The Darkest Lullaby

by Jonathan Janz

  She noted with faint optimism that the creek was down. Taking care not to allow the razor and the lighter to spread too far apart, she made her cautious, halting way down the bank. She knew if the vampires were going to attack her, now would be the time. Her attention was on not breaking her neck, and they might use this moment to fly at her in one gibbering mass.

  But she reached the creek without issue.

  Of course you did, Ellie thought. It’s not the descent or ascent you need to be careful of, it’s the water. Remember, water isn’t exactly conducive to setting something on fire.

  Ellie grimaced. She blew out a nervous breath and described a slow three-sixty, sure at any moment Lillith’s leering face would appear.

  But it didn’t. At least not yet.

  She took a step into the creek and was surprised at its warmth. The bed felt rocky, but at least the footing was uniform. The last thing she needed was to lose her balance, the blade—or just as bad, the lighter—dipping into the water and rendering her only defense useless. She took another step, and again found solid purchase. The water trickled past her calves, its eddying warmth lulling her, insisting everything would be fine, there was nothing to fear anymore.

  The hell there isn’t, she thought, and the next moment she understood how true that thought was. One moment she was stepping forward, the next she was windmilling her arms in terror. For an awful second she was sure she’d fall face first into the water. Then, some of her balance returned, but she knew she’d only bought a brief reprieve. Her momentum was still going forward, her only hope now to jump for the opposite bank, which was several feet away.

  With all her strength, she sprang from the shelf of rock and thrust her arms as high as they would go. She knew her lower body wouldn’t clear the water, but as long as her arms landed on the bank, there was a chance the blade and lighter would remain dry. Her knees connected first, and though the bite of the river rocks sent starbursts of pain up her legs, the landing allowed her to extend her arms all the way as she flopped forward onto the bank. She gasped as what she’d been terrified of, the splash caused by her lower body, showered her arms, but as far as she could tell very little of it had actually landed on her hands. She was about to test the lighter when she heard a skittering noise to her left, beheld the vampire lunging toward her.

  Ellie flicked the lighter, and the flame shot up. The vampire hit the ground, one arm thrown up as if she held a flamethrower.

  You’re right to be scared, she thought. You know what’ll happen to Lillith if the dried blood ignites. She glanced at the blade to check for moisture and glimpsed a pale blur in her periphery.

  Whirling, she discovered Campbell looming toward her, the vampire having somehow traversed the creek and scuttled down the opposite side, the side on which she now stood.

  “Get back!” she roared.

  But rather than obeying, Campbell snatched at her, his monstrous face a mask of lust and madness. Instinctively, Ellie jerked the blade over the flame and saw Campbell’s expression change. Blue fire licked up the edge, and behind her—terrifyingly near—she heard a shriek of agony explode in the forest. Campbell scrabbled away, his taloned hands splashing the edge of the creek, and the vampire who’d attempted to sneak up behind her growled.

  She remembered Lillith’s words: The moment you kill me, they’ll destroy you and your child.

  She glanced at the blade, the blue flame winking out. Around her, the forest seemed to sigh. She glimpsed them then, the faces peering over the creek banks from both sides. They’d followed her, and they’d almost succeeded in catching her unaware.

  Ellie called, “If you try to stop me again, I’ll kill her!”

  For a moment there was no reaction in those ghostly, black-eyed faces. Then, slowly, they receded. Campbell’s clawed hands were up in a gesture of supplication, and the vampire behind her was walking away, its face turned and watching her over its shoulder.

  With even more care than she’d taken going down the bank, Ellie climbed up the other side and back onto the lane. Deep within the mass of trees to her right, she thought she spied the glint of a red-and-blue police light.

  But surely that was her imagination.

  She forced herself to keep walking, and a few minutes later she saw the lane open upon the county road. She was certain that the trees would swing toward her at the last moment, the branches become deadly spears that would impale her and her child, but the only movement she witnessed as she emerged from the lane was a blackbird taking flight, fluttering toward Ravana.

