TWENTY-ONE
SECRETS
On Friday Kay stayed home from her classes, calling Dr. Wexler to tell him she was suffering from a migraine headache. I'll be fine by Monday, she told the man, and he said he hoped she felt better soon and wished her a good weekend.
Kay put the receiver down and lay in the bed, the curtains closed, the room darkened. She'd switched on the light a few minutes before and then hurriedly turned it off again, finding it stung her eyes. Evan and Laurie were down in the kitchen making breakfast for her; hearing them clattering around, she knew she'd have to clean up. after them later. But it was nice of them, and no matter what was burned she was going to pretend to enjoy it.
She hadn't really lied to Dr. Wexler; her head was pounding.
But she knew it wasn't migraine. She felt as if her nerves were trembling, felt as if an icy hand caressed her shoulders. She'd tried for weeks now to pretend that nothing was wrong, that what she was feeling inside was anxiety, that soon the anxiety would pass and she'd be the same sensible, practical Kay Reid she'd always been.
But now she couldn't do that anymore.
Something was happening to her that she cou1dn't explain away as anxiety or anything remotely familiar. It had begun with those strange dreams. At first she'd been an interested, if fearful, observer in them, but now, as they intensified and drew her slowly into them, she'd become a participant unable to escape. And it always seemed that she was locked within another body, one with a ragged scar on the thigh, and she viewed scenes of carnage and merciless battle through hard, slitted eyes that were not her own. She'd wanted to talk about those dreams to Evan, to tell him that fear and confusion were writhing within her, but she'd been ashamed to admit she was becoming more and more afraid of something shadowy and intangible. After all, wouldn't that be admitting that there might be something to fear in Evan's dreams as well? No. She couldn't do that.
Evan seemed too preoccupied with something else to listen to her, anyway. In the past few days he'd eaten hardly any dinner at all; his eyes looked tired and hollow because he'd been staying up so late, watching television or trying to work downstairs in the basement.
But Kay could have counted on both her hands the number of keys she'd heard strike paper. Those were familiar symptoms, and they were setting her nerves on edge as badly as were her nightmares.
The one the night before had been the worst yet. She'd awakened in the gray hours with a cry of pain caught in her throat.
Through the whorls of smoke and dust, the hordes of swarthy, black-bearded invaders had advanced, swinging blood-edged swords; archers on horse back wheeled across fallen walls and around roaring fires where corpses crackled and split. She and three comrades had fought back to back, swinging their gore-splattered axes from side to side like a ferocious, maddened fighting machine.
She'd cleaved one of the enemy with a blow that had burst his skull into fragments, and then she'd heard a name - Oliviadre - which she'd recognized as her own, called in warning. Whirling to the side, she'd met the strike of the sword with her battle-ax and slashed the invader's hand off at the wrist. The stump had gouted blood, and it had been a simple blow to end his life. Behind her, Coliae had fallen with an arrow in her throat; Demusa shrieked her war cry even as a blade struck her shoulder and a second blade pierced her chest; Antibre was struck in the face by a dashing sword, and even as she fell to her knees, she cleaved the head from the warrior who'd struck her down. Through the smoke the warriors came forward, shoulder to shoulder, their chests heaving. Oliviadre backed over a heap of fallen comrades, hand clenched around the handle of her weapon.
All around burned fires of defeat: the great city, the great nation, finally trodden down beneath the boot of the destroyer. Torn bodies littered the stone pathways, and blood splattered murals of glorious, breathtaking color.
And now Oliviadre, her gaze sliding from side to side like a cunning animal's, saw the fear in their eyes, but knew the time of her own death was fast approaching. One of the warriors, a large man both courageous and foolhardy, rushed forward, his arm coming back to fling a spear. Oliviadre shrieked in rage, felt the hot graze of the spear as she stepped quickly to the side; at once she was upon the man, striking, striking, striking. The mutilated body fell, head hanging from strings. She spat upon it and readied herself for the others. They hesitated, sensing in her the fury that had almost brought Athens to its knees over a hundred years before. A bow hissed, and an arrow flashed over the heads of the men. It struck Oliviadre in the shoulder, forcing her back a few paces. The warriors, seeing the stream of blood, pushed forward.
Until Oliviadre's wary retreat was stopped by a firescorched, broken ruin of a wall. The warriors paused, looking for an opening.
