Sara (26 page)

Mr. Lockhart was about six feet tall, and his dark hair showed no signs of gray. There were acne scars on his face, and he was in pretty decent shape—I knew he'd been an athlete in high school, and he played golf every weekend. Glenn looked like his dad in some way—the nose, the shape of his face, the coloring—there was no way you could look at the two of them and not know they were father and son. He was wearing a pair of jeans and a blue sweater underneath a black leather jacket.

Something was obviously wrong. His eyes were bloodshot, and he looked like he hadn't slept in days. He gave me a tired smile as he sat down in the chair next to the bed. “How you doing, Tony?” He slurred the words slightly.

“Good,” I replied cautiously, watching his face. I could smell cigarette smoke, which was odd. I'd never seen him smoke before. “Are you okay, Mr. Lockhart?”

“Well, that's all relative, isn't it, Tony?” He smiled at me again, but it made my blood run cold.

I smelled sour alcohol on his breath, which was really weird. Mr. Lockhart didn't drink—Glenn had mentioned once that his dad was totally opposed to liquor, wouldn't keep it in the house. I struggled to sit up higher in the bed. “Is something wrong?”

“Wrong?” He laughed harshly. “Everything's wrong, Tony. Everything that could possibly be wrong is wrong. Nothing will ever be right again.” He pulled a crumpled pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket and shook one out. “Oh, can't smoke in here, can I?” He laughed again, and I wished he would stop. I never wanted to hear that sound again as long as I lived. “You look shocked. Well, don't judge me, son. Don't judge a man till you've walked a mile in his shoes.” He sighed. “I thought everything would be different here. And it was. Everything was different. It was good, wasn't it?”

“Yes,” I agreed. I had no idea what he was talking about, but figured the best thing to do was just agree with him until I had some clue as to what he wanted.

“And Glenn was happy, too. Not like in Illinois. I thought we had left that all behind us. He was happy.” He sighed again, his face looking pained. “That's all I wanted, Tony, was for my son to be happy. That's not too much to ask, is it?” His brow furrowed. “Maybe I shouldn't have protected him. Maybe they were right all those years ago…ah, too late now.” He shook his head. “Coulda shoulda woulda, right?” He laughed again.

“What are you talking about?” I asked softly.

“You know what I'm talking about.” The cigarette dangled from his lips. “The killings. They've started again.” He looked at me through narrow eyes. “And you know about it, don't you, son? You've started to figure it out, haven't you?”

“Again?” It felt like a cold finger was going down my spine.
He knew. He knew Glenn was somehow involved—and it happened before.

“Don't play dumb with me, Tony. You're not dumb. You know what I mean.” He ran his hands through his hair. “What was I supposed to do? He's my son, Tony. I couldn't do it, I couldn't do what they wanted, what they told me I should do…so I took him and ran.”

“I don't know what you're talking about, Mr. Lockhart.” I could hear my heart pounding in my ears. “Are you saying this happened before? In Farmington?”

“If only just Farmington.” His bloodshot eyes rolled in their sockets. “Seven kids died there, Tony,
seven.
” He closed his eyes. “It's been so long…I thought I'd fixed things, you know, with the aversion therapy when he was a little boy. But it was him. At first I wasn't sure, I didn't suspect, but then I knew.” Tears ran out of his eyes. “It was just like they warned me, when he was a child and his mother died. They told me I'd have to kill him, that it was best to do it when he was young…” His voice trailed off.

“They?” My tasteless dinner was churning in my stomach. “Why—why don't you start at the beginning?” I didn't want to hear it, I wanted him to get up and walk back out.

But I knew I had to hear it, and he had to tell it.

“Glenn is involved, isn't he?” I prodded him.