  The lighter poised beneath the blade, Ellie followed.

  After

  Toward the end of August, nearly three months since the bizarre happenings at the Crane house, Doris Keller signaled a left turn onto the lane. She remembered the attack, that horrid dog

  (Petey)

  pouncing on her as though she’d threatened its owners. Doris squeezed the wheel tighter, her knuckles white and full of tendons. At the time she’d believed Sheriff Bruder when he told her the animal had been destroyed, but now, gazing out at the leviathan oaks and the broad Colorado spruces, she had to wonder. If the nasty beast did scamper out of the forest toward her car, she’d run the bastard over. But she doubted it would fall for that. “Petey” was too canny to become roadkill. No, more likely he would lope beside the car, perhaps even wag his tongue placatingly: Let’s be friends, Ms. Keller, and let bygones be bygones.

  Doris reached out, slipped a hand inside her purse, and touched the cold steel of the Kahr E9 handgun.

  She smiled thinly and thought, I hope I see you again, Petey.

  She shifted in her seat, and as she did her bra chafed against the deepest gouge the animal had made, an ugly, ragged trench just below her sternum that still hadn’t healed all the way. Stupid dog.

  Stupid owners.

  Doris had no doubt Chris and Ellie Crane were alive somewhere. She stared sourly at the ranks of trees drifting by. Whatever had happened out here, they’d been in on it together, of that she had no doubt.

  Ahead, just like Franklin—the deputy who’d taken Bruder’s place—had told her, the new bridge spanned the creek nicely and provided ample room for her car to pass. This one even, she noted with a dubious glance, sported steel guardrails, much fancier than the wooden ones that’d flanked the old bridge.

  She picked up speed and waited for the black lab to come darting out of the forest. It made her nervous, and she didn’t like that, not a bit. Did they name you in honor of him, Petey? Of Gerald Peter Destragis?

  Doris found she was trembling.

  To calm herself, she turned on the radio and concentrated on the unspooling lane. Thinking of the investigation and the superstitious paramedics who’d started all kinds of rumors about these woods, Doris shook her head and made soft clucking noises in her throat. One paramedic—she’d forgotten his name, but he had graying hair and was old enough to know better—claimed that an enormous branch on the Crane side of County Road 1200 had swept down toward his ambulance as he and another man pulled away from Aaron Wolf’s house with what remained of Aaron and his wife. Another man who’d been part of the forensics team claimed that a ghostlike face had suddenly lunged through the brush at him, growling and snapping. Quavering fools, both of them, she thought and twisted off the radio. The reception was terrible out here anyway.

  A white face, the man had said. With eyes as black as a shroud.

  Ridiculous that in this day and age grown men still reverted back to their childhood fears when confronted with the least mystery. But there was really no mystery at all. Chris and Ellie Crane had murdered the Wolf brothers, Aaron’s wife Anna, Sheriff Troy Bruder, and probably Norman Campbell. Unless Campbell was in on it, an idea she refused to totally discount. The notion that all the old business with Destragis had started up again

  (It’s true, you know it’s true)

  was akin to believing in the boogeyman. She aimed to get to the bottom of things today.

  The sister
knew something.

  Katherine Chambers had said all the right things during the investigation. Rather than shying away from the press, the woman obviously relished the attention. Why, even one of the Chicago papers had sent someone down here to interview her, and while she’d answered the questions coolly enough, if one took a step back and examined the situation—the way Doris had—one could see that something was fundamentally amiss.

  Ahead, the woods parted and she caught her first glimpse of the house.

  Had she been able, Doris would have stopped the car and shifted into reverse. It was only a feeling, but she suddenly had serious doubts about what she was doing. The aura of the house seemed different now. She knew there’d been several workmen out here lately, and right away she spotted several changes—the siding a deep brown rather than the nasty tar color, the cinderblock porch steps replaced by honest-to-goodness concrete, new window treatments—but the difference she sensed went far deeper than anything cosmetic.

