The Forgotten (20 page)

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Authors: Tamara Thorne

Tags: #Horror

BOOK: The Forgotten
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55
Will felt like he had been caught masturbating, and he knew it was ridiculous. He hadn't done anything to be ashamed of; after seeing something pretty damn incomprehensible, he had called out Michael's name—
thank heaven that was all I said
—and then fainted. It was nothing to be ashamed of.
“Will?” Maggie said.
She sat next to him on the couch as they pretended to watch the news. Freud had taken over her lap; Rorschach snoozed on the sofa back between them, and Jung was draped across Will's legs. The boys were fine and for that he was grateful.
“Will?” she repeated.
“What?”
“How you doing?”
“I'm good. You should go home now.”
“I'll go soon. How do you feel?”
“I'm fine.” He heard sharpness in his voice, but didn't feel like apologizing, just being alone. “The cats are fine. Everything's fine.”
“Will,” Maggie began, turning her body toward him, “I know there's something wrong. You can tell me anything—you know that. You told me when you came home and found Candy giving your brother a blow job. You told me when Barbara peed in your beer—”
“I have no proof of that. I just think she did.”
Maggie took his hand in both of hers. “Who else would have done it? Vomiting on her was the perfect way to say you wanted a divorce.”
“I didn't do it on purpose.”
“You did it because she peed in your beer. Instant karma.”
Will stroked Jung with his free hand. “That was funny in a twisted sort of way. I told you why she did it, didn't I?”
Maggie cocked her head in that way she had that always made Will smile. “No. You just said you were fighting.”
“Well, we were, that's true. That's all we ever did.”
“It turned her on,” Maggie said solemnly. “She'd fuck your brains out after a fight.”
Will blushed. “I told you that?”
“Yeah, you did.”
“I shouldn't have told you that.”
“Why not?”
“I don't know. It's rude.”
“I like that you felt comfortable enough to tell me, Will. That makes me feel good. So why were you fighting?”
“If you could sum up Barbara in one word, what word would it be?”
“Sorry, can't do it. I need two words.”
Will smiled. “Okay. Two words.”
“Domineering bitch.”
He chuckled lightly. “That's exactly why she did it. She wanted to dominate me sexually. She wanted me to let her piss on me during sex.”
“Oh, yuck! She liked golden showers?”
“I love that expression. Yeah. I mean, I don't know if she'd ever actually done it, but she sure wanted to.” He paused. “She also wanted to tie me up.”
Maggie cocked an eyebrow. “That's not so odd. Lots of people play that game, don't they?”
“Sure, but
Barbara?
Would you let that woman anywhere near you with a rope?”
“I see your point.”
“It would probably be fun with someone you trusted. I mean, I'd let you tie me up without a second thought.” Suddenly feeling like a teenager, Will looked down at the cat in his lap.
“You would?”
“I just meant that I'm not a prude. I've never tried it though. Look at the women I married. None of them could be trusted to, you know, uh. . .”
Why did I start that?
Maggie still held his hand and she gave it a hesitant squeeze. “Not to pee on you while you were helpless. Or leave you like that while they went shopping. Or . . . or hurt you. Slap you or something worse. Will?”
He made himself meet her eyes. “Yeah, you said exactly what I was thinking. They turned sex into this contest of self-control. I never dared goof around, play games. All three of them had fits if I made a joke. Sex was so deadly serious to them.”
“You were their prey, Will. They were all bullies.”
“I realize that. Now. Took me long enough.”
“I wouldn't hurt you.”
“I wouldn't hurt you either,” Will said softly. “I trust you.”
“I trust you, too,” Maggie said softly. Now she looked down. “Enough to ask you to tie me up. I know you'd never hurt me.”
“You'd like that? Getting tied up?”
“Only with the right person.” She met his eyes, flushing madly.
Will was getting aroused. Thank heaven the evidence was hidden beneath Jung. He didn't want to think of Maggie that way. It was wrong. It was dangerous. But he couldn't stop it. He had to break the spell. “Maybe I'd pee on you,” he said raggedly.
She laughed. “You probably wouldn't do that even if I asked you to.”
“Probably not. Unless you'd been stung by a jellyfish.”
She smiled coyly. “You already did that. When we were eight and I stepped on the one that washed up on the beach. That was very heroic of you, relieving the sting like that.”
“You're the one who knew about doing it. I only did as you asked.”
“Will?”
“What?”
She hesitated. “What if I did ask you to tie me up? What would you do?”
He couldn't make his voice work.
“Well?”
Jung started to stand up, but Will stopped him from jumping off his lap. “Don't I, uh, always try to accommodate you?”
“You—you do.” She was sounding pretty odd herself and she wouldn't look at him. “Um, listen, I know you're keeping something from me.” She madly scratched Freud's cheeks, her face blazing red. “If we can talk like this—why won't you tell me what happened to you tonight?”
“I don't remember anything that happened more than five minutes ago.”
“Me either.” She looked at him.
In her eyes, he saw childhood summers and Halloweens; he saw all the tidepools they'd ever explored, all the trails they'd hiked. He inhaled rainstorms and the sulphur of fireworks on the Fourth of July; he smelled the waves they'd splashed in, and the soft clean scent of her shampoo. He tasted mounds of barbequed corn on the cob, buckets of popcorn consumed at matinees, root beer floats, and gingerbread. She held all the good history, none of the bad.
