Текст книги "Cloud City"

Автор книги: Jeanne Stein

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 5 страниц)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The room is suddenly colder as Leticia moves to stand in front of Sophie. “Explain yourself, witch.”

Sophie is not intimidated. “The name is Sophie,” she says, looking directly into Leticia’s eyes. “Sophie Deveraux.”

Leticia frowns. “You and Jonathan were married?”

“Not exactly.” Sophie closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, exhales slowly. “Come on out, Jonathan,” she says. “We have company.”

Silence. I don’t feel Jonathan’s presence and wonder if Sophie is having trouble bringing him back but then…

Company? Sophie, what do you mean? What did you do?

Jonathan’s voice is muted, his speech slurred as if he’d just awakened from a drug-induced sleep.

Leticia’s shoulders jump, startled eyes widening as she recognizes the voice. “Jonathan?”

There’s a moment when the very air in the room begins to vibrate with the intensity of her confusion. “Where are you?”

“I told you,” Sophie says, repeating her fist to chest gesture. “He’s in here. He’s a part of me.”

Leticia grabs her shoulders. “How did you do it? Can you get him back?”

Leticia? This time the thickness in Jonathan’s voice is more than being dragged to consciousness. How is this possible? How are you here?

“The witch brought me. She says her name is Sophie Deveraux. I don’t understand.”

I feel Jonathan’s mystification as he tries to puzzle out Sophie’s motivation for bringing Leticia to Leadville. It’s more than Prendergast, he’s sure of it. He reaches out to me.

What is she doing, Anna?

Before I can respond, Sophie does. “Don’t ask Anna,” she says, breaking into his cloaked thought. “Ask me.”

Jonathan is startled by the intrusion into what he assumed was a private exchange. It doesn’t take him more than a heartbeat to understand. How long–?

“Long enough. It’s not so hard once you understand which part of the mind to open and which part to close.”

Leticia’s impatience grows with her confusion. She’s fighting to control the vampire’s natural inclination to tear the information out of Sophie. I see her jaw tense, hear her teeth gnash.

“Sophie, you’d better tell Leticia what she wants to know,” I say, trying to ward off trouble. Leticia doesn’t know that harming Sophie will harm Jonathan.

Sophie turns to Leticia. “You and Jonathan want to know why I brought you here? It’s simple really. I want to reunite lovers. I want you to take Jonathan with you when I send you back.”

My spidey sense starts to tingle with alarm. “Sophie, how do you expect to do that?”

Jonathan must be feeling the same panic. It’s not possible, he says. You know it’s not possible, Sophie.

Leticia holds up a hand to interrupt. “Let’s hear her out. I don’t know what’s going on, but if Sophie can bring you to me, Jonathan, I want her to do it. I’ve regretted the way we parted everyday since I left you. I was a fool to let you go. Let me make it up to you.”

She speaks the words with passion, looking into Sophie’s eyes as if seeing Jonathan reflected there.

Maybe she does.

A satisfied smile tips the corners of Sophie’s mouth as she says, “Okay. Let’s put Jonathan to sleep for awhile.” She grows still, closes her eyes, breathes in and out. After a moment she opens her eyes, releases a breath. “There. That’s better. Now let’s get to it, shall we?”

She crosses to the bar to retrieve her bag. I follow close.

“Sophie, what are you thinking? What kind of spell will separate you from Jonathan? And if you do manage to separate your essences, where will Jonathan’s go?”

She looks up at me. “Don’t worry, Anna. I have it all figured out. At first I thought I’d make Leticia and Jonathan one, like he is with me. But then I got a better idea.” Her eyes twinkle as she glances over at a still prone Prendergast and whispers in my ear. “How do you think Jonathan will like being an editor?”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“Prendergast?” My voice croaks with disbelief. “You have to be kidding. Where will he go?”

“Oh, he’ll still be around. But he’s merely human so Jonathan will run the show. It will be the life Jonathan craves. Better than he deserves after the hell he put me through, but as long as he’s out of me, I don’t care.”

Prendergast is staring at us as if he realizes we’re talking about him but is too scared to find out why. I try to imagine Jonathan in that oily haired, New York urban chic metro-male persona and can’t. “Jonathan is never going to go for this.”

