The Witching Hour (Lives of the Mayfair Witches 1)

"I think they called to the souls of the dead through the dolls."

"Like praying, as I told you. And to be warm with the impressions. Anything more is not possible. The souls of the dead are not here. The soul of my Suzanne went past me, upwards. The soul of my Deborah rose as if on wings when her tender body fell from the battlements of the church. The dolls are keep sakes, nothing more. But don't you see? None of this matters now. The dolls, the emeralds, they are emblems. We are passing out of this realm of emblems and keepsakes and prophecies. We go to a new existence. Envision the doorway if you will. We shall pass through it, out of this house and into the world."

"And the transmutation can be replicated. That is what you're leading me to believe?"

"That is what you know, Rowan. I read the book of life over your shoulder. All living cells replicate. In manly form I shall replicate. And my cells can be grafted to your cells, Rowan. There are possibilities of which we have not yet begun to dream."

"And I shall become immortal."

"Yes. My companion. And my lover. Immortal like me."

"When is it to happen?"

"When you know I shall know. And you will know very soon."

"You are so sure of me, aren't you? I don't know how to do it. I've told you."

"What do your dreams tell you?"

"They are nightmares. They're full of images I don't understand. I don't know where the body on the table comes from. I don't know why Lemle is there. I don't understand what they want of me, and I don't want to see Jan van Abel struck down again. The place is meaningless to me."

"Calm yourself, Rowan. Let me calm you. The dreams tell you. But more truly, you will tell yourself finally. Out of the caldron of your own mind will come the truth."

"No, back away from me. Just talk to me. That's what I want of you now."

Silence.

"You are the doorway, my beloved. I hunger for the flesh. I am weary of my loneliness. Don't you know the time is almost at hand? My mother, my beautiful one ... This is the season for me to be reborn."

She closed her eyes, feeling his lips on the back of her neck, feeling his fingers tracing the length of her spine. There came the pressure of a warm hand clasping her sex, fingers slipping inside her, lips against her lips. Fingers pinched her nipples hurtfully and deliciously.

"Let me wrap my arms around you," he whispered. "Others will come. And you will belong to them for hours, and I must hover hungrily at a distance, watching you, catching the words that fall from your lips as though they were drops of water to slake my thirst. Let me enfold you now. Give me these hours, my beautiful Rowan ... "

She felt herself being lifted, her feet no longer touching the floor; the darkness was swirling around her, strong hands turning her, and stroking her all over. There was no gravity any longer; she felt his strength increasing, the heat of it increasing.

The cold wind rattled the panes of the window. The great empty house seemed full of whispers. She was floating in the air. She turned over, groping in the shadowy tangle of arms supporting her, feeling her legs forced apart and her mouth opened. Yes, do it.

"How can the time be nearly at hand?" she whispered.

"Soon, my darling."

"I can't do it."

"Oh, yes you will be able to, my beauty. You know. You shall see ... "

Forty-eight

THE DAY WAS darkening and the wind was bitter as he got out of the car, but the plantation house looked cheerful and inviting, with all its windows filled with a warm yellow light.

Aaron was waiting at the door for him, layered with wool under his gray cardigan, neck wrapped in a cashmere scarf.

"Here, this is for you," Michael said. "Merry Christmas, my friend." He placed a small bottle, wrapped in green Christmas paper, in Aaron's hands. "It's not a very big surprise, I'm afraid. But it is the best brandy I could find."

"That was very thoughtful of you," Aaron said with a little smile. "I'm going to enjoy it immensely. Every drop of it. Come in out of the cold. I have a little something for you, too. I'll show you later. Come on, inside."

The warm air was delicious. And there was quite a large and full tree set up in the living room, and very splendidly decorated with gold and silver ornaments, all of which surprised Michael because he hadn't known how the Talamasca would celebrate such a feast, if they celebrated such things at all. Even the mantels were decorated with holly. And a good fire was blazing on the large living room hearth.

"It's an old old feast, Michael," said Aaron, anticipating his question with a little smile. He set the gift on the table. "Goes back long before Christ. The winter solstice--a time when all the forces of the earth are at their strongest. That's probably why the Son of God chose it as a time to be born."