He stared at me. “Of course he is! That's what I'm telling you, Tony. It's Farmington all over again…they told me…they warned me he would have to be killed, but I couldn't do it, instead I just took him and ran, changed our names so they wouldn't be able to find us, she wasn't supposed to have a child, you know…let alone with me.” He buried his face in his hands. “You should see the look on your face! But you can't control who you love, Tony, you're never too young to understand that…and she was so beautiful, so unbelievably beautiful…I fell in love with her the first time I saw her. It was just a matter of time…and her parents, my parents, they forbade it, which just made it all the more desirable…maybe if they hadn't been so against it…” He smiled at me. “You think I'm drunk and crazy, don't you? I can see it on your face. How was I supposed to know that she carried the gene and wasn't supposed to ever be a wife and mother? How was I supposed to know that I also carried the gene, and together we'd create a monster?” He slammed his fists down on his knees. “They should have warned us, they should have told us the truth…but they didn't. And we ran away together and didn't come back until the baby was born.”

“You're not making sense. Let me call a nurse…get you some help.” I fumbled for the call button, but he grabbed my arm.

“Do you have any idea what it's like to have a child that's a monster?” He wiped at his eyes with his other hand. “You don't know what I am, what my son is, the horrible thing my wife and I created…”

“Mr. Lockhart, please,” I whispered in horror as he sobbed into his hands again. I felt sick to my stomach, like I was going to throw up my dinner at any moment. The things he was saying…Where was the wonderful supportive father I'd always seen?

But as awful as what he was saying was, some instinct told me he was telling me the truth.

“He was such a beautiful baby, such a beautiful child, what were we supposed to do?” He looked past me, at the window. “When we returned home after he was born, after we were married, both families warned us, told us we would always have to watch him and be vigilant.”

“What are you saying?” I whispered, not wanting to know, not wanting him to keep talking, wishing I could turn back the clock and pretend to be asleep when he arrived.

He focused his eyes on me. “Glenn's mother was a Beaupre. I was a St. Amant. The two bloodlines were never supposed to mix, don't you see? And she…” A smile crept across his face. “But you don't know what any of that means, you don't know about the curse on our families, that goes back to the days when the French owned Louisiana…”

“I thought you were from Alabama?” It sounded stupid to me, even as I said it, but I felt like I had to say something.

He shook his head. “Glenn's mother was a Beaupre, a long line of witches. They were originally from Ste. Domingue, fled to Louisiana when the slaves revolted—the story is that the master of the family promised the souls of his descendants to the devil in exchange for escape and for powers…my family, the St. Amants, we made our own deal with the devil…but neither Cecily nor I knew the stories, they kept them from us. My family had powers, and a century ago a St. Amant and a Beaupre fell in love…their child was a monster, with so much power he couldn't be controlled—they had to kill him…and the two families promised they would never mate again…maybe if they would have told us the truth to begin with…” He buried his face again. “And she had the gene…the mark, Cecily had the mark. Her powers weren't much—she could close or open a door, or flip a light switch, that was it…she didn't even realize that sometimes she was doing it, you know. And me? What powers did I have? Nothing I was aware of…but our son…our son…” He looked me in the eyes again. “He killed his mother when he was three.”

I couldn't answer. I opened my mouth but nothing came out. I just stared at him, not comprehending what I was hearing, my mind in full denial mode even as every instinct in my body went on high alert.

“She spanked him, and he killed her.” He got up and started pacing around the room. “I don't even remember what it was he did, he got into the sugar canister and dumped it, yes, that's it, when I got home the kitchen was covered in sugar, so much sugar and blood, and she must have done it without thinking, and he got angry…” He stared out the window, pressing his forehead against the glass. “He was crying when I got home. She was…she was just lying there.” His voice broke. “Her family…they wanted to kill him.” He wiped at his eyes. “But I wouldn't allow it. What was I supposed to do? He's my son, Tony.” He turned back to me. “I taught him to control his anger, taught him not to use the powers. Maybe he could have been trained to use them, to control them, maybe her family could have done it, but I couldn't take the risk. They wanted to kill him, so I took him and ran. And as long as Glenn was happy, there was no trouble. I had hoped that maturity would temper him, get him back into control. What happened, Tony, what happened to push him over the edge again?”

