Ghostlight (32 page)
Authors: Marion Zimmer Bradley
“That would be great,” Truth said.
And too late; whatever's coming will be here next week, on Halloween.
“I've spoken to DylanâDr. Palmer is the Institute's resident ghost-hunterâand he's very interested”âif calling her an idiot was an expression of interest, anywayâ“and he'll be sending some of his equipment on ahead. It should be here soon. You don't mind, do you?”
And too late; whatever's coming will be here next week, on Halloween.
“I've spoken to DylanâDr. Palmer is the Institute's resident ghost-hunterâand he's very interested”âif calling her an idiot was an expression of interest, anywayâ“and he'll be sending some of his equipment on ahead. It should be here soon. You don't mind, do you?”
It was odd, Truth noted with detachment, how all the manipulative wiles she'd scorned in others came so naturally to her the moment she felt a need for them. How could Julian say he minded without looking like an idiot?
“How could I mind, when it keeps you interested in us?” Julian answered. “What's rather a sore point with meâand I know you understandâis word of this getting out, and Thorne's name being linked with some sort of Amityville idiocy. By now you know us well enough to know that the last thing we're looking for is publicity.”
Know you? But I don't know you, Julian â¦
“Thorne seemed to court publicity,” Truth pointed out, discovering the appetizer appeared to have vanished. The hovering waiter swooped in to remove the plates.
“That was long ago and in a far country,” Julian said with a crooked smile, “and that sort of innocence is long dead. I think of Thorne as a profoundly innocent man in some ways, don't you?”
The waiter returned with the immense serving plates upon which the dinner plates would be set. Julian refilled their champagne glasses.
“Innocent?” Truth pondered. “I don't know if I'd call him innocent. Sincere, certainly, but ⦔ Passionately sincere, in fact, and infused with the idealism of his time, only in Thorne it had taken that bizarre turn into the occult sciences. Like all this generation, Thorne Blackburn had wanted to fill the world with peace and loveâthough in his case, he intended to do it by making the Golden Age come again, when gods and heroes had lived among men.
He'd never stopped to ask whether this would be a good idea.
“Anyway,” Truth said, shrugging, “that's a judgment for the biographer to renderâor notâwhen all the material is in hand, don't you think?”
“Touché,” Julian said, raising his glass in salute. “And
I can only hope that she is as insightful as she is beautiful.”
I can only hope that she is as insightful as she is beautiful.”
Â
Thorne Blackburn, it seemed, was to be the invisible guest at the feast. Ignoringâor merely overlookingâher attempts to draw him out about himself, Julian spoke of Thorne throughout the meal: the San Francisco period, the Universal Mystery Tour, the cross-country odyssey in the Mystery Schoolbus, the eight months spent in Mexico, during which Thorne's determination to perform the rituals that made up
Venus Afflicted
had crystallized.
Venus Afflicted
had crystallized.
Abandoning her attempts to question him, Truth felt the growing temptation to tell Julian about Thorne's appearances at Shadow's Gate insteadâbut surely Thorne had appeared to Julian as well?
If she weren't simply going mad.
It was a possibility, after all.
“I would give up ten years of my life just to know where the book is now,” Julian said, as their plates were cleared away. “
Venus Afflicted
was there at Shadow's Gate; we know that much. Thorne was adding to it and correcting it all the way up to the end. The police looked for it and didn't find it, and of course when I took over Shadow's Gate I turned the place inside out. Nothing.”
Venus Afflicted
was there at Shadow's Gate; we know that much. Thorne was adding to it and correcting it all the way up to the end. The police looked for it and didn't find it, and of course when I took over Shadow's Gate I turned the place inside out. Nothing.”
“Why would the police want a grimoire?” Truth asked. The turn the conversation had taken made her uncomfortably guilty. The book that Julian sought so fervently was within his reach:
Venus Afflicted
was currently in the trunk of her car.
Venus Afflicted
was currently in the trunk of her car.
Truth had never liked keeping secrets, and Julian seemedâoh, not to
suspect
her, but in some strange way to
hope
â
suspect
her, but in some strange way to
hope
â
And meanwhile some still, small inner voiceâof self-preservation?âtold her that she must keep the book a secretâjust as Aunt Caroline had.
For if Julian had sought Thorne Blackburn's artifacts
everywhere, it was not possible that he would have overlooked Caroline Jourdemayne.
everywhere, it was not possible that he would have overlooked Caroline Jourdemayne.