"Yeah, well, I could use a little belief in the Son of God right now," said Michael. "A little belief in the forces of the earth."

It did feel good in here. It had the nice cozy feel of a country place after First Street--with its lower ceilings and simpler crown moldings, and the large deep fireplace, built not for coal but for a real raging log fire.

Michael took off his leather coat and his gloves, gave them over to Aaron gratefully, and stretched out his hands to warm them over the fire. There was no one else in the main rooms as far as he could tell, though he could hear faint sounds coming from the back kitchen. The wind beat against the French windows. Rimmed in frost, they were nevertheless filled with the pale green of landscape beyond.

The tray with the coffee was waiting and Aaron gestured for Michael to take the chair to the left of the hearth.

As soon as he sat down, he felt the knot inside him loosen. He felt he was going to bawl. He took a deep breath, eyes moving back and forth over everything and nothing, and then without preamble he began.

"It's happening," he said, his voice shaky. He could scarcely believe that it had come to this, that he was talking about her this way, yet he went on. "She's lying to me. He's there with her, and she's lying. She's been lying to me night and day since I came home."

"Tell me what's happened," said Aaron, his face sober and full of immediate sympathy.

"She didn't even ask why I came back so quickly from San Francisco, Never even brought it up. It was as if she knew. And I was frantic when I called her from the hotel out there. Goddamn it, I told you on the phone what happened. I thought that thing was trying to kill me. She never even asked me what went down."

"Describe it to me again, all of it."

"Christ, Aaron, I know now it was Julien and Deborah that I saw in my vision. I don't have any doubt anymore. I don't know what the pact means or the promise. But I know that Julien and Deborah are on my side. I saw Julien. I saw him looking at me through the bus window, and it was the strangest thing, Aaron, it was as if he wanted to speak and to move and he couldn't. It was as if it was hard for him to come through."

Aaron didn't say anything. He was sitting with his elbow on the arm of the chair, and his finger curled beneath his lower lip. He looked cautious, alert, and thoughtful.

"Go on," he said.

"But the point is that this particular flash was enough to bring it all back. Not that I remembered everything that was said. But I recaptured the feeling. They want me to intervene. They said something to me about 'the age-old human tools at my command.' I heard those words again. I heard Deborah speaking to me. It was Deborah. Only she didn't look like that picture, Aaron. Aaron, I'll tell you the most convincing piece of evidence."

"Yes ... "

"What Llewellyn said to you. Remember. He said he saw Julien in a dream, and Julien wasn't the same as Julien in life. Remember? Well, you see, that's the key. In the vision Deborah was a different being. And on that damn street corner in San Francisco, I felt both of them, and they were as I remembered them--wise and good, and knowing things, Aaron. Knowing that Rowan was in terrible danger and that I had to intervene. God, when I think of Julien's expression through that window. It was so ... urgent yet tranquil. I don't have word

s to describe it. It was concerned and yet so untroubled ... "

"I think I know what you're trying to say."

"Go home, they said, go home. That's where you're needed. Aaron, why didn't he look directly at me on the street?"

"There could be a lot of reasons. It revolves around what you said. If they exist somewhere, it's difficult for them to come through. It isn't difficult for Lasher. And that is crucial to our understanding of what's going on. But I'll come back to that. Go on ... "

"You can guess, can't you? I come home, private plane, limo, whole number all arranged by Cousin Ryan, as if I'm a goddamned rock star, and she doesn't even ask me what's been happening. Because she's not Rowan. She's Rowan caught in something, Rowan smiling and pretending and staring at me with those great big sad gray eyes. Aaron, the worst part is ... "

"Tell me, Michael."

"She loves me, Aaron. And it's like she's silently pleading with me not to confront her. She knows I can see through the deception. God, when I touch her I feel it! She knows I can feel it. And silently, she's pleading with me not to force her into a corner, not to make her lie. It's like she's begging me, Aaron. She's desperate. I could swear she's even afraid."

"Yes. She's in the thick of it. She's spoken to me about it. Some sort of communication apparently started when you left. Possibly even before you left."

"You knew this? Why the hell didn't you tell me?"