“Get back to Mom,” Zack urged me. “Go now. She is in danger. Ignore the noise Rafaella is making, that is a freak show, it’s a decoy trick. Rafaella is probably in there with Mom right now.”
I turned and charged into the bedroom only to be blasted out of it again by some unseen force and knocked unconscious.
When I woke up, the house was silent except for George licking me.
“Thanks, George,” I said. “Beer coming up in a minute.”
But when I staggered down to the kitchen, he showed no interest in his Fat Tire.
“Where’s Belle?” I asked him as a prelude to searching the house. George came with me and checked every corner, displaying a burst of energy I had never seen from him before.
When we had finished checking the whole house, including the attic that was an even bigger horror story than the kitchen had been when Rafaella had been smashing plates and glasses on the floor, we could only come to one conclusion - Belle had disappeared, and probably not of her own volition.
At least she wasn’t lying there dead but it made me fear for Belle and Stevie more. Rafaella was evidently intending this to be a long drawn-out affair, her version of boiling in hot oil for eternity until I repented my evil ways and returned to her. It was a battle of wills on an epic scale and she was the United States with stockpiles of weapons I couldn’t even imagine and I was Nicaragua or somewhere with nothing at all to fight with.
Somehow that analogy gave me hope. I had always been fascinated by history. Now I had to find out how to be a psychic guerrilla to match Rafaella’s psychic vampire.
I was living for real in a story of human good waged against paranormal evil. I used to scorn such simplistic garbage but now that garbage had been thrown all over me and I was up to my neck in it, I felt differently. It’s true what they say: there are no atheists in the foxholes.
I think this is how anyone feels in wartime, how the Jews felt in Nazi Germany, how virtually everybody felt in Russia during the Stalin years, how someone who has been shipwrecked feels when they find themselves trying to keep afloat under a burning sun, dying of thirst and being circled by hungry sharks.
I decided to stick to the Nicaragua analogy. The rest of them were dragging me down when I needed to rise to a totally unjustified level of deluded invulnerability, and be heroic.
Rafaella would not defeat me; she would not defeat us.
But how would she not?
Chapter 22
First of all, where was Belle? Could Rafaella have carried her away somewhere? How strong could astral travellers be? Did she get her as far as a car and kidnap her? Did Belle run screaming into the street and was she now waiting to come home when she saw that I had recovered consciousness? Had she decided to fly to Phoenix to join Stevie? Had she decided it was too dangerous to stay with me and was she looking for somewhere to live? Had she gone to stay with a friend somewhere or with her family?
When there is nothing but silence in a house, there are no answers, so I soon started phoning around. I rang up Robert to ask how Stevie was. He said he was fine and that we should expect him back in a few weeks because he wasn’t really set up to look after anyone as he had a new girlfriend who wanted them to have their own children. I phoned Belle’s parents. They knew nothing. I phoned Belle’s old work number, somewhat to their surprise as they had not heard from Belle since she had left the company. I phoned all the friends of Belle I could trace and none of them had heard anything.
I decided that I had better leave it at least a day. Maybe the ghosts could tell me something.
* * *
Of course, it was Rafaella who broke the news to me. How could she have missed out on that delight? I woke up at eleven, having gone to bed at nine because I had nothing to do and was worried sick about Belle.
Rafaella was sitting at the end of the bed, looking rather pleased with herself and in her most charming mood.
“Hello, Luke.”
“Hello, Rafaella.”
“Was it all worth it, Luke, living this fantasy life of yours with Belle? Are you pleased with yourself?”
“I love living with Belle, and Stevie,” I replied defiantly.
“But where are they now?”
“I don’t know where Belle is.”
“She has probably left you, Luke. No woman could bear to live with you for long. You don’t know how to live with another person. You are naturally a single man, Luke. You can’t think in terms of relationships. You are a loner. You cannot connect with people. You cannot co-operate.”
“We were all getting on fine until you turned up.”
“If that is what you choose to believe, Luke, I won’t pop your balloon. But if it were true, Belle would be with you now, wouldn’t she, rather than staying in a hotel room planning to look for a new apartment without you in it.”
“That is ridiculous, Rafaella, and you know it.”
“Is it? You think you are quite the catch, don’t you, Luke? You think that any woman would be pleased to have you. Wake up, Luke. Nobody wants you, and once your little mannerisms, and your smells, and your habits become apparent, that’s it, they will want to get away from you as fast as they can. You never go to the gym, you are overweight, you work too hard - what fun is it living with you? Belle planned to leave you several days ago, you know that, don’t you? That’s why she sent Stevie away so that she could get away from you cleanly. When she has found her new apartment, she will get Stevie back. Then you will be all on your own.”
“Rafaella, you are full of shit. Now where is Belle?”
“I’ve told you where Belle is, Luke. If you want her back, you are going to have to scour the streets to find her. But even if you do, she doesn’t want you back, so I wouldn’t bother.”
“What is your part in this, Rafaella?”