That brings a snarl from Sophie. “Did I say I was giving him a choice?”

“What about Prendergast? Don’t you think he should have a say?”

“Why? He’s going to get everything he wants, too. I imagine Jonathan will want to reclaim his estate as soon as he makes the adjustment.”

Leticia has been standing to the side, waiting for something—anything—to happen. Since Sophie and I haven’t moved in five minutes, and I’m shielding my thoughts, her patience comes to an end. She stomps over to us.

“Where’s Jonathan? I want to talk to him.”

“You’ll soon be able to talk to him all you want,” Sophie replies. “You’ll be able to talk, kiss, fuck. Pick up right where you left off a hundred years ago. Course some things will be different. He won’t look the same.”

The tease in her voice snaps Leticia’s ire. “What do you mean?”

Sophie’s eyes drift to Prendergast. “I’m afraid Jonathan’s physical body is gone. Now I know there’s a certain ick factor to fucking your great-grandson but you’re a vampire. I’m sure you’ve done worse.”

I can feel Leticia’s anger grow. I don’t know why Sophie is baiting her like this, but it’s not wise to push a vampire. It’s downright dangerous.

As if to prove the point, Leticia shoves Sophie against the bar. “Witch, you are trying my patience. I want Jonathan. If the only way that can happen is to place his essence in the mortal shell of that miserable excuse for a man, do it. But I warn you. It better be Jonathan in every other respect. If you damage him in any way, I will know. And you will pay.”

Leticia isn’t whispering. In fact, her voice thunders in the small bar. Prendergast catches every word. He leaps to his feet. “What the hell are you talking about?”

With two steps, Leticia is in his face. “It’s wonderful irony. You will become what you have searched for all those years.”

She leans close, one hand grasping Prendergast behind the neck, the other snaking down to cup his genitals in her palm. “I can already feel there will be some disappointments. Oh well, you know what they say. It’s not the size…”

Prendergast squeals as she squeezes. She laughs. “Just think of the perks, worm. Specifically, me.” She glances back to Sophie. “He doesn’t have a family, does he?”

“Not one he’s close to in spite of his story. A sister in Australia. A cousin in the Midwest. I checked.  He does have a fiancé, though.”

“Good. A fiancé is easily disposed of.” She lets him go. “Well, witch, what are you waiting for? Let’s do it.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Prendergast’s face is crumbling, as if he can’t understand what he’s hearing and is too frightened to try to make sense of it. He shrinks back against the bar like a turtle pulling into a shell. Is he trying to make himself less vulnerable, less exposed? It only makes him look pathetic.

Sophie’s face, on the other hand, is determined, a granite mask of resolve and tenacity. She pulls more crystals from the bag, more candles, white this time. She chooses a bundle of herbs tied with a flax ribbon and sets them aside with the vial of clear liquid she withdrew earlier. She walks over to the pentagram. She sweeps away the black candles and crystals with the back of her hand. Then she leans down and draws a circle around the star. She sets out the new candles, arranges the crystals around the perimeter of the circle. She stands up and surveys her work.

“Good. I think we’re ready.”

She goes to her bag. This time she withdraws a piece of paper and turns to me.

“You’ll have to help.”

“Me?”

She hands me the paper. “Read this as soon as the crystals ignite.”

I look it over. “What is this? Latin? I can’t read Latin.”

Leticia stalks over, grabs the paper from my hand. “I can read it. I went to school in Boston when Latin was still taught. Unlike the modern educational system that has steadfastly stripped education of all that is important.” She reads the words to herself, then fixes Sophie with a warning glare. “This is a prayer for an exorcism. To rid a host of a demon. Jonathan is not a demon.”

“That’s what I said.” I can’t help repeating what I told Sophie earlier. Most of the world might think of vampires as demons, I refuse.

“Read it more carefully,” Sophie says calmly. “I replaced the word ‘demon’ with a more innocuous word. ‘Spirit’. And I changed the rite. Instead of banishing the spirit to the underworld, it will send the spirit into another human host. Prendergast’s body.”

