The Bog (28 page)

“I mean, it’s obvious something is going on,” she continued. “First we pack up the car and then we don’t leave. And then Mom gets sick and you make us wear these things.” She lifted up the little cross that she was wearing around her neck. “I mean, you can keep things from Tuck because he’s just a kid, but I wish you wouldn’t treat me like I’m just a ninny.”

Tuck suddenly looked concerned.

David continued to gaze at his daughter, and his first reaction was one of ire. But then he realized that she did have a right to know more than he had told her. He maintained his stern expression. “I can’t talk about it right now, Katy. We’ll talk about it later.”

“But, Dad—”

“—later, Katy.”

She remained defiant for but a moment longer and then gave in. “Okay.”

He turned and left.

Outside, he got into the Volvo and drove off. The drive through the moonlit moors was uneventful, but as he neared the ivy-encrusted old manse he realized that he had broken out into a cold sweat. He had no reason to doubt Grenville’s assurance that no harm would come to him or his family as long as they abided by his rules, but given the number of bodies they had pulled out of the bog he realized that anything was possible. He recalled Grenville’s warning that Julia was going to be “very angry” with him once she recovered, and he wondered again if she would be up and about, or how she would behave toward him if they met.

He swallowed to get rid of the tightness in his throat as he parked the car and got out. Approaching the house, he looked up and noticed that the lights in the tower were burning brightly. He felt the cross concealed beneath his shirt. He hoped that it would be his secret weapon if things became difficult. He lifted the knocker and let it bang heavily against the door. Again after a wait of several long moments, the door opened and he was greeted by the shuffling butler.

“Come in, sir. You’ve been expected.”

He was shown into the dark and gargantuan entrance hall, but instead of being led into the drawing room, to his discomfit he was instructed to remain where he was. As soon as the butler left he searched the shadows for signs of the mysterious presence that he always sensed in the room. For several minutes he was pleasantly disappointed, but after a longer while he slowly got the feeling that he was not alone. Unlike his last encounter, the presence did not manifest itself as a focused scraping, but this time seemed more subtle and encompassing, as if the entire house were slowly sighing. Here and there a drapery appeared to move, or a banister seemed to emit a faint sound, not as distinct as a creak or a tap, but a ghost of a sound, as if it had been only lightly touched by an invisible but insistent hand. It occurred to him that it was not his physical senses that were picking these things up, but something else, some other system of awareness he had never before understood he possessed; and once this realization dawned on him, the shadows in the room became even more alive, swayed and whispered as if it were only a thin veil that divided him from whatever it was that inhabited the darkness.

The movements became so relentless that he was about to turn and flee when suddenly the balustrade creaked overhead and he looked up to see Grenville leaning against the banister and peering down at him. He was wearing a full-length dressing robe of black and gold brocade fringed with Russian sable, and his deep-set eyes were pools of darkness, framed by the shock of white hair.

“Good evening, Professor Macauley,” he greeted. “I had almost given up hope that you were coming. Forgive me for making you wait so long. I was busy with something.”

David nodded. “That’s all right,” he said politely.

“Why don’t you come up here,” Grenville continued. “We’ll have our little meeting in the tower.”

David nodded and started hesitantly up the stairs. When he reached the ancient magician’s side, Grenville turned and motioned for him to follow. They strode down the hallway and through a large door. David was beginning to notice that many of the doorways in the old house were of huge proportions, and he wondered if this was to facilitate Julia’s occasionally massive bulk. Beyond the doorway the Elizabethan splendor of the house ended abruptly and the walls and floor were of older and more crudely hewn stone. From the circular staircase before them it was clear that they were now in the tower.

