Nightwind (10 page)

“You don’t have to,” Lauren told her. “I can get off at the curb.”

“Nonsense,” the older woman snapped. “No use in you getting soaked running up to the door.” She put

her turn signal on since she had no idea if anyone was in front or behind her. Not every one was as

diligent as she was at putting on their headlights when it rained.

Lauren didn’t know what to say as the Lumina bumped over the shallow curb and drove slowly into her

front yard, Louvenia angling it as close to the front of the cottage as the azalea bushes along the

flowerbed would allow. She put her hand on the door. “Thank you, Mrs. Yelverton. I really do

appreciate this.”

Louvenia waved a dismissive hand. “It was the least I could do.” She glanced at the girl. Lauren was

pushing down on the door’s handle. “Lauren?” she asked. When the girl looked back at her, Louvenia

Yelverton’s eyebrows met over her hawk-like nose. “Lock your doors tonight.” She was acutely

embarrassed over her remark, especially at the look of astonishment settled over the younger woman’s

face. “Well,” she sputtered, “we don’t know about this man, now, do we? He’s attacked three of us at

the store. Who knows? He might even be watching one of us right this minute!”

Fear entered Lauren’s face. “You don’t really think that, do you, Mrs. Yelverton?”

Louvenia Yelverton’s gaze shifted from her employee. “I don’t know what to think, but Inez swears

some man attacked her that night and Karla was sodomized. And Beth was...” she stopped, shuddering,

then turned to the girl beside her. “Just lock your doors and don’t let anyone in you don’t know.” She

shook her head. “Don’t let
anyone
in! Wiley said Beth and Karla had to have known the man who

attacked them. You might know him, too.”

Lauren nodded, her mouth dry. “And you be careful, too, Miss Louvenia.”

Louvenia looked at the girl, seeing the gentle look that she and the others had always thought was

meekness. For the first time in the years she had known Lauren Fowler, Louvenia knew it wasn’t

meekness but courtesy and kindness. “Go on,” Louvenia said gruffly. “It’s let up a bit.”

Lauren smiled, thanked the older woman again, and then pushed the door open. She shut it carefully

getting soaked for her effort then ran up the short flight of steps to the safety of her porch. She turned and

waved before going inside.

In the dark confines of his mansion, Syntian Cree looked up from where he knelt, exhausted and

weak on the floor, and cocked his ear for the whispered words that came to him like a bolt from

the heavens.

“Be careful, Lauren,” he heard Louvenia Yelverton say.

Tiredly, he pushed to his feet, staggering under the weight of his conjuring. He ran a hand over

his sweaty face and wiped it down his wet jeans. His weakened body quivered with fatigue and for

a moment he saw bright bursts of lights at the periphery of his vision. Yet he sent out his thoughts:

searching, gathering, evaluating, and the replay of the last ten minutes came back to him in a

wavering vision.

He heard the older woman offering her assistance to the younger.

He watched her take Lauren home.

He heard the admonitions.

Then he smiled grimly, closing his eyes for a moment to the strain of the last half hour. Slowly he

made his way to the door of the room and closed it behind him, locking it. On weaving feet, he

made his way into the front parlor and sank to the sofa, stretching out on its length. The older

woman’s face flashed before him.

“You just earned yourself a brownie point or two, Agnes Louvenia Yelverton,” he promised as his

exhaustion reached out to claim him.

Louvenia Yelvertonturned over in the bed, frowning at her husband’s loud snoring. She stared up at the

ceiling. The storm had lessened somewhat, but even now, at midnight, the rain still pelted the windows

and drummed unceasingly on the roof. Reed’s hitching blast of nerve-grating sound made her toss the

covers back and get up. She slid her feet into the bedroom slippers lying by her bed and reached for the

peignoir draped over the footboard. Swinging it around her shoulders, she padded from the bedroom she

had shared with her husband for forty years and walked down the hall toward the kitchen.

