Scratch, page 22
* * * * *
“Just going to visit the Mansfields, hunh?” Jim asked, slicing open the silence. “No other plans?”
“Not really,” Billy said. “Don’t worry about Shelley. She’s in no danger from me. I just need her to get me where I’m going.”
“I can give you directions. You don’t need her.”
Billy considered it. She could be in the way. He couldn’t get into the house unannounced if she wanted to go in. But she might be able to help with Michaela once they escaped. Michaela would need a mom in the bright new world he envisioned for her. Shelley was young and pretty, well worth sleeping with and, Billy thought, not too bright. If he gave her enough money and praise, and drugs of course, she could be pliable to his every need. And if she became a liability, well… Suede had become a liability, and she had been easy to deal with.
He weighed his options.
“She seems set on going to this dinner party,” Billy said. “I wouldn’t want to disappoint her.”
* * * * *
Shelley knew a suitcase would be too obvious, so after changing her clothes she threw an extra pair of jeans and a bunch of panties into a large paper bag on top of a few toiletries. She knew she couldn’t take much with her, but she could buy what she needed once she was away from here. She grabbed a blouse and some socks and threw them in. She looked around her bedroom, trying to decide if there was anything she couldn’t leave behind. There were stuffed animals on her bed, books and numerous keepsakes, all things she thought she had loved. Now they only looked like chains to a life she no longer wanted. She didn’t know what kept anyone in this valley. With sudden clarity she understood that the bonds of family, friends and shared experience, the habit and routine of the day-to-day, were the shackles of any life.
In Canaan there was also the secret. The angel was used to justify everything, even murder. Shelley had been complicit in that as well. But the secret was killing the town. They were all trapped here as much as Gabrielle was trapped in her basement. For the first time in her life Shelley felt remorse over what was being done. She knew what it was like to feel that you had wings but would never be allowed to fly.
That was over for her. She was flying out of here tonight. When she was away she might even tell the world about the secret of Canaan. She might not be believed, but surely the tale of a little girl locked in a church basement would bring some kind of investigation.
Shelley grabbed the photo of her parents from her nightstand and placed it in the bag. She turned off the lights and ran down the steps. She knew she had to find some way to explain the bag she carried to Jim. She went to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. There was a large bottle of soda pop and a leftover casserole in a plastic pan. She pulled them out and placed them in the bag over her clothes. She would have to hope Jim didn’t look too closely.
She opened a drawer and grabbed a large knife, then returned to the living room.
The lock on Raz’s roll-top desk popped easily under the pressure of the sturdy blade. She slid the top open and then, in a fit of childish malevolence she stabbed the knife into the polished oak surface. It quivered and stood straight out from the heart of the wood.
There was a little over three hundred dollars in one of the small drawers. She shoved it into the pocket of her jeans and turned to leave, but something made her pause.
She looked back at the desk. The book she had seen the night of the ritual was in it somewhere. She wondered what Raz would do if she stole it? She opened three drawers before she found it. An old paper smell enveloped her as she turned back the thick brown cover.
The brittle sheets were covered in handwritten script. Most of the first few pages were unreadable, partially due to poor penmanship, but mainly because it was in a language Shelley didn’t understand. She had never even seen many of the letters and symbols before. About a quarter of the way through the language changed to primarily English. She saw the signature of a Lars Toland, dated in 1893. She scanned the pages and realized that she held the secret history of Canaan in her hands. She was dying of curiosity, but the book was too large to carry. She thought about tearing some of the pages out and taking them with her, but decided against it. She knew that if anything would make Raz and April try to find her it would be this. They were far more worried about protecting their secret than about what happened to her.
She was about to close the book when she recognized Raz’s cramped lettering and began to scan the pages. The most recent entries were sparse details about recent events. There was nothing incriminating of course. Even Raz was too smart for that. There were several paragraphs that dealt with his concerns about the Mansfields. Once again, there was nothing very interesting.
