Tammy caught the apocalyptic undertone in this. "What do you mean?" she said.
"That sooner or later there'll be an end to this endless indulgence. A Day of Judgment, if you will. And I think"—he dropped his voice to a whisper, though there was no one nearby—"you may be its Deliverer."
"Me?" She also dropped her voice. "Why me?"
"It's just a hunch. A piece of wishful thinking if you like. They've had their time. And I think some of them know it. They're a little more desperate than they used to be. A little more shrill."
"Why don't they just leave?"
"Ah. We had to come to that at last. The reason's very complex, and to tell you the truth I would not really know where to begin. Let me put it this way. They are afraid that if they leave this Canyon they may break the spell that keeps them in their strange state of perfection."
"And do you believe that?"
"Yes, I believe it. They're prisoners here. Beautiful prisoners."
A few minutes after Katya and Todd had left the party out on the night-lawn, a whisper went among the revenants, and one by one they gave up their pleasures, whatever they'd been, and turned their hollow gazes toward the house.
There are only so many times you can play out the old flesh games without losing interest in them. Yes, you could add piquancy if you introduced a whip, or some rope; you could mate with somebody of your own sex (or, if that was what you'd done in your lifetime, with somebody of the opposite gender). But all of it grew wearying with repetition. No feast can ever be so tempting that finally the act of eating doesn't lose its appeal. Sooner or later even the most ambitious glutton must crawl away and seek the solace of the vomitorium.
It was the same for the ghosts. They'd been here in the presence of their own perfection for decades; and now it meant nothing to them. They'd seen that beauty defiled and debauched, they'd seen it locked in every configuration lust could devise, and there was nothing left to surprise them. The presence of living flesh, in the form of Todd Pickett, might momentarily reignite some old flames, but the conflagration quickly died away once he was removed from their company.
Now their eyes went to the house, and though they said nothing, the same thought went through all their melancholy heads.
Maybe tonight, something would change. Maybe tonight, with this man in her company, the Queen of Sorrows would make a mistake...
A few of them began to move in the general direction of the house, attempting to seem casual, but fixing their silvery eyes on their destination.
A bank of cloud had come in off the Pacific and covered both moon and stars. On the ridge of the opposite side of the Canyon some of the grotesque offspring of these weary beauties began a wordless howling in the darkness. The sound was loud enough to carry down the hill to Sunset and the Beverly Hills flats. Several valets parking cars for a private party on Rexford Drive paused to comment on the weird din from up in the hills; a couple of patients, close to death at Cedars-Sinai, called for their priests; a man who lived next door to the house on Van Nuys where Lyle and Eric Menendez had murdered their mother and father decided—hearing the sound—to give up screenwriting and move back to Wisconsin.
Todd heard it too, of course.
"What in God's name is that?"
He and Katya were deep in the bowels of the house, in a place he had never known existed, much less explored.
"Take no notice," Katya told him, as the noise came again, even louder and more plaintive. "Whatever it is, it's out there, it's not in here with us." She took hold of his arm, and kissed his cheek. He could smell Ava on her. His erection still throbbed. "Are you ready?" she said to him.
"Ready for what?"
They were approaching a door just a little smaller than the front door; and similarly medieval in style.
"On the other side of that door is something that was given to me a long time ago. It changed my life. As I told you, it will also change yours. When you first get in there, it's bewildering. You just have to trust me. I'm going to be with you all the time, even if you can't always see me. And I swear no harm is going to come to you. You understand me, Todd? This is my house. Even this place, which will seem very remote from everything you've seen so far, is also mine."
He didn't know quite what to make of any of this, but his curiosity was certainly piqued.
"So don't be afraid," she told him.
"I won't be," he said, wondering what kind of game she was playing now. She, who knew so many; what did she have up her sleeve?
As had happened so many times now, she read his thoughts. "This isn't a game," she said. "Or if it is, it's the most serious game in God's creation."
There was surely a trace of condescension here, but what the hell?
"I'm ready," he said.
She smiled. "In half an hour you'll realize what an absurd thing it is you've just said," she told him.
"Why?"
"Because nobody can be ready for this."
Then she pushed open the door.
Before Tammy went to find Todd, she had to eat. Had to.
So, while Todd was stepping over the threshold into a place that would change his life, Tammy was in the kitchen three stories above, at the open fridge, gorging on whatever her hands found. Cold chicken, potato salad, some Chinese takeaway.
"Do we have to do this now?" Zeffer said, looking around nervously. "She could come in here at any minute."
"Yes, well, let her. I'm hungry, Willem. In fact I'm fucking starving. Give me a hand here, will you?"
"What do you want?"
"Something sweet. Then I'm done."
He dug around on the inner shelves of the fridge and found an almost-intact cherry pie, the sight of which made Tammy coo the way most women cooed when they saw babies. Zeffer watched her with an expression of bemusement on his face. She was too hungry to care. She lifted a slice of pie to her mouth, but before she could get it to her tongue, Zeffer caught hold of her wrist.
"What?" she said.
"Listen."
Tammy listened. She heard nothing, so she shook her head.
"Listen," he said again, and this time she heard what he was drawing her attention to. The windows were shaking. So were the doors. The cutlery on the sink was rattling; as were the plates in the cupboards.
She let the slice of pie drop from her fingers, her appetite suddenly vanished.
"What's going on?" she wanted to know.
"They're downstairs," Zeffer said, his voice tinged with superstitious awe. "Todd and Katya. They've gone downstairs."
"What are they doing there?"
"You don't want to know," Zeffer said hurriedly. "Please. I beg you. Let's just go."
The windows were shaking with mounting violence; the boards creaked beneath their feet. It was as though the entire structure of the house were protesting about whatever was happening in its midst.
Tammy went to the kitchen sink, ran some cold water, and washed the food from around her mouth. Then she skirted around Zeffer and headed to the door that led to the turret and the staircase.
"Wrong direction," Zeffer said. He pointed to the other door. "That's the safest way out."
"If Todd's down there, then that's the way I want to go," Tammy said.
As she spoke she felt a blast of chilly air coming up from below. It smelled nothing like the rest of the house, nor of the gardens outside. Something about it made the small hairs at her nape prickle.
She looked back down at Zeffer, with a question on her face.
"I think I need to tell you what's down there before you take one more step," he said.