By the Light of His Lantern Page 23

  “I can see you now,” he said, though he couldn’t anymore.

  “You’re not a very good listener.” She took a step toward the light and again Lewis took a step back into the hallway. “Why are you afraid of me?”

  “I’m not,” he answered hastily. He turned to go back to Terry. Her voice followed through the doorway behind him.

  “You should stay here,” she said. “Don’t go out there.”

  He paused. “It’s fine. All that noise we heard, it’s gone now. I’m going with Terry, someplace safe.”

  “It’s not fine.”

  Irritated, he continued back to the bar where Terry was waiting. As they left, Lewis shone his light on the dead beast in the middle of the floor—the bird now vanished—and the gore he saw was enough to make him want to put out the flame. He averted his eyes and they stepped around its corpse to the entrance.

  From there Terry led them a few blocks away. They took to some narrower streets—darker and intermittently lit by fewer torches than on the busier streets—until they came to a cramped wooden set of stairs in an alley. Up those steps, old and shivering dust into the air with each step, they came to a door which Terry proudly claimed was his. He invited Lewis inside. There was a single lumpy bag of straw or something else stuffed inside against the far wall, what Lewis assumed was Terry’s bed. There was also a window, but the torches outside didn’t offer his room any light. Lewis felt awkward taking the lumpy bed but Terry insisted.

  “I rarely sleep on a bed as it is,” he said. “I’ve been here long enough to be accustomed to the ground.”

  Lewis shrugged and plopped himself down. He thought he should have asked Terry where he could find some clothes, but he’d do that later, he decided. For now, though the bed was a far cry from a real-world mattress, all he wanted was to shut his eyes and let time wash over him.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  A sound woke him, something he didn’t know he heard, only that he was suddenly awake, eyes wide, and something about the room was off.

  It was entirely dark.

  He lay quietly still. His eyes darted blindly, searching, hoping to see something. He parted his lips to ask for Terry but something told him it was better not to speak. Something told him Terry wasn’t there. But he wasn’t alone.

  There was a tap on glass. Tap, tap. It startled Lewis but he didn’t budge. Tap, tap. Someone was at the window. It took Lewis a moment to realize how strange this was, to remember they were on the second story…

  “Squaaawwk.”

  Lewis sat up. He pushed himself against the wall, faced the room with cold terror, legs bundled up against himself. Tap, tap. Outside the window.

  “You are wondering why it is so dark,” a voice said. Lewis recoiled against the wall at his back in surprise. A gruff, growling voice, tinged with amusement. “And now you are wondering who I am, and where is that friend of yours…”

  “I know your voice…”

  “Your friend is dead,” the voice said. “I used his blood to extinguish your flame.”

  Lewis was silent.

  “How did you sleep?”

  Lewis ignored the question. “I knew that was your bird back there, at the bar. You were there…”

  “Funny to meet like that a second time, is it not? As I recall, I saved your life at that river, too.”

  “Why are you here?”

  “I am here for you,” he said, and the amusement drained from his voice like blood from an open artery. “Just you.”

  “I don’t have anything. I can’t do anything for you.”

  The man laughed, and Lewis saw two tiny stars ignite in the dark, gleaming with cruel fury. Lewis focused on them, saw them vanish with each slow, fear-savoring blink.

  “There is a lot you can do for me, actually,” he said. “You are a very special man, Lewis. Did you know that?”

  Lewis shook his head.

  “Well you are.” Bootsteps crossed the room. There was a tackiness to them, sticking wetly to the floorboards. He stopped just shy of the bed. From there his voice was overpowering. “And it just so happens that I like special things. I am what you might call a collector. In fact, some people call me just that.”

  “What could you possibly want from me?”

  The man’s leather boots squeaked as he crouched. Now their eyes were level and Lewis could stare directly into the embers swirling in his. The light from those embers was bright enough that Lewis saw the rosy swell of his grinning cheekbones beneath them.

  He said, “You are my ticket out of here.”

  Chapter Eight

  Third Time’s a Charm

  The wait was the longest she’d ever endured. She writhed painfully on the couch for minutes that felt like hours. She paced every room in the house at least twice—all but the basement. Sitting still wasn’t an option. Thoughts assaulted her which weren’t her own. She would never think such things. It was too late to think such things…

  She thought she might just hide. Lock the door, turn out the lights. When the doorbell rang, she would wait it out like a bad storm. Beth would call her and she wouldn’t answer. Or maybe she would. She’d been emotional over the phone. Not answering, Beth would think the worst. Police might come. Perhaps she’d call Beth right now, interrupt her drive and tell her everything was fine, that she was leaving the house, she wouldn’t be home anyway. That would put a stop to it—to the avalanche she started.

  A car pulled into the driveway. Her heart thudded. No breath she could take was deep enough. She sat on the couch for an instant and then immediately stood and approached the door when she heard shoes on the pavement up the walkway. The doorbell rang. She waited. Not because she was hesitant—although she was—but because she didn’t want to give the impression she was waiting at the door. Even in times such as these, appearances were everything…

  She opened the door, attempted a smile, and immediately her face screwed up into ugly sobs. Without a word Beth moved inside, shut the door, and guided Catherine into the front room to the couch where they seated themselves.

