The Thirteen (25 page)

Rowan did. She turned to face her and shouted, “What? What did you say about my mother?”

Bella straightened up as best she could, still gasping for air. “I’m sorry, Rowan … but we have … your mother.”

“Why?” she asked. “Why do you have her?”

“We need her, Rowan. Just like we need you. Do you know who you are?”

The woman took one step towards Rowan and then another. “You’re very important. You’re the granddaughter of someone very important. A blood alumna. Do you know what an alumna is?”

Rowan tried to think. They were always talking about alumnae at school. Was an alumna someone who had been to school?

“You and your mother can be of great service to many people, and to me too,” she said. “I’m sorry I tried to trick you. Will you come?” She held her hand out in a gesture of friendship or supplication.

“What’s my mom an alumna of?”

The woman’s eyes narrowed and she looked jolly for a moment, as if she had something wonderful to tell. “Well, she’s an alumna because of your grandmother, basically. Your grandmother is one of us.”

“One of who?”

“She’s a witch. We all are—your grandmother, Izzy, me, my friends. Do you believe me? Does that frighten you, Rowan? Or are you a brave girl?” Bella took a few more steps forward.

All at once Rowan did believe it. It explained a lot of weird stuff. She also figured that if she wanted to find her mother, she had no choice. “You’ll take me to my mom, no tricks?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, I’ll come—”

Just then a car turned the corner and its headlights fell on them, causing both to throw shielding arms over their eyes. Then Rowan squealed, this time with delight, as she realized whose car was sputtering and jerking towards them. She waved frantically for the driver to stop.

And then someone yanked her off her feet. She wriggled and twisted to see who had grabbed her. Then she shrieked.

“There’ll be none of that,” said Tula, as Mr. Keyes gunned the engine and came barrelling at the three of them.

TWENTY-THREE

I
ZZY PACED BACK AND FORTH
inside the Chapman house. On the floor beside her was a large stain, gone brown with time. Blood. Impossible to tell from what. There were fresher stains on the long slab of beechwood table that dominated the room. Her recent offering. The rest of the dog sacrifice, however, was gone. Where no one would have ventured to guess; no one would want to try. Not even Izzy.

She’d been pacing nearly an hour. She could not stop, gripped as she was by a nearly uncontrollable rage. At times she couldn’t contain it and would simply howl her anger, terrifying the women who had stayed outside. They would venture as far as the porch, but they were definitely too afraid to come in. She would like to believe they were afraid of her. But they were just afraid.

Her hair was wild around her head; she looked fierce and uncontained. The women should be afraid. This was their doing and they would pay—all of them. If Paula wasn’t found. If the girl didn’t come. If. If. If. This was what happened if you didn’t take care of every little thing yourself.

When she’d arrived, there had been something akin to hope inside her. In a few hours their
sabbat
would be complete and they would once more be as they were, though humbled by their recent experiences

(and they would be humbled by the power they saw)

But instead there was no Paula, and worse, no
girl
. The girl had been promised. Even without their thirteen, they might survive a little longer if they offered the girl.

When Izzy got there, Glory had been sitting bleeding on the porch steps, moaning and clutching her moronic fat face—oh, my eye, my eye. The rest all spoke on top of each other, trying to explain what had gone wrong. Which was everything.

Once Izzy had made sense of the catastrophe, rage had overtaken her and she’d lashed out. At Glory, an easy target

(so annoying and pathetic the kind of person you just want to smack)

letting all that fury pour through her fingers in the moaning woman’s direction. Flames born of years of rage and frustration had zapped out of her fingers and hit Glory dead on. Glory became airborne. Then she fell, hard, onto the roof of the Chapman place, rolled to land on top of the porch and tumbled down the steps into the dirt. Not a sound had come out of her except for a

(pathetic)

oof, oof, oof
as she hit each step.

The rest of them had gasped and backed away, Bridget edging right into the house, then yelping in horror when she had realized where she was and quickly covering her mouth lest she squeal again. She jumped back onto the porch fast.

Glory’s fall had sobered Izzy, put a brief lid on her anger

(and she was sorry truly sorry in a deep part of herself that saw less and less light over the years)

She had to think. And so she made them speak one at a time. Made them explain.

