days and nights of sickness having coated her skin with a film of sweat and disease. As hungry as she was, she wanted to take a shower at once.
She put down her plate, but Baby said, “Eat more and drink more. You’re hungry and probably dehydrated. And there’s plenty of time before you need to dress. Now, my love, let me see your hand.”
She gave him one of her hands, embarrassed by its bony emaciation. Baby examined it carefully, then placed it gently on the kitchen counter and picked up a butcher knife.
Suddenly Angel screamed. Her hand was pinned to the wooden table by Baby’s knife.
He pulled out the knife carefully and said, “Just testing. If your treatments were completely successful, it shall heal within the hour. Now I’ll leave you alone to enjoy your food and drink.” He kissed her forehead and left.
Angel held up the injured hand. It blazed like fire, but it wasn’t bleeding as much as she expected. No doubt he was right: it would soon heal. Still, she wished he had found a gentler way to test her condition.
She stared at the food. Despite her hunger, she had lost her appetite.
She thought of Darnell again and murmured, “Happy birthday.”
***
But her hand did heal within the hour, the wound fading into a pink blush of new skin, and she realized that a less dramatic demonstration might not have convinced her. Her appetite returned after she bathed, and she ate some more of the meat. She felt much more attractive wearing the luxurious wig of long straight black hair. The color suited her, she thought.
Baby joined her in the kitchen and inspected her hand with satisfaction. He kissed it and said, “One hour from now, sweet Angel. Two o’clock in the front living room. And until then, I’ll observe the old propriety. A groom shouldn’t visit his bride before the ceremony.” He left.
After eating, Angel went to her bedroom and sat at the dresser putting on her makeup and painting black eyebrows to match the wig. She liked the leaner look of her face. Her next meal, she decided, would be much smaller; she wanted to be slender and pretty for her husband.
The wedding dress he had bought for her was a beauty, white lace and embroidery, a long train that she lifted when she moved around the room. The meal seemed to have given her vigor; never had she felt so strong, and never so excited.
The hour arrived at last. Kathy Beers appeared in Angel’s chamber wearing a pretty flowered dress and, as bridesmaid, she escorted Angel down the long staircase and into the front living room, which was filled with flowers. Stonebrenner, dressed in a black tuxedo, waited with Eric Beers, who was wearing a cheap black suit, its sleeves too short for his gangly arms. No doubt it was the best he owned.
Eric Beers officiated, stumbling awkwardly over the words Stonebrenner had written. Though Angel had little experience with weddings, the words seemed to her fairly standard, except there was no reference to God: “Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the presence of the Shadow of the First Moment to join together this man and this woman in matrimony . . .”
The room was dark, its windows shrouded by thick drapes, but the roses and chrysanthemums glowed pleasantly in the light of the black candles blazing on the mantle. Angel stared at them and wondered if the strange mood she was feeling was what people called joy. After all the years of horror and pain, she clutched at last like a bouquet of flowers a solemn promise of love.
She heard the farmer say, “Jacob Stonebrenner, wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife . . .” She heard Baby answer, “I will.”
Then it was her turn. “Angela Dietrick, wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband in the estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love, comfort, honor, and keep him in sickness and in health, and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto him, giving him power and strength, and aiding him howsoever possible, so long as ye both shall live?”
“I will.”
Baby placed a gold band on her finger.
“Those whom the Shadow of the First Moment hath joined together let no man put asunder. I pronounce you man and wife.”
If there was something in the mysteries of love that Baby hadn’t understood before, Angel believed he understood it now. She could tell by the way he kissed her, deeply and tenderly, as a loving husband.
He led her out of the living room. Instead of heading up the stairs, he said, “As you are the heart of my life, so my caverns are the heart of our house. I should like to consummate our marriage there, in our secret chambers, where we’ll always be safe.”
She thought of the cool air of that hidden sanctum, and it seemed the right place for them to make love the first time. As he led her to the basement, she worried again about her anatomical deficiency. Despite it, she was determined to please him as no other woman ever had.
