The Witching Hour (Lives of the Mayfair Witches 1)

Very loudly again spoke the old deaf woman, the insectile one, saying to everyone and no one, "I have not seen him move his hands like that in years."

"Well, he sounds to me like the very devil!" said the handsome female.

"Damn him, he'll never die," whispered Andre and then fell to sleep, face down in his plate, his overturned glass rolling off the table.

Charlotte, watching all of this and more, with equal calm, gave a soft laugh, and said, "Oh, he is very far from dead."

Then a horrid sound startled the entire company, for at the top of the stairs, or somewhere very close to the head of it, the old man gave forth another loud terrible laugh.

Charlotte's face grew hard. Patting her husband's hand gently, she took her leave with great speed, but not so much speed that she did not look at me as she left the room.

Finally the old doctor, who was at this point almost too besotted to rise from the table, which he started to do once and then thought the better of, declared with a sigh that he must go home. At which moment two other visitors arrived, well-dressed Frenchmen, to whom the handsome older female cousin went immediately, as the three other women rose and made their way out, the crone glaring back in condemnation at the drunken brother, who had fallen into the plate, and muttering at him. The other son meantime had risen to assist the drunken doctor, and these two staggered out on the gallery.

Alone with Antoine and a host of slaves cleaning the table, I asked the man if he would enjoy with me a cigar, as I had bought two very good ones in Port-au-Prince.

"Ah, but you must have my own, from the tobacco I grow here," he declared. A young slave boy brought the cigars to us and lighted them, and this young man stood there to take the thing from the master's mouth and replace it as he should.

"You must excuse my father," said Antoine to me softly, as if he did not like the slave to hear it. "He is most keen of mind. This illness is a very horror."

"I can well imagine," I said. Much laughter and conversation came from the parlor across the hall where the females had settled, it seemed, with the visitors, and possibly with the drunken brother and the doctor.

Two black slave boys meantime attempted to pick up the other brother, who suddenly shot to his feet, indignant and belligerent, and struck one of the boys so that he began to cry.

"Don't be a fool, Andre," said Antoine wearily. "Come here, my poor little one."

The slave obeyed, as the drunken brother rampaged out.

"Take the coin from my pocket," said the master. The slave, familiar with the ritual, obeyed, his eyes shining as he held up his reward.

At last, Reginald and the lady of the house appeared and this time with the rosy-cheeked infant son, a blessed lambkin, two mulatto maids hovering behind them as though the child were made of porcelain and might any moment be hurled to the floor.

The lambkin laughed and kicked its little limbs with joy at the sight of his father. And what a sad spectacle it was that its father could not even lift his miserable hands.

But he did smile at the lambkin, and the lambkin was placed upon his lap for an instant, and he did bend and kiss its blond head.

The child gave no sign of infirmity, but neither had Antoine at such a tender age, I wager. And surely the child had beauty both from its mother and father, for it had more than any such child I have ever beheld.

At last, the mulatto maids, both very pretty, were allowed to descend upon it, and rescue it from the world at large, and carry it away.

The husband then took his leave of me, bidding me remain at Maye Faire for as long as I should please. I took another drink of the wine, though I was resolved it should be my last, for I was dizzy.

Immediately, I found myself led out onto the darkened gallery by the fair Charlotte, so as to look out over the front garden with its melancholy lanterns, the two of us quite alone as we took our places on a wooden bench.

My head was most surely swimming from the wine, though I could not quite determine how I had managed to drink so much of it, and when I pleaded to have no more, Charlotte would not hear of it, and insisted that I take another glass. "It is my finest, brought from home."

To be polite I drank it, feeling then a wave of intoxication; and remembering in a blur the image of the drunken brothers and wishing to get clearheaded, I rose and gripped the wooden railing and looked down into the yard. It seemed the night was full of dark persons, slaves perhaps moving in the foliage, and I did see one very shapely light-skinned creature smiling up at me as she passed. In a dream, it seemed, I heard Charlotte speaking to me:

"All right, handsome Petyr, what more would you say to me?"

