“More padding! Get me more!” Hannah’s voice was shrill. Leroy kept his eyes on Cass. She had bloody crescent-shaped wounds on the lower part of her body, like chunks had been removed. The gashes were covered with pus. What were they? Why did it take so many rolls to stop the blood? Why did it smell like that?
“I’ve stopped the bleeding for now. It will come again and I won’t be able to stop it.” Hannah rose from the floor and walked stiffly to her seat in the front part of the plane. Everyone was quiet, watching her.
Hannah sat down and fell against the plane’s sidewall. Her shoulders began to shake. Leroy heard her breathing, and then her sobbing. She bent, and wept as silently as she could. No one could move. No one knew Hannah Hehrman could cry.
Doug moved over to her, “Is she dying?”
“Oh, my God. She’s dead. She cannot live. Her uterus is perforated. Fecal material has spread everywhere. That’s the smell and the color of her blood. She’s burning with fever. Can’t you feel her heat? She’s cold, but underneath, she’s burning. She’s so infected. No one can survive that.” Her eyes raked Doug’s. “They took bites out of her, Doug, and left them untreated so that they’d become infected. How long was she in that hole? Oh, God. They killed my baby.”
Hannah began rocking from side to side, arms wrapped around herself. “They killed my baby.”
The cabin was silent.
Leroy looked at Cass, barely alive. Fighting to live. He knew she would fight as long as the tiniest bit of life remained. She always fought.
“Are any of you listening? I’ve been trying to get through for fifteen minutes.” The querulous voice of an old lady erupted from Hannah’s equipment. “What’s going on there?”
“Dr. Schierman. We have Cass. She is dead.” Hannah put away her tears to speak.
“Dead? Pssh! I’ll tell you when she’s dead. She’s got enough life in her for me to feel it from the West Coast. Hannah! Pull yourself together, woman, and save that girl.” The raspy voice began to issue orders.
“Get her temperature down. Wrap her in wet rags. Change them every minute. Pour water on her—whatever works. Set an IV, Hannah, and blast her with antibiotics. Not penicillin. She’s allergic to that. Erythromycin. Blast her with it. And don’t give up until you get her to my house alive. If you lose her, and you will have me to deal with. All of you.”
“Who are you?” the old voice cackled. “You in the back holding Cass. With the feathers. Who are you?”
“I’m Leroy Watches Jr., ma’am.”
“You’re Joseph’s grandson.”
“Yes, ma’am. Joseph Bishop’s.”
“You, Leroy Watches, will keep her alive until you get here. That will be a bit less than two hours.”
“Three, Vanessa,” Doug said. “You have to count the drive from the airport.”
“You’re not going to the airport. I’m not going to let my girl die in traffic. You’ll land here.”
“You don’t have a landing strip for a jet on your property,” Doug said.
“Of course I don’t. You’ll land on Skyline Boulevard.”
“Skyline? That’s just a track through the trees.”
“Not so. George Yeomen and his fellows have just measured a perfect landing strip right outside my door. Length and width are fine.”
The pilot chimed in. “Dr. Schierman. We can’t possibly do that.”
“Of course you can. When you’re almost here, I’ll send George and the boys out to stop the traffic. They’ll set up lights. You’ll land. All will be well.”
“We can’t do that. It’s illegal.” The pilot was immovable.
“It’s not illegal in a critical emergency. You’re having a severe mechanical breakdown. I’ve been broadcasting your many aeronautical woes to the San Francisco control tower for an hour. They’re surprised you’re airborne. Keep Cass alive or there will be hell to pay. And get here!”
46
Rough Landing
Leroy looked out the window. There was nothing to see. No lights. No trees. Nothing, until the wings started clipping branches. The plane didn’t slow down, but snapping sounds filled the air.
“Holy Jesus!” the pilot gasped. “That’s a hiking trail. I can’t land there.”
“Yes, you can,” the old lady’s voice came over the speaker. “We can see you. Land the damn jet. Hurry. She’s almost gone.”
