The Awakening (26 page)

Hell, the two might never want to have sex as adults, were they to witness such a coupling!

“I woke up in the middle of the night,” Ellie said. “And I thought I'd run to Mommy's and Daddy's room . . . but I heard a noise and I called for Joshua . . . and we came down. And they had a big pot hanging over the fire in the kitchen. They were throwing things into it.”

“Maybe they were making mulled wine,” Finn said.

“They were talking funny!” Ellie told him.

“Chanting,” Joshua corrected sagely.

“Oh, and what were they saying?”

Joshua looked troubled. “I don't know. I couldn't understand them.”

“Hm. You don't think that they were maybe just talking to one another?”

Joshua firmly shook his head.

“Did you tell your parents?” Finn asked.

Ellie sighed. “They were mad.”

“Why?”

“Because we left our room and went running around in the house. And they said the same thing—that Susanna and Mr. Fallon were just making something—wine, or food, or something—and that we should mind our own business. Just because it's almost Halloween, we shouldn't think that everyone is a monster.”

“I see. Well, hmm. I'll tell you what. I'll check it out tonight myself, how's that? You two stay in your beds in your room. You're safe there, all right?”

Joshua had joined Ellie before him. Both of them looked at him with wide, solemn eyes.

“You'll really wake up and go see what they're doing?” he asked.

“Solemn promise,” Finn told them.

Joshua let out a little sigh of relief. “I will feel better.”

“Me, too. I'm scared, even in bed.”

“Halloween can be very scary,” Finn said. “Don't worry, monsters can make me feel a little uneasy, too, but I could swear that if you just stay in your room through the night, you'll be just fine. And, of course, say your prayers before you go to bed.”

“Every night!” Ellie said.

Finn wondered what had caused him to say the last. Monsters were just evil people. He had to believe that. It was all that was rational. And rationally, it didn't mean that something wasn't happening. Evil people might very well be around, thinking they had the power to do something awful, whether it was real or not.

Half the heinous murderers throughout history had been psychotics, thinking that dogs talked to them or the devil demanded that they do it.

He smiled firmly at Joshua and tousled Ellie's hair. “You two go ahead and sleep tight tonight. I gave you my solemn vow to check it out, and I will.”

After I watch over Megan!
he thought.

Ellie slipped her hand into Finn's and squeezed it. “Thanks, Mr. Douglas. I don't know why adults just never want to believe children!”

The seriousness of her voice made him smile, along with the wisdom of the words.

“Sometimes adults can believe that they really know better; they don't usually intend to be mean or dismissive,” Finn told her. “Joshua, remember—you two stay locked snug and tight in your room. I have to work now, but I won't forget.”

Joshua nodded seriously. “I know you won't.”

He left the children, meaning every word he said. He would take a good walk around Huntington House tonight.

After he watched over Megan. Carefully.

He couldn't . . . he couldn't try to talk to her tonight, give explanations—or even beg an apology for whatever it was that he supposedly did.

He would be strictly business. Distant from her.

But watching. Because he felt as if he'd been warned by someone who somehow knew something, however illogical it might be.

As he left Huntington House, he was suddenly angry and determined, and he knew that he'd be damned if he'd let anyone hurt her.

Anyone, or . . .

Megan came to work with a fair amount of trepidation and unease.

She had left without an explanation, and she had the feeling that Finn was going to have no idea why. And when she told him she had left because she'd been certain that he'd intended to strangle her, he wasn't going to believe her. He was going to be disdainful, certain that she was having more dreams, that she was listening to Morwenna's stories and palm readers who suggested he was bad for her, that she needed to get away from him, that he was such a violent human being she could wind up dead.

In his own mind, he probably had a right to feel that way. He truly seemed to have no idea that his eyes could glow like those of a wolf in the night, or that he could pin her down as if she were the victim of an assault, wind his fingers so tightly around her flesh.

What if she were the one losing her mind? No, she had known that she had been fully awake. She had been awake enough to pack.

Whatever power of suggestion had come into either of their minds, she didn't intend to ruin the rest of their lives.

She just wanted to make sure that they had lives, she reasoned with herself.

But if so, it was important she show up for work.

Halloween was now just two nights away and the parking lot was crowded. She was dismayed to find herself far from the hotel when she at last found a spot. The wind seemed exceptionally chill as she locked Aunt Martha's old Chevy and made her way to the entrance. Hotel staff greeted her pleasantly, and she returned their hellos. When she came to the Conant Room, as the dinner and dancing spot was called, waiters and waitresses were setting up, and serving the few early diners who had arrived.

Finn was at work already, doing sound checks.

