injury as it clutched the place where it had been burned, its eyes full of hate.
Jeremy’s vision swam, blurred, and then cleared as his eyes adjusted to the light.
Elliot’s breath hissed painfully through his clenched teeth-normal teeth, not wolf’s teeth.
“Elliot, what the hell? Are you all right? What were you doing?”
“Jem, get out of here. I mean it. Leave. Now.”
“Your shoulder. What happened to your shoulder? What the
Elliot tore the cover off the bed and wrapped it around himself. “Jeremy, get out of here! I mean it! Get your fucking clothes on and go! I don’t want to see you here; I never wanted to see you here! Why can’t you take a fucking hint! Leave me alone!”
He lashed out, his fist catching Jeremy across the chin. Jeremy felt the impact thrum though his face, making his eyes water and his ears ring with it. Jeremy touched his face in pain and shock, and stepped back. He stared at Elliot for what seemed like a very long time.
“You don’t know what you want, Elliot,” Jeremy said quietly. “That’s always been your problem. It was your problem when we were kids, and it’s still your problem now. I’ll leave. Believe me. I won’t ever bother you again.”
Jeremy turned his back on Elliot and dressed quickly, pulling on his jeans and turtleneck in a sequence of short, angry movements. Behind him, he heard Elliot begin to sob.
“I’m sick, Jem. I’m really, really sick. Help me, Jem. Help me. I’m changing into something terrible. I can feel it.”
“You’re not sick, Elliot,” Jeremy said tiredly. “You’re just a coward. Maybe I was a coward, too, for running away. Maybe I was an idiot now for coming to your house and falling into… well, what we did just now. Trying to go back in time. But you know what? I really loved you. I thought we could at least be friends. But I’m done. I wish you well-I mean that. But I’m finished.”
“Jem, please… I’m sorry I hit you! I’m sorry about… well, what happened. But please don’t leave me alone here. There’s something wrong with me. I’m sick. I’m afraid that something awful is going to happen to me if you leave. I’m not strong like you are, Jem. Don’t leave me here.”
“Elliot, I’m sorry, too. I really and truly am. But I never should have come back.”
Jeremy walked out of the bedroom into the living room, and then out the front door to where the Chevelle was parked. It took everything in him not to look back.
In the time he’d spent with Elliot, the sky had darkened and now a cold rain was falling. Martina Street looked dirtier than it had when he’d pulled up.
Above him, Jeremy heard a thunderclap. He tucked his head down and ran for the Chevelle just as great knives of icy rain began slicing from the sky. He hoped Christina had stayed put in the library where it was warm and dry. He’d stop by and pick her up on his way to Parr House, and tell her that they were leaving the Landing as soon as humanly possible.
Jeremy swore to God that even if he had to steal the money from Adeline, or even kill her for it, he was going to get himself and Christina and Morgan out of Parr’s Landing, away from the sundry monsters that had been waiting for them for all these years.
“The rain is here,” Adeline Parr announced to Billy Lightning, as though she were speaking of an outdoor servant who tended her gardens fortnightly but who came to the back door and never crossed the threshold. “It was inevitable. Fall is so fickle this far north.” Adeline pressed her lips together in a delicate moue of regret. The expertly applied dark red lipstick and her sky-blue tailored wool dress, to which was affixed a parure of sapphires and diamonds in the form of a brooch shaped like a maple leaf, provided the colour in the gloom of the dining room. “We’ve been having too many good days in a row,” she added. “It’s been
Adeline had greeted him at the door of Parr House herself, ushering him into the dining room as though he were a visiting dignitary. On the way, she’d given him a brief lecture on the history of the house. She’d touched on this history of the mines, and pointed out the oil portraits of the various men in her husband’s family who had brought it to prominence, and when they’d lived and died. Over lunch, she’d expounded on the history of the town, demonstrating a remarkable knowledge of the history of the doomed Jesuit mission of St. Barthelemy.
Billy had eaten some of the jellied freshwater eel that the cook, Beatrice, had placed in front of him (“So yummy!” Adeline had trilled, rubbing her small white hands together in a way that somehow managed to communicate mirth, but which struck him as faintly ogrish, and which made Billy wonder if, somehow, Adeline was mocking him.) He ate it out of politeness, but Mrs. Parr didn’t seem particularly surprised or bothered when he helped himself to two more rolls of bread from the basket, leaving the plate of eel-to Billy’s tastes, disgusting-more or less untouched.
He had remained quiet when she opined that he was likely grateful for the sacrifices of the Jesuit martyrs who had died in an attempt to help his “people” come out of ignorance and savagery and into the light of Jesus Christ. He didn’t remain quiet out of intimidation, as he surmised she would think, but because he was curious about why she’d invited him to this gothic fun house on the hill. His academic training had been significantly involved in research, and an essential component of research, especially when it came to oral history, was to let the subject talk, no matter what.
And if the pretentious, arrogant white woman at the other end of the table wanted to go on about the weather, she was welcome to, at least for now.
He smiled politely. “I didn’t hear the rain, Mrs. Parr,” he said. “How do you know it’s raining?”
“Young man,” she said. “I know every creak and patter in this house. I can practically hear the seasons changing. I heard the rain on the roof when it began-on several of the roofs, actually.” She laughed self deprecatingly as though she’d made a witticism. “It’s a rather large house, as you can see. Some members of my family have come to stay, including my granddaughter.” Adeline took a small bite of the jellied eel. Her lips barely moved when she chewed. “It’s all been tremendous fun, and so lovely that they’ve all come to see their old granny,” she added, touching the heavy linen napkin to her lips. “Any house is so much less grim and vast when it’s full of family, don’t you think?”
“Of course,” Billy replied. “And I met your daughter-in-law in town. I believe you already know that. I was so sorry to hear of your son’s passing. He sounds like he was a fine man.”
“Indeed he was,” Adeline said curtly. Her face suddenly blank and uninviting of any further discussion on the topic. “Thank you.” With visible effort, she softened her face and smiled. “Dr. Lightning, I understand that you, too, have recently suffered a bereavement. Your adoptive father?”
“My
“I’m so sorry,” she said. Billy thought he detected something shift in her face. For an instant, he could have sworn that he’d seen something real break through Adeline Parr’s honed-to-perfection Lady of the Manor routine. And then it was gone, if it had been there at all. “Had he been ill?”
“No, he was in fine health.” Billy paused. He was unsure of how much more personal he wanted to get with this woman until he had a clear idea of what she wanted.
Adeline’s tone managed to be both solicitous and peremptory at the same time. “Then…? How did he… what happened to your adoptive father?”
“He was murdered, Mrs. Parr,” Billy said, ignoring her second reference to his adoptive status. “He was killed by someone who broke into his house near the university. Whoever it was killed him and stole some personal artefacts related to his work.” Billy paused, studying her face. “He was working on a book pertaining to the history of this region-the mystery surrounding the destruction of the Jesuit mission of St. Barthelemy, in particular. And the history of the unexplained occurrences.”
Adeline blanched. “
“Mrs. Parr, are you all right?” Billy leaned forward across the table as though to catch her. She appeared to have aged twenty-five years in the span of seconds. Billy saw her skull beneath the flawless makeup and carefully styled hair. Her skeleton, wearing flesh and an expensive sky blue dress, slumped in the dining room chair. The falling silverware clattered loudly on the polished floor of the dining room.
“Mrs. Parr? What’s wrong? Are you all right? Shall I call someone?”