Unlike the drawing room, the tower was lit only by an occasional blazing torch, and as they ascended David had to be careful not to lose his footing on the dark and greatly worn steps. Finally they reached the top and entered what appeared to be Grenville’s study. The first thing that David noticed about the vast and circular room was the huge medieval fireplace that burned at one end of the chamber. The nights were now warm and muggy and it struck him as odd that Grenville should still stoke so large a fire. As he looked around he took in the other features of the room. Toward one end of the shadowy and spacious chamber was what appeared to be Grenville’s work area, several large tables cluttered with a plethora of apothecary jars, crucibles, bell jars, and flickering retorts. Aside from the disarranged look of this area, the rest of the room was impeccably well kept and possessed the sort of baronial splendor that he had become accustomed to in Grenville’s house. Here and there on the floor were several large Persian carpets, and artfully arranged over the expanse of these were various reading tables, wing chairs, and a number of resplendant ottomans. Besides the amber glow of the fireplace, additional light was provided by an array of Victorian floor and table lamps as well as two massive torcheres flanking the fireplace, each aflicker with a small galaxy of candles. All told, it might have been a sitting room in a fashionable English gentleman’s club.

But the most prominent feature of the room was its many books. Towering two stories over their heads and covering most of the available wall space was one of the largest private libraries that David had ever seen. Most of the volumes were of worn and satiny leather, but there were quite a number of more recent vintage as well. As he continued to look at the monolithic wall of books he noticed that it was divided in half by a narrow balcony and traversed here and there by movable ladders set in tracks so none of its numerous volumes were beyond its owner’s reach. For some reason it surprised him that Grenville was such an apparent lover of books. He realized he had been so fixed on the fact that Grenville was so callous, so ruthless, and capable of such evil, he hadn’t considered that there might be deeper and more human facets to Grenville’s character as well.

“Shall we sit down?” Grenville said, gesturing toward a grouping of furniture before the fireplace.

David nodded, and as he approached the enclosure of chairs he noticed for the first time that someone was sitting on the high-backed sofa facing away from them. To his surprise it was a woman, and from the chestnut color of her hair it did not appear to be Julia. As he passed around the sofa he noticed that there was a table with a tray of dainties before her,
petits fours
and glazed ladyfingers, and she was nibbling on one delicately. He looked at her face, curious as to who the new presence was, and then gasped. To his amazement it was the girl with green eyes, the girl in front of the Rijksmuseum, whose photograph he had secretly stolen so many years before. At first he could not believe it. Had she been a part of this all along? And then he realized. He had shown Julia the photograph when they took their evening stroll. She had, for purposes unknown, taken on the form of the woman.

“Hello, David,” she greeted him, smiling. Even her voice was no longer Julia’s, but was lighter, more delicate, and with a melodic and more mellifluous lilt. She stood to greet him and extended her long, slender hand. She had captured the look and essence of the woman completely, but as he looked down at her outstretched hand he felt a chill.

“Don’t be afraid,” Grenville soothed as he sat down in one of the wing chairs before the fire. “Julia’s no longer angry with you for shooting her. She won’t hurt you.”

He looked again at the woman, and as he did so her perfume reached out to him, sweet and insistent. Diffidently, he accepted her hand. He was surprised to find that it was soft and warm, but he did not hold on for long. He remembered too clearly its true form. Julia, or whoever she was calling herself now, sat back down. Grenville motioned for David to take the chair opposite him.

“Would you like a brandy?” he asked as David sat down.

“That would be nice,” David replied, still keeping his eyes on the woman across from him.

“What about you, Julia?”

“Oh, please,” she returned, taking a tiny bite out of one of the
petits fours.

Grenville pulled a tasseled cord beside him, and a moment later one of the liveried footmen appeared and fulfilled their requests.

“Why did you ask me here tonight?” David inquired. “I told you, just to talk,” Grenville returned. “In our last meeting I gave you quite a bit to think about. If you recall, I also said that life need not be so dismal for you here. I thought if we got together and had another conversation you might come to realize that just as I make a formidable enemy, I can also make a very powerful ally. The choice is up to you.”

“I don’t see that I have any choice,” David retorted. “Of course you do. You can fight me, and go the route that so many of your predecessors have gone. Or you can abide by my wishes and enjoy all the benefits of such an allegiance.”