  The house was alive again.

  Doris brought the car to a halt and gazed out the passenger’s window. She gritted her teeth against the fear that flowed down her back. There was nothing to be afraid of, she reminded herself, absolutely nothing at all. Chris Crane had murdered those people, and Ellie had helped. That was, if he hadn’t murdered her, too.

  Then why is your hand on the gun?

  With a start, she realized her hand had, of its own volition, slipped inside her purse again.

  She did feel better with her fingers around the pistol.

  Not that she’d need it.

  Still, she’d take it inside with her as a talisman against her own silly nerves. After a moment’s debate, she thumbed off the safety and opted not to zip the purse shut. Again, just in case something…unexpected should happen.

  When she turned to get out she screamed.

  Katherine Chambers stood just outside the door.

  Because the woman was so close, Doris couldn’t see her face from here, only the plunging neckline of her loose-fitting and rather tawdry dress. Who wore a red dress around the house anyway? On a weekday, no less. Had Katherine known she was coming?

  Impossible, she thought. Now stop scaring yourself and get out of the car.

  Doris opened the door and swung her legs over the edge. Then, smoothing her beige dress, she climbed out and regarded Katherine. And though Doris stood several inches taller—she towered over all but the very largest women, a fact in which she secretly delighted—she couldn’t help feeling very small in Katherine’s presence.

  “Would you come in?” Katherine asked.

  The skin of Doris’s scalp tightened. Though she’d heard the woman’s voice on television, she couldn’t get over how much she sounded like Lillith Martin.

  That’s just your imagination, she told herself.

  “Yes,” Doris said, producing a smile that no doubt looked as artificial as it felt. When the woman didn’t say anything to that, Doris gestured toward the house. “You’ve done a lot with the place.”

  “Come on then,” Katherine said and led her inside.

  Sitting in the living room amidst the antiques and the smell of the woman’s perfume—a scent that seemed oddly familiar, though she couldn’t say why—Doris should have felt more at ease. After all, Katherine had so far proved a lovely host, and the tea and rye bread were welcome fare after the light lunch Doris had taken before leaving home.

  But with the gorgeous—yes, she now realized that Katherine Chambers was gorgeous—woman seated on the couch beside her, Doris’s nerves were jangling louder than ever.

  “More tea?” Katherine asked, her voice honey-sweet.

  Doris said yes though she had no idea why. Her cup was still half full and too hot to drink. When Katherine reached over with the kettle and put her hand on Doris’s cup to steady it as she poured, the red dress sagged lower to reveal the ghost of one pink nipple. Katherine’s breasts shifted as she poured the tea. Doris’s breathing thinned.

  “There,” Katherine said, sitting back in her place and easing the kettle onto the table. “Where were we?”

  Doris cleared her throat. “You were telling me your plans for the house.”

  “Oh yes,” Katherine said, then frowned. “You aren’t here to talk me into selling, are you?”

  Doris laughed and shook her head, though that had been one of her goals. “Of course not, Ms. Chambers.”

  Katherine leaned toward her, the slender fingers closing on Doris’s leg. “I’m sorry if I offended you, Ms. Keller.” The dress tumbled open again, and this time she could see both breasts nestled in the scarlet shadows.

  Doris wrestled her eyes up to meet Katherine’s. “You didn’t offend me. I promise.”

  Laughing, Katherine sat back. “That’s good. I wouldn’t want you angry at me again, Louise.”

  Doris’s stomach clenched. The strength seemed to drain from her fingers. “What did you call me?”

  Katherine raised her eyebrows. “Doris. Isn’t that your name?”

  “That’s not what you said.”

  Katherine gave her a coy look. “I’m sure it was.”

  “No one’s called me that since I was a little girl,” Doris went on thoughtfully. “I hated my name—Louise Opal Keller—so I started called myself Doris because of Doris Day. I had it legally changed when I was eighteen.”