He glanced up, acknowledging her presence with a nod, then went back to the task at hand. A moment later, he rose from the squat he'd been in to test the wires, and told her, “We're closing in on the actual holiday. I was planning a lot of cover songs for tonight. Four of our own each set, and I have a list of what we'll cover as well. We'll do some Concrete Blond from the
Bloodletting
CD, and a lot of real Halloweeny stuff, ‘Monster Mash,' ‘Time Warp,' ‘Hey There, Little Red Riding Hood,' ‘Be My Frankenstein' . . . I've written it all out; you'll find the list on the podium over there. If there's anything you don't like, let me know. I'm going to get some coffee.”

He stepped off the stage and started by her. A breath away. He didn't touch her. She was still startled by his completely businesslike greeting.

What had she expected? Greater anger, dismay. A determination that he would get her back.

Maybe not. Finn had his pride.

She could feel the warmth of him, smell his scent. Her heart ached suddenly.

“Finn.”

He stopped and turned back.

“That's it? That's all? Read the list?”

His hands fell to his hips, his jaw twisted. Naturally, he was angry. “Let me see, you left me because I've turned into a maniac in the middle of the night, and you're afraid I'm going to hurt you. You didn't bother to tell me where you went, or even call and say, ‘Hey, Finn, I'm okay, just having a few problems.' Or even, ‘Finn, you're having severe problems, you asshole, and I need some distance.' But, hey, you were the one who didn't want to leave Salem, work ethic and all, so I figured you would be here tonight.”

She stared at him. He kind of had it in a nutshell, so she wasn't sure what to say.

“What, Megan? I was supposed to have dropped everything in life and come chasing after you again? I called and you know it. Somehow, it seems to me that we should try to get to the bottom of this together, but, what the hell. I've had a few strange dreams of my own and you weren't trying to kill me in them, so . . . check over the list. If you've any problems, let me know.”

He walked on over to the bar. They were getting to know the bartender fairly well. The bearded guy greeted Finn, and had apparently known that he'd come for coffee, because a large cup was in front of him in a matter of minutes.

Megan walked up on the stage, found the list, and looked it over. Horror classics for the most part. She had no problems with any of the songs he had chosen. She'd go to the bar and let him know, and try to make him understand a little better what she was going through. It hurt that he had implied she wasn't worth coming after again.
Had
she wanted him to tear the city apart, looking for her? No. She had left because she was afraid. Really afraid.

She glanced at the bar and was startled to see that though it was near empty, there was a woman sitting right next to Finn. It was Sara, from Morwenna's shop. She hesitated, then walked up and took a seat beside her, asking the bartender for a water with lemon. Sara said hello to her and Megan smiled. “I would have thought you'd still be at the shop. It must be as busy as a hive in there now, so close to Halloween.”

“It is busy, but Morwenna brought in some of the part-time help. She'll be here herself in a while. When they close the shop, she, Joseph, and Jamie are all coming by.”

“That's nice,” Megan said. She glanced around Sara to Finn. He was busy turning a stirrer in his coffee. “I wish Morwenna wouldn't feel as if she had to be so supportive that she came every night. She must be getting tired.”

“Morwenna doesn't get tired. Not around Halloween time.”

“Well, that's good,” she murmured.

Sara looked at her, studying her features. “Morwenna draws energy at Halloween. For us, you know, it's really like a high holy day.”

“Yes, I know.”

Sara smiled. “Um. You know, you just don't believe.” For some reason, the girl's grin reminded Megan of that given by the Cheshire Cat. It made her feel uniquely uncomfortable.

Or maybe it was just the way that Finn and Sara seemed to have gotten over their differences and were suddenly so chummy.

“It's about time to get started,” Finn said abruptly, rising. “Thanks for coming, Sara.”

Megan thought that the two exchanged a strange glance, as if they were sharing some secret information. A trickle of jealousy snaked through her. She wasn't imagining any of this. Finn . . . he had seemed to dislike Sara before. Now he was talking to her in a way that seemed to intimate that they had become best friends.

Finn didn't wait for her, but headed for the stage. She shrugged to Sara, determined that she wasn't going to allow either of them to note that she had realized the sudden change, and followed Finn. Before she had reached her position, Finn had picked up his mike, and went through his spiel, introducing the two of them, welcoming the guests to the Conant Room, and telling them that they were headed into some real Halloween funk.

He started right off with “Monster Mash,” and they segued into one of their own songs, “Angel of Darkness,” and then straight into an Ozzy Osbourne piece.

 

 

Finn watched the light play on Megan's hair.

He wished he could reach out and touch it.

He could not.

She wanted distance, and he intended to give her that. He meant to be simply businesslike, cool, collected.

Mostly, he thought, he was succeeding.

Then, there were those moments . . .