Truth had the teasing sense that she was on the verge of making an important discovery, but whatever she was about to uncover vanished as Julian spoke again.
“They were still trying to make a case against Thorne and thought Thorne's grimoire would be evidence of God knows what. The book was fairly famous in the magickal community; Thorne referred to it often in his diaries and essays,” Julian said with a certain air of wistfulness.
All of which she was going to have to read, as well reading his letters, Truth realized with a sinking heart. Maybe she could ask Thorne to come back from the dead to explain them to her, she thought flippantly.
“But you don't really need Thorne's spellbook, do you? You're doing theâ” Truth was reduced to waving her hands, uncertain of the proper terminology to describe what she meant.
“Our Circle is indeed doing the Ritual of the Opening of the Way, sometimes called the Opening of the Gate,” Julian supplied with a teasing pomposity. “Without the book.
“Since you've given me the opening, I'll go on to explain that the Opening is the last part of a series of rituals that take about ten days to perform; they're keyed to the Tree of Lifeâwhich is, oh never mind; the Kaballah would take me years to explain. To make a long story positively cryptic in its brevity, the first part of the Opening has been publishedâin a number of variorum forms, I might addâand forms the principal part of the Blackburn Work as it is done today. These nine rituals are collectively called the Smoothing of the Path, and form a complete Working by themselves. Thorne prescribed that the Smoothing be done several times as an end in itself to get a Circle working fluidly, but when it
must
be done is as a prelude to the Opening of the Way.”
must
be done is as a prelude to the Opening of the Way.”
It was amazing how plausible all this was, even logical. In her own mind Truth hesitated; if magick as Julian described it was more than the mere elaboration of a delusion, how
much
more was it?
much
more was it?
“Which you don't have,” she said again, bringing the discussion back to ground she was sure of.
“Neither did Thorneâonce,” Julian said, almost sna-pishly. “I'm sorry, it's just that I've been hearing the same thing from Irene and Ellis for weeks, and it's true: I
don't
have the Opening as it is written in
Venus Afflicted.
But I have Irene, who rehearsed it with Thorne's original Circle several times, and I have ⦠well, I won't tax your magnanimity with a blow-by-blow account of more forays into the home life of Science's Dark Twin.”
don't
have the Opening as it is written in
Venus Afflicted.
But I have Irene, who rehearsed it with Thorne's original Circle several times, and I have ⦠well, I won't tax your magnanimity with a blow-by-blow account of more forays into the home life of Science's Dark Twin.”
That was a phrase of Colin MacLaren's that Dylan was especially fond of quotingâand Thorne had known Professor MacLaren years ago. She looked at Julian. Charming, sane, and nearly normalâand handsome and rich besides! It would be so easy to ask Julian about Thorne and MacLarenâand to tell him ⦠.
To tell him â¦
About Thorne. About the book. That she had it, it was here, he didn't have to try to re-create the ritual, thatâ
“What do you suppose the chef has planned for dessert, Julian? Do you know?” Truth said brightly, shattering the spell.
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Dessert, when it came, was breathtaking; individual compotes of fresh fruit lightly poached in liqueur and sugar and piled into a dish made of colored spun sugar.
“It's too pretty to eat!” Truth protested.
“It will only melt if you don't,” Julian responded with cheerful ruthlessness. To Truth's relief, Julian seemed to be willing to abandon the subject of Thorne Blackburn and
Venus Afflicted
, and become once more what he appeared to beâa man of wealth and sophistication.
Venus Afflicted
, and become once more what he appeared to beâa man of wealth and sophistication.
As the waiter who had placed the dishes retreated, the
wine steward approached with a sweating, white-swathed bottle. Another uniformed attendant carried away the standing ice bucket that held the melted ice and empty champagne bottle.
wine steward approached with a sweating, white-swathed bottle. Another uniformed attendant carried away the standing ice bucket that held the melted ice and empty champagne bottle.
“Your champagne, sir. The cellarer couldn't supply a nineteen eighty-two
grande cuvée blanc,
but we did have an 'eighty-five double
cuvée
pink, which I hope you will find acceptable.” He paused, waiting for Julian's decision.
grande cuvée blanc,
but we did have an 'eighty-five double
cuvée
pink, which I hope you will find acceptable.” He paused, waiting for Julian's decision.
It was very odd, Truth decided, to look into a world not only where sentences like this made sense, but where the questions those sentences framed actually mattered, and mattered desperately: the world of great wealth, a world polished so smooth by the application of privilege that any flaw in the seamless perfection was seen as an enormous defect.