Prendergast finally rouses himself. Color returns to his pale face. “You can’t do this. I won’t let you.” He hears what he’s saying, rubs a hand over his face, shaking his head. “Am I crazy? Is this a nightmare? I’m leaving. And if anyone of you tries to follow me, I swear I’ll—”

He gets no farther. At first I think Leticia has done something—or Sophie—to stop him. It isn’t until he clutches a hand to his chest and bends forward at the waist that I hear it. His heart thudding in his chest. Again I think Sophie is doing it.

I whirl on her. “Stop, Sophie. You’ll kill him.”

She turns wide eyes on me. “I’m not doing anything.” When she sees my dark frown, she raises a hand. “I swear. It’s not me.”

Leticia reaches him first, places a palm flat against his heaving chest. “I think he’s having a heart attack.”

“Then we need to call an ambulance.”

“No.” Sophie grabs my arm. “We’ll save him by working the spell. Leticia, bring him to the circle. Quickly.”

Leticia doesn’t hesitate. She sweeps a gasping Prendergast into her arms. “What do I do?”

“Put him the circle.”

Leticia sets Prendergast on his feet. His breathing is quick, shallow. He grabs at his left arm. “Please. I have a heart condition. In my pocket. Nitroglycerine.”

Leticia casts a glance in Sophie’s direction. “Will it affect the spell?”

Sophie shakes her head. “I don’t think so. And we need him alive.”

Leticia searches his pockets, finally finding the small container in his jacket. She opens it and spills one of the white tablets into her hand.

Prendergast takes it and slips it under his tongue. Within a minute, his breathing has returned to normal, he straightens up. He looks around as if confused to find himself standing in the middle of a circle. “What’s going on?”

The pain must have been so intense, he wasn’t aware that Leticia had carried him from his place at the bar. He remembers everything else, though, the familiar look of panic settling over his features.

Leticia turns again to Sophie. “What now?”

“He needs to lay down in the circle. I will lie beside him. You read the ritual. Anna, you sprinkle the contents of this vial over me at the proper time.”

My head swims with questions. “How will I know the proper time? What’s in the vial? Will Prendergast feel anything?”

Sophie has stepped into the circle. “You’ll know the proper time, don’t worry. And it’s holy water in the vial. That should assuage some of your guilt. Nothing poisonous or harmful. Holy water. Prendergast may feel a tingling. But it will feel like renewal, not death. He will feel strong and healthy. That should be the last nitroglycerine tablet he ever needs.”

Too pat. What isn’t she telling me? Vampire whispers in my ear, magic always exacts a price.

“What about you, Sophie?” I ask.

She shrugs. “Worse case scenario, I’m eighty again. But I was healthy before, I should be healthy again.”

Leticia’s impatience sparks again. “Can we get on with it?”

“Prendergast, lie down.”

He tries to step out of the circle, but Leticia swings him up and has him prone on the floor before he can take a step. He struggles to get up. She places a hand on the middle of his chest. “Sophie, can I knock him out? I can cut off his breathing by pressing right here,” she demonstrates by placing a palm on his jugular.

Sophie leans over Prendergast. “Think of it this way, Steven. A new life. One without pain. You’re getting everything you wanted.”

Prendergast draws a breath, his eyes searching Sophie’s. “I won’t feel anything?”

Sophie nods. “Nothing bad. Promise.”

Leticia removes her hand. “Remember, I move faster than you think. Don’t try to pull anything.”

He closes his eyes. Is he praying?

Sophie hands Leticia the paper and bundle of herbs and me the vial. Then she steps into the circle and lowers herself to the floor. She positions her body so her head is at his feet. They are close, but not touching. She ignites the candles as she did before, with a wave of her hand. Then she takes Prendergast’s hand and looks to Leticia. “Begin.”

I see Prendergast’s body tense. He still hasn’t opened his eyes. Part of me feels sorry for him but part of me feels it was his thirst for vengeance that got him into this predicament. That and the thought of a fortune if he could extort it. What does he think now that he knows the truth? That Deveraux didn’t turn his great-grandmother, she turned him? Does he wish he’d never seen the manuscript? Does he curse the lies his family perpetuated to ease their own guilt?

