The Thirteen (28 page)

“My David …” she said. “David and Paula …”

Izzy put a gentle hand on the girl’s cheek and whispered her name. The girl’s face was frozen in terror.

“My Rowan …” she said.

Paula ran into the dark house. It was crowded with bodies and shadows and shapes so horrible there was no way to register them. She simply held her arms out in front of her and pushed her way through, bellowing for her daughter. “Rowan!
Rowan!”

“Mom? Mommy?”

Paula pressed forward, the slime and stink and wretchedness jostling and pushing her back.

Izzy and Audra locked eyes.

“You knew,” Izzy said.

“I couldn’t tell you. I couldn’t let this become their life,” Audra said. “Blood …” She offered no other explanation.

For a moment Izzy looked ready to nod, to agree with her old friend, and then she didn’t. “My son was everything, and taken from me. It was supposed to be
your
sacrifice, it was supposed to be Walter. And you took my grandchild from me. David’s child. How could you?”

Audra reached out to touch her friend. As she did, the house began to shake, and an excited, frightened murmur went quickly through the crowd of shapes.

he comes

he comes

Paula stumbled forward even as the house danced around her, the floor rising and falling like a funhouse ride. As if it were breathing. She pushed her way past a huge thing covered in hair and smelling of earth. There, suddenly, was her mother. And Izzy.

“Mom!”
From between the two women came a set of small arms, hands stretched out to her. Paula ran for her daughter, the shaking, shifting floor tossing her towards the altar.

“Paula, get the child out!” Audra yelled.

Paula gathered her daughter in her arms. The house creaked and screamed around them, the voices rose into something unworldly, unholy.

“No!” screamed Izzy. She grabbed Rowan by the hair and the girl shrieked.

Audra wrapped herself around Izzy and said, clearly and loudly, “Paula, take her away from here.”

Paula yanked her daughter free. She held her like a baby and carried her through the stumbling, reeling, jubilant crowd.

he comes he comes

She ducked her head low and, like a battering ram, she pushed headlong through the mass of writhing, twisting evil as they celebrated the advent of their unholy Father.

“No!” Izzy screamed and tried to go after them.

“Let them go,” Audra shouted over the din into Izzy’s ear. “It’s our turn.”

The house shook with energy. It was blazing hot, and the women were suddenly deeply terrified. Audra pulled them both onto the altar nonetheless.

“Let him take us,” she said. “It will end.”

Izzy stared at her. Both of them were bleeding from their wounds; the blood had a coppery menstrual smell to it, but repellent, rotten. She collapsed into Audra’s arms and they clung to each other on the altar. The house began its disintegration. The roof cracked and shook.

“They’ll blame us, you know,” Izzy said to Audra. “They always blame the mother.”

And then a great shaking rent open a wound in the earth, black and dark and endless.

Sanderson saw what he never thought he would, Paula running towards the car, half carrying, half dragging Rowan, refusing to let go of her.

She yanked open the door and jammed the two of them inside, just as something leapt at them. They screamed in unison, then they heard the a familiar bark.

Gusto.

Sanderson looked around quickly for Old Tex—he might even have said,
where’s Old Tex, hey boy, huh?
Old Tex was lying on the ground, completely still.

“Wait!” he called. He hobbled over to the dog. Behind them the whole house was burning. He awkwardly heaved Tex up and hauled him to the car. Paula opened the back door and Sanderson lay the dog across her and Rowan’s laps.

“He’s hardly breathing,” Paula said.

Rowan moaned and buried her face in his side.

“He saved me.” Sanderson ran his hand over Tex’s fur. “Good dog.” And again, fiercely,
“Good
dog.” Gusto jumped in after his friend.

Sanderson got into the driver’s seat, breathing hard, and lifted his broken ankle out of the way. The pain was beyond pain. He backed up the car awkwardly and drove through the gate, bouncing it open with the grille. Then he pulled onto the gravel road and hightailed it.

Sanderson took a last glance in the rear-view mirror as Paula and Rowan looked out the back window. The burning house was falling into itself. They were silent for a moment. Paula kept watching over her shoulder, but Rowan covered her face with her hands.

Finally Paula rolled up the window, the screams from beyond the grave too much for her. “Get us to Princess Ice Cream and then I’ll drive,” she said.

When they got there, Sanderson pulled off the road and turned to look in the back seat. Paula and Rowan were stroking Old Tex. “He’s gone,” Paula said.