Julian frowned, and for a moment Truth even thought he might make a scene, but then he smiled and the anxious steward relaxed.
“Of course. Pink champagne, Truth?”
Cuvée,
Julian explained, was a sweet dessert champagne. The wine in their glasses was a delicate shell pink, and its sweetness made it slide down her throat as if it were the scent of roses made liquid. It would be easy to become reckless, irresponsible, drinking this, and part of Truth welcomed the thought.
Julian explained, was a sweet dessert champagne. The wine in their glasses was a delicate shell pink, and its sweetness made it slide down her throat as if it were the scent of roses made liquid. It would be easy to become reckless, irresponsible, drinking this, and part of Truth welcomed the thought.
But if I'm going to do anything rash, I'm going to do it because I want to, and not because I'm hopped up on expensive booze.
She put the half-empty glass down.
She put the half-empty glass down.
“Don't you like it?”
“It's lovely. But I'm afraid academics don't see much of the high life. I'm not used to it.”
“We'll just have to accustom you, then. Do you dance?”
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Truth would have bet hard cash that there wasn't any place in the Hudson Valley where you could still find ballroom dancing; and if she could have found anyone to
take her bet she would have lost her money. Julian found such a placeâin fact, he found three of them, beginning with the River View Inn itself, which had a small dance floor tucked off in what had once been the conservatory wing, and a live band to provide the music.
take her bet she would have lost her money. Julian found such a placeâin fact, he found three of them, beginning with the River View Inn itself, which had a small dance floor tucked off in what had once been the conservatory wing, and a live band to provide the music.
So it was very late indeed when Julian's BMW drew up at the front door of Shadow's Gate.
“I'll let you off here and go put the car away around back. Oh, and if you're looking for yours, I had Gareth move it today. With the bad weather setting in, it's just as well to have everything under cover.”
“How did he move it?” Truth asked. “I didn't give him the keys.” Nor would she, when the ignition key opened the trunk as well, and the trunk contained
Venus Afflicted.
She'd even made sure to take them with her this evening.
Venus Afflicted.
She'd even made sure to take them with her this evening.
“No? He might have left it then; he'll probably ask you for the keys tomorrow. But sleep well, darling.”
So there wasn't to be a proffered nightcap and a skillful pass, subtle or un-. Truth felt a sense of relief; she couldn't handle one more complication in her life just now and Julian seemed astute enough to know it. She got out of the car.
“And you,” she said, turning back to close the door. Julian reached out and took her hand, raising her fingers to his lips for a quick Continental salute; the gesture had enough of conscious self-mockery in it that she didn't find it embarrassing. Truth turned away and heard the car move off behind her.
Â
Though her head was mazed with wine and music, the sense of responsibility that was so much a part of her nature made her follow the drive around to the pass-through where she'd left her car the last time she'd driven back from Shadowkill.
It was still there, untouched. Relief combined with the champagne made her suddenly giddy, and the distant
sound of a car door closing, carried on the still night air, warned her that if she didn't want this evening to continue in a direction she wasn't ready for, she'd better get inside before Julian returned.
sound of a car door closing, carried on the still night air, warned her that if she didn't want this evening to continue in a direction she wasn't ready for, she'd better get inside before Julian returned.
Â
Despite her distraction, the sense of sanctuary that she'd thought dispelled forever filled her sense as soon as Truth stepped into her room.
She knew what to call it now. It was Thorne's presence she sensed. He would never hurt her. She knew that with the unquestioning intuition of a child; felt the burden of hatred for him she had carried in her heart all these years simply ⦠vanish.
Know the truth, and the truth will set you free.
Thorne Blackburn might be dead, he might have returned from the dead, the things he'd done in life might still be weird, hateful, or simply puzzling to her, but he would never knowingly or intentionally hurt his daughter.
Thorne Blackburn might be dead, he might have returned from the dead, the things he'd done in life might still be weird, hateful, or simply puzzling to her, but he would never knowingly or intentionally hurt his daughter.
He'd loved her.
He loved her now, and with that certainty some needy, stunted part of Truth Jourdemayne began to flex and spread its wings.
“Champagne talking,” Truth muttered aloud, embarrassed at the tenor of her own thoughts. She flopped down on the bed and groaned, kicking her shoes off. Her
new
shoes, in which she'd gone dancing the first time she'd worn them. So much for common sense.
new
shoes, in which she'd gone dancing the first time she'd worn them. So much for common sense.
She lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling, frowning.
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