Читать книгу Return Of the Fallen - Rita Vetere - Страница 11

Chapter 7

As she traveled the winding path of her memories, Justine’s chest rose and fell in slow, even breaths in semblance of sleep, although part of her remained alert, conscious of her surroundings. At the sound of conversation in the hallway outside her door, her eyes flew open. A door slammed shut nearby and the murmuring voices stopped abruptly. She closed her eyes again and returned to her past...

* * * *

In the car with Asher, Israfel spoke little, her anxiety mounting with each mile Asher put between them and Oskaloosa. The sights tossing by outside her window and the unfamiliar landscapes unfurling around her did little to distract her from worry. The roadway they traveled was congested with cars, and she stared in awe at the many structures on both sides. Every time they passed through a town, she studied the pedestrians moving from one building to another. What would it be like to live among so many people? Until today, the only others she had encountered in her young life were the odd travelers who had taken a wrong turn and ended up at the farm, and even those she had observed only from a distance. Mamma always made sure she was locked in her room on the rare occasion she heard an approaching car. Now she’d left the only home she’d ever known with this man who called himself Asher. What would be in store for her in this place he was taking her to—Savannah?

Asher drove along at a steady clip and, for the most part, didn’t try to draw her into conversation, although he smiled kindly at her from time to time. They had traveled for just over an hour when he pulled the car off the highway.

“We should get you something to eat. Do you like chicken?”

The mere thought of food caused her to salivate. “Yes.”

He parked the car in a large paved area in the middle of a cluster of buildings. Behind their glass windows, crowds of people sat around tables, eating.

“I’ll be right back,” Asher said.

He entered the building directly in front of the car and she watched him through the glass as he lined up with the others. A few minutes later, he returned, carrying a large paper bag in one hand and balancing two drinks in the other. Back in the car, he drove to a nearby grassy area where they got out and walked a few feet to a rickety wooden outdoor table.

When he placed the food in front of her, she dove into it, driven by hunger and the mouthwatering smell of grilled chicken. Israfel quickly polished off the meal and, when she was done eating, Asher helped to clean her face and hands with a moist towel.

Not far from where they sat was an old swing set. He must have noticed her staring at it, because he asked, “Do you want to go play for a few minutes before we get back in the car?”

She nodded shyly, slid off the bench seat and made her way over to the swings.

* * * *

Asher studied the dark-haired child as she walked away. She was rail-thin, her face dirt-streaked, her hair filthy. Bruises of varying stages bloomed on her arms and legs. Her knees, hands and face were scraped from the gravel road where she’d almost met her death. Whatever had happened to her in her young life, and he could only imagine what she had suffered at the hand of her unstable mother, it had not managed to crush her spirit. She walked with her head held high and natural grace. Her eyes were arresting—deep jade, coolly appraising and fringed with velvety black lashes. She was also intelligent. He had heard it in her voice, seen it in the way she’d sized him up before leaving with him. Silently he thanked the fates that had led him to her. Thinking about what that madwoman would have done had he not intervened sent a cold shiver up his spine. It was as if he’d been meant to save her.

His brow creased as he thought about the phone call and the late-night visit he’d received from Jared Crow yesterday. He’d never heard of Crow, but some quick investigation following his initial phone call revealed Crow to be a man of substance, the owner of a large company called Biodome, and someone to be taken seriously. Still, when Jared Crow had arrived last night with details about the young girl, Asher had refused to take him seriously. Instinctively, he thought Crow suspect. There was something distasteful about the man, aside from his sightless left eye. Asher intuited Crow had an ulterior motive in approaching him about the girl. When Crow had told him the child in question was a member of the fallen race, one of the Nephilim, Asher had scoffed.

An expert in the field of paranormal studies, Asher and his associates, Jackson and Madison, had previously taken in others who displayed extraordinary psychic or physical abilities, and who had been ostracized from society as a result. This was the reason Crow had approached him about taking in the girl. But, although well versed in the legends surrounding the Nephilim, Asher was not prepared to concede that a member of the fallen race could be in existence.

“My source regarding this matter is unimpeachable,” Crow had insisted.

“And who is your source?” Asher had done his best not to stare at the man’s unpleasant-looking eye.

“That is not something I am at liberty to discuss with you. However, you are certainly under no obligation to believe me. My enquiries resulted in information that you would be best equipped to handle a child with her unique abilities. If you do not wish to undertake the care of this child, I will find someone else who will.”

Crow had risen to leave at that point, but Asher had called him back. The man seemed too sure of himself. Although Asher couldn’t believe the child was Nephilim, he had sensed he’d be making a mistake if he did not at least investigate the matter.

“I suppose it would do no harm to make the trip. Just to check out the situation, that is.”

Crow smiled. “Speak to the mother. Observe the child. Then judge for yourself.”

Despite what Crow had instructed him to do, Asher hadn’t made the trip with the intention of kidnapping the girl. He’d merely wanted to see and talk to the child and her mother. However, he hadn’t counted on the girl being in mortal danger.