Sanderson nodded. Rowan started to cry.

“I’m going to drive,” Paula said to Rowan. She sat her daughter up and wiped away her tears. “You loved him and he loved you,” she said. “We’ll take him with us, away from here, okay?”

Rowan nodded and laid her hand on Old Tex’s head.

Paula helped Sanderson out of the driver’s seat; he leaned on her as he hobbled around to the other side. When he’d got himself in, she took off her jacket, bunched it up and, carefully as she could, put it under his foot. Muttering mother words, words of comfort.

Love words.

As they drove away she said to Sanderson, “You rescued us.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.”

“No. It was Rowan. I just wanted to watch a movie.”

“I wish we had,” Rowan said. No one laughed.

They passed the sign on the road near the highway, all three of them looked.

THANK YOU FOR YOUR VISIT! WE’LL MISS YOU!

“Are we going home?” Rowan asked.

“Yeah,” Paula said. She took the exit ramp.

EPILOGUE

P
AULA PULLED ON THE EMERGENCY
brake and it snapped into place with a solid clunk. Lots of things were solid now.

“Just a sec,” she said and got out the driver’s side. The minivan was new and she was still learning its ways. The side door tended to stick, and she braced for the big yank. Through the window she saw Sanderson laughing. She blushed and pulled the door open.

“You looked like you were about to tackle Everest. You stick your tongue out when you concentrate. Did you know that?” He reached down in front of him and picked up his crutch.

“I thought you liked my tongue,” she said.

“Eww,” came Rowan’s voice from the front. “You guys are gross.”

“All right, all right,” Paula said and got out of the way so Sanderson could manoeuvre himself out of the van.

Rowan jumped out of the front passenger seat, saying, “Can I let the dogs out?” Before Paula could answer, the back of the van was open and two very happy animals jumped to the ground. The puppy, a Shepherd-Lab cross, bounced around in a circle while Gusto wagged his tail indulgently. They had taken to each other nicely. Surprisingly nicely. Rowan snapped leads onto both collars. The puppy nipped at her fingers, and she waved a pointer at his nose.

Rowan ducked down to their level and let the dogs lick her face. Paula didn’t like that much, but she let it happen anyway. The dogs made Rowan happy. And whatever helped to erase the events of that night in June was fine with her.

Sanderson put weight on his good foot and planted the crutch. He’d just had another surgery on his ankle, but the doctor thought this would be the last. He would probably have a slight limp forever, but it was ultimately going to be fine. Everything was ultimately going to be fine.

“Okay,” Paula said, as Sanderson successfully negotiated the curb. “Let’s go to the dog park!”

“
Dog park,”
Rowan said to the dogs. They pulled her forward, dragging her to the entrance. She and the dogs ran through the gate and it slammed shut behind them. Rowan bent over and unsnapped Gusto’s leash. She rubbed his head and scratched under his chin. In an indulgent parental voice, she said firmly, “Now, you watch your little brother, and I mean it.”

Gusto seemed to understand. He sat while the girl unleashed the puppy, who then nearly upended her. She laughed and rubbed his tiny, perfect little body with both hands and snuggled his face into hers. “Oh, you’re such a good boy, such a good, good boy, aren’t you—”

And then a voice behind her said, “What a nice little dog. Can I pet him?”

Rowan had to squint because the sun was in her eyes. “Sure,” she said.

The old woman put her hand on the dog’s small head. “He’s a precious. How old is he?” The puppy was being oddly placid, wagging and wiggling but not running off. Gusto came closer, to get his share maybe.

“Almost three months.”

“What’s his name?” the woman asked.

“Tex.”

“Oh, that’s a good name for a dog.”

“Thank you,” Rowan said politely. She didn’t know at all what the old woman meant.

The woman petted the puppy and the puppy wagged his tail happily.

When Paula saw the woman talking to Rowan, Sanderson put his hand on her back. “It’s okay,” he said. “We’re not in Haven Woods. This is beautiful, boring Goodview. Right?”

“Okay,” she said. They started walking again and she resisted the temptation to tell him to hurry up. “Hey, Rowan, you have to let those dogs run!” she called.

The old woman and Rowan looked up at the sound of Paula’s voice.

The woman took her hands off the dog’s ruff and gave him one last scratch behind his ear. The puppy leaned into it. “Your mother’s right. You run off now, Old Tex.”

