The Curse of Bloodstone. V. J. Banis

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СКАЧАТЬ to cackle. “To bed, to bed. Do you find comfort in your bed, my pet?”

      Vanessa raised her hand to strike. Tutrice’s eyes bored into her and she froze with hand upraised. Tutrice was not smiling.

      “Beware, child. Do not threaten. I know everything. I can only profit you if you will believe in me.”

      Vanessa found herself trembling. “Sometimes you make me very angry, Tutrice.” Then without any warning she buried her face in her hands and began to sob without knowing why.

      “There, there, child. Do not weep. I am an old and difficult woman. Like the zebra, I cannot change my stripes. I must do what I am meant to do. I only wanted to help Carl, not disobey you. I promised I would help the poor man.”

      “Help Carl?” Vanessa sobbed, trying hard to stem her tears.

      “He asked me to find Clarissa, his wife. He misses her and knows I have the power to communicate.” Tutrice took Vanessa’s hand. “I did not mean to hurt you by going against your wishes. I thought you were fast asleep and with him.”

      Vanessa choked on a sob. She suddenly felt angry instead of sad. She glowered at the old Cajun woman. “Do you find pleasure in tormenting me with reminders of him?”

      Tutrice shook her head. “Your moods change with the wind. I do not torment you without reason. You should not be afraid to speak his name or to let mention of him be made. Simply because your stars did not coincide does not mean you should be afraid. It was not meant to be because he was not the right one.”

      Vanessa’s anger went as quickly as it had come. “Oh, Tutrice,” she sighed, letting her beloved’s face take form in her mind. “Why did it all end as it did? He was as the prophecy predicted. He was the bloodstone from the sea.”

      “No, you are wrong. He was not the bloodstone from the sea. Something was not right or it would never have ended, or begun,” she said.

      “But the prophecy in the Bible....”

      “He was not the one to fulfill that prophecy. Oh, I too wished it had been so. I, more than you, wished this to come about, but it was not right. We must wait. But I do not think Bloodstone is where we are to wait.”

      “Why do you hate this house so much?”

      “Hate it?” She paused, as though weighing carefully what she intended to say. “I have tried to protect you from Bloodstone because you do not belong here. And I had hoped you would learn that before it was too late.”

      “Of course I belong here.”

      Tutrice merely shook her head. “Oh, well, you are here now and here you must stay, I suppose.”

      “Yes, Tutrice, I must stay. I should never have left.”

      Tutrice smiled at something that gave her a secret pleasure. “Ah, if only it had worked out differently. If only he had been the one, all this would be changed now and the Bible would read true.”

      Vanessa knit her brows together. “Read true?”

      “It is not what it seems. Things seldom are, you know.”

      Without anger Vanessa said, “Do you never speak plainly? Why must you always make riddles? Can’t you tell me in straight, uncomplicated language the explanation of the prophecy? Please, Tutrice, tell me.”

      “The prophecy, the prophecy,” Tutrice scoffed. “I wish it had never been written.” Suddenly her eyes widened and she cringed and clamped her hand over her mouth. She stared about her, cowering, as if expecting some unseen force to punish her for what she’d said.

      Vanessa tried not to let herself get annoyed, for she knew how futile it was to try to get Tutrice to speak of the poetic prophecy in detail. But perhaps it was for the best that she did not dwell on the prophecy; it only made her think of him and the bloodstone, which made her unhappy.

      “Well, if you won’t speak of the prophecy, then tell me of Clarissa. When did she die? Was she very old? In the five years I’ve been away, I remember her but slightly.”

      “No, Clarissa was not old, just weary and ready.” Tutrice got up and started searching the room for the articles Vanessa had swept off the table. One by one she took them up and brought them back. “Clarissa is in that limbo world where she must wait.”

      “Wait? For what?”

      Tutrice shrugged as she placed the articles into a pattern. “When death touches you, you only stay dead for a while,” she explained. “Clarissa is in that temporary death. She will assume her proper place soon. Until then no contact can be made with her. She is dead, as we know death to be. But after her prescribed period of rest is ended, she will be able to communicate.”

      “You always talk gibberish. I can never make head or tail of what you say.”

      “It is because you do not hear rightly.”

      Without realizing what she was saying—for it was as if someone else was speaking for her—Vanessa said, “Tell me the story of the bloodstone again.”

      Tutrice laughed softly. “No, you are too old for such silly tales.”

      “Please, Tutrice. I want to hear it again.”

      “But I’ve told you the tale a thousand times.”

      “Then make this the last time,” Vanessa pleaded. “Please, Tutrice. I don’t know why, but it suddenly seems very important to me to hear the story once more.” She knelt at the old woman’s side and put her head in Tutrice’s lap. “Tell me about the bloodstone.”

      Tutrice stroked her hair, smoothing out the long, silky strands. “Very well,” she said, “if it is so important. But remember, it is a child’s story and you are no longer a child; you are too old for such things, so this will be the very last time.” Tutrice paused, formulating the childish tale in her head. She took in a deep breath and began.

      “Long, long ago a handsome young sea captain sailed into a strange harbor,” she said. “He met with an old man of whom he asked directions as to where the captain might find a night’s lodging. The old man told him of an inn and the captain, to express his thanks, invited the old gentleman to come and drink a tankard of ale with him.

      “The old man grew to like and trust the handsome young seaman and, confident that he would not regret his trust, confided that he had a beautiful daughter whom he’d kept sheltered from the world. He invited the sea captain to his home to dine.

      “The captain accepted and that evening he was surprised to see the magnificent home in which the old man lived. Once inside, the captain met the young daughter. She fell instantly in love with him.

      “The captain, being a man of the world, was more interested in the fabulous bloodstone the young maid wore on a chain about her neck. He couldn’t keep his eyes from it; the old man and the maid thought the young sea captain’s ardent interest was in the girl herself.

      “The captain devised a plan to steal the wonderful gem. He succeeded in getting the old man intoxicated and while the old gentleman was in a stupor the scoundrel captain seduced the young maiden and robbed her of her jewel.”

      “In СКАЧАТЬ