The Raven Master

by Diana Whitney

  Scrutinizing the pages, he recognized that Orbach’s notes provided a thoughtful analysis but the diagnosis was sketchy and inconclusive: Patient delusional with psycho-neurotic conversion syndrome. Psychopathically repressed, symptomatic schizophrenia suggestive of possible MPD.

  The last entry irritated him. Although Multiple Personality Disorder was quite real, it had become a psychobabble buzzword for any behavior that couldn’t be categorized by a neatly defined psychosis. Other than that diagnostic aberration, however, Quinn saw nothing unexpected until he turned to the patient history and scanned the chronological records. Then he nearly dropped the penlight.

  As he studied the revealing entries, his blood iced and a nauseating numbness settled in the pit of his stomach. His quest was finally over but the result shocked him to the core.

  He shoved the file back in the drawer, rushed out of the building and prayed that this time he wouldn’t be too late.

  “What on earth are you talking about?” Janine asked anxiously. “Has something happened to Jules?”

  At the mention of her grandson, the color drained from Edna’s face. “I’m afraid for you, child.”

  “Me? Why?”

  The woman moaned and shook her head. “There’s danger, such terrible danger.”

  “What…kind of danger?”

  “The danger of losing your immortal soul.”

  “Oh, for crying out loud.” Since Janine was already as edgy as a treed cat, she was unwilling to endure another round of gloomy prognostications. “I’m sorry but I really am quite tired. In fact, I was just on my way to bed so unless there’s something I can do for you—”

  “God loves you,” Edna blurted, clutching her handbag like a shield. “He, in his infinite wisdom, has chosen to absolve you of blasphemy and moral turpitude. He has bestowed upon you the blessing of eternal life, a place of glory in His holy kingdom.”

  “I’m pleased to know that. Now if you’ll excuse me…”

  With a movement too quick for such a squat woman, Edna blocked Janine’s path. Her blue eyes bulged with terror. “Please…you must listen. The beast is coming.”

  “What beast? I don’t understand what on earth—” Janine suddenly had a horrible thought. Edna had expressed the same raw terror after learning that Jules and Althea had been alone together. Later, embracing Althea with perplexing ferocity, the older woman had nearly wept with relief. And then there was that night in the kitchen, when Jules’s eyes had glittered so strangely….

  Janine cleared her throat. “Exactly where is Jules?”

  Rolling her eyes heavenward, Edna let out a wail that made Janine’s hair stand on end. “The devil’s disciple has been sent to defile purity and devour innocent souls. It is the end of the world, child. You must save yourself from the clutches of evil.”

  Janine instantly placated the terrified woman. “I will, Edna. I promise.”

  Tears of relief seeped from her wrinkled eyes. “Praise the Lord,” she murmured. “God is merciful.”

  Janine backed toward the stairs. “In fact, I’m going to leave right now and I want you to come with me.”

  Tiny blue eyes blinked in bewilderment. “There is no escape except through the grace of God. You have sinned, given your body in lust.”

  Stunned, Janine stammered, “Excuse me?”

  “That foul man—” Edna wiggled a frantic finger toward Quinn’s room “—has besmirched a woman of God. He must be punished.”

  Although baffled by the odd response, Janine decided not to quibble with such nonsensical rambling. The woman’s terror seemed quite genuine, and since Jules could arrive at any moment, Janine was anxious to leave.

  Grasping the older woman’s arm, Janine glanced over the railing to the deserted foyer. “We’ll talk about that later. Right now we need to go downstairs and get into my car.”

  Edna yanked away. “You cannot run from destiny.”

  “First you warn me to leave and then you say I can’t get away.” Janine’s head was spinning as frustration turned to annoyance. “If this is some kind of melodramatic hoax designed to get my attention, it’s definitely succeeded. I want to know what’s going on, and I want to know now.”

  Edna’s gaze softened. With a tolerant smile, she lovingly caressed Janine’s cheek. “It wasn’t your fault, you know. Too many souls have been led astray by temptation but it’s not too late. I can save you.”

