Monarchs

by Rainey, Stephen

  The poor, wretched thing, she thought. Brutalized, victimized, and then physically healed as if by magic — and quite unable to come to grips with any of it.

  Was she any different?

  Surely, she thought, Jan must have previously experienced some variation of the "magic" that resided here and should have an idea how to cope with its instigators. Still, of the three of them, Jan had suffered the most grievous hurt, the most intimate violation, and though her body might overcome its physical injuries, her mind could hardly have been prepared to cope with such a horrendous ordeal.

  Courtney understood this and should have accepted it, for Jan was her friend. Yet she felt little other than anger and resentment.

  Anger because Jan had brought her into this ungodly fold in the first place.

  It was a table of grim, mostly silent strangers, each of them subjugated by his or her own secrets and inner turmoil, each cowering behind a protective wall of silence. Only David displayed any animation, mostly extolling Arlene's culinary talents, but it was forced, and his voice rang shrill in her ears.

  Still, now and then, his eyes met hers, and something passed between them: a look of shared knowledge and experience, almost comforting, yet somehow still deficient, devoid of true empathy.

  Because they all feared for their lives, she thought. No; more than that, even. Their souls. Death she might have tasted, but Hell she had yet to sample.

  Finally, her wine gone and her nerves unable to tolerate the awkward, imperfect silence, she looked at her two companions and said, "Okay. What now? Do we have dessert? Go sit at the bar and get drunk? Wait here like sheep to be summoned by our master's voice?"

  A gentle hand came to rest on her shoulder, and she looked around to see Arlene smiling sadly down at her. "No, Courtney. Why don't you come with me now? All right?"

  "Just me?"

  "Just you."

  At first, she felt some sense of relief that the awful waiting was ending, but when she scooted her chair back and tried to stand up, her legs nearly gave way. She tried to convince herself it was just weakness, an inevitable leftover from the previous night's exertions and injuries, but then her right hand then began to tremble uncontrollably. She tucked it under her other arm, angry with her body for succumbing to such deep-rooted dread. So she made anger her focus and reveled in it, because anger was the one thing that could ward away fear. Damning the cold that still gripped her muscles, she followed Arlene to the front hall and mounted the stairs that led to the old woman's private keep.

  Courtney thought back to the morning she had met Martha for the first time in the kitchen, when she had considered the woman a merely irritable old crab who took pleasure in intimidating others. While that much may have been true, how could she have imagined the depth of the ancient crone's power, the mysterious motives that drove her? There were so many things Courtney wanted to ask her, but after last night, she wasn't sure she could work up the nerve to even address her. Still, she thought, new knowledge surely awaited her, and whether or not it might prove healthy for her, this helped bolster her nerve.

  As they reached the top of the stairs, Arlene said, "Don't show any fear, Courtney. She's not going to hurt you. But you listen to her."

  "I don't have any choice."

  Arlene stopped in front of Martha's closed door. "I'll be waiting for you out here."

  She nodded. "Thank you for being so kind to me."

  Arlene looked up at the ceiling for a moment, her eyes seeming to gaze back through many years. "We all need something to keep our sanity," she said. Then she chuckled, drew a deep breath, and knocked on the wooden door. "Ms. Martha? It's Ms. Courtney and me."

  The voice from the other side of the door sounded like a buzz saw. "Enter."

  Arlene twisted the crystal knob and the door swung open with a harsh rasp. The opening revealed only a well of dark shadows, and in spite of her newly forged resolve, Courtney's stomach felt as if it had dropped as far as her knees. Arlene's hand squeezed her shoulder, and then the older woman backed away and left her to her fate.

  Shrugging off everything but her desire to learn truth, she drew herself up so her body would convey nothing but assurance and stepped into the black pit.

  Behind her, the door swung shut.

  Chapter 22

  "I see Arlene nursed you right back to good health," came the sharp voice from the shadows. "She is useful, don't you think?"

