Dance For The Devil (15 page)

Cari took them to her house. She made tea, wrapped them in blankets, then left them alone on her couch, respectful of their privacy. Jake clutched the protection amulet, thinking:
Lot of good this thing did
. He said as much to Cari when she came in to check on them.

“It is working,” she remarked, suppressing the urge to close the curtains. Something sinister lurked out there. Something that wanted in. “After all,
you’re
still safe.”

“Jobless, homeless and missing a child. You call that safe?”

“I call it alive.”

“Gee, that’s a comfort.”

She bit her lip. “Jake, Amy is alive, I sense it. She’s in desperate trouble, though, and she needs your help, and so does Skeeter. You’re going to have to pull yourself together.”

He was silent for a few moments. He looked almost like an invalid, swaddled under blankets, holding his son close. When he spoke, he formulated the words slowly. “When I was a young man, maybe twenty or so, a friend had cancer. He was younger than me, only eighteen, and the
cancer metastasized rapidly. It started out low, then moved up behind his stomach and travelled up his back. Massive doses of radiation halted the cancer and ultimately saved his life. He’ll never be able to father children, and he’ll always walk with a pronounced limp, but that doesn’t faze him. He sees himself as a survivor, not a victim. That’s the amazing thing about this guy, he never gave up, refusing to be humbled by this horrible, debilitating disease. I remember him saying how much luckier he was than the other patients because he was able to walk around instead of lying passively in bed. The ability to move helped him feel he could fight the battle, and ultimately, he won.” Jake sighed and stroked Skeeter’s head. The boy was listening intently. “I guess what I’m saying is, regardless of all that’s happened, I’m still able to walk and I’m still able to fight. I’ve got my son, my health, my wits, and if I’m not mistaken, I’ve got an ally in you, Cari. You feel that Amy is alive and I believe you.”

He took a deep breath. “Somebody or something, maybe fate, has conspired against me. I’ve got a few ideas, although nothing’s making sense right now. I’m going to figure it all out and I’m going to fight back. Are you guys with me?”

Skeeter nodded and Cari smiled.

“Good. We’re going to find Amy. We’re going to win this battle. We may have lost our home, we may have lost our possessions, and I may have lost my job, but we still have brainpower and pride. We still have each other. And, like my old friend, we’re still able to walk. We’re still able to fight.” He continued to stroke his son’s head. “Watch out world, because Jake Montclaire is tired of being dumped on. Jake Montclaire has had enough. Jake Montclaire is ready to kick some serious butt.”

CHAPTER SIX

Amy lay perfectly still. Something was crawling on her, something spindly and soft, with dozens of spiky legs and a cool, squishy body. Creeping along her bare skin, moving slowly through the erect hairs of her forearms.

No, it was her imagination. She squeezed her eyes tightly, willing the sensation to go away. Her prison was pitch black, she couldn’t have
seen had she tried.

The crawling resumed, not her imagination, horribly real. Just like the rat that nibbled at her
toes, which ran along her bare legs and across her back before she grabbed the tail and sent it hurling across the room, hearing the squeak as it smashed against the cement wall. When was that? Yesterday, maybe. Maybe the day before. She couldn’t tell.

Time was lost here, in this dungeon. It meant nothing. Without the rise and fall of the sun to guide her body rhythms, her internal clock ceased to function. She slept often; this strange
inertia gripping her made her sleepy. It was just as well, to stay awake in the pure blackness would surely lead to madness.

At first,
Amy tried not to think at all. Then, in snatches, she tried to make sense of this. It must be Jason’s group. They were punishing her for not wanting to belong. For being a traitor. Any minute now, they would open the door and she could go home to Daddy and Skeeter and Carmen, and climb into her clean, soft bed. Any minute now, she would leave this cold, empty cell with the skinny mattress and the total darkness and the thin blanket and the runny liquid someone brought her three times a day.

Any minute now.

The minutes ticked on, turning into hours, then days, then nights.

Once, Amy tried to refuse the funny liquid with the bitter taste, even though her empty stomach cramped hungrily
and her parched lips craved moisture. She thought maybe the bitter liquid was the reason she was so tired. But her captor – she thought it was a man but couldn’t be sure because of the darkness – tipped her head back and poured it down her throat, jamming his finger into her mouth when she closed it in protest. She sputtered on some, choked a great deal, but the majority managed to make it down. She tried to vomit after he left but the sleepiness was already overtaking her. After that, Amy drank without hesitation. The liquid was vile; being forced was worse.