Strange words I thought, between father and daughter, for surely she knows it, she cannot but know it. Yet again, perhaps she does not. I turned to her and began my warnings. Did she not understand that this spirit was no ordinary spirit? That this thing which could possess the body of the old man and make it do her bidding could turn upon her, that it was, in fact, obtaining its very strength from her, that she must seek to understand what spirits were, but she bid me hush.

And then it did seem to me that I was seeing the most bizarre things through the window of the lighted dining room, for the slave boys in their shining blue satin appeared to me to be dancing as they dusted and swept the room, dancing like imps.

"What a curious illusion," I said. Only to realize that the young boys, dusting the seats of the chairs and gathering the fallen napkins, were only cavorting, and playing, and did not know that I watched.

Then staring back at Charlotte, I beheld that she had let her hair down free over her shoulders and that she was staring up at me with cold, beautiful eyes. It seemed also that she had pushed down the sleeves of her dress, as a tavern wench might do it, the better to reveal her magnificent white shoulders and the tops of her breasts. That a father should stare at a daughter as I stared at her was plainly wicked.

"Ah, you think you know so much," she said, obviously referring to the conversation which in my general confusion I had all but forgot. "But you are like a priest, as my mother told me. You know only rules and ideas. Who told you that spirits are evil?"

"You misunderstand. I do not say evil, I say dangerous. I say hostile to man perhaps, and impossible to control. I do not say hellish, I say unknown."

I could feel my tongue thick in my mouth. Yet still I continued. I explained to her that it was the teaching of the Catholic church that anything "unknown" was demonic, and that was the greatest difference between the Church and the Talamasca. It was upon that great difference that we had been founded long ago.

Again, I saw the boys were dancing. They whirled about the room, leaping, turning, appearing and reappearing at the windows. I blinked to clear my head.

"And what makes you think that I do not know this spirit intimately," said she, "and that I cannot control it? Do you really think that my mother did not control it? Can you not see that there is a progression here from Suzanne to Deborah to me?"

"I see it, yes, I see it. I saw the old man, did I not?" I said, but I was losing the thought. I could not form my words properly and the remembrance of the old man upset my logic. I wanted the wine, but did not want it, and did not drink any more.

"Yes," she said, quickening it seemed, and taking the wineglass from me, thank God. "My mother did not know that Lasher could be sent into a person, though any priest might have told her demons possess humans all the time, though of course they do it to no avail."

"How so, no avail?"

"They must leave eventually; they cannot become that person, no matter how truly they want to become that person. Ah, if Lasher could become the old man ... "

This horrified me, and I could see that she smiled at my horror, and she bid me sit down beside her. "What is it however that you truly mean to convey to me?" she pressed.

"My warning, that you give up this being, that you move away from it, that you not found your life upon its power, for it is a mysterious thing, and that you

teach it no more. For it did not know it could go into a human until you taught it so, am I right?"

This gave her pause. She refused to answer.

"Ah, so you are teaching it to be a better demon for your sake!" I said. "Well, if Suzanne could have read the demonology shown her by the witch judge, she would have known you can send a demon into people. Deborah would have known had she read enough too. But ah, it must be left to you to teach it this thing so that the witch judge is upheld in the third generation! How much more will you teach it, this thing which can go into humans, create storms, and make a handsome phantom of itself in an open field?"

"How so? What do you mean phantom?" she asked.

I told her what I had seen at Donnelaith--the gauzy figure of the being among the ancient stones, and that I had known it was not real. At once I saw that nothing I had said so far caught her interest as this caught it.

"You saw it?" she asked me incredulously.

"Yes, indeed I did see it, and I saw her see it, your mother."

She whispered, "Ah, but he has never appeared thus to me." And then, "But do you see the error, for Suzanne, the simpleton, thought he was the dark man, the Devil as they call him, and so he was for her."

"But there was nothing monstrous in his appearance, rather he made himself a handsome man."

At this she gave a mischievous laugh, and her eyes flashed with sudden vitality. "So she imagined the Devil to be handsome and for her Lasher made himself handsome. For you see, all that he is proceeds from us."

"Perhaps, lady, perhaps." I looked at the empty glass. I was thirsty. But I would not be drunk again. "But perhaps not."