Then a section caught her eye. Raz had written about his unhappiness over not yet having produced a son. It didn’t seem to Shelley that Raz was very concerned about loving an actual child, but about having an heir to pass the secrets of Canaan to. He worried about what would happen if he were to die before the rituals and responsibilities were taught to another generation. His love of Gabrielle and his very real fear of Scratch bled from the page. Every moment of his life had been given to these two concerns.
At the end of the page he had added two words. They were long and difficult, but Raz had spelled them phonetically, with the notation, “In case someone needs to know.” Shelley’s brow wrinkled as she stared at the words. As they wormed their way into her brain the air in the room seemed to grow thicker, like it had done the night of the ritual. She thought she felt sparks leaping among the hair on her arms.
Then, slowly, she spoke the first word.
* * * * *
Thunder rumbled over the valley. Wind swept down from the mountain, bending trees and rattling windows with its violent passage. In the dark church basement Gabrielle’s eyes snapped open.
Her true name had been spoken.
She felt groggy, as though just awakening from a long disturbing sleep. A thin bar of light shone under a door. The air smelled of must and mildew. She tried to move and found her wrists were shackled to the wall.
Memories seeped into her conscious mind from deep within, rising in a jumbled mosaic of imagery. The realization of her situation came slowly. She was a captive, and had been for… how long? A short time, she supposed, given her life span, but a captive nonetheless. She had been free for time out of mind, for the passage of years, as the humans termed them. She and her brother had flown over this land, had loved and played and lived long before the first people came here. The memory was clear, yet timeless. They lived every moment entirely in that moment, unaware of time.
She knew that was how her captivity had passed as well. Something had bound them, some human magic. She had been kept here, her powers used, unaware of her imprisonment, her mind clouded by the magic that held her. She knew that her brother must be chained as well. She could feel him, somewhere, in pain. His body, like hers, had been chained away from the world.
But now, her mind had been freed. Someone had spoken her true name without first invoking the binding ritual. She was not yet completely free. Those who had kept her bound could work their magic again. But now she knew her plight.
She could wait. Time meant nothing to her. A chance would come, and then she would be liberated.
Her captors had much to answer for.
* * * * *
Shelley jumped as the thunder crashed. The house seemed to vibrate. She heard large raindrops flattening on the roof, sparse and staccato. The air felt charged and electric. Her eyes turned back to the book and she spoke the second word.
Once more thunder shattered the night and lightning tore a gash in the sky. Rain poured into the valley.
* * * * *
Scratch’s howl of ecstasy echoed through the mineshafts and the caverns of his prison. Shelley had spoken his true name. He could feel the chains loosening. Not free, not yet, but he felt his sister’s mind awakening. His own power was returning, slowly. He was still weak from the decades of pain he had endured for Canaan. His body ached in the dark. He longed for his sister’s healing touch. They could not be truly free until they were reunited.
Scratch meant to see that happen.
Tonight.
A storm had come to Canaan, and Scratch knew he could use it. He found an opening in Billy’s madness and curled up there. Whatever was to come this precarious night would start with him.
* * * * *
Shelley slammed the book closed and gasped for breath. The tension in the air had broken with the rain. She knew she had done something irreversible, but she did not know what. Water pattered against the window with a snare drum accent. She grabbed a coat from the rack by the door, held it over her head as a shield, and rushed out of the parsonage.
Dark had come to Canaan early, thanks to the storm. Billy and Jim stood under the awning on the front porch of the store. A bare bulb above them cast harsh light upon their heads, and harsher shadows at their feet.
“Ready,” Shelley said, speaking loudly to be heard over the tin roof rain.
“Good,” Billy said. “Let’s go.”
“See you when you get back,” Jim said to Shelley. He grabbed her arm as she passed and whispered, “Don’t do anything stupid.”