I close my eyes, too. I’m letting this happen. How guilty am I going to feel if something goes wrong?

I imagine pretty fucking guilty.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Leticia reads the Latin script expertly and without hesitation. It’s a long passage, full of pauses during which she waves the bundle of herbs in ways that resemble the sign of the cross. Did Sophie take her rite from a Catholic exorcism textbook?

Nothing is happening. The words provoke no immediate reaction in the two on the floor. I guess I was expecting the dramatic three-sixty head spinning and projectile vomiting pictured in movies when an exorcism is performed. Or at least an impressive string of cursing. Sophie and Prendergast lie still and seemingly unaffected. Even Prendergast shoulders start to relax and his breathing is so regular, I wonder if he’s fallen asleep. Will Jonathan’s spirit slip effortlessly from Sophie into his body?

But I should have known it wouldn’t be that easy.

Leticia is caught up in the words, the magic. Her face takes on an excited flush, her voice rises and falls. Soon the crystals begin to glow. I take an involuntary step back, remembering the flash fire of before. There’s no mist this time, no colorful liquid vapor you can touch and send gently rippling with a touch of your hand. This time the crystals send off scorching heat and light as bright as a laser, turning night into day in the confines of the bar.

Prendergast groans. My eyes snap to him. He’s writhing on the floor, his face contorted.

I thought Sophie said there’d be no pain?

Sophie is still quiet, not moving. She has a smile on her face and she clutches Prendergast’s hand like a lifeline.

Leticia continues to read. Pause. Wave the bundle of herbs. Her face reflects excitement, anticipation. She glances now and then at the two in front of her, as if gauging something.

Then it happens. Sophie’s back arches, she cries out. A specter, a cloud of grey, rises from her body. At the same time, the crystals flare and go out. The specter pauses, suspended in mid-air, as if aware but unsure what path to take.

“Now, Anna, the holy water.” Leticia’s hushed voice rouses me. “Quickly. Sophie.”

I uncap the vial and sprinkle the water over Sophie’s writhing body. As if the act is a cue, the specter moves away from her and into Prendergast. He bucks once. Then, as the cloud is absorbed into his body, he grows still.

The candles flicker, too, and go out, plunging the room into darkness.

It’s so quiet.

I can’t take my eyes off the two on the floor. They lie as if asleep. Leticia hasn’t said a word either and I feel her tremble. She’s as eager with anticipation as I am. I fight the urge to reach out, shake Sophie’s shoulders, ask the hundred questions spinning in my head like bits of driftwood in a whirlpool.

As the minutes tick by and there’s no movement, no sign of consciousness returning to Sophie and Prendergast, I’m overcome with dread.

They are asleep aren’t they?

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

I feel Leticia’s anxiety growing with mine.

“What have I done?” she whispers.

I move to stand beside her. “You did what Sophie asked.”

“But what if I’ve killed Jonathan?” Her voice becomes hard, concern replaced with anger. “She didn’t ask Jonathan what he wanted. I should have made her bring him back. Let him choose.”

I remember Sophie in the office when she came to ask me to accompany her to Leadville. “Sophie would have gotten rid of Jonathan one way or the other. She was that desperate.”

Leticia turns puzzled eyes on me. “I don’t even know how they came to co-exist. How could such a thing happen?”

I give her a condensed version: who Sophie was, how she came to have access to Jonathan’s ashes when he was immolated, what she tried to do with them that produced the unorthodox results.

Rather than feel sympathy for Sophie after hearing the story, Leticia snarls. “She should have been happy. He gave her youth, wealth, a life without bounds. Stupid witch. If she survives and he doesn’t I’ll make her pay for her ingratitude.”

I blow out a breath. I can tell from what she’s feeling, there would be no use arguing the point. And I have a question of my own.

“You and Jonathan obviously loved each other very much. Why did you part?”

For the first time, a deep well of regret opens in Leticia’s thoughts, allowing me to glimpse the depth of her remorse. “I talk of Sophie being stupid. I was no less so. I wanted to move on, to California where new adventure beckoned. Jonathan liked our life in Leadville. And he knew part of the reason I wanted to go to California was because Anthony, my sire, invited me there. He sent letters full of stories of the beauty of the state, of the ocean. Jonathan felt I might still have unresolved feelings for Anthony. And he was right. I did. But Anthony had moved on. He found he liked ‘recruiting’ new vampires into his fold and I would have been just one more in his harem.”