Leroy would never forget the crashing and cracking of branches. They were thrown from side to side in the cabin. The plane hit a tree or something and started to spin horizontally. But the captain got them straight and kept up his efforts when the wheels hit the ground. They bounced, throwing everyone around. They slowed. And then they stopped.
“Open the door! Deploy the stairs!” That croaking old voice.
Leroy carried Cass down the stairway. A bunch of short little men in green dresses just above their knees took Cass, put her in a van, and shot into the darkness.
“No. Don’t take her …” Leroy wailed.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Watches,” said one of the dozen or so remaining by the plane. “You come with us.” He was spirited into an SUV and flew down the black hole into which Cass had disappeared. The forest was so close that it seemed that the branches would break the way they had with the plane. But they didn’t. The trees and branches seemed to move to avoid the vehicle.
“Where are we going?”
“To Dr. Schierman’s house. Don’t worry, lad. The lady has her. She’ll be all right.”
Leroy could see no reason for Cass to ever be all right. The stinking floods of blood, her wounds. The fever. She couldn’t live. Hannah Hehrman was right. She was dead.
They drove straight into massed trees, crashing through the underbrush. For what? Ten minutes? He couldn’t tell with all the jouncing.
Then they hit an open space; the drive went through a lawn. A gigantic black hulk rose beyond it. It was as enormous as some of the country houses he’d seen in Europe. It had two wings, one very tall and at right angles to the other, lower, longer structure. It was dark brick with stone columns. The house had nooks and crannies filled with carved gargoyles and disturbing things. Statues of dragons and things with claws. He saw one move as they drove by.
“What …” Leroy gasped.
“Don’ worry, lad. Pay the house no mind. It will pay you no mind.” They pulled up in front of the house. The front stuck out with a high arch covered in carvings of bats, demons, and people with anguished expressions. Even the benign carvings of flowers and plants looked tortured.
Baying filled his ears. A pack of black dogs surged toward him. Several had heads like barrels, as big as a normal dog’s body. Their faces were wrinkled up, pushed in, and equipped with large teeth.
He squatted and held his hands out. “What are nice dogs like you doing acting like that? Don’t you know I’m your friend? Come here now and let me pet you.”
The dogs whined and tilted their heads in one way and then the other.
The mansion’s door opened. A tall, late–middle–aged woman with very erect posture stood in the doorway. “Welcome, Mr. Watches. I’m Mrs. Naughton, Dr. Schierman’s housekeeper. Come with me.”
“Where is Cass?”
“Cass is being cared for by Dr. Schierman.”
“Is she a doctor?”
“Not a medical doctor. She’s a physicist. A brilliant one. They’re more useful. Come with me.”
“Where’s Cass?”
“You’ll see her tomorrow. This way.” She led him through an entrance hall that was the wooden equivalent of the carved stone exterior. This time carved plants and sort–of–cute animals cavorted on the dark walls, along with ribbon festoons and bows. All of them moved as he passed. Leroy hustled close to Mrs. Naughton.
They went down a corridor at the end of the entrance hall. More spooky carvings, but they seemed to simmer down the farther down the hall they walked.
“This is your room, Mr. Watches.” She opened a door and walked thr
ough it ahead of him. It was a nice room with comfortable chairs and two big beds. “Ah, good. Cook has brought you one of Dr. Schierman’s warm milk drinks.” A glass of milk sat on a nightstand between the room’s two beds.
“Here you go. Drink up.” She stood there until Leroy finished it all. “Go take a shower. Put your clothes outside the bathroom door. We’ll wash them and leave a robe for you.”
Leroy did as he was told, finding an extra-tall terrycloth robe on the bed after he showered. He put it on, climbed into bed, and that was it. He was out.
47
Getting to Know You
When Leroy awakened, the clock said almost 3:30 in the afternoon. What did she put in that drink? He found new clothes, just his size, laid on the other bed. He was starving.
“Come into the kitchen. Your breakfast is waiting for you.” The raspy old-lady’s voice from the plane came from a speaker on the wall.
He wanted to ask her about Cass, but she scared him.
“Mrs. Naughton is outside your door. She will escort you to the kitchen.”
