What now? she asked herself. Just what the hell—
Her thoughts broke off as a black shape poked up from the near side of the valley.
She took a step backward.
The head was black, large. It was the Rottweiler, returned from the dead and ready for revenge.
Then she saw the rest of the body rising, lifting, almost as if someone were pushing it up the…
“Oh thank God,” she said and started forward. It was Petey, and the hands pushing the dog forward could only belong to Chris.
The dog slunk toward her, then glanced back at the figure scrabbling up the bank. Chris’s hair was plastered to his head, his face pinched with the strain. He’d gotten his chest over the rim of the drop-off when he noticed her, his face stretching in a look of almost comical surprise.
As she grasped his besotted shirt and hauled him toward her, he said, “What’re you doing out here?”
He climbed the rest of the way and stood.
“You’re drenched,” he said.
“What about you?”
He nodded toward the churning creek. “Petey and I had to swim across.”
They regarded the place where the bridge used to be.
Ellie asked, “What now?”
He spread his arms. “Beats me. I guess we go home and wait for the storm to end.”
“I don’t want to go home.”
“Huh?”
She had to raise her voice to be heard above the pounding rain and the peals of thunder. “I went through some of Lillith’s things.”
He scowled at her. “Why’d you do that?”
“I found pictures of you and your aunt.”
“So?”
“So the pictures were supposed to be of you and me.”
He stared at her uncomprehendingly.
“She cut me out and inserted herself.”
He shook his head, still not getting it.
She blew out frustrated breath. “Fine, then. We’ll go home. But only long enough for you to see what a nutjob Lillith was.”
Chapter Two
When they’d dried off and changed, Ellie led him to the office. She gave him the chair and knelt next to him before the desk.
The first picture she showed him was on the beach in Cancun.
Chris paled.
Pleased by his reaction, she flipped the page. His mouth tightened to a grim line as he stared at the pictures of their wedding day, the black and white face of his aunt. She waited for it to sink in, waited for him to speak, but the shock had apparently robbed him of the ability.
“Well?” she asked.
“What do you want me to say?”
“Lillith was psycho.”
He was quiet a long moment before reaching out, flipping to another page, one that showed Lillith in place of Ellie as she stood with Chris before a fountain.
Ellie shook her head. “Batshit crazy, right?”
“That’s a bit harsh.”
“Doesn’t this make you want to throw up? That’s your aunt for God’s sake.”
“I know who she is.”
“Maybe Doris was right.”
A pause. “There’s got to be an explanation.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Yeah? Like what?”
He fluttered a hand, pushed away from the desk. “I don’t know… She was a lonely old lady—maybe she was thinking about someone she used to know.”
“The pictures are of you.”
“An old boyfriend maybe…”
She tapped the album with an index finger. “She wanted to be with you.”
He shook his head.
Ellie stared at him, aghast. “Honey, you two are kissing in some of these pictures.”
“This is about your vanity,” he said, rising from the chair. “You’re offended she replaced you.”
She followed him out of the room. “She called me a vulgar slut, Chris—”
“You told me that story.”
“What do you mean ‘story’? You’re saying I made it up?”
He started down the stairs. “You never gave Lillith a chance.”
“I can’t believe you’re siding with her.”
“She’s dead, El.”
“How do you know?”
That stopped him. On the second floor landing, he said, “What are you talking about?”
“The night I saw the man in the basement, I also saw a woman. At the edge of the woods. She looked just like the pictures in the album.”
“How do you know? Lillith was clothed in all the pictures.”
A powerful hand clutched Ellie’s heart.
“I didn’t say the woman was naked.”
He looked away. “Yes you did.”
She took a step toward him. “You’ve seen her too.”
“I don’t know what you’re… Ellie, this is ridiculous.” He walked away.
She gripped the handrail with a quivering hand. “Honey? What’s going on?”
He rounded the corner of the foyer and disappeared.
“Chris?” She jogged through the living room. “Chris?”
He slammed the screen door and moved into the backyard. When she came down the steps after him he was already nearing the woods.
“Where’re you going?”
No answer. Almost to the trail.
“You’re gonna leave me here?”
A black shape scampered by her. Petey, following Chris into the trees. She hastened after them and felt the ominous beginnings of a migraine. She stopped, dumbstruck, at the edge of the forest.
Around her, the rain fell harder.
Chapter Three
Teeth mashed together, Chris shoved aside a branch barring his way. He slipped, the trail gone to mud in the storm. He sensed Petey padding along behind him, the dog’s toenails providing better stability in the puddled soil. Chris jogged down a slope, hurdled a brackish stream of runoff and climbed another hill. Whining a little, Petey scrambled up the path beside him. Chris made it, stood with hands on knees.
“You believe her?” he asked. “Saying all those awful things?”
Petey watched him, mouth open, pink tongue lolling to the side.
“I don’t believe it either,” Chris said and stood erect.
