Authors: Lara Parker
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N i n e
It had stopped snowing at last, and all the lawns were spar-
kling with the refl ected light of the sun. Everything familiar
took on a new character, draped or turreted with a thick soft
layer of white. As they slogged through the snow, David hoped
he had fi nally found a way to connect with Jackie. She had not
wanted to talk to him, and it had been diffi
cult to persuade her
to come today, but on the way over to the Old House he had
seen something he thought she might like.
She had not spoken a word since they left, but only walked
alongside him, her hands plunged in the pockets of her coat, her
head bowed and her dark curls falling over her cheeks. She was
wearing boots but her knees were bare, as if she had a skirt on
underneath her jacket. He thought she must be cold, not dressed
for the snow.
Th
en she surprised him by saying softly, “Are we going to
look for the painting?”
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Hanging his arm across her shoulders he said, “Yes. But
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fi rst there’s something I want to show you. And only you. Some-
thing as magical as you are.”
She looked up in surprise. “What is it?”
“You’ll see.” Th
ey walked across the wide expanse behind
Collinwood and toward the abandoned structures several hun-
dred yards away rising like a ghost town out of the white ex-
panse.
She was silent again, and her dark mood made his throat
tight. It had been over a week since their crazy eve ning, and he
wanted to talk to her about what had happened, but he was
afraid of upsetting her. Already the nightmare was fading, be-
coming implausible, all but the hands pressing on his back in the
pool house. Part of him never wanted to think about any of it
again.
Now he was im mensely curious about Jackie. Until he had
seen her with Barnabas, he had been mystifi ed by her peculiar
habits, but he had accepted them, even liked them. Now there
was so much more he wanted to understand. She was illusive,
but there was a reason for her silences. It was as if something
otherworldly possessed her.
He knew she suff ered from some sort of illness, and he had
always shrugged it off . Everyone in his family was weird— what
you might call mentally ill in one way or another. His aunt
Elizabeth, for instance, was a recluse, never leaving the house.
For some reason she had remained mostly shut up in her room
for twenty years. His father slaved away at the shipyards, but
exuded a cloud of irritation that seemed to stem from feelings of
guilt and apprehension.
His cousin Barnabas— missing during the day as though he
only went out at night, and, even after horrible injuries, refused
medical help. Did he have some kind of power to cure himself?
Ever since he was a young boy David had wondered about Barn-
abas and suspected some connection with dark forces. It was
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entirely possible that he was— of all things— a vampire. Th
e
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thought was unnerving.
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Carolyn was so bored she was like a fi recracker about to
explode, and Quentin was a drunkard who never seemed to
have a hangover, or even to age, for that matter, when he went
away for years. Th
en there was Jackie’s mom, an over- the- hill
hippie stuck in the 1960s who still believed in the power of
marijuana. To do what? To ease all the pain of life, to reveal all
the truths? Well, she was as kooky as they come. Th
e problem
was Toni was Jackie’s mother, and she held some sort of hold
over her daughter. She could send her into a depression that was
like a deep well she couldn’t claw her way out of. Was that what
it was like to have a mother, he wondered.
He listened to the crunch of their footsteps in the snow
until their silence became too painful. “Hey,” he said as lightly
as possible. “What happened the other night, after I left?”
She sighed and waited several moments before she an-
swered. “She has forbidden me to go down there. She said he is
not dying, that he will recover, and that no one is to know he
is staying at our house.”
“Doesn’t that worry you? It seemed like he was so badly
hurt.”
“My mom won’t talk to me. She’s diff erent all of a sudden—
really out of it.”
He wondered whether her mother still nagged her about
the missing portrait. Somehow it had become the clue to under-
standing everything.
“Why do you think the picture is so important to Quentin?
Is it a painting of him as a younger man?”
“No— I don’t know. I have never seen it.”
“But surely you can . . . I mean you . . .” He waited to see
what she would say.
“Conjure up some vision?”
“Yes . . .”
“I’ve tried,” she said, as if it were perfectly normal. “Th
ere
are signs, a dark place . . . a stone wall, but not a room.”
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“Th
ere are a hundred places like that around Collinwood.
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Like a needle in a haystack. So we’ll look through all these
abandoned buildings behind the house and we’ll see if you get
any, you know, vibrations.” He laughed softly. “It’s funny . . .”
“What?”
“I’ve always been warned about wandering back here and
now I’m taking you.”
“Why? Are you frightened?”
“No, but who knows what is there. Secrets, supposedly,
something about the history of our family. Why do you think it
has all been left to fall into ruin?”
“I thought it was because no one cared.” She pulled her coat
closer to her body and bent her head. Her hair tumbled over her
face and he reached over and pulled it back so that he could see
her.
“Are you ready for this?” he said quickly. David was looking
forward to her reaction when she saw what he had discovered,
something he himself could not have imagined.
Th
e day had cleared, but a blanket of snow stretched out
before them on the Collinwood lawn like a vast crystalline lake.