They had brought Paula here but she had gotten away. They said it was all Marla’s fault—her spell had worn off before they were ready. And it was Paula’s fault that they didn’t have the girl. Paula hadn’t brought the girl to Marla’s.

Fault
. How little that mattered. If they couldn’t face Izzy’s anger, how would they deal with real wrath, the wrath of ages and time and endless power. Which is what they’d all be facing, very soon, if the girl didn’t come.

Bella, Tula and Aggie were getting the girl. That was what the text had said.
When the girl comes, the mother will follow
.

Izzy had caught an exchange of looks between Joanna Shaw and Esme, a conspiracy of escape.
Try it
, she had thought. The house would not let anyone go this time.

And now, behind her, the house was awakening. It seemed to breathe, and in each exhalation was the smell of death and ash. The Father was coming.

If the girl didn’t show up, … all hell would break loose.

Really.

Audra’s progress was slow. And she was afraid. Still, she had already passed Princess Ice Cream, which was closed and dark as if it were the end of the season. She was now trudging along beside the ball park, a wide, empty space beyond which were trees. If she got as far as the end of the ball field, she would be able to see the single streetlight above the trees near the Chapman house.

For the past half-mile, every so often five or, six, or so cats at a time would surge past her, sometimes close enough that she could feel the flick of a tail on her leg—making her keenly aware of how much of her flesh was exposed.

About fifty or so were now in front of her as she walked. So far they hadn’t tried to stop her, but she could tell they were growing impatient.

Tansy had made sure her presence was felt. She was never far out of Audra’s sight, never lost in the sea of rolling fur and muscle. And now the cat stopped and turned to look at Audra.
I know
. The stare was so penetrating, Audra wanted to look away. She didn’t. Her time for looking away had passed.

Audra was walking inside a thickening mass of cats, which began to stop in front of her, slowing her progress. They crouched, haunches tucked under, ears back, tails flicking with menace. She stepped over them, around them. Carefully, slowly.

How had she ever fallen in so far? Why, after Walter died and she thought she’d got Paula to safety, had she stayed on here? She could have packed up, left, gone far away, or even just to the city where Paula and Rowan lived. She could have. The thing was, it had been at first easier, then safer, to stay near Izzy. In the beginning she’d been foolish. At the end, a coward.

After Izzy said to her, so many years ago,
What if you could have everything you’ve ever wanted?
she’d grabbed Audra by the arms and said,
Tonight you’ll have a dream about me. Listen to it, okay?

Audra had laughed.
Iz—

Izzy had shaken her. It wasn’t a joke.
I’ll come to you in your dreams. Do as I ask. For our friendship
.

Izzy, you’re scaring me—

Promise. Promise
.

And that night she had dreamed of Izzy. At least, Izzy was there too. And a man who was handsome and powerful and offering her the world she wanted.

After Walter was taken, she’d been strong enough to try to save her daughter. But not herself. Weak. Afraid. And that was why it had come to this.

In front of her all the cats had now stopped, a small calico so suddenly that Audra nearly stepped on it. Their backs were hunched and they were so close together, to look over them was like gazing at the surface of a lake or a wheat field lightly stirred by the wind. Audra guessed that fifty cats now held her there, slyly checking her out, some directly facing her, others at an angle, their eyes glassy and hollow.

That night in the dream, her friend Izzy had walked across a bare wooden floor, smooth from legions of feet, centuries of use, the brush that had scrubbed it bristly and harsh, the water cold. Her steps echoed in the cavernous room, the walls so much vague space beyond.

Audra had held out her arms to her friend.
Izzy, you came!

But Izzy’s expression had been so different from her usual spirited one.
I’ve come to make you an offer. It will change your life. You will have everything you’ve ever wanted. All you must do is declare yourself His …
On her shoulder was Tansy, little more than a kitten then, purring, rubbing herself against Izzy’s cheek.

Izzy it’s just as you said. You’re in my dream!
And even as she was wondering at this, the space behind her friend had begun to move; shadows seemed to writhe and dance and swoon.

