The Awakening (35 page)

The happy new parents, the baby, and their entourage moved down the hall ahead of them. Megan listened to their light talk and laughter.

“Well, have you two had lunch?” Martha asked.

“Yes, we were eating when we heard the news about Andy,” Finn told her. “But if you're hungry, we'd be happy to accompany you somewhere.”

“No, no, I'm an old bird, I lunch early when I'm on my own,” Martha said. “It's just that Megan is looking a little peaked—I was hoping that you were keeping up with your meals, and therefore your strength, young lady!”

“I'm fine,” Megan said, determined that she would play the part. “I was just upset to hear about Andy. A hit and run is such a terrible thing. Are they sure, though, that it was a hit and run?”

Martha arched a brow. “Well . . . that's what they're saying. He was found on the side of the road. I guess . . . well, what would it be, other than a hit and run?”

“An assault,” Finn said flatly.

Martha looked horrified. “Who on earth would assault Andy? I don't believe the police are even considering such a possibility. He was found with his wallet and personal effects—the old codger wears a good watch and a signet ring worth quite a bit of money. I don't know anything about police business, but I'm sure they checked out the scene. Now, come on, you two! Let me worry about Andy. You both look dreadful. It's a sorry state, but you two hardly know him. You've both come here, you've done all that you might, when unfortunately, there's really nothing anyone can do, other than his doctors, and they're going on a wing and a prayer as well. Finn, would you like to come back to the house? Megan, honey, are you coming with me now, or your husband?”

Megan closed her eyes for a moment, fighting a wave of dizziness. She lowered her head, biting into her lip. Fury suddenly filled her. No. Finn wasn't guilty of anything. She did love him, and she wasn't going to lose him. And she wasn't going to be a coward, neither was she going crazy. Whatever the hell was going on, she intended to fight it.

She considered going with Martha, since the news of Andy's condition had completely erased her earlier discomfort when she had awakened from her dream—and found her feet dirty. Maybe a long talk with Martha would be good.

But it seemed more important then to be with Finn.

“Thanks, Aunt Martha, but I'm really fine.” She slipped her arm through Finn's. “We have some friends in town. I think we're going to try to find them before it's time to get ready for work tonight.”

“All right, kids,” Martha said with a smile. “You two take care.”

“We will, thanks,” Finn called to her.

They watched Martha walk to her car. Then Megan looked up at Finn. “So what is going on with you and this couple from New Orleans? Do you think I could see them as well?”

He smiled. “We'll head back into town and try to find them.”

He led her out to the car, opened the passenger door for her, then went around and slid into the driver's seat. He started up the car. They were halfway back into town when he asked her, “You know, the others may believe you, but I don't. What did Andy Markham say to you?”

She stared straight ahead. “Didn't you hear Dorcas? He couldn't have said anything. His condition was totally unchanged.”

“Bullshit,” Finn said.

Startled, she looked at him. Then she stared out the front window again. “I don't remember, exactly. Except that he said, ‘Bac-Dal wants you.'”

 

 

Eddie was out of the room. Lucian and Jade now had a selection of old books, new books, and manuscripts laid out before them.

“What do you think?” Jade asked Lucian.

“I think that some well-read Satanists are planning on bringing Bac-Dal to life, and that they intend to use Megan Douglas as his final sacrifice, or . . . I don't know. Maybe they intend to use her as a gift when he first arrives.” He ran his fingers through his dark hair, picked up one of the manuscripts again, and gnawed on the eraser of the pencil he'd been using to scratch down some notes.

Jade nodded. “It should be easy then. Find out who the Satanists are.”

“Yeah, everyone wears a T-shirt,” Lucian said dryly.

She smiled. “There are a lot of Wiccan shirts around, and the usually heavy metal stuff.”

He shook his head. “The problem is . . . it isn't going to be easy at all.”

Jade leaned forward on the table. She eyed him carefully. “Haven't you had any more . . . feelings? Intuitions?”

He shook his head, frowning.

“But . . . you should
know
more, shouldn't you?”

“We're playing in a different league here,” he said quietly. “I believe that this is real. I believe, as well, that Megan was fingered long before they came here—why, I don't know.”

“But it was Finn who disturbed you.”

“Yes.”

“Do you think they're using him?”

“I don't know. The ‘they' is so vague right now. And the thing is . . . ‘they' are being protected by a strong force. There is nothing that I can see or feel.” He lowered his voice. “Eddie could be in on it, and I wouldn't know. Someone found out about the Cabal Thorne attempt here to bring back Bac-Dal. They know that the timing is right, the full moon on Halloween, and more than that, they found the archaic writings—spells and rites—that are used, to bring a demon to life.” He hesitated, shrugging. “They've made first contact, and though the demon isn't back in the flesh, apparently he can produce some power from beyond. His followers have already opened a vent. Most of the ancient peoples believed that there was a very thin veil that parted the living from the dead—or such other entities as spirits, ghosts—and demons. Create a crack in that veil ahead of time, and you get the power to see that everything is done on Halloween night, when the veil is at its finest, most vulnerable point.”

“What do we do?” Jade said.

He smiled. “You, keep reading. I'm off.”

“Off?” she said, sitting back, somewhat offended that he planned to leave her.

He kissed the top of her head. “You're a journalist, my love. You know how to sift through material to get to the important facts. I'm a . . . hm. I'm a people reader. I'm going to go to try to read a few people.”

“Hey—you're the one who reads archaic languages!”

“I don't believe we're going to find what we need in an archaic language,” he said. He started to smile, but his smile faded. “We're out of time, Jade. Halloween is tomorrow.”

She looked at him and nodded slowly. “Happy hunting,” she told him, and turned her attention back to the manuscript before her.

 

 

Finn managed to find a space to park on the side of the common.

