One finger touched her lips, shushing her. She nodded slowly.
I was close enough that my ribs touched her shoulderblades. I could make out the artificial voice on the phone.
“It’s two in the morning and she’s still up. She doesn’t listen to me, mom. I can tell her and it makes things worse. It’s like every time I tell her to do something and she doesn’t listen, there isn’t anything I can do to punish her, so she gets more bold…”
I moved my finger away, but I held it up as a warning. She started to turn her head toward the group, but the Hyena’s blade pressed tighter against her throat, my hand moving over her mouth, arresting the movement. I could feel the blood that was drawn as the rougher and sharper bits of my wooden fingers dug into skin.
I wouldn’t let her force a connection, even one as simple as eye contact.
“I want to be out there with you. Helping,” the voice on the phone said.
“You’re helping right now,” the Duchamp woman said.
“I want to help more.”
“Please believe me, Lola, it’s better you’re not out here right now.”
“Mom, I’m not some kid anymore, and if things are serious enough, I should be there. I’m engaged, which you okayed.”
“Lola, I really don’t want to fight-”
“Mom. I’m not picking a fight. I’m saying if you think I’m mature enough to get married, I’m mature enough to participate. You might need my eyes…”
The voice on the phone trailed off.
“Lola?”
I used gentle pressure to urge her to retreat, until she’d retreated to the corner I’d peered past. Almost leaning against the fence, with me obscured by the surrounding shadows and the fence.
“Your thread looks wonky.”
“You shouldn’t be able to see my thread from the house, sweetie.”
“Your voice sounds funny too. Tight.”
“Lola, please.”
“What’s- what’s going on?”
“There… there are some treats in the cupboard with the pots, toward the back. I was planning on sharing them with you two later, if you were up. If you want to bribe your cousin into obedience, so tonight is easier, you can. Whatever makes tonight easier.”
“Mom?”
“It’s…” her voice cracked a little. “…Not looking like it’s going to be a good night. That’s all. Don’t worry. I don’t think you’re in any danger?”
I shook my head slowly. The woman watched me out of the corner of her eye. After a moment, she nodded.
“You sound different, mom.”
“I love you, Lola. Whatever our differences have been, I love you.”
I pressed the Hyena against her throat, with just a little more force.
;
“I love you too, mom?” Lola made it sound like a question. I wasn’t sure if it was that she wasn’t sure about the love, or if she was just unsure in general, given circumstances she didn’t totally grasp.
“I need to look after the situation here. I’m going to say goodbye now.”
“Bye, mom.”
Reaching across her chest, I pressed one fingertip to the phone she still held up with one hand, touching the red button on the smartphone’s screen.
Call ended.
I heard her sigh, long, but silent. Something wet touched my hand, and for a second, I thought I’d cut her.
Looking across the street, I could see Evan, perched on a car. Green Eyes was lurking in the snowbank, much as a crocodile might lurk beneath water, only the upper half of her head and face visible. Her eyes reflected a green light, as if they glowed from within.
I saw Evan move, cocking his head.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Joyce,” she said, barely audible.
“Joyce,” I said.
The name hung in the air.
“I-” she started. “What are you planning?”
“Shh,” I interrupted. “I’m disposing of the rot. Culling.”
I could feel the effect that last word had on her.
More silence.
“Your family attacked me and mine. This is wholly within my rights,” I said.
She only nodded.
“Swear me an oath,” I said. “If I have any doubts, any suspicion at all…”
I left the latter half of the sentence unfinished.
Phone still held to one ear, she let out a shuddering breath, inhaled, and then spoke, her voice a near-whisper.
“I, Joyce Anne Duchamp, swear… I will return straight home, I will sit on my hands and refrain from practicing until sunrise. I will not intentionally communicate with anyone until sunrise, unless I would be unquestionably assisting you, or if the words, sentence and intent are neutral. I- I swear I will not act or interfere against you or yours in any way from here on out. I hereby pronounce myself removed as a threat to you and your allies.”
“That’s a damn good oath,” I whispered, “But you need to give it weight.”
“I swear all this- on my name, on my blood, on my daughter… for my daughter,” she said.
I wasn’t sure I liked that she’d sworn on her daughter. That didn’t sit comfortably, considering just how affected I’d been by Grandmother Rose throwing around her metaphysical weight to use and abuse her grandchildren for her own gain.
But maybe Joyce was only listing the things that sprung to mind, things she valued. She was doing it for her daughter.
She was spooked.
I moved the Hyena, and I gave her a push forward.
“Joyce?”
One of the guys in the group had focused on her, as she stumbled a bit, back into the light. Under the streetlamp, the tracks of tears on her cheeks glistened.
“What’s wrong?” one of the women asked.
“Gail…” Joyce said, opening her mouth.
By the terms of the oath, she wasn’t supposed to speak except to help me.
“What’s wrong? Is it Jessie? Lola?”
Joyce was frozen.
What the hell was she doing?
“Come, Gail,” Joyce said.
I’d thought the Duchamps were good actresses, natural manipulators, trained to lie from a young age. Joyce was proving the exception, unless I was missing something.
“Joyce, I’m not-”
“Come,” Joyce said.
Gail went. I retreated further into the shadows as the woman crossed the distance from the group to Joyce. Joyce seized her hand like someone grasping at a life preserver.
“Do you need help?” the other woman in the group asked. “Did something happen to one of your girls? What’s going on?”
I could see Joyce hesitate. “Just Gail. You… stay where you are, Jan. We’ll come back this way later.”
“You’re not making any sense,” one of the men said, sounding particularly annoyed.
“I know,” Joyce said.
That said, tugging on Gail’s hand, she strode away.
“It’s that damn bell,” one of the other men said. “Makes everyone batty. I’m surprised they haven’t shut it down, yet.”
The bell?
I could barely hear it.
Why?
I watched as Joyce and Gail disappeared out of sight.
What was the logic there? Why did I have a vague feeling that Joyce had just played me?
No, not played, I realized, as I saw the situation. The oath was real, the terms were real, but before she’d even finished speaking, she had decided that things would play out like this.