After he pressed the two stones to unlock his secret door, she said, “Maybe someday I’ll have every attribute of a woman, but today I’ll use other ways to satisfy you.”
Baby looked slightly puzzled. Then he smiled and said, “Sweet Angel, you’re a virgin, and I love you best that way. Let ours be the purest kind of marriage, a wedding of our spirits.”
His words disappointed her, but as he carried her over the threshold, through the darkness of the doorway, Angel thought even that kind of marriage could be exciting, lying together naked, their deep longing never diluted by carnal knowledge.
Then a question troubled her thoughts. If Baby didn’t intend to make love to her, what had he meant by the word “consummate”?
***
Stonebrenner set Angel down, lit a lantern, and shut the door behind them. He believed she would consent to their wedding of spirits, but he dreaded the minutes ahead.
As they descended the stone steps into the cool darkness, he said, “You’ve taught me much about love, and I hope you’ll teach me even more. I hope you’ll teach me about the most perfect love, that which places another before oneself.”
“I will,” she answered, as if continuing her wedding vow.
“I’ve never told you why Charles Newman paralyzed me and buried me alive,” he said. “It’s a practice known to adepts as ‘cradling.’ When Newman cradled me, he gained some of my spiritual energy. I was for him like a storage battery hidden away, a source of energy he could tap into.
“Newman himself had once been cradled by another adept, who wished to draw upon his immense powers. The more powerful the one you cradle, the more power you can draw from him, and that’s why the deceitful Newman spent years teaching me his Hermetic secrets. When you released me, Newman’s strength must have dwindled accordingly, and though he’s still dangerously powerful, he’ll rage until his battery is buried again.”
Though he didn’t look at Angel’s face, he sensed her stiffening with apprehension. She was beginning to understand.
“Until Charles Newman is defeated, we must join our strength against him,” he said. “I believe you know what I’m going to ask you to do. You understand now what I mean by the wedding of our spirits.
”
Angel stopped walking. “I can’t,” she said, her voice tiny and terrified in the dark cavern.
“You vowed to help me any way you can,” Stonebrenner whispered. “I likewise pledge to you that once I’ve defeated Newman I’ll release you from your cradle. I’ll sacrifice that much of my power as a proof of my love for you.”
“I can’t,” she repeated, her voice prickling with panic. “I’ll do anything else to help you. You can torture me, you can even kill me. But not that!”
“Killing you wouldn’t help me in the least,” he said. “Only one kind of sacrifice will help.”
“No! I can’t!”
Angel stood coiled in her long white gown, breathing hard, ready to spring away from him, but there was nowhere to run.
“You must,” he said. “You’re my wife. Just a few minutes ago you solemnly vowed to give me power and strength and aid me howsoever possible. Did that vow mean nothing?”
“I can’t!” she cried. “I can’t be locked in the box again!”
Stonebrenner grabbed her, and her cry echoed in the cavern, drowning out the sacred vow she had spoken in the living room only minutes before. The noise was intolerable. He clamped his hand over her mouth, but the cry still echoed in the hollow darkness.
Angel fought with the strength of a Longevital as he wrestled her through the tunnel at the rear of the cavern. Where the ceiling was too low for standing, he crouched down and dragged her. The tunnel ended in a chamber much smaller than the workshop, its ceiling no more than an inch above Stonebrenner’s head, its walls only a few feet from his shoulders. He had left the lantern back in the workshop, and though he had trained his night vision with herbs and spells, his eyes could just barely penetrate the thick darkness of this small cave.
She kicked and clawed as Stonebrenner lifted her into a coffin-shaped cavity carved out of a ledge in the wall. He climbed in on top of her, pressing her down inside the rock tomb with the weight of his body while he chanted the words of the cradling spell above her noises. He caressed the air above her forehead, weaving the dreamy, hypnotic passes that, along with the chanted lullaby, at last began to still her struggles.