“Why didn’t you return to Jonathan?”

“Why do you think? Pride. Embarrassment. Time moves slowly for vampires and it makes forming attachments difficult. I soon found temporary relationships, be it with mortals or vampires, work best. At least I did until I heard Jonathan’s voice.”

She looks at me. “You have not been vampire long, have you? I know you have extraordinary abilities but you also still have a mortal family. I have heard the stories. I can feel your uncertainty about what lies ahead for you. I can only give you one piece of advice. If you are lucky enough to find a soul mate, whether the relationship lasts a mortal lifetime or an eternity, you may be given only one chance at real fulfillment. Don’t let it slip away.”

We have been talking quietly, heads close together, caught up in emotions transmitted both in words and thoughts.

I find myself envying her and being fearful for her at the same time. If Jonathan is truly gone, it was a cruel act of fate, and Sophie, to remind her again of what she lost.

She can do nothing about fate, but Sophie is another matter.

A sound snaps our attention to the circle. Sophie is sitting up, confusion drawing her face into a scowl. She looks around, eyes cloudy with the effort of trying to remember, questions reflected in her expression. She doesn’t know where she is.

Leticia takes a step forward. I stop her. “Wait. Let her come back.”

I shield my thoughts and try to reach Jonathan, first in Sophie, then in Prendergast, still unconscious.

I get nothing.

From either of them.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Sophie comes around slowly. She presses both hands against her face. I can’t tell if she’s taking mental inventory or is just weary from the exorcism. I try again to reach out to Jonathan. Leticia is doing the same. We both ask the same question:

Where are you?

We both get the same answer: nothing.

Leticia isn’t willing to wait any longer. She kneels down between Sophie and Prendergast. She turns Sophie’s face upward with a hand to her chin.

“Did it work?”

Sophie looks at her with no expression.

Leticia’s anger snaps. She slaps Sophie with the palm of her hand. “Come out of it, damn you. Did it work?”

Sophie’s head jerks, her hand flies to her cheek. Anger flushes confusion from her eyes. “What did you do that for?”

At least she’s speaking. Color rushes into her face. She struggles to stand up but Leticia stops her. Sophie pushes her hand away. “Let me up.”

Leticia rises with her. For a moment, they stare at each other. Sophie touches her chest. Tilts her head as if listening. Then a slow smile blossoms on Sophie’s lips.

“He’s gone,” she says. Her face shines with the wonder of it. “He’s really gone.”

Leticia doesn’t take the same pleasure in Sophie’s declaration. She takes step closer, teeth bared in warning. “Where is he, witch?”

Sophie looks down at Prendergast. “Did you see his spirit when it left my body?”

I figure it’s time I inserted myself in the conversation. Leticia’s growing fury is reaching critical mass. “We did,” I say, stepping between them. Maybe not the best place to be if Leticia explodes, but I can handle her better than Sophie.

I point to Prendergast. “It seemed to rise like a cloud and settle into him. But he hasn’t moved since and we can’t reach Jonathan telepathically.”

Sophie bends over Prendergast, feels for a pulse. “He’s alive.”

“I don’t give a fuck if he’salive,” Leticia roars. “Where’s Jonathan?”

Sophie turns to me. “Help me get him to the bar.”

I move around Leticia feeling the heat of her anger rolling off her body in waves. She’d tear Sophie apart if I wasn’t here.

I hoist Prendergast over my shoulder and deposit him on a chair. Sophie gets a glass of water and tips it into his mouth.

Prendergast swallows reflexively, chokes. His head rolls on his shoulders. He moans and finally, finally, opens his eyes.

His expression is as blank as Sophie’s when she first regained consciousness.

Until he sees Leticia.

Quicker than is humanly possible, he is at her side. He grabs her, crushes her to his chest, one hand at the nape of her neck the other on her ass.

I glance over at Sophie. “I think we’ve found Jonathan.”