“Where are we going?” Megan asked him. “Do you know where your friends are?”

He shrugged. “Morwenna's,” he said.

Megan didn't particularly want to go back to Morwenna's shop.

“What makes you think that they're there?”

He shrugged. “I know they were going to go there. So we'll give it a try.” He frowned. “What's the matter?”

“Nothing.”

She didn't intend to tell him that Morwenna seemed convinced he was the cause of all ills. She reminded herself that she was going to be a fighter. She wasn't going to lose her husband—or her mind.

“Let's go to Morwenna's.”

The shop was crazier than ever. Jamie, though, immediately escorted them in, then resumed his post as door guard.

There were so many people in the shop that neither Morwenna, Joseph, Sara, or the other two young people they had working that day could do more than glance up at them. Oddly enough, Finn, however, seemed to know exactly where he was going. He headed toward the rear of the front area, near a rack with capes and cloaks. Of course, it wasn't difficult to see Lucian DeVeau. He was, if anything, taller than Finn. Very dark, and good-looking. He drew attention immediately. He greeted Finn as he saw him weaving his way through the crowd, and offered a quick smile as Finn brought Megan forward.

“Megan, great to see you again,” he told her.

“And you, of course. You and your wife have done incredible things for us, with your reviews,” Megan said.

“You'll have to tell Jade that; I don't write the reviews,” Lucian said. “But I'm glad.” He had an armful of the little herb packets that were sold at the store. Each offered instructions such as, “Place in the pocket for wealth,” or “Burn for True Love,” or “Protection from Evil.” They seemed rather silly, but then, Megan realized that she did cross herself with holy water every time she went into church.

“Let me just pay for these; we'll get out of the shop and talk,” Lucian said.

She nodded.

“We'll be outside,” Finn said.

He started to take Megan's hand, but a heavyset woman jostled between them and Megan waved him on out, indicating that she was following. She had almost maneuvered her way to the door when cool fingers landed on her arm.

She turned around. Morwenna was staring at her. Her eyes looked wild.

“Who the hell is that?” she demanded.

Megan frowned. She hadn't realized that Morwenna had noted them talking to Lucian.

“A friend from New Orleans,” she said cautiously. “Why?”

Morwenna shook her head strenuously. “He's evil. Really evil.”

“Morwenna!” she protested. Then she laughed, looking back. “Evil? He's just
wicked
good-looking, as they say around here. Sure he hasn't jangled your chains a little?”

“I'm married.”

“So am I. And I can still tell you, he's damned good-looking. A bit exotic. Seductive, don't you agree?”

“Don't laugh at me. I mean it—he's evil. I can tell. Megan, you've got to be careful. I really feel that you're in danger now. Why is this guy here? I'll bet Finn brought him up.”

“He and his wife are reviewers—”

“Oh, that's bullshit!”

“Morwenna,” Megan said patiently, pulling her arm free. “He's a friend!”

She forced her way the rest of the distance to the front door, aware that she had somewhat rudely jostled a number of customers. She didn't care. She was already hating the little doubts that were trickling into her bloodstream again.

Finn waited for her just outside.

“It's a zoo in there, huh?”

“It's almost a zoo out here, too,” she said. The streets were crowded. Little Salem was beginning to look like New York—highly decorated—at rush hour.

Before Finn could reply, Lucian came down the steps from the entry. She wondered if he had decided to forego his purchases, thinking that he couldn't possibly have gotten through the line at the cash register so quickly. But he was carrying a bag with the shop's insignia, so he had managed to make his purchases.

Maybe Sara, at the cash register, had thought that he was evil as well, and somehow managed to add up his items without causing a stampede among the other customers.

“It is crazy out here,” Lucian said.

“There must be somewhere to go that's quiet, where we can talk,” Finn said.

“Actually, Finn, if you don't mind, would you go and get Jade? She's still at the bookshop. I'd like a few words with Megan. Meet us at . . .” He paused, looking down the street toward the mall. “The second coffee shop.”

“We'll never get in,” Megan warned.

Lucian smiled. “Sure we will.”

Finn looked hesitant for a moment, as if he were unsure as to what he should do. Then he squared his shoulders. “Look out for my wife, huh?” he said lightly. “I'd die for her . . . or kill for her, for that matter.” He turned and started down the street.

Lucian looked after him for a long moment. “He really loves you.”

She didn't know what to respond; he really was a total stranger. She felt something odd around him as well, though not a terrible premonition of any kind of evil, as Morwenna claimed to sense.

She just felt . . . odd. And wary, of course, but that could certainly be said to be natural.

“Shall we?”

They started down the street.

“So . . . things have been odd here?”

“Things . . . yes.”

“It started off with the nightmare?”

Megan paused, and then shrugged. Apparently, he knew everything. “The nightmare . . . the feeling that Finn was trying to kill me. Yes, all the odd things.” She glanced at him. “What I guess you don't know is the latest. There's an old fellow here who tells ghost stories, and . . . well, I've had a chance to talk with him a few times. He warned me about this demon. Bac-Dal. And he keeps telling me that Bac-Dal wants me. Crazy.” She waved a hand in the air. “But last night, he was apparently struck by a hit and run driver. He's in the hospital in critical condition.”

“Someone warning you . . . hm.” They had reached the coffee shop. He opened the door for her. The place was packed. Lucian DeVeau went to the harried host. He pointed to a table in the back, which was occupied. It appeared that they had just been served. One of the women at the table looked up and noted them at the host's stand. She smiled vaguely, then nervously looked back at her cup.

Lucian stepped back by Megan.

“We'll have a table in just a minute.”

She arched a brow, but to her surprise, the group drank their hot coffees, teas, or cocoas with remarkable speed.

“Mr. DeVeau?” the host said politely.