24
Abbey stood staring at the Tapestry for the second time this morning, wondering what happened to the Roman army. She stood in this exact spot when the commotion from Detective Mathers and Ranger Gage distracted her. She knew this was the exact spot, because she noted her location before leaving: third panel on the left, two feet from the section’s corner, three hands up from the bottom. Less than fifteen minutes ago, this area she examined held a scene of the Roman army at war with a throng of Celts. The threads were tightly woven and thicker than those of the newer embroidered scenes, yet the older colors that comprised the Roman soldiers had a sheen to them, giving the illusion that dried blood caked their shields. A team of chariots dominated the scene, each one holding an angry driver and muscular Frisian horses. Abbey could see the determination in the faces of the warriors and feel the bloodlust of the steeds.
Now, the scene was a field after a battle; dead Romans lay strewn about the blood-soaked grass, their swords lying useless at their sides. The Celts’ faces glowed with celebratory glee. Suddenly the sound of fabric ripping filled the air. As she spun around, her eyes landed on a panel of Tapestry near the end of the hall, where this long section of wall met the perpendicular hallway to her right.
The Tapestry was…bubbling. Huge ripples radiated through the section of wall as if the material were water boiling. A giant tear emerged in the center of the panel and Abbey saw light erupt from behind the multicolored threads. Something behind the panel wanted out.
As she watched, a horse’s head materialized from the Tapestry, followed by the neck, legs and body. Frozen, Abbey watched as a huge gray horse stepped out of the wall and stood a few feet away staring at her. Atop the steed sat a thin, frail-looking man with unkempt shoulder length hair and grubby clothing. He carried a huge broadsword.
The man looked around, took in his surroundings and saw her.
He smirked.
“Ah, so we meet again.”
He steered the horse in her direction. “I should have killed you last time,” he bellowed and pulled back for the blow when several things happened at once. From behind the gray horse, a huge black Frisian leapt out of the Tapestry. From nowhere and everywhere, monotone chanting began—a low, resonating rhythm that echoed off the stone walls. From behind Abbey, a primal scream erupted and Abbey felt the air pulled from her lungs as her legs collapsed from under her and she dropped to the floor. Aunt Boo, naked and painted blue, rushed headlong at the man on horseback, a broadsword swinging over her head. Boo jumped at the man, their swords clashing, sparks dancing in the air of the dimly lit hallway. The ethereal chanting became louder, taking on a deep vibrato that Abbey felt like electric shocks. The Frisian pressed against the grey horse, nudging it backwards towards the Tapestry, as the rider dealt blow upon blow to Aunt Boo, who deflected them with ease.
Boo sidestepped a thrust of the man’s sword and deftly cut off his hand at the wrist. The rider’s sword clattered to the stone floor, the man screamed in pain as the horse reared. The chanting reached its crescendo with an ear-splitting screech and the gray horse and its rider fell backwards into the wall, merging into the fabric. With a loud BOOM, a flash of light lit up the corridor and Abbey turned away. When she turned back, there was no rider, no horse and Aunt Boo stood with the severed hand in her grasp, the Frisian nudging her shoulder.
“You may need this!” she yelled, tossing the hand into the Tapestry, where it disappeared into the fabric.
A hand clamped down on Abbey’s shoulder and she jumped.
“Sorry to startle you, dear,” Aunt Ruth cooed. “You look terrible.
Would you like a slice of lemon seed cake?”
“We would, Ruth,” Eleanor said, holding out her hand to Abbey.
“And I suspect Abbey may wish some tea with her snack.”
25
Robert grabbed his chest as the pain cut through his heart. He sank to his knees, knocking over the bottle of one-hundred year-old brandy.
“Wow, boss,” Josh shook his head. “You totally just screwed yourself on the booze.”
“Josh,” the Doctor said, sucking on his cigar, “would you please mix me another gin and tonic?” He held out his glass to the young man who stared at Robert.
“Uh…Mr. Doc,” Josh stuttered. “Is he, like, going to be okay or something?”
“Or something.”
“Dude. You can’t die on me. I have a semester of school left.”
“Your concern for Robert warms my heart.”