She's my sister,
he thought. Then,
No, she's much more than that.
Maggie's mouth was barely open. He studied her lower lip, the fullness, the slight tremble. The tip of her tongue shot out and wet it, disappearing again in a flash. Her lips looked darker than usual, but she wore no lipstick. He saw the green of her eyes through the lashes on her lowered lids. She didn't move, but she didn't look away either.
He couldn't breathe, and he couldn't stop his lips from dragging his face toward hers. Their lips met, warm and soft. A heady, sweet dizziness enveloped him. Time stopped. It was a chaste kiss, decades in the making. Seemingly on their own, his arms rose and his hands found Maggie's waist and settled there, began gently drawing her closer.
Suddenly, Freud growled, then all three cats shrieked. Rorschach bounded down over Will's and Maggie's heads, his fur brushing over them. Jung and Freud dug their hind claws painfully into human thighs as they jumped away and fled. Instantly, Will and Maggie pulled apart. “What's happening?” she whispered.
“I don't know.”
Something hit the window overlooking the backyard. Will couldn't see anything with the outdoor lights off. “Shit! Get down!” Will pulled Maggie to the floor. “Stay there.” He grabbed the remote and turned off the TV then, half-running, half-crawling below window level in case someone had fired a weapon at them, he reached a side-table lamp and flicked it off, then moved on to the main wall switches and shut them down and turned on the patio light.
Something else hit the window, hard.
In the distance, dogs howled.
“Will, be careful!” Maggie called.
He didn't answer, just stayed low and crossed the darkened room, quickly coming to the big window. Carefully, he raised up to peer out, dropped back down without seeing anything when another hit came.
“It was a bird,” Maggie called.
“Not again,” Will groaned. Still, that was better than a bullet. He stayed to the side of the window, but stood up and looked out, saw a smear of blood. Below, three big birds—
two
gulls and one owl—lay on the ground, two stunned, one gull unmoving, probably dead. “It's okay, Mags. The windows are all reinforced safety glass, and I don't see any flocks coming.”
She joined him at the window. “Turn off the outside light so we don't attract them.”
“Good idea.” He felt for a secondary switch beneath the open drapes and pushed it down. Darkness closed in.
Fifteen minutes passed and no more birds hit. Will closed the heavy drapes, lined to keep the setting sun out, and turned on a table lamp. “Let's find the cats.”
He headed for his office. All three were huddled under his desk again, eyes open so wide that they looked like huge kittens. Will and Maggie squatted down, talking to and petting them. They relaxed a little, but not even Freud would purr.
Finally, Maggie rose, so Will did too. “Whatever it was that mixed up the birds was sensed by other animals, too, don't you think?”
“I do.”
“I should get home to my guys. Are you sure you're okay?”
“We'll be fine.” He walked her to the front door and out into the driveway where her Forester waited. One bird, on the cement near the Subaru, fluttered to life, tried to fly, then decided to stagger away and recuperate a little first.
Maggie watched it carefully. “He'll be okay. Call me early if those other birds are still there in the morning, and I'll come and get them.”
“Okay.”
Maggie opened the SUV's door then peered at the sky. “I wonder how widespread this was.”
“Good question. You're going back to the beach in the morning?”
“I think I'd better.”
“Shall I meet you?”
“No, I'll just trot over to the cove and make sure there aren't any new problems. I'll be quick . . .” She paused. “Uh . . . Nevermind.”
“Spit it out.”
“Actually, if you don't mind, I think I'd prefer not to go alone. When I went back at lunchtime, I ran into someone there.”
“Oh? Do you have something
you're
keeping from
me?
”
“Yes. I was going to tell you, probably, but, you know . . .”
“Who was it?”
“Pete.”
Will's gut clenched. “He was on the beach?”
“At the cove. He'd watched the rescuers remove the seals, but he was the only person there when I arrived. He just fries me.”
“What did he do?”
“Just said some things I didn't appreciate.”
“Like what?”
“He's a letch. Sleazy, you know?”
“I know. Did he make a pass?”
She smiled slowly. “What an old-fashioned expression. I like that, but it sounds so nice compared with what he said. Trash talk is what he did.”
Anger ratcheted Will's neck up tight. He tried to hide it. “Did he touch you?”
“Not today.”
“What do you mean? He's touched you before?”
“He tried, when we were still kids. That's what he talked about.”
“Maggie, why didn't you ever tell me this before?”
“Because it would only upset you. Back then, you couldn't have done anything. I squashed his nuts for him. It was better you didn't know.”
“Why are you telling me now?” he asked softly.
“Because I was too embarrassed until now.” She looked at the keys in her hand. “I still am, I guess, but maybe something changed a little tonight.”
“I don't understand.”
“We were twelve. I was expecting you. I was washing dishes. He came up behind me and started nuzzling my neck, touched me, no big deal, but I let him because . . . Crap.”
Will put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her close to him. “Because?”
He felt the warmth of her breath through his shirt when she finally spoke. “Because, Will, I thought he was you.”
For the third time tonight, he felt dizzy. “You would have. . . you wanted me to . . .”

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