  A few streamers of silver moonlight wriggled through the window blinds, providing the room's only illumination. As Courtney's eyes adjusted, she could see Martha sitting at the far end of the room, in a tall, throne-like wooden chair, like the ones in the great room downstairs. A stage obviously designed to intimidate her, she thought. She must not yield to its trappings. Still, the air felt frigid, and she automatically wrapped her arms around herself.

  "I'm much improved. Thank you."

  "Step toward me, girl."

  Carefully, so she wouldn't stumble in the dark, she took a few steps toward the bizarre figure and then halted when it raised its hand.

  The old woman lifted something to her lips, and Courtney almost laughed to see that it was a can of Mountain Dew. Here, face to face with the withered-looking old witch, she found some of the casual contempt she had felt for Martha before she had learned of the Monarch. She must be careful.

  "Yes, Arlene has her uses. You owe her a debt of gratitude."

  "I realize that."

  "No, actually, you don't. But anyway. You still feel the cold, I gather?"

  "Yes."

  "It is a reminder." The woman's eyes glinted in the moonlight. "Whether or not it stays with you is up to you."

  "Oh?"

  For a time, Martha said nothing further but continued to stare at her, the frigid eyes betraying none of the working of that virtually alien brain. Courtney tried to meet her gaze, but it was like looking into the eyes of a dog that might suddenly attack. When the woman did speak, she sounded like an old, chatty neighbor. "Why don't you tell me about your feelings for David?"

  Surprised, she shrugged. "He's a mystery to me. But I suppose I owe him as well. He's been mostly kind to me — if not entirely honest."

  "Surely, you feel more than just gratitude. You let him fuck you, didn't you?"

  Her jaw fell, and she lowered her head, torn between taking offense at Martha's bluntness and shriveling before the stare that seemed to bore straight into her soul. "We shared our bodies. I don't know if it was more than that."

  "I do." Martha chuckled. "You gave yourself to him because he represents power. Security. As when you married the man who was to kill your daughter. As when you submitted to your father."

  "How do you know —?"

  "Your lack of self-esteem has led you down some unpleasant paths, wouldn't you say?"

  Damn it. Damn the woman. She could not find her voice, and she stared dumbly at Martha, whose eyes continued to blaze at her. She felt a twinge of rage and fought it down.

  "What about Jan? Do you care about her?"

  Her voice returned to her, though it was weak. "Of course I do. She's been my friend for a long time."

  "But you feel as much contempt for her as you do for me."

  "That's not —"

  "You are angry at her." The sharp voice drilled into her eardrums. "More than that, you believe she is weak and simpleminded, and that she willfully brought you here, into danger."

  She could not deny her feelings. She lowered her head again, the glaring eyes too much for her to take. "I felt she was reckless."

  Martha's voice softened. "It was not Jan who invited you here."

  "What?"

  "I'm surprised you didn't guess on your own. It was David."

  "David!"

  "To be fair, Jan thought it was her idea, and that she was doing you a favor. But David is the one who is truly interested in you."

  She remembered how, from the first day she arrived here, how David had dominated her thoughts, her time. By his des
ign?

  "You do understand."

  "Why did you want to know if he had made me pregnant?"

  For a moment, Martha remained silent, evidently deliberating whether she should deign to respond. At last, with a little nod to herself, she did. "David is not the master of this house, as much as he believes it is his right. There will be no new life brought into it without my leave. He knows that."

  A thought then occurred to her. "Is that why you had Jan's fiancé killed?"

  Martha laughed, the sound like a crow's caw. "Why would I do such a thing?"

  "Yes." Courtney's eyes dared the icy gaze. "Why would you?"

  "Would you say Jan is loyal to me?"

  "She's afraid of you."

  "That's not an answer."

  She shook her head in exasperation. "I don't know. I can't answer that. I think she does what you want her to do."

  "Perhaps." The old woman tapped her claw-like fingers on the arm of her chair. "She might obey, willingly or not. But she does not think for herself as she ought. That man of hers was not acceptable. She still has many lessons to learn before she may mother a child."