“Thanks,” Josh smirked. “Phys Ed. Didn’t get a scholarship, though.” He inspected the brandy seeping into the carpet of the penthouse. “Waste of good booze.”
“Joshua,” the Doctor’s voice took a stern, menacing tone, “my gin and tonic?”
As Joshua mixed the drink, the Doctor glared down at the man on the floor. “Don’t worry,” the Doctor chuckled, “it shall pass.”
Robert struggled to his feet, sweat breaking out along his face and soaking his underarms. “I…felt…”
“Yes, I know. I, as well.”
“Doc, your drink.”
“Thank you, Joshua. That will be all.”
“I’ll just clean this up,” Joshua said, snatching the near-empty bottle of one-hundred-year-old brandy. “I’ll…totally dump the bottle for you.” He refused to look at the two men in the eyes as he dashed out of the penthouse scrutinizing the remaining brandy coating the bottom of the bottle.
“Hurts, doesn’t it?” the Doctor smirked as Robert nodded. “It lessens with time. The longer you stay on this side of the Tapestry, the less the pain’s intensity when Immortals attempt an illegal crossover.”
Robert grunted as he lifted himself off the floor. “That sensation...I have never felt it before.”
“Neither have I. This pain is different from what I have experienced in the past.”
Robert flopped into the chair and closed his eyes. “Why?”
“I have a hypothesis. Purely speculation.”
“Enlighten me.”
The Doctor nodded and let the smoke snake out of his nostrils. “Abbey’s prolonged absence from the annual Ritual caused the witches’ spell around the Tapestry to weaken. The fabric has been slowly unraveling. Many years have gone by without a sixth warden, causing the Tapestry to disintegrate at an accelerated rate and the passageway between worlds became less…crisp. Threads of the magic holding it together now tie us to the Mother Tapestry at the Bastille.”
“If we succeed, can we repair the Tapestry?”
The Doctor nodded. “Yes, I believe we can. Once we have amassed our own six wardens and killed the damned witches.”
“Good.” Robert sighed. “I do not wish to endure this pain every time there is a breakout.”
“Nor I.” The Doctor extinguished the cigar and leaned toward Robert. “The irony is this: The witches could have prevented the Tapestry’s disintegration themselves had they replaced Abbey with an alternate sixth warden.” Robert raised his eyebrows. “I say ‘why should we do all the work?’ Now that Abbey is reunited with the bitches, let the women mend the tears in the Tapestry during the Ritual. Once that is done, we have only to kill them and maintain the gateway.”
Robert nodded. “Do we want Abbey to rejoin the coven? The very fact that she could not be a part of the Ritual for over seventy years is what weakened the Tapestry enough for us to remain here.”
“She’s no danger once we kill the rest of the witches.”
“Do not underestimate Abbey,” Robert snapped. “I trained her myself.”
“You think so highly of your own skill,” the Doctor laughed. “But once she delivers your child, we can kill her, too, if necessary.” “A child needs its mother,” Robert sneered.
The Doctor reprimanded, “We shall find a wet nurse. You going soft?”
Robert shook his head. The Doctor nodded and continued. “I don’t wish to try the experiment again on another mortal woman. They have a habit of dying. Just make sure you i
mpregnate Abbey this time.”
“Oh,” Robert laughed, “I plan on it.”
26
In the end Lynn decided that she needed the double chocolate fudge brownie sundae much more than she needed the peanut buster parfait. Besides, the peanut buster parfait had peanuts in it, and peanuts had nutritional value. That would not do at all.
She steered her tired Ford Focus around the corner just as the red MAINTENANCE REQUIRED light flashed on. Shit. It was probably one of those factory-installed alerts intended to force unsuspecting car owners into the nearest dealership where they would be fleeced for cash, but how could she be sure it wasn’t serious? She steered with her knees so she could slurp the ice cream while weighing her options: ignore the light until the car exploded, or take it into the shop and fork over the cash. As she licked the fudge off the spoon she decided to wait until the car exploded. At least that way, she could justify the purchase of a new car.
