Forever (35 page)

She had one moment of regret that she wouldn’t be here to witness his ultimate frenzy when he discovered he’d been cheated of another death. Then she tightened her grip and pressed the crystalline shard into the soft hollow beneath her jaw. She took a breath as deep as her crushed ribs would allow.

“I release him,” she whispered.

Eddie silenced immediately and whirled toward her. “What?” he screamed. “
What
did you say?”

In a voice stronger than she thought possible, she cried out, “I release Jacob. I release Tom. Forever.” And then, by sheer will, she thrust her head forward. The blue and purple glass slashed her throat like a scalpel.

Annie lived long enough to hear Eddie’s shriek end with a roar. “No. No.
nooooooooo.
”

June 26, part three

W
hen Tom woke just minutes before Julie had phoned from the airport, his headache was gone and so was Max. He called to the dog, both inside and outside the cabin but got no response. The dog often took himself off for the day when they visited the lake, but the torn door screen worried Tom. It was more than a little disconcerting to realize that he had no recollection of that happening. But he hadn’t spent much time thinking about it; he’d had to shower and straighten up the place some before Julie arrived. The mess in the kitchen sink was another thing he couldn’t explain.

Now, he sat in the quiet cabin, waiting. He glanced toward the mantel clock to check the time, but on some afternoon, or some dark night, it had stopped at ten past two. Feeling accused of a dereliction of duty by its idleness, he crossed the room, and while he wound the clockworks, he studied the framed photograph sitting on the mantel. It captured a moment years ago when he’d sported a beard and Julie’s hair had hung down her back, but the third person in the picture had changed the most. Lindsay had been only seven that summer, all legs and braids and funny faces. The perfect family stood together, forever smiling in the sunlight.

Suddenly the sense of what he’d almost lost lay so heavy on him he struggled to breathe. Everything that mattered to him. That’s what he’d almost thrown away. Almost? He had a thread of hope, now, but Julie hadn’t made the final call yet.

He closed the clock and swept his gaze across the other objects on the mantel. A baseball trophy from Spring 1980, a builders association citation, a lumpy, child-made clay statue proclaiming him Best Daddy in the World. Souvenirs of his life. As he started to turn away, the center stone under the mantel caught his eye. The place of honor, he’d called it when he set it in place two months ago. The vaguely oval, plate-sized tablet of slate had been roughly engraved by hand. Although Julie hadn’t come right out and said so, he’d feared her initial reaction to seeing it was because she thought it looked tacky. But if so, she’d recovered quickly and said she was touched. He smiled, recalling that she’d demonstrated her appreciation well that night in their bed.

J S FOREVER MY LOVE

Those were the words someone had scratched into the surface. And those were also Julie’s initials. She’d been Julie Strickland when they met. Tom thought it remarkable that he’d found such a memorial less than one hundred yards from where he’d built their cabin.

“Julie Strickland, be my love forever,” he prayed as he traced the letters. Although he’d run his fingers harmlessly over them a dozen times before, this time the edge of one of the letters sliced into the pad of his index finger. “
Goddammit
,” he muttered and then applied the ancient first-aid method of finger sucking.

In the bathroom, he examined the cut closer. It was small but ragged, the kind that would ooze blood all day. In case his spit hadn’t properly disinfected it, he doused it with peroxide. As he peeled the paper cover from a Band-Aid, there was a change in the air.
A disturbance in the Force
. He felt a chill along his back, as if a life-sized ice sculpture stood within his eighteen inches of personal space.

He was no longer alone.

But it wasn’t Jacob who’d joined him. The surrounding mood was not one of rage. It felt a little angry but mostly sad. Unloved. And lonely.

It’s Maggie
.

Tom was standing at the basin, in front of the mirror, still looking down at his hand, but his gut told him that if he lifted his gaze to the mirror, he’d see her standing behind him. He felt very strongly that he did not want to do that. It wasn’t that he feared he’d see the moldering corpse of Maggie. On the contrary, he feared he’d see her living beauty. See the green eyes so like Annie’s. Feared he’d take one giant step backwards and lose himself again.