  “Save me from whom?” Janine’s nerves and patience simultaneously snapped. She shook the startled woman’s shoulders. “Answer me and no more double-talk. Is Jules dangerous? Are you afraid of him?”

  Edna gaped in astonishment. “Afraid of my own grandson? How utterly ridiculous!”

  Persisting, Janine tightened her grasp on the woman’s flabby arms. “Should I or anyone else be afraid of him?”

  “Of course not!” As Edna indignantly pulled away, her frizzy curls brushed Janine’s chin. “Jules is a good boy. He wouldn’t hurt a flea.”

  The sincerity of her strenuous protest added to Janine’s doubt and confusion. But since Edna had seemed so obviously terrified of someone, Janine still wasn’t convinced that the source of that fear hadn’t been her grandson. “Where is Jules now?”

  “Why, he’s in church, child, praying for your soul.” Her saggy jowls creased with her smile. “You know how much he loves you.”

  The information that Jules regarded Janine with affection wasn’t particularly comforting. She did, however, relax slightly and regarded Edna’s odd behavior with a more jaundiced eye. The woman’s ominous status as self-appointed prophet of doom was certainly common knowledge; therefore it was reasonable to conclude that the dire monitions had been based on metaphysical foreboding rather than the human peril Janine had first imagined. There was no legitimate danger—at least not on this earthly plane.

  Janine was irritated with herself for jumping at shadows, seeing danger everywhere and envisioning just about everyone she’d ever met as a potential murderer. It was all ridiculous, obviously the product of an overactive imagination and a sleep-deprived brain.

  A gentle hand touched her arm. “Are you all right, dear? You look quite peaked.”

  She offered a stiff smile. “I’m just a little tired, that’s all.”

  “Of course you are.” The woman clucked sympathetically, then took Janine’s elbow and guided her down the hall. “What you need is a good night’s rest.”

  Janine offered no resistance. Stepping around the bedclothes heaped in the hall, she turned to say good-night but Edna brushed by and entered Janine’s bedroom. The woman waddled to the bed, placed her handbag on the nightstand and began turning down the covers, chattering cheerfully about love and forgiveness and the power of eternal salvation.

  All Janine wanted, however, was to be left alone. “That’s not necessary, Edna.”

  “I enjoy doing for you, dear.” She fluffed a fat pillow, then arranged it lovingly on the bed. “Marie Louise loved the way I turned down her bed. She could never sleep well unless I tucked her in.”

  “Marie Louise is your daughter?”

  “Yes.” A faraway look glazed the woman’s blue eyes. “She’s with the Lord now.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  A peculiar expression crossed Edna’s face. “The Heavenly Father’s call is an occasion of great joy.” Then she blinked, smiled sweetly and patted the bed. “Come, child. Rest. Sleep. Dream. Pray for the purification of ekpyresis.”

  At the word “purification” Janine instantly went rigid and her mind flashed back to a college course on ancient Greek mythology. Her lungs contracted, squeezing her breath away.

  She remembered. Dear God, she remembered. Ekpyresis was an old Greek theological term meaning spiritual purification through fire. In that heart-stopping moment, Janine realized that she had to get out of that room. Her frantic gaze darted around the room, but as she eased toward the door Edna blocked the exit.

  “You mustn’t go, dear.” The woman seemed puzzled and strangely
hurt by Janine’s attempt to leave. “Your bed is ready.”

  “I—I’m not tired anymore. I have work to finish. Downstairs.”

  “Poor dear. You work much too hard.” Eyes filled with sympathy, Edna reached for her handbag. “You need rest. I have something that will help.”

  The woman reached into her purse. When she extracted a hypodermic syringe, Janine’s horrified gaze was riveted on the white plunger, an exact duplicate of the plastic tube she’d found in the tunnel.

  Then Edna advanced with serenity on her lips and madness in her eyes.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Janine backed away until her skull touched plaster. With a cry of despair, she held up her palm. “Don’t come any closer.”

  Edna’s eyes widened in surprise. “Why are you frightened, child?”

  “I—I’ve never liked needles.” Inching along the wall, Janine swallowed her surging panic and focused on the closed bedroom door. A few more feet and she’d be in a position to leap over the bed and get away.

