Dark Corner (16 page)

He did not respond immediately. He draped his arm
across her shoulder, brought her closer, and kissed her on the
lips.

She massaged his broad back with the palm of her hand.
He was such a lean, firm man. She loved the feel of him. She
felt safe at his side, protected against the world.

"You're right, it's bothering me, Nia," he finally said. She
detected that his worries went deeper than she could possibly understand, and that there was much about his father he
had not told her. She wanted him to tell her everything, if it
would help to lighten his burden, but she would not pressure
him. In time, he would open up to her. She had the feeling
that they would get to share a lot of time together. Whether
Mama liked it or not.

Pearl was afraid.

She had burst out of sleep last night, snatched out of
slumber by a threat that she sensed but could not see, and
she had been unable to find peace since.

She lived in a small clapboard house located on the bluffs
at the edge of town, just her and three cats, and though the
home was modest, a vast, grassy field lay adjacent to her
property.

Late in the golden afternoon, she walked barefoot through
the meadow, her short arms spread, her delicate fingers
streaming through the soft weeds and wildflowers.

She was a pixie of a woman, five feet tall, and she weighed
only a hundred pounds. She was twenty-four years old.

At times like this, when powerful feelings overcame her,
she wished for a bigger body, to better contain all of the energy. She wished she were older and wiser, too.

Great evil stirred in Dark Corner. A malevolent force that had been asleep for years was about to awaken. Life in the
town would never be the same.

She liked to stroll through the field, because it usually relaxed her. She had been born with the gift of clairvoyance.
Her mother had possessed the gift, too, as had her grandmother-indeed, the talent spanned several generations. Her
elders had taught her that just as it was important to use your
gift for the benefit of others, so was it important to learn how
to contain your power, to keep it from overwhelming you
and driving you mad. She had developed myriad ways to
cope: meditation, prayer, soothing herbal teas, gardening,
and long walks outdoors.

A breeze rustled the grass. Sunlight bathed her body.
Closing her eyes, she stretched her arms above her and tilted
her face to the sky, luxuriating in the refreshing warmth.

Suddenly, the earth began to quake.

Her eyes snapped open.

The ground beneath her shook, flowers swaying.

A vision, she thought. Its only a vision. There are no
earthquakes here.

Nevertheless, she stepped backward.

About ten feet in front of her, a chasm exploded open.
Bits of dirt and rocks flew out of the gash, as if a subterranean creature were down there, spitting out debris. Then, it
fell silent.

Although dread clutched her heart, she did not run. Running
would not solve anything. The haunting images would only
follow her. This vision was intended to teach her something.
But what?

Slowly, she walked forward.

It was a pit, drawn in an almost perfect circle, perhaps
five feet in diameter. Perfect darkness yawned in the hole,
and waves of chilly air rolled out of its depths.

Strange, she thought, hugging herself against the coldness. What did this mean?

She heard movement below. Something dark and enormous surged to the surface, with a rumbling sound that steadily grew
louder.

Involuntarily, she backpedaled.

A geyser of blood erupted out of the pit. Blood sprayed
into the air, like lava from a monstrous volcano.

She screamed. She dashed back toward her house.

As she ran, blood rained to the earth, coating her skin and
drenching the meadow in crimson.

She slammed into the house. She grabbed a towel off the
kitchen counter and frantically scrubbed her skin.

But her skin was dry. There was not a drop of blood on
her.

"Dear God," she whispered. She exhaled deeply.

Warily, she pulled away the curtain above the window and
looked outside.

The field was quiet, and green. No geyser of gore.

Still shaking, she shooed one of the cats off the counter
and set about brewing a pot of tea, to soothe her tangled
nerves.

While water heated in the teakettle, she slumped at the
small dinette table. She cradled her head in her hands.

It was the most lucid and disturbing vision she'd ever received. It left little need for interpretation.

Violence and bloodshed were imminent.