She spotted the stone wall surrounding the Bastille to her left and chugged the rest of the melted ice cream from the plastic cup. She would be approaching the gates to the private drive soon. The ‘aunts’ (why wouldn’t they just come out, for god’s sake? It’s not like the whole town didn’t know they were some kind of lesbian commune) left most of the Bastille’s acreage open for public use, only fencing in a portion of the land for themselves. She really should make it a priority to enjoy the Faire this year, as last year’s excursion with that guy—what was his name?—turned out to be a disaster. He’d be a jerk with two testicles, but with only one, he was both a jerk and angry.
A thought hit her with such force she gasped. Why hadn’t she thought of this before? The Faire! She’d take the clients! The new state regulations required community involvement, so maybe she could arrange for them to be on garbage detail, or cleanup crew. Hell, with her menagerie, she could have them perform. Mrs. Bailey could do erotic dancing with Feng Shi, Mr. Rix is a dynamite drag queen, and Mr. Stewart could paint his wang and make it do tricks, like those guys in that show who manipulate their dicks on stage. What a perfect opportunity to spend the day having fun, get out of the office, and fulfill a state requirement all at the same time.
A flash of yellow caught the corner of her eye as she inched down the private road looking for the gated drive of the Bastille. She slammed on the brakes and backed up—POLICE DO NOT CROSS glared at her from the yellow tape strung across the area near the road. Two marked police cars sat side by side on the level plot of land between this access road and the tree line. In addition, Lynn spotted a van with the words CORONER, a green SUV bearing the emblem of VERMONT DEPARTMENT OF FOREST & PARKS, and a couple of unmarked vehicles. As she watched the flurry of activity, she spotted a face she recognized.
“Hey, Janet!” she yelled. Several yards off, Janet Gage turned, waved and began walking towards her car. Lynn threw her car into Park, turned off the ignition, and prayed while the thing shuddered and ping-ed.
“Hey!” Janet yelled as she approached her car. Lynn noticed a man watching them. Although she couldn’t see him clearly, he looked rather handsome, with dark hair and athletic build. She waved. He waved back.
“This town hasn’t seen this much action since…well, ever,” Lynn said, pulling her gaze away from the mystery man.
“And it had to be on the night Sal is making barbecue.” “Someone hit a moose?” Lynn asked.
Janet shook her head. “Found a body. Two, actually.” She gestured toward the woods. “That’s the investigation unit.”
“No shit? Just like on TV?”
“Don’t get excited. They were both old.”
“Old? Like ‘senior citizen who got tainted food from Denny’s’ old?”
“Funny.” Janet kneeled down to look Lynn in the eye. “Like ‘dead and buried a long time ago’ old.”
“Welcome to New England.”
Janet nodded. “If I had a nickel for every corpse uncovered in an unmarked grave, I’d move Sal to Tahiti.” She looked at Lynn’s briefcase sitting on the passenger seat. “Where you going?”
“Guess.” Lynn pointed down the road toward the castle-like structure.
“What for?”
“Work. Home visit.”
“Oh! That’s right!” Janet nodded furiously. “That young woman… what’s her name? Abbey? She just got out of the funny farm.” “Please. We prefer to call it ‘Your Home Away From Home.’” “What asshole thought of that?” Lynn shrugged and rolled her eyes.
“Well,” Lynn sighed, “you’re not supposed to know about
Abbey anyway.”
“It’s a small town. Word travels fast.”
Just then the mysterious dark-haired man yelled something inaudible and Janet waved him over. When he arrived, Janet made the introductions. “Detective Matt Mathers, Lynn Swanson. Matt’s a detective from Montpelier. Lynn’s a social worker at the funny…” she caught herself and shook her head before continuing, “at The Meadows.”
Lynn shook his hand. He was more handsome up close. He had piercing eyes that never blinked, a clean complexion and soft skin.
“You’re the new guy. Took over last year, right?”
“How did you know?” he asked in a voice that should be reserved for phone sex workers. “Let me guess—small town.”
“I know most of the cops in the area. Part of my job.”
He nodded and gave Lynn a wide smile. Did she imagine it, or did he just check her out? “You have ice cream on your...uh...”
Sure enough, a streak of vanilla ice cream had dribbled down her breast. Great. He wasn’t checking her out, he was gauging her mental capacity. He glanced at her passenger seat and nodded at the briefcase.