  “A mild tranquilizer will help you sleep.” Edna smiled calmly. “I’m a nurse, dear. I know what you need.”

  When the woman stepped forward, Janine dashed for the bed and rolled over the mattress, but as her feet hit the floor Edna’s chunky frame barricaded the door. “You mustn’t disobey,” she admonished, obviously annoyed by Janine’s refusal to cooperate.

  Quickly scanning the room, Janine realized that leaping out of a second-story window was not a viable option, so if she was going to escape unscathed, she had to use the door.

  Flexing her fingers, she scrutinized her deranged adversary. Edna outweighed her by fifty pounds but youth and strength should give Janine an advantage—assuming that she could keep the syringe a safe distance away while she wrestled the hefty woman to the ground. A physical altercation was risky, of course, but the odds were in Janine’s favor, and besides, she didn’t seem to have another choice.

  She squared her shoulders and met Edna’s glassy stare. “Please stand aside. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  With a perplexed frown, Edna murmured, “Oh, my.” Then she casually reached into her open handbag and pulled out a small revolver. “You’re making this quite difficult. I’m very disappointed in you.”

  With the lethal barrel pointed straight at her heart, Janine’s escape plan evaporated much like steam. There was no way out now. She was trapped. All she could do now was distract Edna and hope for a miracle.

  “Did Marjorie make it difficult for you?” Janine blurted, frantically scanning the room for something—anything—that could be used as a weapon. “Or Cynthia?”

  Edna’s glazed expression melted into one of exquisite pain. “No,” she whispered. “They were such good girls. They always did as they were told.”

  Janine felt sick, realizing that because of Edna’s medical background the women had probably trusted her and submitted willingly to her “treatment.” She also suspected that the injections must have contained a drug powerful enough to induce a comatose condition so the victims couldn’t be roused by the suffocating smoke.

  Janine shuddered. “If you were so fond of Marjorie and Cynthia, why did you kill them?”

  “Kill them?” The woman’s head snapped up. “Oh, my dear Lord, I saved them.”

  “Saved them from what?”

  “Evil, child. Evil!” Eyes bulging, Edna shook the gun like an admonishing finger. “They were decent, God-fearing women but they succumbed to temptation, allowed themselves to become the devil’s whores. I gave them salvation, eternal life in the kingdom of their Creator.”

  Suddenly Janine noticed that Edna held the syringe in her right hand, and because the gun was wobbling unsteadily it seemed doubtful that she was a southpaw marksman. Besides, the woman was obviously as cunning as she was crazy, and since she’d taken great pains to conceal the previous murders as accidental, Janine wondered if the weapon was intended only as an intimidation tactic.

  She decided to call the bluff. “If you shoot me, the authorities will know it wasn’t an accident.”

  “Your demon lover will be blamed,” Edna snapped. “It’s God’s will.”

  Janine’s heart sank. The crazy old woman was right. The sheriff would arrest Quinn in a heartbeat and once a jury learned of his connection with the other victims, he’d almost certainly be convicted. She wanted to weep in despair.

  Edna held out the syringe. “Give me your arm, dear. We must hurry.”

  Janine jerked away and suddenly realized why the woman was intent on using drugs when a bullet would have been quicker. “But you’re not going to kill me, are you? I have to be alive when the flames come or my soul won’t be purified.”

  Edna chortled gleefully and stepped onto the braided throw rug. “That’s right, dear! You’ll be saved, absolved of earthly sins. Ekpyresis.”

  Janine focused on the oval mat. “Tell me, Edna, how many people have you saved lately?”

  The woman blinked but said nothing.

  “Let’s see, there was Marjorie and Cynthia and uh…” As Janine struggled to recall names from the clippings, she remembered the first victim, the one in Boston, had been named Marie. Although the surname had been unfamiliar, she played an instinctive hunch. “And then there was your daughter, Marie Louise. You saved her too, didn’t you?”

  The wrinkled mouth quivered. “I had to. She’d been tainted by Satan, neglecting her poor son and allowing her body to be soiled by lust.”

  “But she was your child, your own flesh and blood. Didn’t you love her?”