The mother had convinced him of nothing, other than she was a religious fanatic, one who had not been able to accept the fact the child’s father had run out on her. Still, there was something about the knowing look in the woman’s eyes when she had told him to “ask her about the cat.” What had she meant by that?

He glanced up to see Israfel, not on the swing but crouched, touching something on the ground. He walked over to her and saw right away what it was. The sight of her petting a dead bird repulsed him a little.

“Israfel.”

He appeared to have startled her and she looked up at him with a guilty expression.

“I wasn’t doing anything.”

“The bird is dead,” he said gently. “It’s best not to touch it.”

He crouched next to her and saw her face was painted with heavy sadness, a sadness that seemed completely out of place in a child of her age.

Not meeting his gaze, she said, “I could make it better...but that would be wrong.”

“You can’t help the bird, Israfel. It’s dead. Do you understand what that means?”

“Yes.” She sighed. “Like Moses.”

“Who’s Moses?” He wanted to comfort her, to lift the heavy burden she seemed to be carrying.

“My kitty.”

Asher’s heart jumped. “Your cat was named Moses?”

“Yes... But he got real sick last summer. He died. Mamma buried him behind the chicken coop.”

Asher took Israfel’s tiny hand in his. The poor child trembled all over. “Did something happen with Moses, Israfel? After he died?”

She nodded. Tears welled in her eyes and her lower lip quivered.

“Can you tell me?”

“I didn’t mean to do anything wrong. It’s just... I missed Moses. I just wanted my kitty back.”

His heart raced now. He did his best to keep his voice steady when he asked, “Did you get Moses back, Israfel?”

“Uh-huh.”

“How?” he asked in a whisper.

“I used my toy shovel and dug him out of the ground. I fixed him. He was all right again.”

He stared at her in disbelief. “How did you fix him, Israfel?”

She tented her fingers and placed one hand on his head and another on his chest. “Like this.”

Asher froze, incredulous. The girl was trying to tell him she had laid her hands on a dead cat and brought it back to life.

“But then...”

He tried to keep his face from betraying his excitement at what she had just told him. “But then?”

“The chickens died. All of them.” She began to cry. Asher stood, took her hand and led her back to the bench, away from the dead bird that had started all this.

She sat next to him, still crying, her words tumbling over each other in her hurry to get them out. “Mamma was terrible mad. She said what I done with Moses was the Devil’s work. She said dead was dead, and what I done with Moses was un-un...”

“Unnatural?”

She nodded. “Then Mamma took Moses down to the river and drownded him.” She burst into tears again. “She drownded Moses and then she took me to the chicken coop and showed me what I done. She told me I killed all them chickens when I made Moses alive again. She said if I ever did something like that again, she was going to kill me, ’cause it meant the Devil was in me. Then she whupped me with the belt.”

The child broke down sobbing again. Asher hugged her to him, and was immediately struck by how thin she was. He felt the knobs on her spine and her ribs through the ragged cotton shift she wore. Even so, he clearly sensed the strength concealed within this tormented child. He waited until her tears were spent and the hitching in her breath stopped.

“You weren’t doing the Devil’s work, and the Devil is not in you,” he said. “You didn’t do anything wrong. What happened wasn’t your fault.”

She remained silent for a few minutes then pulled away from him, swiping away her tears with the back of her hand, and surprised him by asking, “Do you think my Mamma will be all right?”

He weighed his words before answering. “I do. I suspect she knew that leaving you with me was better than what she had in mind for you.”

She stared at him and he could tell by the way her expression softened it was the answer she had wanted to hear. Then she asked, “Do you know what’s the matter with me that made Mamma want to kill me?”

Asher regarded her with a serious look. “I have a suspicion,” he said in a gentle voice. “And it’s something we’ll talk about, I promise. But for now, let’s just say your mother was...misguided.”

They walked back to the car and he adjusted the passenger seat for her to a semi-reclining position. “We’ll be in Savannah by morning. I suggest you try to get some sleep.”

Asher got behind the wheel. It had been a long and tiring day, and one full of surprises of both the good and the bad variety. Despite the child’s turmoil, when he pulled the car onto the highway again, he glanced down to find her sleeping soundly. The poor thing must have been completely exhausted from the day’s harrowing events.

Several hours later, he pulled off the highway to gas up. Afterward, he used the outdoor pay phone to call Madison, who was at home with Jackson and Jared Crow, awaiting his call. When she answered, he said, “I have the girl with me. I’m bringing her home. Tell Crow it appears he may be correct about the child.”

Incredible as it seemed, the child sleeping soundly in his car might actually be what Jared Crow claimed she was, one of the Nephilim, a member of the fallen race.

* * * *

When she woke, the sun was on the rise. The street along which the car motored was shaded by giant trees. Stately houses, hidden beneath pastel exteriors, seemed to glow in the rising light. She turned to Asher.

“This is Savannah,” he told her. My house is just outside the city. We’ll be there soon.”