“Too late,” she said. “I trusted you, didn’t I?” She jerked her arm away from him and ran to Billy’s car. The rotting meat smell was stronger in the humid interior. Billy smiled and started the car. Jim watched until it was out of sight.
No one noticed the light blue glow from the church basement.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Jack Hardy was the first guest to arrive. The earliest drops of rain were just beginning to dot the dust of the road. He was dressed in a gray suit that looked dapper in spite of its old-fashioned cut. He banged the bronze doorknocker with his hat in his hand. Adam opened the door with Michaela hiding behind his legs.
“Gran’pa Jack!” she yelled when she saw who it was. She ran out and lifted her arms to him. Jack stooped and lifted her with no difficulty.
“Hi there, little lady,” he said, and touched her nose with his finger. “Don’t you look pretty?” Michaela smiled and dropped her eyes with pleased embarrassment.
“Hi, Jack,” Adam said and shook the older man’s hand. “Mike and Holly spent about an hour picking out the right dress and, what’s the term out here? Getting ‘gussied up.’ I can take your hat and jacket.”
“Thanks.” Jack handed the items to Adam. “Blue said to send his apologies for not joining us. Tonight’s his poker night. Smells good in here. I haven’t had a meal in this house in ages.”
“Holly went all out,” Adam said. “She wanted to make a home-cooked meal for everyone. She doesn’t think the noodles turned out right, but I think they’re pretty good.”
“Been dipping in early, have we?” Jack smiled and set Mike back on the floor.
“Only in my duty as Official Taster, of course,” Adam confirmed. “Come on. We have drinks and appetizers in the dining room.”
Jack paused and looked around. The two front rooms were still furnished with Dora’s furniture and pictures, but Holly had added a number of her own personal touches. A picture of Michaela hung between photographs of Caroline and Dora. Adam and Holly’s wedding picture sat on the mantle. Some of Holly’s newer paintings adorned the walls of both rooms and the hallways. Jack paused in front of one that featured two young women dressed in gothic clothing with crow’s wings sprouting out of their backs.
“Nice work,” he said.
“That’s based on a set of twins we used to see in Oakland all the time,” Adam said.
“What are they supposed to be?”
“Fairies, spirits,” Adam explained. “Holly says that all of her subjects are angels.”
“Angels come in many forms,” Jack said. “So do devils, unfortunately.” He clapped Adam on the back and gestured down the hallway. “Let’s get those drinks.”
Raz and April arrived ten minutes later. She brought pies, even though Holly had asked her not to, and the two women went straight to the kitchen. Raz looked stiff and uncomfortable, and refused the offer of a drink, though he did try one of Holly’s stuffed mushroom caps. He spent a lot of time looking at the paintings. Adam noticed a secret glance pass between Raz and Jack when he explained again that they were all angels.
The doorknocker boomed again and Adam and Michaela went to answer it. Ed, Abigail and Stephanie stood on the porch, slightly damp from the drizzle.
“Steffie!” Mike squealed when she saw her friend. The girls hugged and giggled and held hands.
“Come see my room.” Mike pulled on Stephanie’s hand.
“Stephanie!” Ed growled as he stepped into the house. “You settle down! Behave yourself or I’m taking you home.” Stephanie went pale and ceased giggling, but still allowed Mike to lead her up the steps.
“They’ll be okay,” Adam said, trying hard not to call Ed an asshole. “They just want to play. Come on in. We weren’t expecting you, Ed.”
Ed stood, scowling in the foyer. His hair was greasy and combed back in a style that Adam didn’t think anybody other than kids in Rockabilly bands actually wore any more. Abby was in a dress that had seen too many spins in the washing machine. Adam assumed it was the best she owned.
“I talked him into it,” Abby said. “I hope that’s okay.”
“Of course,” Adam said, not really thinking so. “The invite was for all of you. We have plenty of food. I can set another place. Dinner is almost ready. We have drinks in the dining room.”
