How terrible to think she might not want him to be touching her, might not like the light or the candles, might not want anyone near her, and yet she was locked inside, unable to utter a single word.
“Love you, darling dear,” he said to her. “I love you. I love you.”
The clock struck eleven. How strange it was. The hours dragged and then they flew. Only Rowan’s breathing had the constant rhythm.
He lay back in the chair, and closed his eyes.
It was past midnight when he looked up again. He studied his watch, and then cautiously he looked at Rowan. Was she exactly the same? The nurse was at the little mahogany table, writing as always. Hamilton was in a chair in the far corner, reading by a small high-beam light.
Her eyes somehow…But the nurse would scoff at him. Still…
The guard stood outside, on the gallery, his back to the window which he had shut.
Another figure stood in the room. It was Yuri, the gypsy with the slanted eyes and the black hair. He was smiling at Michael and just for a moment Michael was uncomfortably startled, off base. But the face was kind. Almost beatific like that of Aaron.
He stood up, and motioned for the man to move out into the hail.
“I came from Aaron,” said Yuri. “He says to tell you he is happily married. He says he wants you to remember what he said. You are not to let anyone from the Talamasca in here. Not anyone. You must tell them. It was a snap for me to get in. Won’t you tell them all, now?”
“Yes, yes, I’ll do that.” He turned and made a little motion to the nurse. She knew what it meant. Take Rowan’s vital signs. I have to go out for three minutes. I won’t do it unless you take her pulse.
The nurse went about it quickly and made the sign to him: “No change.”
“Are you sure?”
The nurse sighed coldly. “Yes, Mr. Curry.”
They went down the stairs, Michael going first, a little light-headed and thinking maybe he ought to eat. Had to remember to eat. Then he remembered. Someone had given him a big plate of dinner. So he should be perfectly all right.
He went out on the porch and called the guards from the gate. In a moment there were five uniformed security men around him. Yuri told them. No one from the Talamasca. Only Yuri. Aaron Lightner. Yuri showed them his passport. “You know Aaron,” he said.
They nodded; they understood.
“Well, we’re not letting anybody in here, unless we know that person, you know. We’ve got the nurses’ names on a list.”
Michael walked Yuri back out to the gate. The fresh air felt good. It was waking him up.
“I talked my way past them,” said Yuri. “I don’t want to get them in trouble, but stay on them. Remind them. I never gave them my name.”
“I got you,” said Michael. He turned and looked up at the window of the master bedroom. On the first night that he had ever seen it candles had been flickering behind the closed blinds. He looked at the window below it, which led to the library, the window through which that thing had almost come.
“I hope you’re close. I hope you’re coming,” he said in a bitter whisper meant only for Lasher, his secret and old friend.
“You have the gun Mona gave you?” Yuri asked.
“Upstairs. How did you know about that?”
“She told me,” he said. “Put it in your pocket. Carry it always. You have other reasons.” He gestured to a figure in the shadows across Chestnut Street, against the stone wall.
“That is one of the Talamasca,” he said.
“Yuri, surely you and Aaron don’t really believe these men to be dangerous. They’re being devious, I see that. They aren’t helping. But dangerous? You’re angry, something’s happened. But you don’t think men from the Talamasca would take human life. Yuri, I did my own investigating of the Talamasca. So did Ryan Mayfair before I married Rowan. The Talamasca is made up of bibliophiles and linguists, medievalists and clerks.”
“Nice description. Your words?”
“I don’t know. I think so. Seems I said it crossly to Aaron once. But seriously. Lasher is the thing to fear. Lasher is the thing to catch-” He reached into his pocket. “Almost forgot. Take this to Aaron. You can read it if you like. It’s a poem. I didn’t write it. Make sure he gets this. Not tonight, tomorrow-whenever you see him-will be soon enough. It contradicts what I’m saying, actually, but that’s not the point. I just Want him to see it, all of it. Maybe some of it will mean something to him. I don’t know.”
“All right. I will see him in an hour. I am going back there. But keep the gun near you. See that man? His name is Clement Norgan. Don’t speak to him. Don’t let him come in.”
“You mean don’t ask him what the hell he’s doing there?”
“Exactly. Don’t let him goad you into engaging him in conversation. Just keep an eye.”
“All this sounds so Catholic, so Talamasca,” said Michael. “Don’t engage the Devil in conversation; do not converse with the evil spirit.”
Yuri shrugged, with a small bit of a smile. He looked off into the dark. His eyes fixed on the distant figure of Clement Norgan. Michael could scarcely make it out. There was a time when he could have seen it clearly, but now his night vision wasn’t so good. He knew it was a man there. And it crossed his mind that somewhere out here in this soft, gentle darkness, somewhere Lasher could be standing, watching, waiting.
But for what?
“What will you do now, Yuri?” asked Michael. “Aaron says they’ve kicked you both out.”
“Hmmm, I don’t know,” said Yuri. The smile broadened. “It’s nice to realize that. I can do things. I can…do something completely new. I hadn’t thought of it before.” Then his face darkened. “But I have a destiny,” he said softly.
“What is it?”
“To discover why all this happened with the Talamasca. To discover…who made what decision when. Don’t tell me. It sounds very governmental. Central Intelligence, that sort of thing. Tonight I was at the house of Mona Mayfair, using her computer. I tried to reach the Motherhouse archives. Every code was blocked. Imagine changing so many codes, just to defeat me. Maybe it is always done. But never did anyone change a code while I was there. No, it’s crazy.”
Michael nodded. For him, things were really simple. He was going to kill the thing. But why explain? “Tell Aaron I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for the wedding. I wanted to be.”
“Yes, he knows. Be careful. Watch. And listen. Two enemies, remember?”
And with that Yuri stepped back and then darted away. He was across Chestnut Street with a few large strides, and then gone down First, without so much as a sideways glance at Norgan.
Michael went back up the steps. He summoned the guard nearest the door.
“That man over there, keep an eye on him,” said Michael. “Oh, he’s OK. He’s a private detective hired by the family.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. Showed us his identification earlier.”
“I don’t think so,” said Michael. “Yuri knew him. He’s not a private detective. Did any of the family tell you they had hired him to be here?”
The guard was flustered. “No. He showed me his identification. You’re right. It should have come from Ryan or Pierce Mayfair.”
“You better believe it.”
Michael was about to say, “Call him.” He was about to walk down the steps and go over to the man himself. Then he remembered that strange religious admonition, “Do not engage him in conversation.”
“You know the next shift?” asked Michael. “Their names, their faces?”
“Yes, all of them. And the guys out back. I know who’s coming at three tomorrow afternoon and at midnight tomorrow night. Got all those names. I should have questioned this guy. Look, let me run that bastard out of here.