The walls lit now and again with an eerie white glow as the lightning outside flashed. The ghostly light

cast the furniture of the den into relief, making it jump and pulse toward her, as she passed from the cozy

comfort of the room and pushed through bat wing doors into her dark kitchen. She reached for the light

switch, but a soft voice stilled her hand.

“Do not turn on the light, Louvenia.”

Louvenia Yelverton did not cry out; she didn’t cringe away from the soft footfalls that sounded to her

right. She turned to face the ebony shape that came toward her, waiting patiently.

“That was a good thing you did this afternoon, Louvenia.”

She nodded at the low, deep words.

“You saved yourself from needless pain.”

She nodded again, agreeing with the soft words.

“But you still have to be punished for all the times when you were not so kind to my lady.”

Louvenia did not feel fear. She did not feel the least amount of alarm. She could not really see the dark

shape at her side, but she could sense the immense power flowing through it. But still she did not feel

particularly anxious even as a heavy weight settled on her slim shoulder.

“I am going to grant you an experience few women have ever been given, Louvenia,” the gentle voice

told her.

She smiled as she listened to the hypnotic voice that seduced her. Her head turned slightly to one side in

mild curiosity.

“What you will see, you will never describe to another living soul,” the soothing voice commanded.

Louvenia Yelverton sighed. The heaviness of her shoulder lessened, as though a powerful hand had been

removed. The absence of the weight made her sad.

“Remember me, Louvenia. Let the sight of me etch itself into your soul. And as you do, know that it is

my revenge for the suffering you caused my lady.”

Louvenia’s vision flickered, focused, traveled upward into the hidden face of the being beside her. She

felt his presence, his power, and the intensity of his passion. Lightning flared outside and the shadow of

the dark shape before her leapt across the ceiling, pulsed, loomed above her, and in the glare of the light,

she saw his eyes first and her own went wide in fear.

“Look upon me, Louvenia,” he demanded; his voice was neither gentle nor soft. “Behold the unforgiving

retribution you have earned in this lifetime. Behold the face of the NightWind!”

Once more the flash of lightning lit the room in a strobe-like wash of incandescence and the dark shape

before Louvenia Yelverton was suddenly cast in horrific detail.

She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Her pupils dilated with terror. Her body went rigid as

stone. Within her chest, her heart skipped several beats then slammed painfully against her ribcage. Her

eyes flickered then rolled back in her head as she slumped to the floor. Her mind clicked on the image

she had seen; clicked and took the picture with her down into the bottomless realms of insanity from

which she would never emerge. As her soul struggled with what it had seen, as the picture developed in

her churning mind, the corruption of that image etched its likeness on her cerebral cortex and would stay

with her forever.

Lauren’s phonerang at 7:30 the next morning and she ran to answer it, her toothbrush dripping paste

into her hand. “Hello?”

“Lauren, this is Angeline Hellstrom.”

She swallowed the minty foam in her mouth and nearly gagged. “Yes, ma’am? Is something wrong?”

“I’m afraid so, dear.” There was a pause. “It’s Louvenia, Lauren. I’m afraid she’s had a mental

breakdown.”

“A mental breakdown?” Lauren shivered.

“You’ll have to open the store for me today. I’m sending the key over with Delbert, my driver. He’ll

pick you up.” The elegant lady laughed. “I’m afraid it’s still sprinkling out there. Under the circumstances,

would you consider accepting the position of manager at the store?”

“Manager?”

“I have every confidence in the world that you can run the store efficiently. I’ll come in tomorrow or the

next day to talk about specifics. Louvenia sent me a list of girls who had put in applications at the store.

I’ll help you choose a sales force you can work with.”

Lauren’s head was spinning. She sat down on her bed and stared at the far wall. “I don’t know what to

say.”

“Say yes.” Angeline laughed. “I really need your help, dear.”

“Of course,” Lauren said absently. “I’ll do whatever you need me to do, Mrs. Hellstrom.”

“Angeline,” the other woman said. “I would prefer you call me by my given name.”

Lauren dressed in a state of numbness as she readied for work. Her hands trembled as she buttoned her

blouse, fumbled with the zipper on her skirt. Nothing could have prepared her for the stunning news she

had received that morning. Even as the phone rang again and she unthinkingly reached out for it, bringing

it to her ear, she had still not taken in the full extent of her new circumstances.

