The Rising: Antichrist Is Born (22 page)

Viv was striding back toward the car, talking earnestly. “Yes, yes, of course. You may tell him the deed is done…. I have no idea how long…. At least twenty-four hours, I suspect…. Tonight then for dinner. We’ll expect you at seven.”

Oh no. Please, no. Marilena fully expected the anesthetic to wear off by six, and she wouldn’t feel like preparing a meal for a guest.

“Reiche wants to talk to us,” Viv said as she got back in. “He’s coming tonight.”

  “I’m not cooking,” Marilena said. “And I don’t know how sociable I’ll feel.”

Viv was immediately sarcastic. “Well, it’s all about you, Marilena. Don’t you worry. He’s bringing the food. And you don’t have to be sociable. My guess is you had better be prepared to listen.”

  “What, I’m in trouble now? If Mr. Planchette has to know what went on today, why can’t he come help us with our child?’-

“The child is not the problem, Marilena.”

Marilena had long loved the Cluj cottage. It was cozy and warm, and she could conjure up the smell of the smoke from the fireplace even when she was away. Now it beckoned as an oasis, but she dreaded sharing the space with the boy she no longer knew. Had she ever known him? He had always been so distant, resistant to cuddling and affection.

As Viv pulled in and the gravel crunched, Marilena groggily raised her seat, her limbs leaden. How she wished that either her son or her longtime friend would be thoughtful enough to help her from the car, into the cottage, into her bed so she could relax before Planchette arrived.

It was way too much to expect from Nicky, who had never proven thoughtful. But Viv? What had happened to her trademark selflessness, her sensitivity? Had she really turned against Marilena? Actually believed she had been in the wrong here? Certainly Marilena should not have attacked a little boy. But he hadn’t acted like a child. His meanness was deep and adult and nasty. Who could have or should have taken that kind of abuse, especially from one’s own child?

Nicky bounded out of the car before Marilena could open her door. Viv asked him to help set the table because “Uncle Reiche” was coming. So now he was an uncle the way Viv was an aunt? Shouldn’t that title be bestowed by the mother, if and when she so chose?

Nicky had better not agree to help Viv after he had been so vile toward Marilena. But he remained consistent. In a chipper tone he said, “No thanks!” He flung his book bag inside the cottage, then raced out to play with Star Diamond.

That was a relief. Though no one was helping her, Marilena would at least be able to retire to bed for a while. She felt way older than her years as she sleepwalked inside.

“I suppose preparing for Reiche is all on me,” Viv said.

Marilena didn’t answer. Being uncivil, even under these circumstances, nagged at her sensibilities, but she was not about to cave. If she ever deserved consideration, it was now. And if no one else was going to provide it, she herself would. She kicked off her shoes and gingerly stretched out atop the down quilt she so loved. Within seconds she was asleep.

Planchette rose, a bit too gallantly, Marilena thought, and greeted her warmly. She tried to force a smile.

  “There’s a little left,” Viv said. “I didn’t know whether you’d be hungry, but I—”

“Famished,” Marilena said.

“—knew you’d want to sleep.”

“We need to talk,” Planchette said. “When you’re ready.”

Marilena was already tired of being treated like an invalid. “I’m ready.”

“Child abuse is a very serious matter,” Planchette said.

“Child abuse? I—”

“One word to the authorities, and you could easily lose your son.”

That didn’t sound so bad right then, but child abuse?

“Mr. Planchette, the boy—”

“Please don’t try to justify it, Mrs. Carpathia. Kids will be kids and boys will be boys. Regardless of his fault in this matter, you are the adult, the parent, and your actions are without excuse.”

“But—”

“Without excuse!”

“Fine! I heard you. I assume you are leaving the authorities out of this.”

“Of course. Civil authorities anyway. The association is most concerned. Frankly, your role as Nicolae’s mother has been compromised.”

“Nothing changes that I am his mother,” Marilena said.

“Let me be clear,” Planchette said. “You are on probation. I’d like to say that if there are no similar incidents for a year, you would be off probation, but I have been reminded by my human and spiritual superiors that there is zero toleranta. One more physical attack on the chosen one—ever—and you lose your rights as his mother.”