“Hey,” Rowan said, “how did you know his—”

And then Paula was there and she put her hand out for the woman to shake. “Hello,” she said, her smile a little brittle. “I’m Paula. This is my daughter. And you are?”

“She’s a good girl.”

“Thank you,” Paula said. Sanderson came up behind her and regarded the stranger carefully.

The old woman took a deep breath and let it out, smiling. “It’s so nice here. Close to home,” she said. “And I had better get there.”

She nodded to Sanderson, meeting his eyes, and he smiled back slowly. For a moment he felt something tug at him.

“Goodbye,” she said. She took a good long look at Paula, her expression wistful. “You have a lovely family.”

“Thank you.”

“You’ll have a nice life,” she told Paula. “You have someone watching over you, I think.”

Sanderson and Rowan moved off as Rowan threw a ball for Gusto. The old woman stood there as if reluctant to go. Paula thought that her eyes were kindly, a pretty blue. The woman suddenly leaned close, putting her hand delicately on Paula’s stomach. “You’re going to have a boy,” she whispered.

Paula was too surprised even to gasp.

The woman turned away from her then and waved. “Goodbye, Rowan. You take good care of that dog, now!”

“I will,” Rowan called back as she tugged at the ball in Gusto’s mouth. He let go, only to have the puppy move in and grab it. “Tex!” Rowan shouted, and gave chase as the puppy romped away. Sanderson headed for the benches then, and Paula followed.

When they were sitting, he asked, “You look funny. What did she say to you?”

“Nothing much.” He seemed to accept that. That was something she really liked about Sanderson—he let her have her space.

Paula wondered whether she should be uneasy about what the old woman had said, but she felt strangely calm. The events of six months ago were fading and the old life was falling away from her and Rowan. The last threads had been cut when they’d sold her mother’s place and Sanderson’s too. He had said he wasn’t sad to let it go, although she had worried about that.

Every morning Paula now woke up in their new house, with Sanderson beside her and her daughter down the hall. Both Rowan and Paula were in school, and they made their lunches in the morning side by side. The worst thing that happened to them these days was the puppy having an accident in the house and Sanderson stepping in pee with bare feet. He seemed surprised whenever it happened. “Goddamned dog,” he said, every time.

Sameness. For the first time in many years, she and Rowan had sameness and security. It was glorious.

Recently she’d even begun talking to Marla again. Marla, who was painfully sorry, whose family had survived that horrible night and now had to make their way in the world without … help. She didn’t want to see Marla yet, and might never want to see her. But she was Rowan’s aunt. Time would heal or it wouldn’t. They’d have to wait.

“Wanna do takeout tonight?” Sanderson asked.

She nodded and leaned happily into his shoulder as they watched Rowan with the dogs. Paula’s hand was on her belly. She thought about the old woman again. She hadn’t said anything to Sanderson yet. But the woman was right. She also thought it would be a boy.

As they drove away from the park, both dogs lay flopped on the floor of the van in the back, tuckered out. Rowan, who no longer wore her school blazer everywhere—mostly because she didn’t go to that school anymore—felt around in the pocket of her hoodie and found the pink crucifix. She wrapped her fingers around it.

She’d never told that lady her name, or anything about Old Tex. But somehow she wasn’t freaked out. She’d liked her.

“So, burgers or fish and chips?” Paula asked.

“Fish and chips,” Sanderson said. “The Kooby place—”

“Burgers,” Rowan said. “Come on—burgers!”

“We had burgers last time,” Paula said. “But we can compromise. Tacos?”

“Burgers,” Rowan tried once more.

“Come on, Ro,” Paula said. And she shot her daughter a look.

“Hmmm …” Rowan said. Then she looked out the window. As she did, she drew little circles in the palm of her hand, her eyes angled sideways at her mother. “I want,” she whispered, too low for her to hear.

“What did you say?” Paula asked.

Rowan raised her index finger and flicked something invisible at her mother. And then towards Sanderson in the back seat. He was her dad now. The dead boy who had made her with her mother was hardly real to her, no matter how much was explained. She loved Sanderson.

She repeated the spell, drawing circles in her palm and flicking her desire at each of her parents.
I want
.

Paula half-turned to her. “I can’t hear you, Ro.”

“Nothing,” Rowan said.

“Okay, then.” Sanderson rubbed the back of his head. “Burgers. Where should we go?”

“How about Burgerland, at Fenton and Garvis?” Paula said.

Rowan clapped her hands with excitement. “My favourite!”

Burgerland it was.