No, not something. Someone.
And suddenly he knows who it is.
Water hemlock, amanita, hellebore…
As she sat in her kitchen, Mrs Poroth contemplated the enormity of what she was going to do: the killing of the red-haired girl.
It would be easily accomplished; she had more than enough materials here at hand.
Monkshood, lambkill, death camas…
And she saw no other way. The necessity was clear. The girl must not be allowed to play her destined role.
Banewort, mayapple, fly agaric…
But oh! it was a wicked thing she was considering, to raise her hand against so innocent a child! A sudden terror seized her, as if from outside herself, like a thin chilly finger of breeze sent to search for her through the open window. Someone far away was thinking about her, had sought her… and had found her.
No, it was from within herself that the fear had come; she must not yield to despair. No doubt what she'd felt had only been the dread of her own imminent sin. She had to guard against such selfish thoughts; a world hung in the balance. She said a prayer to the cruel Lord and continued with her preparations.
Dogbane, greyana, deadly nightshade…
Sarr turned the lamp down in the kitchen and climbed the stairs to bed. Deborah was gazing out the window as he came into the room, the moon hanging just beyond her head. He heard wind stir the apple tree beside the house, a wind that rose and died and rose again, blowing stronger, tossing the tops of the distant pines. Seating himself on the edge of the bed, he began removing his shoes. 'We'll have to get a new lock for that bathroom door,' he said. 'The one there now doesn't even close any more.'
'You can pick one up in town.'
'Right. And I'd better do it soon, too. Otherwise you know what's going to happen?' He watched her closely. 'One day Jeremy's going to come walking in and catch you in your bath.'
She turned and stood up from the bed. 'We can't have that, can we?'
'No,' he said slowly. 'We can't.' He watched her as she walked to the closet in the corner. Opening the door, she stepped out of his sight. He heard the rustle of cloth, and moments later she reappeared, dressed in her nightgown. Seating herself before a small oval mirror, she began unfastening her hair.
'Time was,' he said, 'when you got undressed in front of me.' Standing and throwing off his shirt, he approached her. Tentatively he reached out and touched her shoulder. 'Time was when things were better between us.'
He thought he saw her stiffen, and something ached inside him -but then she reached up and pressed his hand, and he felt a surge of relief.
'I know, honey,' she said. She was still slightly hoarse. 'It's just that I haven't been well. Give me a few more days… '
'Of course,' he said. He bent and, pushing aside the length of hair, kissed the back of her neck. 'I'm sorry, I've been on edge lately myself.'
He walked back to the bed and continued undressing, while she reached for her brush and began to comb her hair. He watched her out of the corner of his eye as he took his own nightgown from the hook in the closet. This was the same woman, he was sure of it. The graceful way she brushed her hair, the softness of her skin – this was the woman he had always loved. For once his mother was wrong. She'd never liked Deborah; she'd never even made an attempt to get to know her. How could she expect, then, to recognize a change in her character? Perhaps she even hoped to turn him against Deborah – to harden his heart – to blight his marriage…
'Tonight,' he said, 'maybe we can pray together again. Your voice sounds like it's coming back.'
'I don't know, honey,' she said. 'I'm feeling awful tired.' Yawning, she laid aside the brush.
'Well, if you'd rather not, I can- What's that?'
She turned to look at him, her eyes wide. 'What?'
'There. Inside your mouth.' He pointed, half conscious that his hand was trembling. 'I saw it in the mirror, when you yawned. There was something there.'
'Nonsense!' She tossed her head and turned away. 'It's just the light.'
'Don't try to fool me, woman! I know what I saw!' He crossed the room in two steps, grabbed her by the shoulders, and whirled her around to face him. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. 'Now open your mouth!'
She shook her head, glaring at him. Her jaw clamped shut.
'Deborah, open your mouth! If something's the matter, I want to know about it.'
'Get your hands off me,' she hissed through clenched teeth.
'Open your mouth or I'll pull it open myself.'
She tried to yank her shoulders away; he held on, dragging her toward the lamp, amazed at how strong she was as she struggled in his arms. Her hands reached clawlike for his face; nails like a cat's raked his cheek. He pulled back, grabbing at her wrists. She spat as he forced her backward, away from him, toward the light. Suddenly she yielded and went limp; caught off balance, he stumbled forward, falling against her and knocking over the table on which the lantern stood. It crashed to the floor and rolled under the bed, still burning. With a yell he released her and lunged for the lantern, fingers groping blindly beneath the bed while she stood above him, not moving, in the darkness. Reaching out, he touched something hard, and screamed as the glass burned his fingers. Ignoring the pain, he grasped the lantern and drew it forth from beneath the bed. It was still flickering; he set it down and checked beneath the bed. It had not caught fire.
'Fool!' Deborah hissed. She was looking down at him, her hands curled into fists. He had never seen her so angry. 'You could set this place aflame.'
Panting, he picked up the lantern by the handle and got to his feet. 'All right,' he said. 'Let's see.'
He brought the lantern close to her face. She hesitated a moment, then opened her mouth wide. He peered into it in the glowing light.
'See?' she said at last. 'Was I lying?'
'No.' He hung his head. There had been nothing there. 'No, you weren't lying. I'm just seeing visions, that's all.' Sighing, he righted the overturned table, set down the lantern, and turning his face to the corner, knelt to say his prayers. She was right; he was a fool. Yet earlier he could have sworn he'd seen something there, small, black, and convoluted, on the back of her tongue.
Hours later he lay staring at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep. He felt her there beside him, felt her weight on the mattress, heard the regular, slow rhythm of her breathing, and wondered what he lay with in the bed.
Outside, in the moonlight, where trees whispered urgently, the wind had begun to sound to him like the rise and fall of breathing, sometimes even coinciding eerily with the breathing beside him; but the breathing outside was of something huge and monstrous, something so big that, with each breath, the trees shook.
Finally, when the sky had grown purple before the next dawn, he was able to drift into sleep. And perhaps it was already the beginning of a dream, but the last thing he recalled, as he turned in sleep toward her, was his wife's face lying on the pillow next to him, her eyes as wide as the moon.
July Twenty-ninth
From the Hunterdon County Home News, Friday, July 29:
VOLCANOES IN HUNTERDON COUNTY??? by News Science Writer Mike Aldano
The Mexican volcano Paricutin, it's said, appeared one morning in a farmer's cornfield. Now New Jerseyans may have a similar surprise in their own back yard: a 40-foot hill in the woods outside Gilead in the heart of Hunterdon County – a hill that, townspeople believe, wasn't there a few days before.
'It just grew up during the night,' said Galen Trudel, whose son Raymond, 12, claims credit for discovering the formation yesterday. 'You could hear the sound for miles, like a roaring. We had our pigpen blown down and we still haven't recovered all the animals.'
The little farming community of Gilead (pop. 187) has already had its share of disasters this week. Sunday it was rocked by a minor earth tremor that measured 4.9 on the Richter scale. Wednesday night it suffered an even greater shock, 6.1 on the scale, causing an estimated $50,000 in damage. (A spokesman for the Governor's office says that to date no claims have been filed with the state.)