He walked into a huge room so different from the rest of the house that it almost scared him. Light and bright, a wall of windows and glass French doors led to a brilliant garden massed with flowers. The room was paneled in a very pale wood with no creepy carvings. Sofas and chairs were arranged at the far end of the room. Closer was a dining table for a very large family. All of it was as of a quality as fine as the homes he’d seen in Europe. A contemporary and cultured person lived here. A wealthy one.
“Well, Mr. Watches, I’m glad y’ saw fit to wake up. My scones would not have lasted much longer.” A voice startled him.
Turning to the left and beyond a short wall, he found a magnificent kitchen. It was one of those kitchens that had so many appliances and gadgets that he gave up rather than trying to master even their names.
“That’s right. Take a good look at the AGA range. Worth its weight in gold. I’m Mrs. Cook, Dr. Schierman’s cook.” She tittered. “Seems strange, but that’s how my name worked out. Same as for Driver, the chauffeur. And Butler, the butler.
“You take this.” She handed him a huge plate. “I just made this for y’. You’re a big eater, and I made you a big breakfast.”
An omelet the way he liked it, bacon and ham, both. Biscuits, pastries. A bowl of fruit salad and fresh orange juice.
For a moment, thoughts about Cass drifted to the rear of his awareness and the needs of a big man who hadn’t eaten in a long time came forth.
“That’s what I like to see,” Mrs. Cook said smiling. “A man with a healthy appetite.”
“Where’s Cass?”
Mrs. Cook sucked in a breath. “Well, I’ll let Dr. Schierman tell you. She’s out in the sun room in the garden.” She pointed at an ornate glass and iron structure that could have come from Lord Ballentyne’s country home in England. “She’s there, waiting for you.”
He knocked on the glass door. A gaunt woman a few years short of ancient looked up. “Come in, Leroy. I’m Vanessa Schierman.” He stepped over the threshold into yet another world. The light and airy gazebo was furnished with big cushy sofas and chairs. And more plants than a jungle.
The old lady was like a crow, dressed in black. Her head jutted forward and to the side alarmingly.
“I’d like you to meet someone.” She waved at the settee.
He could see a slim woman with dark hair sitting on a sofa with her back to him. It wasn’t Cass. As desperately hurt as Cass was, she couldn’t sit with that ease even if a miracle occurred. He walked toward her, wondering what was going on.
When he rounded the end of the couch, the lady stood up and offered her hand, smiling. “How do you do, Mr. Watches? Grammie has told me a great deal about you.” Blue eyes, straight dark hair, and fine, pale skin. She wasn’t a beauty, but she was a very pretty young girl. The strength of her features pointed at the beauty she would be when grown. As she was, she seemed more approachable than a beauty would be.
It was Cass. She was about thirteen years old.
He fell against a big chair and plopped down, unable to move. Or anything.
“My name is Ashley Duane. I should have told you that.” She leaned forward. “Are you all right?”
He tried to say something and choked.
“Here, Mr. Watches, have some water.” The old lady’s eyes rolled in their sockets as she turned and poured water from a pitcher. Her neck was bent so far over, it looked as though her head must have been broken off and then reattached. She was a witch for sure. What had she done to Cass?
“I’m Vanessa Schierman. Dr. Schierman. I will be your hostess for a while,” she said to Leroy. He kept blinking.
“Oh, you’re staying here too?” Ashley said. “Grammie says you ride horses and do all sorts of things. I was getting worried about being bored here. There aren’t any young people. Grammie and I decided that I would stay here this summer while Mommy is in Spain. I really didn’t want to go.” She made a face. “So Grammie said that I could stay. Daddy said it was OK too.” Ashley smiled, a charming, upper–class adolescent, poised and well spoken. “My parents have known Grammie forever, by the way. They’d never leave me with someone they didn’t know well.”
The old lady cracked a very unnerving smile. “Yes, Will and I are dearest friends. Have been forever. And Ashley is one of ‘my girls.’ She’d live here if I had my way.”
Ashley smiled angelically.
His soul mate was barely a teenager.