“I have had no part in this, Luke. I am merely an observer. There was a time I wanted you back but you decided you wanted to stay here and I have accepted your decision. You are probably hoping that I will take you back, but dream on, Luke. No way. I am happy by myself. I can do what I like. I don’t have you dictating what I can do or not do, what I can spend or not spend. I don’t have you sneering at my beliefs - I think even you can see the power of them now. Get a grip on reality, Luke. Nobody wants you and nobody will. You are on your own. Your little idyll is over. At least you will be free to work all hours. That should please you. No wife or girlfriend to interrupt you, to demand your time. You should be in hog heaven. Good night.”
She blew me a kiss and disappeared.
I didn’t believe for a moment that Belle was in a hotel somewhere or that she wanted to leave me. My life with Belle had indeed been idyllic until Rafaella decided to destroy it. Belle was no coward; it wasn’t all too much for her. Belle was trapped somewhere, dead or alive. I felt she was alive; I didn’t sense that she was dead, but what would I know? My intuitions were never that reliable, except in business.
I hoped one of the ghosts would appear to tell me what was going on but they didn’t seem to be very reliable either as they resolutely refused to show themselves.
I decided I would go to see the police in the morning and take things from there.
* * *
I got down to the station for eight o’clock, only to be told that Officers Martinez and Nielsen were out somewhere and would probably not be back until ten or so.
At ten they were still not there, nor at eleven.
They arrived back at half past eleven sharing some joke. “Mr. Parsons,” Martinez greeted me, “what can we do for you?”
“I’m not sure you are going to believe this,” I replied.
“That wouldn’t surprise me,” Martinez smiled. “Let’s go find an office and hear what you have to say.”
He found a spare office and motioned for me to sit. “Coffee?”
“Yes, please.”
“How do you take it?”
“Black, no sugar.”
“Ricardo?”
“Yeah, I’ll have one.”
When Martinez left to get the coffee, Neilsen apologized that they had been delayed. They had been to the scene of a traffic accident where a car had fallen off a tow-truck and hit two other cars parked at the roadside. It had taken forever to contact the parked cars’ owners and to get the road cleared.
Martinez came back in. “So, what’s been happening?”
“Belle has disappeared.”
“Disappeared?”
“Yes, the night before last.”
“Was that unexpected?”
“Very.”
“And Stevie?”
“He was already with his dad. That’s where he is now.”
“What happened?”
“I hesitate to tell you.”
“I think you’d better. You’re under enough suspicion as it is.”
I told them and they both ended up with their heads in their hands.
“So you say that voices in your head told you that you had to get back to Belle to save her, but when you returned to the bedroom you were knocked out, and when you came to, Belle was gone.”
“Exactly, except that the voices in my head weren’t just voices in my head, they were the voices of the ghosts in the house, of Zack, of Jess and of Martha.”
“Martha? Is she dead too?”
“Apparently.”
“Who killed her?”
“She didn’t say but she said that the killings at the house were carried out deliberately to lure us there.”
“Does that mean Martha was killed before the others?”
“No. She said she killed them while her mind was being controlled by Rafaella.”
Martinez smiled. “Yeah, right.”
“And these ghosts couldn’t tell you where Belle has gone?”
“I haven’t seen them since.”
Officer Nielsen took over. “I know we should have asked you this before, but have you ever had to undergo any medical treatment for delusions or hearing voices or anything?”
“No, this is the first time anything like this has happened to me.”
“Do you think these visions of ghosts are real or do you think you may be imagining them?”
“I cannot tell you, Officer Nielsen. If you have ever seen a ghost, you will know that they look just like anyone else. They are really nothing out of the ordinary except that they shouldn’t be there at all. You have met Genevieve Giraud who is dead too, so you should know what I mean. As it happens, I believe that there really are ghosts in our house and that Belle really has disappeared, and even that Zack died there. If you tell me that Zack is alive and that Belle is at home, I will have to visit a psychiatrist because there will definitely be something wrong with me. Otherwise, I will take my chances on my sanity.”
* * *
When I walked through the front door to hear familiar voices, I nearly turned right around to go off in search of the nearest doctor.
The voices were drifting into the hallway from the sitting room and they were those of Zack and Belle.
Belle?
I rushed in. Belle was sitting on the sofa and Zack was next to her. They were both so happy.
At first I thought they were both alive.
I had never seen, that I could recall, Zack and Belle sitting side by side chatting. Zack had always been off doing other things, usually with Stevie, so it was enchanting to watch them even as I agonized as to the state Belle was in.
They ignored my presence and carried on talking. Perhaps they couldn’t see me. I had the ominous sensation that I was the ghost in the room, forced to watch the living, unable to interact with them. Of course, that is what Rafaella always claimed for me, that I was incapable of playing a full part in anyone else’s lives.
I couldn’t really make out what they were saying. I could hear their voices clearly but not the words.
They were totally engrossed with each other and, whether she was dead or alive, I was so pleased for Belle. At last she had been reunited with Zack and presumably that cavernous ache had been filled with her delight at their reunion.