He felt something like a finger tap on his right shoulder. An involuntary half-laugh half-scream lurched from his throat, but he kept his eyes downcast. Stillness. Waiting. She was trying to tell him something. He didn’t know how he knew that, but he did. He didn’t hear her in the same sense that he’d heard Jacob. It was just a knowing. But the thing was, he didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to know what she had to say or what she wanted from him or that she even existed. He was done with the whole damned thing.

“Like I told your boyfriend, leave me the hell alone!” His voice came out forceful and surprisingly even, but he hadn’t dared look her in the face. He sensed her leave—or more like being ripped away.

An icy blast hit the nape of his neck, and his face slammed against the mirror. Something—he didn’t want to visualize what—held his head fast. His left eye and cheek pressed hard against the glass; the tip of his nose was shoved to the side. The shock of the impact had forced his right eye open, and in the instant before he clenched it shut again, he caught a glimpse of the wall behind him. No pale face surrounded by auburn hair. No anything.

This wasn’t Maggie. Whoever—whatever—held him was evil. It demanded his attention, and he gave it. Absolutely. In the next instant, he felt the pressure on his neck ease but only a little. He raised his face from the glass only enough to tilt his head downward a little. He kept his forehead against the mirror, his eyes closed.

A scene shoved into his mind. He saw the woods. This wasn’t exactly a vision, more like a daydream, but definitely one coaxed by the spirit-thing behind him. Through his daydream eyes he looked down and saw a hole. Like the proverbial light bulb, he saw a flash of light and knew this was where he’d found the engraved fireplace stone. Inanely, as all the pieces slid together in his mind, he thought he felt the thing that held him smile.

It flooded his mind with thoughts. Maggie had carved the inscription. The J S stood for Jacob Stout. The stone was her memorial to their love, carved by her hand. As if to confirm that, he saw a close-up of the words, saw the freshly cut sharp edges of the letters, saw the smears of blood and knew they came from Maggie’s hand. And his heart told him that by sealing that pledge of love in her blood, she’d doomed their souls to eternal seeking.

And now I’ve left my blood on it
!

His hands had grown cold and slimy with sweat, but they remained nailed where they’d first slapped the mirror on either side of his head.

“Do you want me to put the stone back?” he asked cautiously. Was that a laugh? “I can do that. I can chip away the mortar and—”

An icy sigh whispered past his ear . . . or maybe it was a drawn out word—nooooo.

“Okay.” Tom swallowed audibly. Only then did he become aware that his heart seemed to be hammering triple time, though probably it had sped up when he first felt this cold presence. “Do you want me to do something else?”

“nooooo”

Another sigh in his ear, another sensation of a laugh. The pulse in his temple throbbed, keeping time with the thud in his chest. His labored breathing trapped moisture around his face, steaming up the mirror.

“Will you . . . leave me alone now?”

“alone alone”

It pressed against him, crushing him.

“Are you . . . going . . . away now?”

“away”

“I can’t . . . breathe. Stop. Please.
Stop
.”

“nooooo”

The faces of Julie and Lindsay in the mantel photo rose behind his clenched eyelids.

“gone all gone gone away”

What? Who’s gone? Where? The questions twisted through the panic in his mind.

“everyone you love you killed them all”

“Liar!”

The cold thing laughed. “murdererrrrr”

It was lying. It had to be. He could still
feel
Julie and Lindsay alive. Couldn’t he?

“dead dead dead”

“Liar!”

It laughed again. “and where is annie what have you done to her”

The thing pushed another scene into his mind. Annie lying on the floor, broken and bloody. Dead.

“oh yes oh yes your turn now come come awayyyyy”

Panic rose to terror when Tom realized he was no longer being pushed against the mirror. The pressure he felt came from within. The thing had seized his heart in its fist.

thudthumpthudthumpthudthump

“Oh . . . God.”

thudthumpthudthump

“I won’t . . . let you . . . win.”

thudthump

Now, breathing was such a struggle that Tom could only think a response.
No!

thud thump

“come away let go come with meeeee”

No!

thud . . . thump

He was so tired. So cold. So cold.

thud

Desperate, Tom harnessed his remaining strength and pushed back. He pushed toward the thing, felt something give. His eyes flew open. He was no longer in the bathroom. Eddie stood before him. A flash of what Tom hoped was fear, but was probably only surprise, appeared on Eddie’s face before he disguised it with a sneer.