  "Your kind of lessons."

  She laughed again. "She learned a valuable one last night."

  "You mean those men?"

  "Those men. Who do you suppose provided them with all the information they needed to prove they had been cheated?"

  "No," Courtney said, shaking her head, rage bubbling up in her esophagus. "You wouldn't have."

  Martha turned, reached behind her, and picked up something from the nearby table. A book. The ledger that Ray Surber had showed her last night.

  "That was left back at the cabin. How did you —?"

  "A silly question from a silly girl."

  "You orchestrated those things?"

  "Don't be a fool. Let's just say I set certain events in motion, and they ran their natural course."

  "Well, I'm sure my life means nothing to you. But what if they had killed Jan?"

  "Then there would be one less heir for me to worry about. Jan is her mother's daughter and her behavior proves it. She would have seen our entire fortune given away to the likes of those vermin. Now she knows better."

  "That thing did kill her parents," Courtney whispered. In her heart, she had known as much, but until now, her mind had refused to accept it. "They had promised to make amends for what they had done. So you had that thing kill them."

  The eyes gleamed at her.

  "Your own flesh and blood. You'd see them dead before they went against your wishes."

  "You have your own lessons still to learn, girl. To fritter away everything this family has built for itself over nearly two hundred years…I would not have it from Herbert and his woman, and I will not have it from their children. David, at least, understands this."

  "Then he's no better than you. I thought he might be."

  "Let me see, let me see. You killed a man last night. Is that right?"

  Her voice faltered for a few seconds. "I defended myself. He was going to kill me."

  "Herbert and his wife were going to destroy me." Martha's tone was mocking. "Tell me the difference."

  "Losing money isn't the same thing as losing a life. They were trying to set right something that you were responsible for."

  "Me? Responsible?" Martha put a hand to her chest, feigning bewilderment. "How would I be responsible for the way they ran their business?"

  "Now you've shown me your true colors," she said. "I don't see how it could be otherwise."

  The witch's voice turned harsh. "You assume a great deal. You never knew Jan's father. He was a brilliant man. A tad cunning. He amassed much of the family's fortune on his own, by whatever means he saw fit." Martha frowned. "Patricia, though. She was a shrill thing. He kept her largely in the dark — as he should have. When she learned certain things about the business, though…well, she began to work on him. In the end, he gave his loyalty to her, rather than to me."

  "She had a conscience."

  "She had a death wish!" Martha spat the words. "She would have seen to this family's ruination. And her daughter intended to carry on her legacy."

  "Would it have made you happy if they had killed Jan? To have one less heir to worry about?"

  "Of course not, you exceptionally thick clod. Do you think I would actually wish harm on anyone in this family? When simple reasoning can be used, I use reason. Why do you think you and I are talking now? If I were the way you describe me, I'd have simply thrown you into the swamp."

  "I'm not one of your family."

  Now Martha threw her head back and cawed, loud and long. "Oh, but my dear, stupid girl, you are. You are!"

  "No. I came as Jan's guest, and that's all." Now she felt her nerve starting to waver, for the woman's ancient eyes had begun to burn with a bluish light that too closely resembled the fire that lit the Monarch's deep sockets. "Look. All I really want is to just leave here. To go away and forget everything that's ever happened in this place."

  "Now there's a fine little fantasy." Martha's voice turned deep and hard, any pretense at levity gone. "Young woman, you will never leave here. You have become a part of everything here. David still wants you. And I have decided he shall have you."

  "No," she said, or thought she did, her head beginning to reel as Martha's words sank in. The old woman was insane. They could not keep her here against her will. "No, I'm still a free person."

  "But wait. Think what will happen to you if you attempt to leave. For starters, you'll be arrested for murder. Chief Flythe was an eyewitness."

  "It was self-defense," Courtney said, her voice quavering. "And we can prove exactly what happened. There's plenty of evidence to show Jan and I were abducted."