“Yes?” she breathed into the receiver.

“Did you hear what happened to Louvenia?” she heard her mother’s loud question come blaring over

the phone.

“Yes, Mama.” She blinked away the lethargy into that she’d settled. “Mrs. Hellstrom just phoned me.

She’s making me the new—”

“I always said that woman was high strung. It’s those kind of people what go over the deep end and

wind up in nut wards.” Maxine Fowler clucked her tongue. “Got what she deserved, if you ask me!”

“It was everything that’s been happening at the store, Mama,” Lauren tried to explain. “Mrs. Yelverton

seemed very upset about Beth Janacek’s—”

“I suppose you know how she died.” There was a snort of derision. “Got it straight from Monique

DeSalle at the Coroner’s Office. That Janacek hussy choked to death on a man’s thing!” She chuckled.

“I always figured she liked that kind of depraved behavior. Sluts like her will do just about anything to

keep a man happy, except this time she tried to swallow more than would fit down her whoring throat!

Fitting end to her, don’t you think?”

Lauren winced. “You shouldn’t talk about the dead like that, Mama.”

“You going in to work today?” her mother asked, ignoring the reprimand.

Lauren sighed. “Mrs. Hellstrom has made me the new—”

“You call me if you hear anything else about all this,” Maxine Fowler ordered before she hung up the

phone.

Lauren replaced the receiver and stood up. Her mother’s calls never failed to depress her and this one

had been no exception. She looked up as a knock came at her door.

Wiley Jacksoncupped his hand on the screen door, trying to peer through the glass on the inside door,

but the hazy silk of the curtain prevented him from seeing into the interior of Lauren Fowler’s living room.

He heard footsteps inside and moved back from the door.

A look of surprise passed over Lauren’s face as she opened the door. “Sheriff Jackson,” she said. She

pushed open the screen door. “What can I do for you?”

“I need to ask you a few questions, Miss Fowler,” he said as he pushed past her into the living room. He

scanned the little room. It was just as he imagined an old maid’s parlor to look like: prissy and so clean

you could eat off the high gleam on the wooden floor. He looked about him for the multitude of cats he

expected to find.

“Would you like to sit down?”

He didn’t see any damned cats, but he knew the woman had to have one. All old maids did. He turned

to face her. “I suppose you know what’s happened to Louvenia Yelverton.”

Lauren nodded. “Mrs. Hellstrom called this morning.” Her face fell. “I am sorry about Mrs. Yelverton.”

“But not about Karla Cooper or Beth Janacek,” the Sheriff accused. As the woman’s eyes jerked up to

his, he looked away from her, walked away from the front door. “It wasn’t any secret in town that there

weren’t no love lost between you three.” He peered into the immaculate little dining alcove and sniffed in

disapproval. “And from what Inez Montes told me this morning, the two of you didn’t get along, either.”

“We weren’t friends, no, sir, but we weren’t exactly enemies, either,” Lauren agreed. Her puzzled frown

followed the Sheriff as he craned his head into her tiny kitchen. “I don’t understand what this is all about,

Sheriff Jackson.”

He walked into the little hallway, glanced into the woman’s spotlessly clean bathroom then pushed open

the door to her bedroom.

“Are you looking for something, Sheriff?” Lauren asked, her heart thumping in her chest.

“You seen Cree this morning?”

“Syntian?” she asked, surprise lifting her brows.

“Any other men hanging around your skirts, Miss Fowler?” Jackson sneered.

Lauren’s mouth dropped open. “You thought he was here, didn’t you?”

“He ain’t at home,” the Sheriff answered. “I figured he might have stopped by for...” His smile was

nasty. “...breakfast, maybe?”

Her chin quivered with outrage. “I assure you, Sheriff Jackson, I am not in the habit of entertaining

gentleman in my home at this hour.”

“Or at any other, huh?” He chuckled. He walked to the door and opened it. “When you hear from him,