Douglas held Clem’s glare. The seconds seemed an eternity as the apparition stared back at him. The eyes were red, blazing. Douglas refused to look away while Ryan sobbed into his hands. Then, as if he had never been there, Clem was gone.
Diana let out a long breath. “You can break the circle. Its power was lost the moment the boy left it.”
Ryan remained slumped on the floor, shaking all over.
“Oh, for God’s sake, get up,” his father said derisively, standing over him.
Uncle Howie was as shaken as Ryan. Carolyn helped him to a seat on the couch.
“To see him again,” the old man kept babbling. “To actually see him…and the rage in his eyes…”
“What happened to him in life?” Carolyn asked. “Please, Mr. Young, you must tell us. What happened to Clem?”
“We searched everywhere for him,” Uncle Howie said, but his words came out too quickly, as if by rote, an oft-repeated explanation. “My father and brothers and I searched the grounds, but he was nowhere to be found.”
“If that were the case,” Carolyn said, “why would he still be haunting this place?”
“Guilt,” Douglas suggested. “For killing Beatrice.”
“Yes!” Uncle Howie said. “That is it! It is his guilt!” He shook a frail fist in the air, looking up as if to seek the vanished spirit. “No matter how much you terrify me, I will always make sure your guilt is known!”
“Are you certain that Clem killed Beatrice?” Carolyn asked.
“Who else was there?” he asked, his old rheumy eyes wide.
“There was someone else,” Diana said quietly from the couch.
All eyes turned to look at her.
“There was someone else involved that night,” she said, “and there was someone else in this room today. Clem’s spirit, while it is terrifying and dangerous, is not the one we must fear. The force that controls this room, the one that has killed so many over so many years, controls Clem. And it is far, far worse than any dumb brute with a pitchfork.”
Nothing more was said for now. Douglas sensed that every one of them just wanted to get out of the room as quickly as possible. The bloody words on the wall had disappeared, but who knew what might happen next.
Gently Douglas bent down and lifted Diana into his arms. Then they returned one by one upstairs.
Chapter Twenty
As a girl, Paula had felt delight and excitement entering this house, not so different from the enthusiasm Zac and Callie were displaying now, as they ran through the marble foyer, calling out to each other in order to hear their echoes. But now, walking through that front door she felt as if she were entering a mausoleum. The place was cold and dead. The somber portraits on the walls represented a gallery of the dead: her great-grandfather Desmond, her grandfather Samuel, Aunt Margaret, Uncle Ernest, Uncle David. Grim faces all, and most of them murdered in that room downstairs.
Dean and Linda were embracing young Douglas. When it came her turn, Paula couldn’t help but get emotional. “You look so much like your father,” she said thickly, wrapping her arms around him. He hugged her tightly in return.
She remembered his face ten years ago, when he was just a boy, upon learning of his father’s death. Now she pulled back and took his cheeks in her hands, staring into his blue eyes. “You know now?” she asked tenderly. “Uncle Howard has told you about the lottery?”
Douglas nodded.
Paula frowned. Innocence lasted such a short time in this family.
She looked over at Zac and Callie. Douglas seemed to be reading her mind.
“Maybe this year we can end it,” he said. “Maybe they’ll never have to know.”
Paula couldn’t reply.
“Maybe,” Douglas said, “you and Karen will be able to have a child and never have to worry about the room downstairs.”
“Karen left me,” Paula said softly.
Douglas gripped her arm in support, just as Uncle Philip strode into the foyer.
“Well, we’ve been waiting for you all to arrive,” he said with some impatience. “You said you’d be here by five, so we scheduled dinner for six. And here it is six-thirty. The food is on the table.”
“Traffic was quite bad getting through Boston,” Dean explained, reaching out his hand to shake his uncle’s. “How are you, Uncle Philip?”
Philip didn’t like looking at Dean. He reminded him too much of Martin. He took the hand of his brother’s son but avoided direct eye contact. “I’m fine,” he said hurriedly, “but hungry. So come along into the dining room. Hello, Linda; hello, Paula. Where is your…friend?”
“She’s not here,” Paula said.
Philip gave her an eye. Tradition called for spouses to be present, even if they weren’t included in the lottery. Not that Philip considered Paula’s friend, or whatever she wanted to call her, an actual spouse, but they had been careful not to mess with tradition ever since the last slaughter. Paula seemed to intuit what Philip was thinking.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “We’ve split up.”
He nodded, heading toward the dining room. Of course, his own spouse was still AWOL. He’d called Vanessa three times in the last several hours, always getting her voice mail. He hadn’t seen his wife in weeks. She’d been staying at their townhouse in the city, apparently still peeved about Melissa’s presence. Philip figured she’d get over it. But Vanessa knew how important it was that she be at the reunion. Spouses always attended. She had promised to have her chauffeur drive her up this afternoon. Why wasn’t she answering her goddamn phone?
“Heard from Mummy?” Ryan asked as Philip came into the dining room. Philip just shook his head and took his seat at the table.
“How wonderful to see you both!” Uncle Howard said, greeting Paula and Dean. Embraces were exchanged; then the old man turned to hug Linda. “And where are the youngest members of our family?”
Zac and Callie bounded into the dining room then, each letting out a loud whoop, startling Chelsea so much that she spilled her glass of red wine all over the white tablecloth. As a maid came to wipe up the mess, Ryan looked over at his sister, raised one eyebrow and deadpanned quietly, “Too bad children can’t take part in the lottery.” Chelsea giggled.
Carolyn, sitting across the table, heard the exchange. Something was up. Before Diana had left with Huldah, she’d taken Carolyn aside and told her to watch out for Philip and his two children. “They’re schemers,” Diana said. “They’re planning something. I couldn’t quite make it out. Philip is a major control freak, and he’s strong enough to block out the particulars, even preventing me from getting a full read on his kids. But they’ve got something up their sleeves, and it concerns the lottery. So watch them.”
Carolyn was. For three people possibly facing imminent death, they were surprisingly carefree. They had none of the frozen terror imprinted on their faces that was so obvious on these latest arrivals. Carolyn stood to greet Paula and Dean Young.
“I take it you’re our savior,” Dean said as he shook her hand.
“I am doing all I can,” she said. “But time is running out.”
“Oh, you have five whole days,” Dean joked. “God created the world in less.”
Carolyn smiled tightly as she turned to shake Paula’s hand.
“Has he told you about Dr. Fifer?” Paula asked quietly.
Carolyn’s ears perked up. “Dr. Fifer? What do you know about Dr. Fifer?”
“Let’s talk after dinner, shall we?” Paula said. Carolyn agreed readily.
Paula took a seat next to Ryan. He was already eating his salad.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m being piggish, aren’t I? Good manners insist one waits until everyone is seated.”
Paula smiled. “No, go ahead, Ryan. We were late.”
He forked another bunch of endive into his mouth. “So how are you, cousin Paula?” he asked as he chewed.
“The same as you, I imagine.”