Marilena could barely breathe. Her voice came timid and weak, and she hated herself for it. “And what about his attack on me?” She raised her bandaged arm, wincing at a fresh dagger of pain.

“Self defense!” Planchette and Viv crowed in unison. “What else could he do?”

“Oh, I see,” Marilena said, and she felt as she had in elementary school when kids ganged up and falsely accused her, jealous of the smartest kid in the class. When it was her word against several—true or not— her position was hopeless. She’d had to resign herself to her fate then, and she would have to now.

“So you will pledge that no similar outbursts will ever again occur?” Planchette said.

“If it happens, my punishment has already been determined. If I do it in spite of a pledge, does that change anything? I would simply be double guilty, guilty of the attack and guilty of breaking my word.”

“So you can’t assure me this won’t happen again?”

“That depends on whether I am again provoked.”

“Wrong answer,” Planchette said, forcing a smile.

“Wrong answer,” Viv parroted, and Marilena hated her.

“If I cannot walk away from here tonight with your assurance that this will never happen again, I can’t promise you’ll ever see your son again.”

And for all Marilena’s frustration with and revulsion for her own man-child, that cut deeply. They would actually attempt to separate her from Nicky? They would have to kill her first. And if they were able to effect it without killing her, she would have to kill herself. Surely nothing else was worth living for.

Could they really do this? Had she ceded such rights to the association by pledging to raise Nicky in spiritualism? She

couldn’t imagine.

“That is hardly a pledge.”

“What do you want to hear?”

“That you were wrong. That you lost your head. That you realize you sought to do physical harm to a chosen envoy of the spirit realm. That you promise on your life to never again let anger and emotion rule you.”

Marilena set her jaw, her teeth grinding. “I acknowledge all that and accede to your wishes.”

“I’d like to hear it in your own words,” Planchette said.

I’ll just bet you would.

“I am sick. I am in pain. I feel incoherent. I would ask that you give me the benefit of the doubt on this, based on my spotless history, and accept that I have heard you and concur.”

Planchette seemed to study her. “Very well,” he said finally. “But I must say that your record is not as pristine as you may think. No, you have never before attacked the boy, but neither have you bonded with him in a healthy way. Our records indicate he is largely passive toward you.”

“How would you know that?”

“Why do you think Ms. Ivinisova is here? Just to help out? Surely you must know she is our eyes and ears.”

Marilena nodded. So she had been under scrutiny every day. And Viv had been funneling information to the powers that be. Terrific. Just terrific.

“Here’s what happens next,” Planchette said. “Ms. Ivinisova will remove Nicolae for a week, giving them a chance to regroup, bond, solidify their relationship.”

“Will she be counseling him on his school behavior?”

Planchette smiled and looked at Viv, who grinned back. “Frankly, Mrs. Carpathia, we are not concerned about that. In fact, we couldn’t be more encouraged. Nicky is showing leadership skills far beyond his age. No wonder an elementary school teacher cannot keep up with him. Who could? He’s displaying political skills that bode well for his future.”

“I see.” Did she ever see. Nicky had everyone’s number; they were all in his corner. Planchette himself was apparently prepared to ride Nicky’s coattails for years.

Planchette stood. “I feel we have made some progress. Viviana and the boy will leave in the morning, and you are not to be

in contact with them until they return. Understood?”

“Where will they be?” 

“That is confidential.”

“Then how would I contact them anyway?”

“Precisely.”

Marilena shook her head. Surely they couldn’t expect her to like or accept this, but what choice did she have? This appeared designed to put her in her place and keep her there. She had no options, no power. One false move and she lost her child. Her mind raced with images of kidnapping her own son. Marilena and Nicky would be on the lam, and with no income or prospects—especially with an unwilling son—she would be lucky to last twenty-four hours. And then she would lose him for certain.

Marilena had never spent a week outside the presence of her son. She couldn’t imagine it, but something deep within her actually looked forward to it.

Marilena was jolted from a fitful, pain-racked sleep at dawn by the sounds of Viv and Nicky knocking around. Marilena threw on a robe and rushed out, only to find Viv shooing Nicky out the door, his backpack stuffed. “Hurry,” she whispered. “Go!”