  But Katherine was staring off through the window, apparently having lost interest. A small smile dimpled her cheeks.

  Doris welcomed the itching heat at the nape of her neck. Anger could be useful. Better, at least, than fear. Very slowly, she said, “Maybe you can explain something to me, Ms. Chambers.”

  Without looking at her, Katherine replied, “Of course, Louise.”

  “What I want to know,” Doris said and set the scalding tea on the stand beside her, “is how a mother of three can just forsake her family the way you have.”

  If that bothered the woman, she didn’t show it. “Roland and I are separated.”

  “I’m not talking about your husband,” Doris said. “I’m asking about your children.”

  “Do you have any?” Katherine asked in that same mild voice. “Kids, I mean?”

  Doris drew her shoulders back primly. “I never married.”

  “I’m not talking about your love life,” Katherine said. “I’m asking if you ever had children.”

  Doris folded her hands. “I never had the desire.”

  “They’re a lot of work,” Katherine said. “I imagine Ellie will have her hands full when hers is born.”

  “Ahh,” Doris said, turning on the couch to face the woman, “so you do think she’s alive.”

  “I’ve said that all along.”

  Doris eyed her coldly. “I know what you’ve said. But I believe you know more.”

  “I only know what you know, Ms. Keller. That Chris lost his mind and murdered several innocent people. And now he seems to have taken my sister and her baby hostage.”

  “While you live in their house.”

  “I want to be here when Ellie returns.”

  Doris stared at the woman. “You’re lying.”

  And now Katherine’s serene expression did change, but not in the way Doris had expected. Rather than growing infuriated or defensive, Katherine turned, rested an elbow on the back of the couch and closed her eyes.

  As furtively as she could, Doris slid her hand closer to her purse.

  “Why are you here, Louise?” Katherine asked.

  Doris’s hand stopped moving. “Who told you that was my name?”

  “No one told me,” Katherine said, and as she spoke, Doris noticed something that alarmed her a great deal. In this light, though it was still mid-day, Katherine’s hair didn’t look completely black. Perhaps it was the dress she wore or some trick of the light, but she was growing sure the woman had red highlights. Or perhaps that had been the color all along, and she simply hadn’t noticed.

  “I know a good deal about you, Louise,” the woman sai
d.

  Doris found it was getting harder to breathe, as if the steaming tea were filling the room with wet, blistering air.

  “I think I’d like to go,” Doris said.

  “I knew your mother very well,” the woman went on as though Doris hadn’t spoken. “We spent a good deal of time together…” The smile widening, growing predatory. “We ran in the same circles, you might say.”

  Doris felt as though she were in a trance, the woman’s eyes, which a moment ago had been brown but were now a lighter color that might have been green, transfixing her, nailing her to her spot on the couch.

  “I remember your birth,” Katherine said, “the agreement that was made.”

  In a pale, breathless voice, Doris said, “There was never any agreement—”

  “But how would you know, my dear, being so young?” The woman’s hand again fastened on her leg, the sultry breasts shifting. The creamy flesh so much whiter than it had been only minutes ago.

  “I need to go,” Doris whispered and was appalled to find herself on the brink of tears.

  “Bloodthirsty harlot,” the woman said.

  “What?” Doris said in a hoarse whisper.

  “That’s what you called me.” And somehow the face staring hatefully at her had become the one from her childhood. Passing the woman on the sidewalk on the way to the store. The pale, achingly beautiful face floating by as Gerald’s car drifted past.

  But that, her mind screamed frantically, was forty years ago! When I was just a kid. How could this woman look the same now as she did then? How could she—

  Lillith Martin’s eyes were now glowing moons. “I murdered your mother, Louise.”

  With a cry, Doris lunged for her purse. When her knees hit the floor, her fingers closed on the handgun, and she was about to whirl and shoot the woman in the face when she saw the cloven feet before her, three sets of them. She followed the white flesh upward and saw the sinewed legs, the genitalia—two of the figures male, one female—and above that…