There are many with me. All come to see you! Give yourself to Him …

Izzy’s hands had been behind her back. When she brought them forward, one held a knife, the large carving knife from Audra’s own kitchen. She pointed it at Audra’s chest.
It hurts only a moment and His loyalty is yours forever. But you must belong to him to wear His mark
.

Then everything seemed to happen at once, not with dreamy, sleep-weary speed but in real time.

Say yes
.

She had had a sudden image of everything she’d ever wanted—embarrassing things: plates of cakes, a room full of dolls, wild sexual abandon a hundred different ways; a future for her daughter filled with love and money; child things mingled with adult things; silly good easy impossible wondrous profane—all of it seemed to appear to her in a minute or less, along with a voice speaking with such authority

be mine and all you want

and in the last few seconds, before she had had time to acquiesce or protest, the ultimate vision of what she wanted was a vision of herself, standing there as she was, wanting everything not for her husband or her daughter, but for herself, the very image of a greedy spoiled child. Her wanting was hugely profound and intense and wholly personal.

The size of her wanting inspired joy in the thing she could not see.

Izzy had come close and closer, and Audra said,
Who is He? Who?

Without answering, Izzy very deliberately pierced Audra’s side with the kitchen knife, not deeply, but it surprised her, as did the pain. When she looked down, Izzy pulled the knife out, and then came a gush, a small waterfall of blood. In shock she looked at Izzy, and Izzy opened her arms wide to show Audra that she too bled.
Sisters
, she said.

In the morning, after a restless night filled with dreams, Audra had found the knife in the sink. Startled, she checked under her left breast, and there was the wound, healed over but still pink. When she thought about it, when
sabbat
approached, it ached, then bled—a new kind of cycle.

But from that point on, her life had been different, and easier. At least until she had blood on her hands. David’s blood, and Walter’s. Over the years it had felt as if the blood were growing thicker and ranker, and she began to wish for an end. But from the moment when she and Chick had begun trying to resist the bloodlust, to stop paying the endless bills, to when Chick had taken her own life, to this moment now, as she stood stock still in an ocean of menace, she’d known it would come to this. She could die on this road, never having made things right. But she had to try, for Paula and for Rowan.

At her ankle, finally, came teeth, sharp and hot. Audra put her head back and howled in pain and sorrow. She yanked her foot away, and the cats reacted as one. They rose up and leaped upon her with unholy shrieks. The sheer weight of them drove her to her knees. She landed on one of them, and the cat retaliated with a slash to her midsection. Then she went all the way down.

With fists and feet she tried to fend them off, but they were everywhere. Beneath the writhing, wailing, lusting tide, she screamed and wept and called out for Walter, for Paula, for Rowan, whom she’d only wanted to protect. So intense was the attack, she didn’t hear her rescuers at first, just realized that the weight on her chest had lessened. Then the cat calls seemed to change in tenor, and she sensed they were retreating.

She opened her eyes, her hands held to her face, and between her bloody fingers she saw a ruff of dark fur

(a huge cat)

that was shaking something in its mouth, hard. Then another creature jumped on its back, and as it turned to snap, she saw her—

“Tex!” Her dog. Her Old Tex. He shook the cat until it was limp and then tossed it away, only to snap at another and another, his jaws clamping down on whatever moved close enough. Another dog was with him, a beagle she didn’t know, and it was fighting just as hard, its fur dotted with red-pink blood.

Audra struggled to her feet, pulling her tattered nightgown around herself as best she could. Cats were running towards the trees that flanked the river, running up the street. Some lay on the road, their bodies rent and still.

Old Tex limped over to her, his snout red with cat. He snuck his head under her hand and whimpered. She knelt close to him.
“Good dog
. You poor thing, look at you—” Tears poured out of her as she pressed her face against his and repeated, “Good dog, good dog
…”

The beagle panted nearby, a youngster, barely more than a pup. There was a cruel slash above his left eye, and he had to keep blinking the blood away. “Here boy,” she said. The dog came, and she stroked his head gratefully.

Then she straightened. She hurt everywhere, yet now she felt she was destined to do this one thing before she

(died)

stopped.

“I have to go,” she said to the dogs.

Audra limped towards the Chapman house, its streetlight glowing like a beacon. Behind her the dogs followed, Old Tex moving slowly, as if also in great pain.