  “Love her? Oh, dear Lord, I adored her. That’s why I had to save her, don’t you see?” Edna’s fat hands trembled violently. “I loved my daughter dearly. I loved them all.”

  “Even Cynthia?”

  Blinking back tears, Edna smiled sadly. “Dear sweet Cynthia. She was a saint, rising from the ashes of demon rum to divine purity. She and Marjorie did God’s work, creating a place of prayer for children of the streets. It was miraculous, a gift of love that touched the Lord’s heart.”

  Knowing that Edna was referring to the youth camp described in one of the news clippings, Janine also had a fairly good idea of how Quinn’s unfortunate ex-fiancée had eventually fallen from grace. “But Cynthia succumbed to sin, didn’t she? She started drinking again.”

  The woman’s eyes clouded. “It was the devil’s work.”

  “What about Marjorie?”

  “Marjorie was my dearest friend. I cherished her.”

  As the disturbing pattern became evident, Janine realized that the common thread linking past incidents was a warped affection for the victims. “So after Marjorie moved back to Darby Ridge, you came here to be close to her?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “And when Marjorie had an affair with Althea’s boyfriend, you must have been quite upset.”

  “Her sin was an abomination to the Lord.”

  Having already ascertained that her own fate was sealed the night Edna caught her leaving Quinn’s room, Janine sickly realized that the deranged woman might be planning even more purifications. “What about Althea?”

  Edna scoffed at the notion. “Althea Miller is an unconscionable harlot, unworthy of salvation.”

  Exhaling slowly, Janine uttered silent thanks that Althea wasn’t on the insane hit list. But her relief was short-lived when Edna became agitated and repeatedly glanced at the door as though expecting unwanted company. Finally she raised the syringe and leveled the gun at Janine’s chest, assuring her that there would be no pain when the fire came.

  Realizing that time had run out, Janine emitted a tiny whimper and pretended to feel faint. She sat heavily on the edge of the bed then swayed forward until her forehead touched her knees and her fingers brushed the rag rug.

  From the corner of her eye, she watched Edna’s feet. When the woman took a hesitant step, Janine’s fingers curled around the braided binding.

  Edna bent solicitously. “Please lie down, dear. God will take you home—�
�

  Janine yanked the rug away. The woman flipped backward and landed with a thud, winded and gasping for breath. Janine leaped over the writhing woman, flung open the door and dashed down the hall.

  The moment she reached the stair landing, she smelled smoke. As Edna emerged from the bedroom, waving the gun and shrieking furiously, Janine sprinted downstairs and headed straight to the front door.

  As she struggled with the dead bolt, she glanced into the parlor and was stunned to see newspapers piled on the hearth and scattered around the room. The fireplace screen had been propped open, allowing popping embers to ignite the papers. As she watched in horror, the parlor curtains went up in flames.

  A bullet slammed into the jamb inches from Janine’s head.

  She whirled and saw Edna at the top of the stairs wildly screaming gibberish about divine wrath and the gates of hell. As the woman aimed the revolver, Janine ducked and spun around. The bullet stung her scalp, knocking her off balance. She stumbled against a wall, then lurched forward and staggered into the kitchen.

  The room wobbled, growing dark as her eyesight faded. Her head throbbed. She moaned, touched her temple then stared stupidly at the sticky stain on her fingers. Dazed and disoriented, blinded by blood, she wasn’t certain where the danger was or which way to go. She clutched the counter, trying to feel her way along the smooth Formica toward the back door.

  A blurry figure loomed in the doorway and Edna’s shrill voice reverberated through the room. “The Lord is a vengeful God and His wrath a mighty sword.”

  As the frenzied woman raised a hand, Janine instinctively lurched away, shielding her face with her arms. She stumbled and fell, then crawled blindly across the floor, unwilling to abjectly surrender to a fate that seemed inevitable.

  As she dragged herself forward, Janine was vaguely aware of peculiar noises in the room, an odd, strangled gurgle followed immediately by sounds of struggle. Wiping her eyes, she squinted toward the doorway and saw Edna wrestling with someone. Someone large.