I watched their outlines. They were both solid. I knew that Zack was a ghost, so that did not give me any confidence that Belle was anything other than a ghost too. And then there was the fact that they were both talking and not talking.
I wondered whether I was in the middle of some psychotic break and then back to whether I was the ghost, killed by Rafaella two nights ago and was only realizing now that I was dead.
I even got to the point where I was playing with the idea that maybe nothing I had lived through over the last few weeks had even happened, questioning whether Zack had died, whether Belle had disappeared, whether Stevie had gone to Phoenix, whether there we any ghosts in the house. The nearest I can explain it is when you look at a word and it suddenly stops meaning anything to you at all. Is it even a word? Is it spelled correctly? Then you tell yourself that it is and it returns to something you have lived with all your life and know well. That is what happened here.
Belle looked at me and smiled sheepishly. “I got lost,” she said.
I rushed to her. “Are you alive?”
“Of course I am alive,” she said.
I held out my hand and touched her tentatively. I hit resistance. I hit flesh. “You’re alive!” I exclaimed stupidly.
“Don’t rub it in,” Zack teased me from the side.
I knelt down by Belle and hugged her as if she had been gone forever, as I had very much feared. “Where were you?”
“I was outside somewhere, wondering around. I guess I got amnesia. I couldn’t remember who I was or where I was. At least I wasn’t naked or in my robe. I had managed to dress myself in a t-shirt and jeans – this t-shirt and jeans, and no I can’t remember doing any of that. All I can remember is Rafaella coming into our room and then the next thing I knew was that I found myself in the middle of Golden Gate Park with Zack beside me, asking me to come home. So here I am.”
“Thank you, Zack.”
Zack smiled. “Like I told you, we are doing our best. The rest is up to you.”
“What did happen?”
“We didn’t see anything. There was a kind of barrier at the door. You were thrown back onto the landing and we couldn’t revive you. When we tried to get into your bedroom we couldn’t. Then Mom came out already dressed and disappeared outside like she was sleepwalking and we found we couldn’t get through the front door either for several hours. After that, we hunted around the city looking for her. I found her asleep near the Rose Garden in Golden Gate Park. As you know, Mom loves that garden. I waited by her side until she woke up and I brought her home. She’s fine now. She remembers everything except what happened between when Rafaella confronted her and when I found her.”
“Thank God for that,” I said.
“You worry too much, Luke,” Belle told me.
I thought it was an odd thing for Belle to say at the time, and I should have been warned, but I was so cheerful and relieved to see Belle alive and well, I overlooked it.
It was very careless of me, but when we are really, really happy we often become really, really stupid too.
Chapter 23
When I phoned Luiz Martinez to tell him that Belle had returned unharmed, he laughed. “Let’s see who else comes back,” he said.
Predictably it was Rafaella who came back that night. I woke up to find her sitting on the end of our bed. Belle was still asleep.
Rafaella held her finger to her lips, indicating that she wanted me to be quiet and not wake Belle. This conversation was to be a private one, just her and me.
“So nice to see you two so happy again,” Rafaella observed. “Quite the perfect couple.” There was a sneer in her mind no doubt but not in her voice. A neutral onlooker would have thought that she was pleased for us, tinged with an envy for what Belle and I had that Rafaella and I had never achieved as a couple. That would have made sense. At base, Belle and I had everything; we were living through somewhat
literally a nightmare but as a couple we were golden.
However, I was not a neutral observer and I doubted that Rafaella was pleased for us in any way whatsoever. Indeed, I had no doubt that Rafaella had every intent to smash us up and to tear us apart in any way she could. The operative word was ‘execute’. She wanted to execute us but had not worked out how to do that definitively yet, or had she? Did she know exactly what she was going to do to us next and was spinning things out so that they would be that much more devastating to us? I was under no illusion that there was nothing either Belle or I could do now to satisfy Rafaella’s blood lust except to suffer horribly for as long as possible and then to die.
Belle and my joy in each other was an affront to Rafaella, an affront that struck at the heart, if that is the right word, of Rafaella’s conception of who she was and of her belief in her own infallibility.
I could never tell with Rafaella. Did she really believe that she was perfect and never made any mistakes or did she ever recognize that she was deeply flawed in her relationships with people, insecure, angry, manipulative and vengeful but could never admit to any of that because it would undermine her strategy to force her will on the rest of the world and especially on those closest to her?
Rafaella wanted it all but what ‘it all’ meant for her I suspected had never been defined in her mind in any detail. There was no point where she would think to herself ‘I have everything I want’ and relax. There was always the next thing she wanted, on whim, that day, for the next few months.
When we were together, she always had a list of stuff she wanted next - usually things. It was a long list and it kept getting longer because it almost seemed to be an ambition of hers to add new items to that list daily and then complain that hardly anything was getting checked off. I kept asking her to prioritize the list in terms of what was realistically achievable and what she wanted the most, but she insisted on picking things randomly from it and then bitching ceaselessly that I had done nothing to make it possible for her to have it. For some reason it always came down to what I had not done rather than to what she was doing to get whatever she wanted.
Before There Were Angels Page 13