“I—” I didn't know what to say. I couldn't find words. My mind was reeling. It was Glenn…all the time, it had been
Glenn.

“I thought coming out—you know, I thought it was dangerous. I was afraid how people would react—but all the negativity, all the bad things some of the kids and parents were saying about him, he seemed to be taking in stride, keeping it under control, not getting angry, like back in Farmington…but Glenn kept reassuring me, telling me it was no big deal.”

“What triggered it in Farmington?”

He shook his head. “I don't know, Tony. I wish to God I did. But the worst part of it—the worst part of it is Glenn
doesn't seem to know he's doing it
.”

I swallowed. “So, it was Glenn who killed Noah and Zack and Kevin?”

“Indirectly.” He looked at me, a curious look on his face. “You suspected, didn't you? I can see it on your face.”

“All I know is that some kids at school have died, and you're telling me that Glenn killed them.” I choked the words out. The room seemed to be spinning, the whole world was out of control, nothing made sense anymore. “But he didn't know he was doing it.”

“You suspected, but you didn't know how he was doing it.”

“No, I—”

“Don't lie to me, Tony,” he interrupted me, with a sad smile playing at his lips. “You can't lie to me anyway. I know when you're lying to me. It doesn't matter, though. You suspected, but didn't know the truth. Well, I'm here to tell you the truth. And you can't lie to me anyway. That's my power, Tony. I can tell when someone is lying to me and when they're telling me the truth. Not much in the scheme of things overall, no, but I didn't ask for it any more than Glenn asked to be what he is.”

My mouth opened but no words came out.

“Let me just come right out and say it for you.” He sat down in the chair next to my bed. “Glenn is the most powerful witch in the history of my family, and his mother's. Two powerful bloodlines of witches mixed, and created a witch with almost unimaginable power.”

“You expect me to believe Glenn's a witch,” I said. My voice shook. My brain was screaming it wasn't possible, but there was a part of me that knew it was true, all too terrible and all too true.

“Of course there are witches, Tony,” Mr. Lockhart replied. “Witches, werewolves, vampires, ghosts, they all exist. They've all just learned how to keep a low profile after being hunted for centuries.” He barked out a harsh laugh. “Do you think anyone likes being burned at the stake?”

I shook my head. “I don't believe this.” But I did believe it—no matter how much I wanted to think he was crazy, his mind had somehow become unhinged, or it was the alcohol talking, I knew it was true.

Horrible and true.

“You have to believe me, Tony.” He look at me. “It's the only way we can stop this creature, this Sara. That's what the creature calls itself here, right?”

“But I thought you said—”

“I thought the best thing to do was never tell Glenn about the great powers that he was born with.” He sighed. “Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe I should have trained him in how to use his powers. But I thought that it was best to keep it all a secret from him. How could he abuse his powers if he didn't know that he had them? But the powers cannot be contained. They have begun manifesting themselves in other ways.”

“In Sara? You're saying he created her?” I blinked.

“In Farmington she called herself Shannon Harrington.” He got out another cigarette and started shredding it with his fingers. “Glenn was unhappy at Farmington High. He felt inadequate, unpopular, not liked. I don't know what triggered it—he wasn't happy there but he was able to keep everything under control. One day, something—something must have happened. He never told me what it was. And then Shannon Harrington came into his life. I think she was a manifestation, subconsciously, of his powers. They created her, an embodiment of his power, to make his life easier. And to get even with anyone who treated him badly.” He frowned. “She's part of his mind, part of him. Like a split personality. And she destroys for him. She kills.” He opened his wallet. “And then when all the kids, the kids who treated him badly were all dead, Shannon Harrington disappeared.” He pulled his wallet out and passed me a photograph. “That's her.” He swallowed. “I never met her, you have to understand that. He told me about her, of course, and I had one of the kids point her out to me. I took her picture.”