His fingers moved over the keyboard synthesizer by rote. He found himself looking out at the crowd, in shadow to him because of the lights on stage. It did appear as if they were in a den of monsters. But they were normal monsters. All the sickles held by grim reapers were plastic, as were the knives carried by the Jasons, Freddies, and others. Some costumes were cheap, some were good. They kind of merged in the shadowy recesses of the club.

Monsters, in life, didn't look all that different, he reminded himself. Ted Bundy had been a monster. A good-looking man, capable of engaging charm. That was where sanity came in, and that was what he had to remember. He was still amazed himself that he had called the couple in New Orleans, and that he was giving any credence at all to a book on entities and demons. But he was glad that he had called. It all came back to
people.
Old crazies like Fallon, cooking up potions in the kitchen. The
people
here were not trustworthy. Whether they were in actuality strangers or not, he had a lot more faith in the folk from New Orleans than he did in anyone here. Even if it seemed that he and Sara were now on something of the same wavelength, he didn't trust her. He definitely didn't trust Morwenna or Joseph. He'd go ahead and shoot himself before he ever risked a word to Fallon or Susanna. Mike Smith was after his wife. The folks at the hotel seemed decent enough, but they were definitely and essentially strangers. The cop and his twin the bookseller seemed all right, but the bookseller had some strange reading habits. Theo Martin seemed on the up and up, but . . .

Megan turned slightly, and he could see her profile. Bands seemed to constrict in his heart. She was truly perfection. Her face, so well etched, bone structure so cleanly designed. She was lithe, she was graceful. Perfect skin, beautiful eyes, full, generous mouth, white teeth, flashing smile, high breasts, slim waist, long, sculpted legs. Maybe someone here wanted him out of the way. Because he, too, saw Megan as perfect.

It didn't make sense. How could someone else make him have
dreams
?

Make him want to take her, seize her . . . hurt her.

He looked at the sea of faces in their various forms of masquerade before him. An eerie sensation filled him.

Someone did want him out of the way. Whoever, it seemed, was succeeding. Megan had split from him.

She was with Aunt Martha. Safe.

And he had to keep his distance. Watch after her, but keep his distance. Tomorrow . . .

Hell if knew why. Tomorrow was going to be better. He knew how to fight.

And he intended to do so.

During the first break, Finn excused himself and disappeared entirely. Megan, chatting with diners at the bar, was disturbed to realize that she didn't see Sara either.

“Who are you looking for? Maybe I can help you.”

Megan swung around. The question had been asked by the Frankenstein monster at her side. Good costume and makeup. He appeared to be entirely green.

“No one,” she replied, forcing a smile. “Just observing all the costumes. They're great. Yours is great.”

“Thanks!”

If nothing else, she had made one monster very happy.

He complimented her appearance, and she thanked him, still watching for Finn and Sara. At last, she saw Finn heading for the stage. She excused herself to the monster, and headed on up to join him.

During the second break, Finn had a beer with a man in a brown monk's cowl and half mask. Morwenna and Joseph arrived during the third set. Her cousin waved to her, indicating that she'd ordered dinner for her. Megan smiled back, nodding. She thought Finn would have joined them for dinner. He didn't. But Morwenna and Joseph obviously knew just what was going on.

“You could have called me,” Morwenna said reproachfully.

“I knew Finn would think I had gone to you.”

“Well, Megan, my dear, it would have been rather decent of you to have told him that it was all right. And you should have come to me.”

“Morwenna, no offense intended, but he already thinks your Wiccan beliefs might have something to do with me losing my mind and having nightmares. Aunt Martha is such a neutral, she seemed the right person to go to.”

Morwenna shrugged, studying her over a cosmopolitan. “Whatever is going on here has nothing to do with Wiccans. But I do believe with my whole heart that there is something going on here!”

Megan remembered old Andy Markham's words.
Bac-Dal wants you.

Ridiculous. Other than that, with words like that said to her in a spooky old cemetery filled with
unhallowed
graves, she was made to feel a certain superstitious fear.

But what about Finn? He hadn't been with Andy in the woods; he hadn't heard the words. And she had never told him she'd gone out to meet with Andy, never told him any of the things Andy had said. She'd been afraid that he'd be too furious with the story the old man had told her, and more. He'd have been too angry with her for going out to such a godforsaken place to meet with the fellow.

He'd heard different stories, she reminded herself impatiently. There were ghosts and skeletons and monsters everywhere.

“There is something going on,” she said, forcing herself to sound impatient and incredulous. “Like what, Morwenna? What on earth could possibly cause you to have bad dreams—except for the things you experience during the day? Maybe it's me, maybe it's Finn, maybe it's both of us. Halloween is almost here and gone. I just want to keep a distance for both our sakes until . . . until we leave here. Go home. And if we keep having weird dreams, we'll find a reputable psychologist in our own area who can give us some help.”