But Oliviadre gave them no chance. At once she screamed the chilling war cry of the eagle, and then she was leaping over the mounds of corpses onto the terrified men. She struck one down with a single blow, slashed out and saw an arm fall, still gripping a sword; a searing, burning pain at her spine; slashing, slashing, spraying red droplets across crumbling faces, slashing; volcanic pain at the back of her head; still slashing, the ax heavier now, the warriors crowding in closer as she fell to her knees; one of them lifting his sword high, and then...
Darkness.
Gray light.
Morning on McClain Terrace. God, my head! Got to call Dr.
Wexler...
"Breakfast!" Laurie said, coming into the room with Evan close behind her, carrying a plate with bacon and eggs and a glass of orange juice on a tray. She put the tray carefully across her mother's lap. "We burned the toast up, though," Laurie said cheerily.
"Oh, that's all right. It looks very good."
"Don't you want a light on in here?" Evan asked her.
"No. Please. My head's still aching." She reached to the night table for a bottle of Tylenol. Two tablets remained; she swallowed them with the orange juice.
"You're not feeling any better at all?"
She shook her head. The final image in her dream remained fixed behind her eyes: a warrior lifting his sword, muscles rippling in his arms, to strike across her skull. No. That wasn't me. That was...Oliviadre. Oliviadre was struck by that sword, not me. So why do I feel this terrible, throbbing pain? She winced and touched her forehead.
"Does it hurt bad, Mommy?" Laurie asked.
"Yes, it does."
Evan picked up the empty Tylenol bottle. "I'd better drive down to the drugstore and get you another bottle of these, then." He looked at her for a moment, seeing her obvious pain in the lines around her eyes. "Do you want to see a doctor?"
"Oh, it's not that bad," Kay said quickly. She took a tentative bite of an egg, reached for the salt shaker on the tray. "I'll be just fine."
"You've been working too hard," Evan said. "Probably reading too much."
"That's probably it. It'll be good for me to rest today because I've got those tests to give next week."
"Am I going to school today?" Laurie asked.
"No," Kay said. "Why don't you stay home and keep me company?"
"But Daddy can do that!" Laurie protested. "Mrs. Omarian was going to finish her story today!"
Kay grasped her little girl's hand. "I thought you'd want to stay home, honey. You can watch television, and go outside to play, and - "
"The queen!" Laurie said. "I'm going to miss the part about the queen!"
Evan's eyes flickered quickly over to Kay, then back to Laurie's face again. "What queen?"
"The real queen!" Laurie said. "The one right here in this place!"
"In this place? What place do you mean?"
The little girl shook her head, irritated that her father didn't understand. "Right here!" she said emphatically. "She lives in a big castle!"
Kay began to stroke the child's hair. "Stay home with me, honey. We'll have a good time together."
Laurie paused for a moment. "Awwwwww, I miss out on everything!"
"Tell you what, princess," Evan said. "Why don't you drive with me over to the drugstore? Okay?"
Another pause, and then she finally nodded. "I guess so." As they crossed the lawn to the driveway, Evan found himself staring at the Demargeon house. Nothing moved over there; the Demargeons'
car was gone. Evan, with Laurie on the seat beside him, backed the station wagon into the street and turned toward the Circle.
"You must like Mrs. Omarian a lot," Evan said while he drove.
"I do. She's nice."
"Are there many others who go to the Sunshine School?"
She nodded. "It's hot. Can I roll my window down?"
"Sure. Go ahead." Evan came to a stop sign, slowed and stopped, looked both ways, and. then drove on, past silent houses.
"Mrs. Omarian must tell you some good stories," he said in another moment.
"Oh, she tells very good stories. Just to us and not to the boys, either, because she says we're special.
"Of course you're special," Evan said. "How many little boys go to the Sunshine School?"
"Oh...four or five. It's mostly girls like me."
He nodded, glanced in his rearview mirror, got a quick glimpse of the museum's roof before he looked away.
"I'd like to hear some of Mrs. Omarian's stories," he said.
"Especially about this queen who lives in a castle."
"Can't," Laurie said. "Mrs. Omarian said they're just for us because we're special. She said daddies aren't supposed to know."
"Oh," Evan said easily. "Secrets, huh?"
"It's fun to have secrets."