“Brought my own.” Ed indicated the six-pack he carried. From the smell Adam guessed it wasn’t Ed’s first six-pack of the evening.
“Hope Holly didn’t make no peas,” Ed said. “I hate peas. Carrots too.” Abby dropped her gaze in embarrassed silence.
“I’m sure there will be something you like.” Adam gestured for his guests to enter the dining room. Ed paused by one of the paintings in the hallway, an image of a butterfly-winged girl pinned to a corkboard. He grunted his ignorance while popping the tab on a beer can, and then moved on to the dining room.
“Ed, Abigail,” Raz greeted. “Glad you decided to come.”
“Yeah,” Ed said through a belch. “So, where’s the food? Let’s get this party started.”
The next half hour was one of the most awkward social situations Adam had ever endured. The division of the sexes was much more pronounced in Canaan than Adam was used to. Abby went to the kitchen to help with the food while the men waited in the dining room. Adam tried to make conversation, but Raz was taciturn, responding only to direct questions, and then only with a quiet yes or no. He appeared to be totally lacking in social skills and Adam had difficulty imagining him giving a sermon. Ed sulked and offered crude and often vulgar comments on whatever subject arose. Adam wasn’t sure what to talk about. These men didn’t read, or see films, or listen to music. Adam knew nothing about cars, or hunting, or the TV shows they mentioned. He had always enjoyed religious debate with friends, but couldn’t imagine bringing the subject up with any of them.
Jack eased the situation. His good humor and education, coupled with his years of knowing Raz and Ed provided a bridge between the two worlds. He chewed on his unlit pipe and talked, amusing them with anecdotes filled with exaggeration and unexpected turns of event. Adam could tell by their expressions that the other men had heard variations on these tales a million times before, but still listened with smiling attention. When even Ed began to laugh and loosen up Jack treated Adam to a conspiratorial wink. By the time dinner was served the atmosphere had become at least amiable.
As they were sitting down, two peals of thunder in quick succession rattled the windows of the Porter house and reverberated over the valley. Rain beat on the tin roof of the back porch. Michaela and Stephanie both shrieked and ran down the steps to cower by their mothers.
“Sounds like the beginnings of a real gully-washer,” Jack said. “Pass the potatoes, please.”
* * * * *
Billy thought he had been on small roads before, but nothing had prepared him for the narrow dirt path he now drove on. The car crept up the hill, wipers not yet on their highest setting, but he knew they soon would be. The rain was quickly turning the road to mud and he could feel the car sliding sideways if he gave it too much gas. They passed Ed’s garage and a bright flash of lightning caused the outdoor dusk-to-dawn light to go off. Billy nearly drove into the ditch. He hadn’t turned on the headlights, even though the clouds had brought night to the valley early. He didn’t want anyone to know he was coming.
“We’re almost there,” Shelley said. She was beginning to get nervous. She didn’t really want to go into the house and see April and Raz. Even if they just had a nice dinner they would know she was up to something. She just wanted to leave, as soon as possible. Her whole life was opening in front of her, and she was scared. Part of her knew that running off with someone she just met was stupid, but Billy seemed nice enough. How bad could it be, anyway? She wasn’t completely naïve. She thought he would probably expect her to sleep with him at some point. So, okay, she was willing. He was handsome, and it seemed like a small price to pay to get out of Canaan.
“Up around this next turn,” she said. “You can park by the barn.”
Billy slowed down and eased the car around the bend and saw the dark silhouette of the barn. Several cars were parked along the front of it, sticking partially into the narrow road. He slid his car behind an old Ford truck and killed the engine. The windows immediately began to fog.
Billy leaned over Shelley and looked through the passengers’ window. The house sat on the side of a steep hill. The yard was dark, but the porch light was on. He could see lights in one of the front rooms and another one in a room upstairs.
“That’s it, huh?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“You’ve been in there, right?”
“Uh-huh.”
“If they’re having dinner, where are they?”