  “Get it out of your system,” Beth said. She inched closer to Catherine, rubbed a comforting hand on her back. “This is good.”

  They sat that way for a couple minutes. First Catherine’s sobs quieted, and then they rose again, stealing her breath away. Beth never stopped massaging her back. When she quieted again her body relaxed. She took another breath, a satisfying one, and fell back into the couch. Beth gave her another minute, stared reverently at her hands in her lap while Catherine found her bearings.

  “Is it about Joy?” Beth asked. “It’s that time…”

  Catherine shook her head. She dared to say more and the lump buoyed up into her throat again. “I’ve really done something terrible.”

  Beth put a hand on her shoulder.

  “Take your time.”

  At this rate it would take all night.

  “Is it Lara? I noticed her car is gone.”

  Catherine shrugged. “That’s a different thing entirely.”

  She knew if she tried to verbalize it the words wouldn’t come. Merely thinking about spilling it all caused that lump to swell again. Surely if they played this game long enough the effect would wear off, wouldn’t it? But there wasn’t time for that. Catherine even wondered if it was too late…

  “You want to tell me,” Beth said. “You want to tell someone, whatever it is. Now I’m here. If it’s not Lara, what is it?”

  She wasn’t sure if it was guilt or shame, or anxiety that the truth might cost her their friendship, but for whatever damned reason she couldn’t speak it plainly. She opened her mouth, got out maybe a single syllable before her face burned hot with tears again. Beth was right, though. She wanted to tell someone. She was losing the battle on her own. Perhaps Beth would be horrified and turn her in. Would that be so bad? She couldn’t keep him alive any longer, but she knew full well by now that she didn’t have it in her to kill him. There weren’t many other options. All along the
idea of letting him starve down there occurred to her, but she couldn’t bear that, either. It wouldn’t be any different than taking a knife to him. If she had to tell someone, Beth was the person to tell. They were fairly close. Were they close enough, however, to survive something like this?

  Unable to put it to words, Catherine lifted one tired arm and pointed in the direction of the basement door, still open.

  “What?” Beth said.

  “Down there.”

  Catherine, feeling Beth’s eyes on her, buried her face in her hands and brought her feet up on the couch to hold herself.

  Beth’s silence then spoke volumes. Whatever she’d expected, this wasn’t it. It was impossible, of course, that she could know what exactly waited down those stairs, but that anything at all might be waiting was enough to give her vertigo, Catherine was sure. She knew this shock must have revealed itself in a million ways on Beth’s face and for that reason she didn’t want to see her.

  She uncovered her face when she heard Beth crossing the room to the basement door. She watched her pause in the doorway, looking down. Then, without looking back, she descended. She was gone. Catherine jumped to her feet. Her hands tingled. She sat down again. She brought her nails to her mouth to chew them and hastily pulled them out—she’d killed that habit a long time ago. She clasped her hands between her breasts instead.

  Beth was downstairs for a while. Catherine didn’t hear a peep. Her mind began to race and wander until footsteps started to climb the basement stairs. That powerful shame clutched her in a tight fist, so that she buried her face back into her hands. The footsteps entered the room and paused. Then they continued toward the couch where they stopped again.

  “Is that him?”

  Catherine lowered her hands. She wasn’t crying anymore. The terror was too great for that. She looked up into Beth’s face, which was drained pale.

  “It is.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I am.”

  Beth sat next to her, only this time she kept her hands to herself. Catherine sensed a distance between them, though she felt grateful at least there weren’t any hysterics or accusations. They sat quietly.

  “How do you know?”

  “I know.”

  “But how?”

  “When I saw him, I knew.”

  “Catherine…” Beth hung her head. “That’s… that’s not…”

  “When he saw me, he knew.”

  “What?”

  “I’ve spent a lot of time watching and following cars this last year.” She paused, swallowed the last of her tears. “Mostly I was just wasting time, knowing nothing could possibly come from that. But then… I was filling up on my way home from work in the afternoon. This car, a black Sunfire. I watched him get out. I just had this… this strangest feeling. He’s… young, obviously. He went inside to pay. I paid with a card, but I went inside anyway. He was in line and he looked up. Our eyes met for a second, just barely, and he looked ahead again, and then… a doubletake. He recognized me.”

  “How? From the news?”

  “Had to have been. And if he was the one, I’m guessing… I don’t know, out of guilt, maybe… he probably looked for the news. And he saw me. And then he recognized me in person that day, and he looked… scared.”

  “I don’t know,” Beth said. “That’s still…”

  “I didn’t say anything to him then. He paid for his gas and left. I didn’t follow. But I staked that gas station out nearly every afternoon for the next month until I saw him again. It was lucky. I followed him to what I assume was his work. Some manufacturing company, I don’t know. He worked swing shift. Once I knew that, I picked a time and I followed him home.”