Could anyone stop it? Visions such as this were warnings,
and she never received warnings without eventually discovering a way to prevent harmful incidents from occurring.

She had to learn how the evil could be stopped. She could
not stop it herself; she was only a guide. She needed to find
the special persons who could combat this evil, and offer
them direction.

She prayed that she'd find them before it was too late.

Early in the evening, David left Nia's house. But he did
not go home. He drove to Jubilee.

He went to the Mason residence in the hope that he would
find some evidence about what had really happened to his
dad. His father had taken a photograph at the house, and that
could be a clue. Or it could be coincidence. Nevertheless, if
there was a connection between his dad and Jubilee-he
could not imagine what it might be David had to find
out.

The Pathfinder labored up the steep, bumpy road that
climbed toward the estate. Trees crowded the way, casting
ink-black shadows.

Cold sweat coated David's palms. Jubilee had given him a
chill from the moment he'd seen it, and the stories he'd heard
only added to the mansion's fearsome aura. He could hardly
believe that he was visiting this place. He was either dedicated to finding the truth-or a little crazy.

He wished that he'd brought King with him. But it was
too late to go back home to get his dog.

At the crest of the hill, the lane curved to the left. The
gate to the property was around the bend, on the right.

He did not park in front of the gate. He parked along the
dusty shoulder of the road, under the boughs of an elm tree.

He sat there for a minute or two, drawing breaths to compose himself.

"Okay, man," he mumbled to himself. "You're here. Now
get out and do it."

Climbing out of the truck was like moving through cold
water.

Viewed at close range, the estate was more forbidding
than ever. Tall, gnarled trees populated the immense yard,
dense shadows gathered beneath their branches. A lonely
dirt path led to the house. Tentacles of kudzu coiled around
the mansion's thick columns. The front windows, reflecting
the orange-crimson rays of the setting sun, were arranged in
such a way as to resemble a face.

A silver Lexus SUV was parked beside the house.

Who in their right mind would live in this place? David
thought.

He approached the gate. He wished he had brought with
him the photograph of his father, but he thought he could
pick the spot on the veranda where his father had posed for
the picture.

Nia's tale about her terrifying childhood adventure replayed through his mind. Had his father seen ghosts, too?

He touched the gate. The iron bars were cold.

"May I help you?"

David spun at the sound of the voice behind him.

A tall, slender black man, clad in black clothes, wearing
aviator shades and a black hat, stood on the side of the road.
He cocked his head questioningly, long arms clasped behind
his back.

David had not heard him approach. He had been so absorbed in the house that he had temporarily forgotten the
outside world.

But where had the guy come from? Had the man been
taking a walk? That had to be the answer.

David cleared his throat. "Do you live here?"

"I believe that I put forward the first question," the man
said casually. David caught an unplaceable accent. "Do you
have business at this residence?"

"I was only looking around," David said. "Is this your
place?"

"You are persistent" The man smiled briefly. David got a
glimpse of his perfect white teeth. "It is my home, for the
time. Are you from the town?"

"I moved here a few days ago"

"I see, and doubtless, you've heard stories of haunted
Jubilee. Decided that you would muster your nerve and lay
your eyes upon the house? Determine whether you sensed
any negative vibrations?"

"Something like that, I guess" David edged away from the fence. There was something unusual about this guy, but
he could not determine exactly what it was.

The man whisked past David and pushed open the gate.
David noticed that he wore black leather gloves, too.

Weird. It was much too warm outdoors to wear gloves.

The man turned. "You impress me as an intelligent, rational young man. I'd advise you to pay no mind to superstitions and tall tales. The truth is never so ... entertaining."
His lips curved in a smile, then he whirled around and strode
across the path.

In seconds, the man had vanished inside the mansion. He
moved with fluid, sinuous speed, like a snake.

Now what was that all about? David thought.