The creepy-crawler was moving again. Flicking it off would do no good, it would only return. No, she had to kill it, like she killed the rat. She had to remain still and bide her time. And time was one thing she had plenty of. The insect moved tediously over one arm, across her shoulder, then down the other. With a speed she was surprised she still possessed, she brought her right hand over and smashed it against the other, flattening the creature between.

She felt a fleeting pierce of pain. So it had stung her then. Or bitten her. Hopefully it wasn’t poisonous. If it was, she would die. At this rate, she’d probably die anyway.

Where was her dad? Why wasn’t he coming for her? Maybe he was coming now, any minute.

Amy closed her eyes again, visualizing her family as she drifted back to sleep.

**

“No fire insurance,” Jake said, replacing the receiver. Two long days had passed since the fire, and Jake was staying at Cari’s house, attempting to sort everything out. “My insurance was cancelled last month, apparently by my direction and signature. Only, I never signed it.”

Cari looked worried. “Is that legal? Can you prove it was forged?”

He shrugged. “I was issued a refund cheque that I apparently cashed. Look, it even shows up in my bank statement. Why am I not surprised?”

“Report it to the police.”

Jake sighed. “Yeah, they can add it to my file. Should be getting quite thick by now.”

“Have you talked to Detective Birney this morning?”

Jake nodded. “Twice. Still no sign of Amy, nor the Kreschenski boy. At least the police are finally taking their disappearances seriously. I hope to God that wherever they are, they’re together, taking care of each other. The police are going to look into the Satanic angle. I have an appointment later today with Sergeant Benny Carmichael – he’s the department’s cult specialist.” Jake sighed again. “I’ve been talking to Alex’s parents, they’re nice people. Alex is an only child and they’re pretty torn up.”

“Do you think it’s connected with the Keeler girl’s death?”

“Has to be. That night at the Emergency Ward, Amy was talking to someone. She said she’d never seen him before, but they think it was Alex. They showed his photograph around and someone confirmed it. He was obviously in trouble. Maybe Amy was covering for him.”

“What about Jason Vandercamp? Have you talked to him?”

Jake shook his head. “Gil won’t let me. I’ve phoned several times but I’m stonewalled. I tried catching him at school, but he’s not going – supposedly ill.”

“Surely the police have questioned him?”

“Yes, but he’s squeaky clean.” Jake rubbed his jaw. He hadn’t shaven yet today and his face was prickly. “It doesn’t make sense. I’ve met Jason dozens of times and I’ve always liked him, he’s a fantastic kid. Hard to believe it’s a facade and he’s involved.”

“If he’s anything like his old man, I’d be suspicious.”

“I’ve been giving that a lot of thought. I think Gil set me up. But why? And how? Why offer a dream job then snatch it away?”

“Revenge?”

“I’ve never done anything to him. I’ve known Gil since college but we were never friends, more like passing acquaintances. I was surprised he even remembered me.”

“Jealousy, then?”

“Jealous of me?” Jake snorted. “Why? Gil has the perfect life: successful company, wealth, beautiful home and yacht, good friends, loving family. I can’t compete with that, my life’s in the toilet. Absent wife, problematic children... no, he can’t be jealous of me.”

Cari considered. “The answer’s there, somewhere, even if it doesn’t lie with Gil. Any other enemies?”

Jake shrugged. “Nope.”

“Come on, everyone has enemies. You were very successful. No one gets to the top without crunching toes.”

“What do you mean
were
successful?” Jake asked testily.

“Sorry, wrong tense. You
are
successful.”

“No, the past-tense is appropriate. I have no job, no house, and thanks to this cancelled insurance, no assets except for a small cottage in Ontario. Not even a spare set of clothing. I’m dead-broke, a pauper, desolate.”

“Then why are you smiling?”

“It’s the strangest thing – for the first time in years, I feel alive. Crazy, huh? I’m desperate about Amy, of course, can’t think of anything
else, and maybe it’s just wishful thinking but like you, I believe she’s okay. Well, not okay, but alive, and I’ll find her. Perhaps I needed the freedom from materialistic possessions to realize how unimportant they are.” He paused for a moment. “Now why are
you
smiling?”

“Because I like you. And because you look so cute with your stubbly face and uncombed hair.”

“Cute? No one’s called me cute since I was six.”

“Then it’s mighty overdue.”

“That’s not the only thing overdue.” He hesitated, his voice cracking. “Cari, thank you for everything. How can I ever repay you for helping us, for sharing your home? For believing in me?”

“Ummm, let’s see. You can clean my oven, haven’t done it for so long it’s a fire hazard.” Her face fell. “Sorry. That was thoughtless.”

He smiled. “No offense taken, and I already cleaned it. Yesterday.”

“You did?”

“Yes, and you’re right: it
was
a fire hazard.”