“Going to the Bastille?”
“I should just wear a sign.”
“I’m a cop. We notice things.” He held his gaze just a tad longer than normal and Lynn’s heart pounded. First, Uncle Robert and now Mr. Detective-with-the-Look. Maybe her luck with men is getting better. One of the uniformed officers behind Mathers called his name. “Got to go. Janet?”
Janet nodded and patted the hood of the car. “Call me. We’ll go to dinner.”
“Who’s ‘we’ and what are ‘we’ having?” Lynn started the car, discouraged that the MAINTENANCE REQUIRED light still blared.
“Anything Sal can grill. And any single guy we can find for you.”
“Don’t bother.” Lynn sighed. “I already investigated and deemed them wanting.”
To Lynn’s surprise, Mathers chuckled. Was he single, too? With her luck he was either married or gay. Janet waved and turned away, talking with Mathers under her breath.
Lynn pulled the car back on the access road and continued looking for the private drive to the Bastille. Two dead bodies found on the grounds? This wouldn’t bode well for the ladies. Hopefully this wouldn’t interfere with the Faire. She really wanted to see the town’s reaction to Mrs. Bailey screwing an imaginary animal.
27
“Oh, no dear, it is not confusing at all,” Ruth said, patting Abbey’s hand. “You just need time to adjust. Have another ginger snap.”
Abbey did, although she was not hungry. “Thank you.”
“Perhaps it is a stroke of luck, however, as time is of the essence,” Eleanor said softly.
“Eleven days.” Ruth’s eyes grew wide and her voice weakened, “We have only until the Summer Solstice.”
“Ruth, dear,” Eleanor said, patting her hand, “let us not scare the poor girl anymore.”
“Of course,” Ruth smiled broadly. “Tea?” She offered the cup to Abbey.
“This hallway smells of horse dung,” Boo scoffed, turning her back to the three.
“Then set about cleaning it, dear,” Eleanor retorted before returning her attention to Abbey. “This was not how I planned, nor imagined, your return to the Bastille. I had hoped your re-education would have been more…gentle.”
Boo snorted. “We have no time for this, Eleanor. Tell her and be done.”
�
�Boo, your naked body is enough to contend with, let alone your naked emotions.” Boo knelt and grabbed Abbey by the shoulders, thrusting her blue face against Abbey’s. “It is time you face your past, girl, and rejoin the Guild before you kill us all.”
“Enough!” Eleanor’s voice cut through the hallway. “You will leave us, Boo.”
“Then who will she learn from?” Boo snapped, leaping to her feet. She crossed to the Tapestry and grabbed the nearest panel. “Do you see this?” she asked, pointing to the tear several inches from the top left corner. “This is your fault.”
“I do not understand,” Abbey whispered. “I have never seen this
Tapestry before.”
“You are destroying it,” Boo insisted.
“I always preferred learning things from the beginning,” Ruth chimed in.
“Then let us do so,” Eleanor agreed. “My hypothesis is simple, yet plausible,” Eleanor stated, as she massaged Abbey’s injured foot. “When this piece of the Great Tapestry was stolen,” she pointed to the upper right corner of the last panel on the wall, “it must have disrupted the energy that holds the prisoners inside their cells.
“Over the past seventy-plus years, without a full coven for the Ritual, the Tapestry has weakened.” She pointed to the outer hems of the panel, where Abbey could see gaps in the weave. “Fissures and small rips have begun to emerge in every panel of the Tapestry. They grow bigger daily.”
“And more of them, too.” Ruth grimaced as she wrapped Abbey’s ankle in a towel that smelled to Abbey like a mixture of vomit and rotten eggs. “It is so hard to keep up with the repairs.” Abbey winced when the towel touched her tender ankle. “This will speed the healing.”
Abbey looked at the old woman with confusion and Eleanor hugged her. “We repair the tears in the fabric. We are the wardens of its energy.
“Permitting those who are allowed free access into and out of their embroidered memories,” Eleanor continued, fondly touching an embroidered scene of a tree and a lake. “And barring those who are experiencing periods of...internment.”
Guild Of Immortal Women Page 9