When she saw the ruined green house, she stopped and caught
her breath. It rose like a beached whale out of the snow, its giant steel arches curved up and over into the blue sky. Gleaming in
the new light, the ribs of the huge cage overlapping and rising
to gothic wonders, it was an airy cathedral, a symbol of another
era when the family had been wealthy beyond imagination and
every architectural whim was indulged, regardless of the cost.
Th
is green house, very much like Collinwood itself with its towers
and turrets, was copied from a great En glish estate as were the
splendid grounds, carved lions at the gate, formal hedges with
Greek statues, and an enormous ballroom now boarded up. Th
e
carriage house and stables were also a part of the great Victorian plan, and so was the pool house with its Doric columns.
When they approached the green house, they discovered it
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was much larger than it had seemed from a distance, much like
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a huge barn. Inside, the low brick foundation still contained
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rectangular fl owerbeds, and peeking though the snow were dried
skeletons of Queen Anne’s lace, thorny rosebushes, and bare
branches of peach trees, their gnarly fi ngers bearing buds.
“It must be an overgrown jungle in here in the summer-
time,” said David. “But once it was beautiful.”
“Th
ere is nothing
here now,” she said, sounding disap-
pointed. “No place where a painting could be stored. It’s all open
to the sky.”
“Come over here,” he said. “I want you to see this.”
Th
ey crossed to an area in the center of the green house
where there seemed to be water refl ecting the sun, but it turned
out to be shards of glass, the shattered remnants of the roof,
strewn about in sharp- edged plates under the snow.
“It’s all ruined,” said Jackie.
But David simply pointed to the sky. “Th
is is what I wanted
to show you.”
Jackie lifted her head and David followed her gaze. Th
ere
were pieces of glass still set in the frame, some whole, some jag-
ged, where storms had rent the panes. But there was something
else, a glittering blur across the entire structure, a fringe of icicles that hung from each arch, repeated over and over along the
entire length of the huge roof. Th
ey were slowly melting in the
sun, and their long dagger points vibrated as quivering drops fell
from their tips. Each icicle caught the sun and formed a prism
that fl ashed and trembled.
“I found it this morning,” he said. “Look at all the rain-
bows.” He searched her face for what he hoped would be won-
derment. “I thought you would like it because . . . well, because
you are an artist.”
“Yes, yes, it’s beautiful,” she murmured, and together they
stared up at the spectacle above them. She smiled at him, and
when he caught her hand, he felt her fi ngers inside her glove.
Th
ere was a fetch of wind, and a blast of cold air.
David put his arm around her when he saw her shiver. Her
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eyes grew dark, and she glanced up quickly just as the sky paled
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and the wind came strong from off the sea. It whipped into a
gust, and the green house trembled like the rigging of a great
ship. Th
ere was a tinkling sound, as icicles shook loose and fell,
landed on the glass, and shattered.
Jackie threw her hands up over her head, and David grabbed
her arm and turned one way, then another, searching for the
easiest escape, but the rain of falling spears surrounded them.
He saw her bewildered expression when she ducked just as an
icicle fl ew down, barely missing her face, and his chest tight-
ened. He had been showing off , and like an idiot he had brought
her to a dangerous place.
Th
e wind wailed and shook the green house with a sound
like a string section out of tune, and the clattering ice was the
tympani striking the ground. David reached around her and
tugged on her arm. “Come on!”
When they looked up, they saw the icicles whistling down,
like the arrows of En glish bowmen in numbers too great to
count. Th
e wind shrieked though the frame.
Finally, braving the barrage, he buried her head against his
chest, chose a direction, and sprinted for safety. He lost hold of
her, and she tripped and fell, and cried out as a jagged piece of
glass stuck in her knee. She reached to remove it, but she stopped, seeing the blood fl ow onto the snow. He pulled her to her feet
and then felt a sharper blow as an icicle struck the side of his
head. Finally, ducking and scrambling, he dragged them both
out of the green house and onto the snowy lawn.
Th
ey collapsed in the snow and lay still for a moment, star-
ing blankly up at the sky. David’s mind was in turmoil. Had
something come after them? Something demonic that lived back
there? When he was able to speak, he reached a hand over to her.
“Are you okay?”
He heard a smothered sound and he realized she was laugh-
ing. He looked at her incredulously. “You think that was funny?”
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She nodded, her face lit by a smile, “Yes.”
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“Why? We could have been killed.”
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“Oh, I don’t think so. It was just icicles.”
“Yeah, falling like knives.”
“But we weren’t hurt.”
Impulsively he grabbed her and rolled her over in the snow,
playfully, as if he was wrestling with her, and she was laughing
as well, until he realized he was lying on top of her with a sud-
den bulge in his pants, and he was embarrassed when he saw
her grin. He lifted off her and lay beside her, looking up at the
sky, both of them still laughing at what could have been a disas-
ter, and he thought he could feel the earth move beneath them.
He was insanely happy.
“I’m so glad you moved in next door,” he said, just to tease
her. “You’ve made my life much more exciting.”
“Oh, really?” she said. “Do you think I’m the one causing
these unusual happenings?”
He smiled, and then nudged her. “Look at the green house.”
Th
e wind had calmed, and it was quiet again, almost be-
nign. Th
e fl oor was littered with shattered ice, but the blue sky