He started off again, moving unhurriedly this time. Ellie had nearly convinced him about Lillith, and he had to admit seeing the photos was a shock. But one needn’t be a psychologist to realize there were many possible interpretations of the doctored albums. Ellie was so strident sometimes, so controlling…
He stopped.
Ellie and her control problem. Ellie discovering the pictures. Ellie at home alone with Aunt Lillith’s personal items for how long, two hours? He and Petey had stopped at the hardware store to buy a mosquito fogger, then to Ike’s, and finally a swing by the liquor store because the grocery had been out of his favorite beer. He’d probably been gone closer to three hours, and three hours was a hell of a lot of time for Ellie to work on Lillith’s things…say, to crop pictures and paste new ones in. Later, he’d go through the office, see if he could find the remnants of Ellie’s duplicity, but already he was quite certain what she’d been up to.
Ellie despised Aunt Lillith. Had told him so just yesterday. Conveniently ignoring all the woman had done for them, the kindness she had shown Chris throughout his life.
Maybe, he reasoned, Ellie was jealous of the love he felt for his aunt. Maybe she begrudged Lillith that loyalty and had orchestrated this nasty little revelation in a desperate play for sole control of Chris’s emotions.
It made sense. Ellie did love to be in control. Perhaps this was her way of alienating him from the estate. Poison his memories of his aunt, and the land would no longer possess the same meaning for him, would forever carry the taint of betrayal and depravity.
You really believe that? an incredulous voice demanded. What the hell’s wrong with you?
Not a damn thing, he thought and shouldered past a tall shrub. The problem’s with my wife and he
r refusal to give this place a chance.
But she’s already warmed to it. Don’t you see that? The other night in bed, while you were talking about your future home, your children, Ellie was dreaming right along with you. Christ, man, give the girl a chance.
He frowned, the argument taking hold.
That’s right, the voice urged, give her the benefit of the doubt. Didn’t she just ask you this morning when you were gonna show her the clearing?
He brushed the thought away. Up ahead he saw Petey trotting toward a bend in the path, the one that led into the lowest part of the forest, the swale that would almost certainly be flooded by now. As if in confirmation, the unwholesome odor of brackish water surrounded him. Above, the rain continued to gust in stinging torrents. It made him thankful for the sheltering trees. He was soaked to the bones, but at least he could see.
He followed Petey around the bend and began the long, shadowy descent into the thicket.
Maybe, Ellie reflected as she poured herself hot cocoa, the maternal instinct had already been aroused in her. Perhaps it was why she’d done such a good job of calming herself down and reassuring herself that she and her baby were in no real danger here in the house. Yes, she still hoped Chris would consider a move elsewhere—there would always be too much of Lillith here for Ellie to be completely at ease—but for now it would do. She hated not being able to leave, and she couldn’t begin to guess at how much it would cost to fix the bridge, but those were matters for tomorrow.
For now she would drink her cocoa, take her book up to the bedroom and wait for her husband to return. If he was contrite, she’d forgive him and let him sleep beside her. If he still insisted she was being unfair, she’d tell him to sleep in the garage with Petey.
A small smile on her face, she stared out at the rain, which showed no signs of letting up. The lightning continued to flash with almost metronomic regularity. The thunder soothed her. Still, she was disquieted about something.
She took another sip, but the mug paused at her lips.
The videotapes.
Now was actually the perfect time to see what was on those old videocassettes. Chris was gone—might be gone all night for all she knew—and she sure as hell wasn’t getting back to town tonight.
Maybe she could learn something about Aunt Lillith that would show a different side of the woman. Maybe Ellie could learn to feel something for her other than fear and contempt.
Not likely, but possible.
Ellie refilled her mug and, grabbing her novel, began the long climb to the third floor.
He crested a hill and spotted the little clearing.
Even with the unrelenting storm raging above, even with nightfall rapidly approaching, he found the smaller of the two clearings somehow cheerful, a place of harmony.
A sanctuary.
He gave an inward chuckle at Campbell’s ominous references to this place. What a creep. There was nothing to suggest this was anything save a natural open spot in the forest, a site of tranquility and peace. In fact, he might just make this his writing spot. He could lean against a tree on the clearing’s edge, gaze out at the butterflies chasing one another over the soft bluegrass, the white clover.
“You came back,” a voice whispered.
Chris whirled, breath sticking in his throat, and spotted the girl twenty feet away, her body obscured by an elm tree. The pale oval of her face peeked coyly around its edge.
(the girl you made love to)
No! his mind shouted. That had been a dream, a fantasy.
But this was no dream.
He could make out her features in the dying evening light, yet he still couldn’t see her as well as he’d like. When he started in her direction, her face clouded, and she seemed to withdraw. Certain she’d dart away, he put up his hands to show he meant her no harm and began walking toward her.
“Please,” he said and winced at the severity of his tone. Then, more softly, “Please wait.”
The face hovered beside the tree, but the uncertainty remained.
He stepped closer, taking care to keep his movements slow and fluid. For once, he wished he were a smaller man. How could he prove with words he was non-threatening? The very act of saying it seemed to prove the converse.