“May I talk to you?” he asked the witch.
“Certainly, my dear. We will talk at length. But not now. Why don’t you get acquainted with Ashley?” She got up and left the gazebo.
“Huh. How are you?” he stammered.
“I’m very well, thank you. And you?”
“I’m very well. How long have you been here?”
“I got here last night. I fell asleep. I don’t remember the drive up here. I’m so glad I don’t have to go to Spain. Mommy left today.” Her mouth grew tight when she mentioned her mother.
Leroy got it as a flash. This was Cass before she went to Spain and was destroyed by Enzo Donatore. The old lady had somehow taken her back to the way she was before any of the terrible things happened to her. But how did she do it?
“Do you know your way around here? I got here late last night, too. I haven’t seen anything.”
“I’ll show you the estate. What do you want to see?” Ashley said.
“Everything.”
“The front is creepy. Grammie keeps it that way to scare off strangers.” Ashley whispered. “It’s because of her children. She doesn’t want people to gawk at them or make fun of them.”
“Oh.” He raised his eyebrows.
She leaned closer and whispered, “They’re all mentally ill. It’s so sad. It was from a genetic problem with her and her husband. He died a long time ago. You see Grammie’s children out here sometimes.” They were walking along a cement path with brilliant green grass on both sides. “They’re with their caretakers or in wheelchairs. Don’t be afraid of them. They’re not dangerous. Except Louis. He might be, but they keep him medicated.”
“The hospital is right there,” she indicated a warm and welcoming stucco building with lots of windows on the path ahead of them. “She has a whole hospital, with psychiatrists and doctors and medicines. If you ever get sick, you’re all set. Grammie takes very good care of everyone.”
“Is she your grandmother?”
“Oh, no. My real grandparents have passed away, all of them. She has several girls like me. She calls us ‘my girls.’ Alexandra vander Zandt, me, and Rosalind Roberoy. She loves us and takes care of us. Some people say they care for you, but then they hurt you terribly. But not Grammie.” She furrowed her brow and sucked in her breath, looking troubled. Ashley turned to another topic.
“Would you like to see the barn? It’s over a hundred years old. Grammie’s ancestors were the first white people here. They took the land from
the Indians.” She gasped. “Oh. You’re an Indian. I’m sorry.”
“That’s all right. I’ve heard worse.”
They walked along another path for a while. Leroy had to ask. “Ashley,” the name sounded strange in his mouth, “When I came in last night, it seemed like the carvings on the walls and in the house were moving. Have you seen them do that?”
She laughed. “Oh, yes. It’s another way Grammie keeps strangers away. The scary house and moving statues. Creepy stuff. She’s got really nasty dogs, but they’re nice when they know you. Even the way she dresses is to scare people. She wants people to think she’s a witch. She’s not. She’s a wonderful person.”
“How does she do it? I felt those carvings this morning: they’re regular wood and stone.”
Ashley moved closer and whispered, “I think it’s very well done special effects. Like from Hollywood.”
“Like in movies?”
“Yes. I know having them made would cost a lot of money, but Grammie has a lot of money. Almost as much as we do.” She blushed, having mentioned money. Leroy knew from his time in England and Europe that money was one thing rich people never mentioned. “But if you go to the back of the estate, things are normal. Like the barn.”
Leroy looked up, his breath whisked away by the structure. It was an ancient wood barn with carved teak beams. It soared above his head. The huge structure sat a little way from the forest that flanked the lawns. It was old, and full of power. Life force. Any animal living there would be healthy. The place was beautiful, and bewitched.
“The paddocks and pastures are out in the back.” They walked through the barn. A stunning vista of manicured fences, corrals with lush grass, and large pastures out the back greeted them. There weren’t too many horses. They were Thoroughbreds and sport horses. Jumping horses.
“Grammie used to have lots of horses. She bred them. But when she had her accident—that’s why her head looks like that. She broke her neck fox hunting a long time ago. They couldn’t fix it back then; they didn’t know how. So she looks like that.”
In Love by Christmas: A Paranormal Romance Page 31