“Ah. Well, you could take out the garbage.”

“Okay.”

“And you could fix my leaky faucet.”

“Consider it done.”

There was an intimacy here. They’
d only known each other for a few days but the proximity of living under one roof, combined with the tremendous stress of outside forces, made it seem as if they’d met months ago. Everything was heightened, fast-paced, as if the fabric of time was stretched like salt-water taffy, what used to take days was accomplished in minutes.

He was moving closer. She could feel the heat from his body. “And you could – oh!”

Jake snaked his arm out and drew her close. “You smell delicious.” He breathed in deeply. “Like apples and cinnamon and fresh-scrubbed laundry.”

“Thanks, I think.”

“I’m glad you like me, Cari Valentine, because I like you, too. A lot.”

“Really?” She found herself staring at his left earlobe, finding it fascinating. “Even though I’m a witch?”

“Especially because you’re a witch. You’ve certainly bewitched me.”

He was hesitating, she felt the moment he would draw back and she made the decision for him, leaning into his embrace and turning her face up to his, closing the distance between their lips.

Jake tried to fight it for the barest of instances and then groaned. His lips captured hers hungrily, and he forced himself to hold back, to keep it tender, gentle. A kiss which promised nothing... and everything.

“Ah,”
Cari murmured. Her heartbeat increased dramatically and she thought Jake must surely feel it against him. Or hear it. It pounded like it wanted to spring free of her chest and dance a little ditty on her kitchen floor. Daisy uncurled her head and looked up from her mat. “It’s alright, Daisy, I’m safe.” The dog thumped her tail once and went back to sleep.

Jake pulled away first and she took a moment to compose herself, her cheeks warm and flushed. Goodness. This man had an effect on her.
“It’s not easy being with me,” she told him slowly. “I’m set in my ways. My witchcraft might confuse you but I can’t change who I am.”

“
Don’t want you to. It won’t be easy being with me, either. Nothing’s certain except my need to find Amy. It won’t be easy, maybe even dangerous. Are you sure you want to get involved?”

“I’d say I already am.”

One hand captured hers and he laced their fingers together, while his other hand cradled her head, stroking her hair. Her long blond hair fell almost to her waist like a silken waterfall. He could, he realized suddenly, spend the rest of his life running his fingers through it. “Yes, but you don’t have to be involved.”

Cari looked thoughtful. “I dreamt of you that night so perhaps I’m meant to be involved. I don’t
know how yet, but I am.”

“Can you check your crystal ball?” He was only half joking. Her craft was foreign to him but he was willing to use anything that might help locate Amy... no matter how unorthodox.

“I did last night.”

His hand stilled
. “What did it say?”

“It wasn’t talking. But my horoscope said I was going to meet a handsome, rich guy.”

“That rules me out.”

“You think? It said rich, but it didn’t say anything about money. Maybe it meant rich in troubles.”

“Well, then, I’d be your guy.”

“Especially if I believed in horoscopes.”

“Do you?”

“Never rule anything out. That’s my motto.”

“Good motto.”

She smiled. “What’s yours?”

“Haven’t got one.”

“That’s tragic. Everyone needs a motto.”

“How about: never order steak at Denny’s.”

“That’s not a motto, that’s a truism.
Come on, you can do better than that.”

He closed his eyes and thought for a moment.
“The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.”

“Ah, Edmund Burke’s quote. Yes, I like it,
quite fitting given the situation.”

“It’s as close as I can get at this point.”

“Fair enough. Where do we go from here?”

“Back to the beginning, I guess. Skeeter’s going to school today, he needs some normality in his life. He’s coping fairly well, considering everything. Better than me, anyway.”

“Kids are amazingly resilient. So, where’s the beginning?”

“The symbol Amy had carved in her arm – a pentagram. I’m heading to the library to do some research. I can use their computers plus check out the
archives there. That should give me a good base to determine the extent of local cult activity.”

“
I can do even better. I’ll organize a coven meeting tonight. We can meet with some witches, brainstorm a little, feel them out.”

“You think witches might have some link to this?”

“No, but they’ll have information. You don’t get accused and persecuted for something without understanding it. Satanism is the dark side of witchcraft. Although vastly different, they’ll always be linked, through ignorance, tradition, superstition. It’s a good place to start. We can also hold a ceremony for Amy, maybe our combined powers will unearth something. Are you game?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

**

Jason Vandercamp knocked lightly on his father’s study door. This room was off-limits to Jason. Ever since he’d been a toddler, he respected his father’s domain. He’d been in this room only a half-dozen times, mostly to be reprimanded
for some childhood misbehaviour. When his father called him in, Jason entered the room with something akin to trepidation.