It hit him what seemed so unusual about the guy.
Although, from what little David had seen of his face, the
guy appeared to be young, perhaps in his thirties, he had the
manner of an old, wise man.

Strange. But it figured. It would take an unusual person to
call this dreadful house a home.

Still, superficial explanations didn't satisfy David. Why
had the man, who was clearly a foreigner, moved into the
Mason place? Did it have anything to do with his dad?

David looked at the house. Jubilee seemed like a huge ancient tomb, full of secrets. Something mysterious was going
on in there. David felt it just like he felt the cool breeze on
his face.

He was grasping at straws, but until he learned otherwise,
he would assume that everything was connected, somehow.
A puzzle had been presented to him, pieces scattered randomly. He would not rest until he had put it together.

Deep in thought, he got in his truck.

Standing near the window, Kyle watched the inquisitive
young man depart.

Ordinarily, Kyle would have dispatched Mamu to handle
visitors. Since last night, however, Kyle had been restlessand he was feeling protective, as well. He did not dare to
allow anyone to disrupt what he had begun.

He had used his ability to travel with extreme speed to
appear behind the man. The man, if he had glimpsed Kyle
coming across the yard at all, would have seen only a flicker
of a shadow. Kyle had leapt over the fence as though it were
no taller than a footstool.

Although the human claimed to be innocently looking
around, Kyle detected a definite purpose to his visit. The
man had almost certainly lied to him.

He wondered if the two laborers who had worked for him
yesterday had begun telling others what they had seen. If so,
that would be an unpleasant development. He did not relish
the prospect of nosy townsfolk poking around the property,
seeking a mass grave or some such thing.

Upon arriving in Mason's Corner, Kyle had assumed that
he would have several weeks to locate his father, awaken
him, and aid his adjustment to contemporary life. He had
been mistaken: the people in town would begin to meddle.
The visit by the young man was only the beginning. Mother
had trained him how to identify patterns in human behavior.

He did not have much time remaining to work in relative
peace. Perhaps a week. Certainly not much longer.

He walked to the basement.

White candles were arranged around the perimeter of the
chamber. They cast warm, golden light.

Kyle approached the bed.

His father continued to sleep, silently. The undulation of
his chest was barely perceptible.

Since they had recovered him, he had not awakened once.

Kyle and Mamu had stripped the ragged clothes off his
father's body, bathed him with soft sponges, and dressed him
in bedclothes of fine silk. He was like a wooden dummy in their hands, heavy and limp. His muscles appeared to have
atrophied, and his ebony skin had an unhealthy, washed-out
look.

Mamu had inserted an IV in a vein on the back of Diallo's
hand. The IV pumped a special mixture of blood and nutrients into his bloodstream. The fluid would help to rebuild his
muscles, revitalize his skin, and strengthen his heart.

Kyle lay his hand against Diallo's broad forehead. His
skin was warm, an encouraging sign. When they discovered
him, his flesh had been cool.

Gazing upon his father was like looking into a pool of
still water. They were so obviously father and son. He slid
his fingers along the firm jawbone, across the proud chin,
full lips, and strong brow. It was the countenance of a warrior.

Kyle touched his own face. He traced his features, marveling at the similarities between his face and his father's.

To be able to savor this connection with his father was
well worth one hundred sixty-eight years of waiting and
whatever he faced hereafter.

He put his hand in his father's, squeezed slightly.

He hungered to see his father open his eyes. But there
was no known method of awakening a vampire who had succumbed to the depths of a Deep Sleep. Mother claimed that
she did not know how it could be done, either. The vampire
alone would have to choose to Awaken.

The longest recorded Deep Sleep in history was one hundred eleven years, achieved by a vampire in Brazil. If Diallo
awakened, he would have surpassed the record by almost
sixty years.

It was believed that a Sleeping vampire maintained a low
degree of sensory awareness, no matter how profound the
slumber. Kyle was counting on the truth of the belief. He had
been visiting his father each hour and speaking to him in a
whisper.