“Oh, Tom, come for one last look at your beloved?” Eddie’s eyes shifted to Annie’s wrecked body, and though Tom resisted, his eyes were compelled to follow suit. He gagged. Eddie cackled.

Tom recoiled, tried to close his eyes, but then he noticed a watery edge to the scene.
This is not real
. He wasn’t standing in Annie’s living room in the flesh. It was only a mirage. Emboldened by this discovery, he focused his gaze on the thing that posed as Eddie.

Suddenly, it looked back toward Annie. The thing moved its lips, but the voice was muted to Tom. Its face contorted and it appeared to howl. Fury radiated from it, assaulting Tom. Then, eyes blazing, the monstrosity focused back on him. He heard its next words clearly.

“now
you
die”

Tom gasped when the sledgehammer of pain hit his chest again.

thudthump thud thump thud thumpthud thump

Not real. Not real. Not real. Tom closed his eyes.

“dying dying dying”

In the distance, Tom heard a sound—footsteps in the cabin hall.

“Tom? Are you here?”

thudthump thud thump thud thumpthud thump

Julie
. Tom gulped in air. He opened his eyes and the room spun. Closing them again, he swallowed hard against rising nausea.

“Tom! My God, are you all right? What’s wrong?”

“she can’t help you she can’t help you now your heart is stopping you’re mine you’re mine you’re mine let go”

Julie grabbed his shoulder. Her touch freed his mind. He knew what he had to do. With every bit of strength he had left, he faced the evil thing again and thrust a command,
You have no power over me
.
Damn you straight to hell
—
forever
!

Eddie’s body stiffened as if an electric current shot through it, and then it slumped to the floor.

“
nooooooooo nooooooooo nooooooooo
”

The thing’s disembodied roar of fury pummeled Tom’s eardrums. And then . . .

Silence.

Peace flooded into Tom. His heart, still beating out of sync, began to slow. He opened his eyes.

“Tom, please . . .”

“Julie?” He was weak, but he pushed himself away from the mirror. With a half turn toward her, he held up his hand. “I cut my finger.”

Her eyes flicked from horror to annoyed relief. “My God, Tom. I thought you were having a heart attack. You’re pale as a ghost. And trembling. Since when does the sight of blood give you an anxiety attack?”

Right. He’d had another panic attack, nothing more. Nothing more? What a weird thought. What more could it have been? Anxiety over a little cut proved how much he’d screwed up his life. He’d injured himself far worse than that and never fallen to pieces. Hell, he’d seen coworkers sever fingers, and he’d barely flinched.

Julie reached for his hand. “Sit down and let me take a look.”

Tom collapsed to the edge of the tub, but he pulled his hand free and wrapped his arms around Julie’s waist. He laid his head against her and cried. Julie stroked his hair and murmured comfort. As the shakes diminished, so did the tears, and with a normal flow of blood to his brain, he remembered the toughest part of the day was just beginning. He and Julie would talk and all the blackest parts of him would be revealed.

After she finished with the bandage, she kissed his finger. And then she leaned down and kissed his mouth.

“Julie, I want to explain—” She pressed a finger against his lips.

“We need to talk,” she said, “but there’s time for that later. Are you feeling all right now?”

“A little sleepy.”

“Think you can stay awake a little longer?”

“Why?”

“Because, right now, I want to feel you all over me. I want to make love to you. I want to remember all the wonderful times we used to have here, and to forget, for a while, all the stupid, selfish things we’ve done to each other since then.”

“I’m such a lucky man.”

Julie stepped out of her sandals and the summer shift she was wearing. Dressed only in her bra and panties, she led him across the hall to their bed.

The bedroom had taken on a bronze glow from the late afternoon sunlight. Julie barely gave Tom time to remove his shirt before she pulled him down beside her on the bed.

“Julie—”

“Shhh.” She pressed her fingers against his lips for good measure. “Don’t talk; just feel. It’s only you and me. Here and now. Nothing before and nothing after.”