  “Jesus… And now he’s here. In your basement…”

  “It didn’t happen like that. I confronted him once first. I went to his apartment complex and waited for him to get home. I sat on the curb in front of the building. I wanted him to see me again, without my needing to say anything. I wanted to see the look on his face. I was fairly certain already, but I wanted to know for sure, and that was the best way, I thought. So he came home, got out of his car, and he saw me sitting there under the streetlamp. We made eye contact. He didn’t smile and nod, he didn’t look away like I was a nobody. He was startled. He had that scared look again. I stood and I said ‘You know who I am, don’t you?’ and he wasn’t going to stop at first so I said ‘I’m talking to you.’ He stopped and looked at me, but he had a really hard time looking me in the eye. I said ‘You know who I am’ and he shook his head. I said ‘Yes you do’ and he shook his head again and he turned around and said ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about lady.’ So I said to him ‘Well I know who you are.’ That was all we ever said to each other. I know you’re thinking that’s still not enough, but believe me, I knew. More happened later that solidified it for me, but I knew even then. If you were there, you’d have known it too, trust me.”

  Beth didn’t say anything for a minute, and despite Catherine’s urge to fill the silence, to defend herself further, she kept quiet.

  “Is he dead?”

  “No, he’s not dead.”

  “Oh, thank God…” Beth uttered a breathless sigh. “I wasn’t sure. I thought you’d… I thought…”

  “I told you that psychic of yours tried to sell me a curse. Do you remember? I only ever saw her after I’d already found him, otherwise I might have tried using her for that. She probably would have found him much faster than I did. As you saw downstairs, her methods… they work…”

  “That’s… he’s…”

  “Rosaline’s curse. I paid for it.”

  Beth’s words escaped her.

  “And now I’ve had him for nearly two weeks.”

  “He’s still alive?”

  “I’ve been keeping him alive. Feeding him, and… everything else.”

  “Everything else?”

  “I’ve been taking care of him.”

  Beth thought. “Cathy… what’s the plan here? What are you doing?”

  “I don’t know anymore.”

  “What was the plan?”

  “Just like we talked about a couple days ago. I wanted to kill him. I really did…”

  “Rosaline sold you a curse to kill him?”

  “Not exactly…” Catherine’s mouth was dry. “I need water. Can I get you anything?”

  Beth, in a joking manner but without the humor, said she needed alcohol. Catherine fetched them both water and sat down again.

  “What are you thinking so far?” Catherine asked.

  “I don’t know.” Beth sipped her water. “I don’t know what I’m thinking right now. I wasn’t expecting this when I came over…”

  “I know.”

  “I’m shocked, honestly.”

  “Are you going to call the police?”

  Without hesitation Beth answered, “No.”

  “I’m sorry for bringing you into this by telling you. I really am.”

  “No, I’m glad you did. Catherine…” Beth put her water down, and shifted in her seat to face her. “I know at the restaurant the other day I was full of a lot of talk, about vigilantism and everything. I don’t know that I’d really have it in me, but I understand it. I know you’re going through a lot… but…”

  “But what?”

  “He’s just a kid.”

  “I know.”

  “Are you still going through with it?”

  “I don’t want to. Not anymore, I don’t. I know now that I never could have gone through with it.”

  “So what’s the plan now? What are you going to do with him? What’s wrong with him?”

  “The curse Rosaline sold me was meant to lock him in some kind of… place… subconsciously. Supposedly he’s trapped there right now. The promise she made me, was that after I killed him, he’d be trapped there forever, even after death.”

  “You wished that upon that kid down there?”

  “I know how it seems now. I don’t know what
I was thinking…”

  “You were thinking you wanted to make him pay.”

  Catherine nodded.

  “But you didn’t expect him to be a kid.”

  “Well, he’s twenty-three years old.”

  “Still a kid, though. You know that.”

  “Yeah… I do.”

  “Why a curse? If you wanted him dead, why not just… you know…”

  “I couldn’t kill him myself. I didn’t even know I wanted to, really. I mean, actually do it. Then I saw Rosaline—”

  “This is the part where you tell me this was somehow all my fault. I sent you to her.”

  “I would never blame you for this. That would be stupid.”

  “I know you wouldn’t, but I sent you there.”

  “You had no idea.”

  “So… you saw her, and…”

  “It started out as you’d expect, asking vague questions and giving me even vaguer details about my life that could apply to almost anyone. I told her about Joy and she told me some sentimental nonsense she probably knows all grieving mothers want to hear. And then… she told me things she couldn’t have possibly known. Details on her death.”

  “She could have seen the news, too.”

  “It was barely on the news. And it’d been so long since. She wouldn’t have had any reason to remember my face like he did. Anyway, she started telling me about Joy’s death. I didn’t tell her how she died, just that she was dead. And she starts saying things to imply, you know, that she was killed. She described his car to me. That was when I really knew. For sure. And by that point I was so emotional and… in awe, of the things she knew, that I told her everything myself. And then she offered me something I didn’t realize I wanted. That’s how the curse was brought up.”

  “How much did she want for it?”

  “That’s not important.”

  Beth was taken aback. “It was a lot, then. How much?”

  “It’s not important.”

  “Did you believe it would work? You had to have.”

  “If it didn’t, she told me I could get my money back.”

  “How would she know if it worked or not? Someone could—”

  “I don’t know, that’s just what she told me. I didn’t have to worry about it anyway, though, because it did.”