They traveled through an old neighborhood, passing a park filled with looming trees and a white stone fountain at its center. Gaslights flickered along the pathways crisscrossing the park, as if inviting passersby to enter. Elegant houses lined the street, and Israfel wondered if the house Asher lived in was as pretty as the ones flashing by outside.

They drove through other neighborhoods, although none as pleasant as the one with the park and fountain, until they left the city behind them. A short time later, Asher turned the car down an unpaved road flanked by towering oaks, their gnarly branches meeting at the top to form a tunnel of green. No houses came into view until the road ended. There, Asher pulled the car to a stop in front of a pair of ironwork gates set into a stone wall that seemed to go on forever. Gaslights flanked the entrance, shimmering in the thin morning light. Behind the gates, a stuccoed three-story mansion rose. The top two floors sported tall, louvered windows and wrought-iron balconies. The walls of the mansion were tinged pink, as if the bricks had bled through the stucco. A stone stairway led to a portico at the front entrance, supported by four colossal pillars.

Apprehension filled her at the sight of the place. How would she ever fit in here? She had earlier noticed the fine clothes Asher wore, and anxiously looked down at her threadbare shift, scraped legs and dirt-streaked arms, acutely aware of her unkempt appearance. There was no time to dwell on such thoughts. Asher had already exited the car and opened the passenger door for her.

She remained frozen in her seat. “Is this where you live?”

“Yes. And now it’s your home too,” he said evenly.

She hesitated another moment then stepped out of the car. He led her by the hand through the large iron gates, which squeaked in protest when he opened them.

As they mounted the stairs to the grand entrance, the front door opened. Several people huddled inside, awaiting their arrival.

Asher must have sensed her anxiety, because he bent down and whispered to her before they reached the door, “Remember, there’s nothing to be afraid of here. These people are my friends. They’re looking forward to meeting you.”

Israfel gripped his hand tightly and stepped over the threshold to enter her new home.

Two men and a woman stood in the large vestibule. Israfel’s attention was immediately drawn to the woman. She appeared slightly older than Asher, slim and immaculately attired in a simple black dress, a string of pearls at her neck. She wore her hair, blonde with tiny streaks of silver, in an upswept hairdo, which showed off the fine bone structure of her face. Asher introduced her as Madison.

“Hello, Israfel.” Madison crouched to get at eye level with her. “Welcome to our home. If there’s anything you need, anything at all, you have only to ask. We’re very happy you’re here.” She smiled.

Israfel managed to mutter a shy “Thank you,” while she gawked at the beautiful dress the woman wore and the pearls glowing around her neck. She caught the fresh scent of perfume when Madison moved close to give her a small hug.

“And this is Jackson.” Asher indicated the man to his right.

His round face and open expression appeared pleasant to Israfel. Jackson looked to be about the same age as Asher. He had reddish-gold hair and a friendly smile. He wore neatly pressed pants and a crisp white shirt.

“Jackson and Madison share the house with me, and are like family,” said Asher. “I’m sure you’ll come to feel the same way about them.”

Jackson greeted her warmly, and she mumbled a timid “Hello” in return.

Another man stood behind Jackson and Madison, and when he spoke they parted. “Let’s have a look at you then.”

Israfel stared up at the tall man. His hair was startlingly black and his lean, sinuous build and sleek appearance made Israfel think of a cat. He had on a fine dark suit. As he took a step in her direction, she saw there was something wrong with his left eye. What looked like a floating grape appeared where his eye should have been. An involuntary shudder ran through her at the sight of it, and Israfel cringed against Asher’s side as the man approached.

“This is Jared Crow,” said Asher in a soft voice. “Jared is the man who sent me to help you.”

Israfel relaxed a little when Jared’s austere face broke into a smile, distracting her from his sightless eye.

“I’m glad you have arrived safely, Israfel,” he said. “I hope you will find your new home comfortable. You will be in good hands with Asher, Jackson or Madison, and I’ll always be available if any problem arises. Perhaps you’d like to freshen up a bit after your long drive. I’m sure Madison will be happy to show you to your room and help you find everything you need.”

“Thank you, sir,” Israfel said in a small voice, intuiting she must defer to this man. Asher said it had been Jared who’d sent him to help her, after all. Reluctantly, she let go of Asher’s hand and took Madison’s. Israfel felt very small indeed as they walked through a vaulted two-story foyer toward a sweeping brass-inlaid staircase.

Madison said, “After you clean up and rest a little, I’ll show you around the house. You’ll be used to it in no time.”

As they mounted the staircase, Asher and the man named Jared Crow whispered in hushed tones behind her and she purposely slowed her pace, straining to hear. Something jumped inside her when she caught a snatch of their conversation.

“The mother...my sources have just informed me she has been found dead...seems she hung herself shortly after you left with the girl.”

She stopped on the staircase, stiffening, and let go of Madison’s hand. Mamma was dead. The thought sent sadness and guilt running through her, mingled with a sense of relief. She glanced up to find Madison staring at her with a sorrowful expression. She had heard too.

Without saying a word, Madison gathered her in her arms and hugged her tightly as they made their way upstairs.