“Wait!” Marilena said. “I need a good-bye.”

“No, you don’t,” Viv said. “This is best,”

“Best for whom? Best for what? Why do this?”

“Marilena, be rational. You traumatized him yesterday. He doesn’t know what to think. A phony compassionate good-bye

will only confuse him. Now let him be. We’ll see you next week.”

Viv sighed. “I know. But I don’t hate you. I pity you. You need time to get your mind right, Marilena. Work on yourself this week, will you?”

“Viv, what am I to do for transportation?”

“Where do you need to go?”

“Back to the doctor.”

“For?”

“To get stitches removed.”

Viv hesitated. “That can wait.”

“No, it can’t.”

“Then call a cab. Be resourceful. You’re a grown woman.”

Marilena stomped back to her room and slammed the door, collapsing onto the bed in tears. When she heard the
SUV
, she moved to the window and watched the tail-lights fade into the distance. Was it possible she would never see Nicky again? Had she fallen for a monstrous ruse? Had they decided she was unfit and simply spirited him away?

She called Planchette, and a groggy woman answered. “No, ma’am,” Marilena was told. “He’s already left for Bucharest.”

Bucharest? “Please have him call me as soon as you hear from him. It’s an emergency.”

There was a long pause. “I will do that if you will promise me something.”

Marilena sat on the edge of her bed, thoroughly puzzled. She didn’t even know this woman. Mrs. Planchette? A daughter? A mistress? And yet she was asking Marilena for a favor? “What?”

“Promise you won’t mention that I told you where he was.”

“Why?”

“I was not supposed to.”

“Is he with Ms. Ivinisova and my son?”

A longer pause. “I know nothing more.”

“Be sure he calls me.”

“I’ll tell him if you promise.” The woman sounded almost as distraught as Marilena felt.

“Wait. I’ll agree on one condition.”

“I have already set the condition, Mrs. Carpathia. You know your end of the bargain.”

“Ma’am, I must know. Just tell me whether they’re planning to return with my son.”

Silence was the last thing she wanted to hear. Anything but that.

“I have no idea,” the woman said at last, but she had paused too long.

“A face un juramint; swear to me.”

“Please,” the woman said, “I know nothing.”

“Do you have children?” Marilena said. “Are you a mother?”

“Yes.”

“I beg you, tell me.”

“Really,” she said, “I don’t know.”

“Have him call me,” Marilena said. “I will protect you.”

Marilena was convinced she was going mad. How had she allowed this? Nicky was all she cared about, all she had to live for. If she could have just a few moments alone with him she could make things right, get back on track, convince him she loved him as dearly as her own life.

In her robe and barefoot, Marilena caught a glimpse of herself as she passed the mirror on her bureau. She was a crazy woman, her hair Medusa-like, coiling in every direction. Her face was pale, her eyes bloodshot with dark circles and bags. She wore a mask of panic and desperation; she was trapped and helpless. She could call a cab, but where would she go? To whom would she run? Who could help?

How does one tell the authorities that her own child has been kidnapped by his ersatz aunt? What would spur them to intercept the SUV? The wrong move could cost Marilena any prayer of seeing Nicky again.

Prayer.

The last port in this storm. To whom should she pray? If Lucifer was behind all this, what kind of god was he? How worthy was he of her allegiance? And yet if she sought help from the other side, might she so enrage Lucifer that she would regret it forever?

Listen to yourself. You’re mad. Mad.

“God,” she prayed, “is it too late? Can You help me? I know I am unworthy. I know I am a sinner. I know I have no grounds on which to come to You. But I’m desperate. I need Your help, even though I chose the other path. Help me. Show me what to do. Protect my son.”

It was as if heaven was silent.

Marilena marched from room to room, each piercing her with reminders of Nicky. She hyperventilated and had to calm herself. As the pinks and oranges of the rising sun peeked through the curtains, she trembled from the pain in her arm. She downed another pill and considered, for the first time in her life, gulping the rest and floating into nothingness.

Marilena threw back the draperies with her good arm and groaned in frustration, falling to her knees and crying out. She slammed her fists on the hardwood floor until her hands pulsed as painfully as her forearm. She had been a fool! How had she let things unravel this far?