She hadn’t bolted yet, and he’d halved the distance between them. He remembered their hazy, dreamlike lovemaking and wondered why that didn’t imbue him with confidence. If it had been real, shouldn’t there be a familiarity, a sense of trust established between them? Why should he feel like a stranger, why should this
(Lillith)
sweet, lovely girl be afraid of him?
He drew nearer and bit the inside of his mouth. Let me touch you, he thought. At least let me know I’m not imagining all this.
The sliver of pale skin grew smaller, smaller, and though he knew he shouldn’t run the final few yards, he was sure if he didn’t she’d disappear forever. He ached at the recollection of her way her skin tasted, sweet and rich like some rare tropical fruit.
“Where are you?” he called, but all around him there was only a funereal stillness, as though the girl had taken all life with her.
“Please,” he said. He gasped as cool fingers skimmed his neck.
She reached for him, her face clearer this time. Not totally discernible—the shadows were too long for that—but the shape of her nose, the maddening curve of her mouth, those he could see.
“Darling,” she breathed as their lips came together.
Chapter Four
Ellie’s plans were almost ruined when she realized they didn’t own a VCR. Determined to view the tapes, she returned to the garage and rummaged through six boxes before finding one with a VCR that reminded her of her early childhood: dark gray, the kind you loaded from the top. But when she lugged it into the living room and hooked it up, it appeared to work fine.
The first cassette she inserted began with one of those polychromatic bars and an irritating, sustained beep. Finally, both the bar and the beep went away and were replaced by a shot of an empty dining room. The camera had been fixed in an upper corner of the room. Ellie squinted and moved to the front edge of the couch cushion, but the room remained unfamiliar to her.
Then she spotted something on the far wall that was just large enough for her to make out. A painting of two boys climbing trees.
Of course, she thought. This was the dining room of Lillith’s main home, the one in Chris’s hometown.
A moment later she was startled to see herself enter, followed by Chris. They were both three years younger, and her hair was a foot shorter. Chris hadn’t liked it so short, so she’d grown it out. She was also dispirited to note that her legs appeared thinner in the blue skirt, which was surprisingly tight.
Probably to piss off Aunt Lillith, she thought.
Speaking of the old bag, there she was, entering from beneath the camera and hugging Chris.
All three of them sat, Ellie and Chris with their backs to the camera, Lillith at the head of the table. Lillith reached out and took Chris’s hand. He nodded and bowed his head. That’s right, Ellie thought. Lillith always liked for Chris to say grace.
As the prayer began, all three of them bowed their heads. But a moment later, Lillith’s large eyes opened and fastened on Chris. The woman’s gaze flitted up toward the camera, a secret, ghoulish smile curling her thin lips, then she turned back to Chris and watched him avidly, dark eyes glittering with jealous need.
Ellie cinched her robe tighter.
The dinner was uneventful, and try though she might, Ellie could not remember what it was they had spoken about that day. The audio quality was poor, but she could make out snatches of garbled conversation.
What came through with clarion lucidity, however, was the predatory gleam that settled into Lillith’s face whenever her eyes fixed on Chris. Often, when Ellie spoke, Lillith’s gaze would wander to Chris, and as it did the large doll’s eyes would lose their uninterested glaze and begin to sparkle with an intensity tha
t was difficult to behold.
She remembered there hadn’t been just one tape in the box, but several. Ellie leaned over and examined the rest of the tapes.
L.R., one label read.
Living room.
Kit., read another.
Ellie spotted another that read Bath and brought it out of the box with a sinking feeling. Surely the depraved old woman had not stooped so low, surely she hadn’t filmed them using the restroom, taking showers.
She took out the dining room tape, put in the one labeled Bath and pushed Play.
A bright red fury took hold of her.
It was funny how earlier, watching herself eat, she hadn’t considered the violation taking place, hadn’t felt outrage at being videotaped without her consent.
But now, watching herself on the toilet—fully dressed—brushing her teeth while Chris, wearing only a light-colored towel around his waist, shaved before the vanity mirror, Ellie found her hands balling into fists and her heels drumming on the wood floor.
The camera was situated above the shower. On the bottom left of the screen Ellie distinguished the rounded surface of the showerhead; the rest of the tub could be seen plainly.
“Damn you,” she whispered.
Chris leaned toward the camera, his muscular chest flexing as he reached out and twisted on the water. The water shot out at a diagonal, and through the spray Ellie could see the towel fall, Chris’s naked body.
Her mouth quivered. “Damn you to hell, Lillith.”
It was only a shower, but Ellie watched it with tears in her eyes. How could a woman who helped raise a child come to regard him as a sexual object when he grew into an adult?
Mercifully, the shower ended. The camera captured Chris as he stepped out of the shower and dried off. When he went out, Ellie expected the scene to end.
Seeing herself enter the bathroom alone, however, came as a big surprise.
“Oh no,” she said, and on the couch in her living room, Ellie brought her knees together, clutched the edges of her robe tightly against her throat.
The Darkest Lullaby Page 14
