He looked oddly indistinct in the misty gloom, almost insubstantial, and she couldn't begin to guess at the expression behind his mirrored glasses.
Alex moved forward through the mist, and overhead the lightning crackled in the gloomy sky. "He won't kill you," he said, and there seemed to be a built-in echo to his voice.
"The hell I won't," Jeremy said, lunging for her.
She was so mesmerized by panic that she didn't see Alex move. One moment he was halfway across the clearing; in the next he put his hand on Jeremy's shoulder, with seemingly the lightest of touches.
The white-hot light sizzled, illuminating the clearing with a blinding dazzle. Laura fell back, covering her eyes instinctively, and in the distance she heard a muffled cry, followed by a powerful clap of thunder.
She sank to her knees on the damp earth, terrified beyond coherence, shaking as the thunder shook the earth. It died away slowly, the brilliant white light faded back to the overcast morning, and slowly she opened her eyes.
Jeremy lay at her feet, his eyes open, staring, his face fixed in a grim rictus of death. She had no doubt that he was gone, nor did she question what had happened. She turned and looked at Alex, across the clearing. He looked as if he hadn't moved.
"You killed him," she said. "How?"
"I took him," he told her, his voice emotionless. "And it doesn't matter how. You'd better see to his widow."
Cynthia lay crumpled up against the lower railing, stirring slightly, a faint, choking rasp signaling that she was still alive. Laura sank down beside her, pulling her into her arms, stroking her tangled hair.
"It's all right, Cynthia," she whispered. "No one will hurt you. It's over."
Cynthia's eyes blinked open, and she stared up at Laura in uncomprehending horror. "Jeremy," she managed to gasp. "He was trying to kill me."
"He's dead, Cynthia. He won't be able to hurt you."
Cynthia turned her head, her eyes focusing on the other figure in the clearing. And then she screamed, the choked sound eerie. "No!" she gasped. "Don't let him near me. Don't let him hurt me!" She clawed at Laura's arm.
"Cynthia, I told you. Jeremy's dead. He won't hurt anyone again."
"Not Jeremy." Cynthia's voice was choked. "That…that
thing."
Her voice was deep with horror and loathing as she stared at Alex's dark, shadowy figure.
"Laura!" She could hear her father's voice from the deck overhead now, and the babble of confusion, as Maria and Mrs. Hawkins were crying and talking. She released her hold on Cynthia, then turned and rose, confronting the man who stood there. Realizing for the first time just how insubstantial he was.
She turned to him, amazed at how calm she was. "What is she talking about, Alex?" she said. "Who are you? Why do I know you?"
"Don't let him touch you!" William shouted from overhead. She glanced up, just for a moment, to see her frail father leaning on the railing, shaking a fist down at Alex. "He can't have you, damn it."
She turned back to him, taking a tentative step toward him. "Who are you?" she asked again.
He retreated. One small step away from her, as if he were afraid of her touch. Which was odd, she thought, since everyone seemed to feel she was the one who should be afraid.
"Don't you know?" Cynthia spit out the words like a curse. "Don't you recognize him? He's Death. The Grim Reaper. And he's come to take you."
Laura raised her head, staring up at him. Oddly enough, she felt nothing more than profound relief. She
had
known him. Through her darkest times, he'd been there, a presence, a comfort. He was part of her, and now she knew why.
"No," he said, his voice echoing in the morning stillness.
"Don't lie to her." William's choked voice came from overhead. "She's too damned smart to be tricked. Take me instead. I'm an old man, a bad man. I've lived out my life."
"I'm not going to take her."
The words fell into the clearing like a stone into water. And then Laura spoke.
"Why not?"
The question was simple,
Alex moved forward through the mist, and overhead the lightning crackled in the gloomy sky. "He won't kill you," he said, and there seemed to be a built-in echo to his voice.
"The hell I won't," Jeremy said, lunging for her.
She was so mesmerized by panic that she didn't see Alex move. One moment he was halfway across the clearing; in the next he put his hand on Jeremy's shoulder, with seemingly the lightest of touches.
The white-hot light sizzled, illuminating the clearing with a blinding dazzle. Laura fell back, covering her eyes instinctively, and in the distance she heard a muffled cry, followed by a powerful clap of thunder.
She sank to her knees on the damp earth, terrified beyond coherence, shaking as the thunder shook the earth. It died away slowly, the brilliant white light faded back to the overcast morning, and slowly she opened her eyes.
Jeremy lay at her feet, his eyes open, staring, his face fixed in a grim rictus of death. She had no doubt that he was gone, nor did she question what had happened. She turned and looked at Alex, across the clearing. He looked as if he hadn't moved.
"You killed him," she said. "How?"
"I took him," he told her, his voice emotionless. "And it doesn't matter how. You'd better see to his widow."
Cynthia lay crumpled up against the lower railing, stirring slightly, a faint, choking rasp signaling that she was still alive. Laura sank down beside her, pulling her into her arms, stroking her tangled hair.
"It's all right, Cynthia," she whispered. "No one will hurt you. It's over."
Cynthia's eyes blinked open, and she stared up at Laura in uncomprehending horror. "Jeremy," she managed to gasp. "He was trying to kill me."
"He's dead, Cynthia. He won't be able to hurt you."
Cynthia turned her head, her eyes focusing on the other figure in the clearing. And then she screamed, the choked sound eerie. "No!" she gasped. "Don't let him near me. Don't let him hurt me!" She clawed at Laura's arm.
"Cynthia, I told you. Jeremy's dead. He won't hurt anyone again."
"Not Jeremy." Cynthia's voice was choked. "That…that
thing."
Her voice was deep with horror and loathing as she stared at Alex's dark, shadowy figure.
"Laura!" She could hear her father's voice from the deck overhead now, and the babble of confusion, as Maria and Mrs. Hawkins were crying and talking. She released her hold on Cynthia, then turned and rose, confronting the man who stood there. Realizing for the first time just how insubstantial he was.
She turned to him, amazed at how calm she was. "What is she talking about, Alex?" she said. "Who are you? Why do I know you?"
"Don't let him touch you!" William shouted from overhead. She glanced up, just for a moment, to see her frail father leaning on the railing, shaking a fist down at Alex. "He can't have you, damn it."
She turned back to him, taking a tentative step toward him. "Who are you?" she asked again.
He retreated. One small step away from her, as if he were afraid of her touch. Which was odd, she thought, since everyone seemed to feel she was the one who should be afraid.
"Don't you know?" Cynthia spit out the words like a curse. "Don't you recognize him? He's Death. The Grim Reaper. And he's come to take you."
Laura raised her head, staring up at him. Oddly enough, she felt nothing more than profound relief. She
had
known him. Through her darkest times, he'd been there, a presence, a comfort. He was part of her, and now she knew why.
"No," he said, his voice echoing in the morning stillness.
"Don't lie to her." William's choked voice came from overhead. "She's too damned smart to be tricked. Take me instead. I'm an old man, a bad man. I've lived out my life."
"I'm not going to take her."
The words fell into the clearing like a stone into water. And then Laura spoke.
"Why not?"
The question was simple,
Similar Books