Evan's vision clouded over. He was only dimly aware that he was still driving through the streets of Bethany's Sin, because some other part of him stood in a corridor, surrounded by swirling dust and heat, watching a dark shape with burning eyes slowly come closer and closer to stand just before him now. A hand pierced the veil of dust, reaching out for him. Took his arm in a cold, hard grip, pulled him forward. Daddy, someone said. His heart pounded, but there was nothing he could do to resist; the thing pulled him onward, along the corridor to a huge room where others waited. Daddy! A voice, very close. The floor of rough stones, the ceiling of glass and the moon burning white in a black sky. Things with flaming, hideous eyes ringing the room. A slab of black rock in the center, and someone standing there. Daddy, please! Laurie's voice. Kay. Kay standing there, but a...different Kay. A Kay with two faces: one half snarling, the single eye blazing blue and filled with hate; the other half screaming, eye widened in fear. Behind her, other figures, waiting. Daddy, you're...Kay lifting one arm, the hand holding a battle-ax that glowed with the same spectral power; her other hand clenched for him, the fingers trembling in a frenzy...
"...going too fast!" Laurie screamed, close to his ear.
And then he jerked himself back away from the hideous place and saw the stop sign coming up fast and knew that even as he jammed on the brakes the car's momentum would carry them across and he prayed to God there would be no other cars coming into that intersection. The tires squealed, squealed, squealed. The car shuddered violently. Ahead a looming black figure, twisting aside.
"Christ!" Evan said, gritting his teeth and easing the station wagon to a halt in the middle of the intersection. He looked to Laurie, who was shaking and biting her lip, her, eyes wide. "I'm sorry, princess,"
he said. "Christ, I'm sorry! Are you all right?"
She nodded, her eyes darting.
"Christ, I'm sorry," he said again. "I didn't mean to do that. I don't know what I was thinking." And suddenly he was aware of another presence, and eyes drilling through him. He smelled an animal smell and looked sharply to the side.
Beside the station wagon there was a gleaming, massive-flanked black horse, nostrils wide, still nervously tossing its huge triangular head. Red fire seemed to burn in that horse's eyes. And astride the animal, riding bare back, was Kathryn Drago, her hand clenched in the horse's mane. "Steady, Joker," she was saying softly.
"Steady. Steady." The horse jerked its head and then stood quiet while the woman stroked its neck. And then she gazed across at Evan. "That was very careless of you, ' Mr. Reid," she said coldly.
"Y0u could've killed my horse while we were crossing the road."
"I'm sorry," he told her. "I didn't see you there."
"We were in full view," the woman said. "Do you make it a point to break traffic laws?"
"My wife's not feeling well," Evan said, for lack of a better excuse. "I'm on my way to the drugstore."
The woman continued stroking the horse's neck. The animal rumbled with pleasure and seemed calm now. "Kay's ill?" she said, her visage softening a fraction. "Is it serious?"
"Headache," he said. "But she's staying home from school today"
"I see." She peered through the window, beyond Evan. "That's your little girl?"
"Yes, it is."
"She's very beautiful. Hello, there."
" 'Lo," Laurie said.
Drago's eyes moved back to Evan's. "You should be more careful. Someone could have been hurt."
"Is that your horse?" Laurie asked her, leaning forward to peer up at her.
"His name's Joker," Drago said. The horse's ears twitched. "I've been exercising him this morning. He's a fine horse, isn't he?"
"He's so pretty!" Laurie said, the near-accident now fading into the past. "I like horses!"
"That's good. I have twenty horses at my stables. Perhaps your mother and father will bring you to go riding someday soon."
"Could I, Daddy?" Laurie looked to him.
"We'll see," he said, smoothing her hair. When he looked into Drago's eyes he saw something Hash there, something quick and dark and dangerous
"I hope you'll bring her out," Drago said. "Every woman should know how to master a horse."
"She's got time for that."
"Indeed she does," the woman said, and smiled very slightly.
A car's horn blew for Evan to clear the intersection.
He said, "I'm sorry this happened, Dr. Drago. I'll take more care in the future."
"Yes," she said. "You should." And then she expertly wheeled the horse around with one hand and her heels, and rode off in the opposite direction. Evan waved to the driver of the other car and then drove on toward the Circle.
"She's so nice," Laurie said. "I'd like to go see her horses."
Evan was silent. The Circle was ahead, with its neat little shops.
In the center he noticed that most of the flowers had died under the extreme heat.
And on the outskirts of Bethany's Sin, near the large welcoming sign, Neely Ames paused behind the red lawn mower to mop his face with his arm. The sun was searing him, and there was a lot more ground to cover before he'd be finished. He felt as if his eyelids were puffed from the heat, and around him trees drooped toward the earth.
He was beginning to look forward to that special sassafras tea Mrs.
Bartlett had ready for him almost every night now.
It was always so cold, and made him sleep so well.