  Martha tapped the ledger with her fingers. "Oh, really?"

  Courtney felt as if the Monarch's pitchfork fingers had closed around her again. "There has to be. Her car. The Surbers' wrecked truck. The cabin. There's DNA. And Chief Flythe saw the thing. He saw the Monarch."

  "He saw you kill Ray."

  "He was with them. At the very least, he knew what was going on. He could hardly prosecute me without implicating himself."

  Martha smiled. "Don't be too sure. However, as long as you are here, he'll never be able to lay a hand on you."

  She thought back to the previous night and then, suddenly suspicious, gave Martha a questioning look. "No. You wouldn't have called him out there."

  The old woman smiled again. "Who can say?"

  "And Dwayne. What about him? It wouldn't make sense for you to have called him. He was going to let us go."

  Now Martha's eyes rolled in exasperation toward the ceiling. "I might as well tell you, that was Arlene's doing. But it was merely a misunderstanding. She thought she would be helping Jan, not quite grasping the big picture. She failed to realize that neither Jan nor you needed any outside help. We have since resolved that issue."

  A faint vibration crept through the floor, into the soles of Courtney's feet. Then a deeper, audible thump.

  Oh, Jesus.

  "Tell me," Courtney said, unable to keep the tremor from her voice. "What is the Monarch? How do you control it?"

  "I believe David told you as much as there is to know. I've learned over many years how to manage it. It's not easy, I might add. You're no doubt aware that the power originally came from your dear Arlene's family?"

  "Power you somehow usurped."

  "Oh, come now. How do you suppose we would have fared if that power had been left in the hands of slaves? What they brought with them belonged to us. Everything they brought."

  Martha's voice drifted to her from a short time before: You killed a man last night. The statement echoed through her brain like a hypnotist's voice.

  Yes, she had killed, but it was truly in self-defense.

  As it would be if she were to kill Martha.

  No. Get that out of your head.

  The thumping sounds from outside were drawing nearer. What was the thing g
oing to do? Reach in through a window and pluck her from the house, to hang her from a tree in its dark, devilish hollow?

  Martha sat about twenty feet away from her. She could easily get to the old woman and throttle her before she even realized what was happening.

  But she had to remember — that ancient body had already proven deceptively strong.

  No, stop it. That is not me. I cannot do that.

  Martha's eyes glinted distinctly blue, just like the Monarch's. "I think you need to know something. The Monarch, on its own, is a purely destructive thing. Its domain is the place beyond death. Once I've brought it out, I guide it by creating what you might call barricades. One here, one there, preventing it from going its own way. Guess what, girl. If something were to happen to me, so would go my barricades. Can you imagine what would happen then?"

  "What about when you die? No matter how old you are, someday, you will die."

  The crow's laugh rang out again. "When your body looks like mine, I will be here. Even after your body has rotted in the grave, and the Monarch has devoured your soul, I will be here. When your children are old, I will still be here. That is the power I usurped."

  The sledgehammer footfalls came to rest just on the other side of the rear wall. Courtney looked frantically toward the window, but she could see nothing.

  "Now," Martha said, her voice lowering to a froglike croak. "You have a choice to make. You may remain in this house as one of the family. You will be treated well. Like royalty, you might say. Or you may hang as a trophy in the Monarch's den. Make your decision."

  Something moved in the darkness beyond the window. Then she saw it: the tall, misshapen skull, with glaring, ice-blue crystals blazing from deep in the hollow eyes sockets. The antler-like stalks that sprouted from its temples. The huge, tooth-studded jaw, now half-open to reveal a cavernous gullet that might swallow her whole if the thing so desired.

  "Why?" she asked, her voice cracking, her eyes locked on the massive shape beyond the glass. Its gaze bore into her like a drill, the cold intensifying deep inside her body.

  "Now, now. I can't very well have you running about knowing the things you know. But David would be terribly unhappy if I just gave you to the Monarch. His loyalty should entitle him to some reward. Don't you think?"