“And what are the benefits?”

“Oh, many. Knowledge, for one.”

“What do you mean?”

Grenville languidly traced his finger around the rim of his snifter. “As I said before, it has not escaped my attention that you are a man of unusual spirit and intelligence. In fact, correct me if I am wrong, but I would say that you are more than casually interested in learning about things. I would say that you are driven, that you live and breathe to understand the secrets of the universe. Mostly this desire has manifested itself in your ardent interest in history, but there is a passion in you in general, a deep craving to unravel and decipher all things unknown.”

“But what makes you think I would forsake my family to satiate this craving?”

“Forsake? Come now, I do think you are phrasing the situation a little too strongly. All I ask is that your family remain in this valley and that you allow your children to grow up and marry into the community. Certainly there are far harsher fates that could befall you. But even allowing for the moment that fulfilling this request could be construed as an abandoning of your family , has it ever occurred to you that this may not be the sin that you make of it? Couldn’t it be argued that the seeking of knowledge is a higher endeavor, a more noble pursuit than mere familial loyalty? Where would we be if the great thinkers of history had valued paternity over their studies? Would the world be better off if Leonardo da Vinci had left us a brood of little da Vincis instead of the corpus of his work?”

Grenville paused, twirling his brandy around in its snifter as he shrugged noncommittally.

David bristled. He realized that there was a certain persuasiveness in what Grenville was saying, but he discerned also that the old magician had a clever way with words and was inveigling him, trying to lure him over to his way of thinking.

“I still say you are wrong. I still say there is nothing you could teach me that would get me to go along willingly with your demands.”

“Are you so sure?”

The smugness of Grenville’s expression when he asked this took David off guard. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, why don’t we lay this matter aside for the moment and just proceed as if we were engaging in a friendly conversation. Why don’t you just ask me any questions that are puzzling you, and we will see how powerful your curiosity is.”

David sensed a trick of some form in the making, but the prospect of finding out more about Grenville seemed to him worth the risk of proceeding. “All right,” he agreed. “To begin, why has Julia taken this form tonight?”

Grenville smiled. “Can’t you guess? You see, in spite of her anger with you the other evening Julia’s really quite taken with you. She took this form for your sake. She thought it might help her entice you.”

“Entice me to do what? Be eaten?”

Julia affected a look of offense.

“Oh, no, not to be eaten,” Grenville added quickly. “That indignity is reserved only for those who incur my wrath. Julia has a far more libidinous desire in mind. You see, the truth is she finds you quite attractive.” David looked abruptly at the girl with green eyes and she smiled beguilingly as she took another bite of
petit four.

“But Julia’s a male spirit,” he argued.

“Quite correct,” Grenville agreed. “But as I told you, her appetites are, well, so voracious Julia enjoys indulging in all manner of the senses.”

David shifted uneasily in his chair.

“Do not dismiss her advances out of hand,” Grenville cautioned. “If you could put aside the image of Julia’s true form in your mind you would find that she is completely everything that she appears to be before you now. In fact, she could become anything that you desired in a woman, any woman. She could fulfill any fantasy that you could conceive of, indulge your every whim or desire. Once, long ago, when we lived in Rome, she posed for a number of years as a courtesan and she had quite a reputation for her skills in the erotic arts.” David looked once again at the girl with green eyes, and to his astonishment, although he was filled with revulsion, on some level the prospect plucked a chord of fascination within him. For the briefest of moments he imagined what it would be like to make love to the long-held object of his fantasies, to run his hands across her naked body and be locked in passionate embrace, but then the memory of the creature that he had seen in the bog flooded back to him and he reddened. He realized that no matter how alluring such a prospect might seem he could never get the image of Julia’s true form out of his mind, could never lose sight of the fact that the beautiful lips that now so delicately nibbled at dainties he had only days before seen slowly devour a live sheep. He shook his head violently. “No, I could never.”