The Curse of Bloodstone. V. J. Banis

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      The old woman turned back and stood waiting.

      Jeremiah hesitated. After the pause, he straightened himself and squared his shoulders. “I know Vanessa will not tell us, so I will ask you. What of this man, this sea captain. Is he dead?”

      Tutrice shook her head slowly.

      “I protest. I forbid you to speak of him,” Vanessa fumed.

      “No,” Tutrice said. “He is not dead. He abandoned her.”

      Hester’s needle pricked her finger. She gave a tight little gasp and stuck the pricked finger into her mouth.

      “So,” Jeremiah sighed, “it is not finished.”

      “No, it is not finished,” Tutrice said solemnly.

      CHAPTER FOUR

      The merciless winds continued to whistle and moan, lashing out at everything in their path. Bloodstone stood strong and unbending against the fury of the storm. Yet inside the huge old house there was an eerie calm, like in the eye of a hurricane. Nothing moved, no sound echoed throughout the still rooms and corridors.

      Vanessa lay on her wide bed. A smile played lightly on her lips. Her dream was beginning. She was with him and she was happy again. But her smile faded when she saw his eyes grow cold. He mouthed the same words and left her standing high on a cliff overlooking the sea. Below her she saw his ship making ready. Its blood-red sails were hoisted. The captain took his place on the deck; the anchor was raised.

      The massive ship moved slowly out toward the distant horizon. A storm was brewing, but the captain didn’t seem to care. He nosed his ship, directly into its threatening force. Vanessa watched as the ship grew smaller and smaller. She began to cry, leaning into the wind, trying to catch a last, lingering glimpse of him. The storm grew wilder. Something tugged at her and then without knowing how, she found herself falling down into the icy-cold waters far below.

      A scream caught in her throat and she sat bolt upright in the bed. She sat there for several minutes before opening her eyes. When at last she did open them, she felt disappointment. She had hoped that being at Bloodstone would make her dream a reality, but the room was cold and empty and he was gone...gone back to the sea he loved more than her. Why had he spurned her and returned to the sea without her? She knew well the old prophecy that was scrawled so eloquently in the Bible downstairs. She knew it by heart.

      “Bloodstone, bloodstone, out of the sea,

      Only with that can true love be.

      Justice will fall with bloodstone bright

      When light will be dark and days will be night;

      When life will be death and death will be life,

      Then, vengeance will rest with bloodstone and wife.”

      She had found the bloodstone on his hand. He’d come from the sea. It was all so perfect. Why, then, didn’t she get the true love promised her?

      Tutrice, of course, scoffed at the prophecy. Tough Tutrice scoffed at everything, Vanessa reminded herself.

      Vanessa threw off the covers and got out of her bed. In the light of the dwindling fire she watched her reflection in the shuttered windowpanes. A sudden far and indistinct noise came from somewhere inside Bloodstone. Something fell and crashed to the floor below her. She snatched up her night robe and went to investigate.

      The stairs were cold and drafty. A sliver of light shone through the doorway under the staircase, the door through which Tutrice had disappeared earlier.

      “Tutrice,” Vanessa called softly.

      No one answered.

      “Tutrice,” she called again, walking toward the door. She pushed it open. The door opened onto a large, empty room. A single light burned on a lone table. Vanessa went across the room and opened a door she knew led into the kitchen and pantry area.

      Tutrice was sitting at a long, oval table that took up the entire center of the kitchen. The light from the fire played on her wrinkled face, making her look not unlike some ghostly specter. She was huddled over some objects scattered on the tabletop before her. The old woman’s eyes were closed, her hands clasped as though in prayer. On the floor beside her Vanessa saw the shattered fragments of a large earthenware bowl. Whatever the bowl had contained was spilled all over the tiles. At first glance Vanessa thought it to be blood.

      “What are you doing?” Vanessa demanded.

      Tutrice did not move. She sat with her head lowered. Her lips moved but she did not speak. Finally she opened her eyes and continued to look down at the tabletop, studying the objects scattered before her.

      “I conjure you,” Tutrice moaned. “I conjure you that you forthwith appear. Show yourself, oh dark and mighty master. Show yourself before me in fair and human shape without deformity or ugliness so I will not be afraid. Show yourself. Show yourself now.”

      “Stop it,” Vanessa said, stamping her foot. “Stop it, I say.”

      But Tutrice stayed as she was. “I conjure you by him to whom all creatures are obedient,” she moaned. “The elements have been spilled. The mortal mantle has been broken so that you may come through to me.”

      “Tutrice! I forbid this nonsense.”

      Still, Tutrice remained in her trance. “The sea runs back, the fire grows higher, the earth trembles in anticipation of you. Come. Come you in the name of Adonaiu Zabaoth, Adonaij Amiorem.”

      Vanessa’s rushed over to the table and with a wild move of her arm swept all of the objects from the table, flinging them in every direction. She grabbed Tutrice by the shoulders and shook her hard. “I’ve forbidden you to do this,” Vanessa shouted. “How dare you go against my orders.”

      Tutrice merely sat, numb and unhearing. Gradually she roused herself, turned her head slowly. “Go to bed, child. Leave me to my work.”

      “No. What are you doing? I demand to know.”

      Tutrice shrugged indifferently. “I am merely looking for information,” she said.

      “Information? What information?”

      “About Clarissa. You know Clarissa?”

      “Clarissa? Our cook? Of course I know her.”

      “She is dead,” Tutrice said. “She is dead but is not at rest. I was asked to try to find out why she is not at rest.”

      “I’ll have none of that black-magic nonsense in this house. I’ve told you before, Tutrice. I will not tell you again. I detest this foolishness.”

      “You detest it because you are afraid of it.”

      “I detest it because it is stupid. The dead are dead.”

      Tutrice shook her head. “No,” she said. “The dead are never far away from us. They are always here. We have but to reach out and they will be with us again.”

      “I will not have this mumbo-jumbo СКАЧАТЬ