His
salvation came to the door last Thursday. She was no ordinary salvation,
not the kind that came with hellfire and brimstone and would you
like to buy this bible for $24.99? No, she merely smiled and he
knew he was looking at the end.
No
one came by anymore, not after he put in the new security system.
Johnny Smith was now as unapproachable as a mountain hermit, and
doing his best to live up to his reputation as a freak who liked
his solitude. So the knock after dark started him, and he answered
the door out of bemused curiosity.
And
there she was, raven hair tumbling over slender shoulders clad in
a sheer dress of palest wine. She held a ragged doll in one hand;
the other was loose by her side. For one dreadful moment Johnny
thought she wanted him to touch the doll and find a lost child or
something, but when he met her eyes he understood how wrong he was.
They seemed to melt from blue, to violet, to black as the night
sky behind her, and glittered with an inner fire that spoke of time
beyond boundaries. He stood silently for a moment, lost, until he
finally gathered himself to speak.
“Won’t
you come in? It’s awfully late to be out. Can I offer you something
to drink?”
Then
she smiled, and his whole world tilted. The pale moonlight shone
off her teeth, which for some reason looked awfully sharp, as she
answered. “Tea would be lovely. I do love a good cup of tea.”
Her voice was softly accented, sounding of days long past, colonialism
and crumpets. He stepped back to let her pass, noting her delighted
smile as she swept past the door sill.
“I’ve
not had guests for a few days, but if you want to wait in the study,
I’ll bring the tea as soon as the water’s heated.”
She smiled again and sat on the indicated chair, cocking her head
as if to listen to something far away. He took a moment to notice
the way the color of her gown highlighted the pale glow of her skin,
far too bare for this time of year in Maine. She seemed content
to wait, not offering any mindless prattle of awkward conversation
he’d experienced recently with Sarah, nor the subtle press
for information that Dana worked in at every opportunity. She sat
still, far stiller than any living creature should be able to, and
he marveled at the tense peace that settled around her. Her eyes
flickered around the room; predator’s eyes he noted with some
confusion. Puzzled, he piled the necessary items on the tray and
brought them to the low mahogany coffee table.
“I’m
sorry, Ma’am, but I didn’t catch why you’re here.”
She
smiled again, tilting her head with almost innocently. “That’s
because I haven’t said. The stars told me to come, to find
the other who sees as I do.”
Johnny’s
teacup clattered into his saucer. “Sees? Like you do? You get
visions?”
The
woman smiled a bit enigmatically. “I do. Dancing through the
night like courtesans at the ball. And they told me, that if I found
you, all would be right in my world again. They always leave me,
the others. But not you. Finally a shining knight for me to keep,
till the world turns to dust. Which we shan’t let it.”
“Um,
er, right. I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking
about. I touch things, get visions. But I suppose you already knew
that, since you’re here.” He’d never heard of another
person with Dead Zone activity before and certainly not anything
about balls or dancing or stars. Then again, if a few years ago,
someone had told him he’d see the inside of someone’s
heart without the aid of medical technology, he’d have laughed.
Again,
she smiled that wisp of a smile. “You see, don’t you?
What will happen when the world burns in flames?”
He
stared at her in shock. “How did you know?”
“Because
we must stop that. And I will help you.”
No
one, not even Bruce fully believed his visions about Stilson. Hell,
even half the time he refused to admit the apocalypse was near.
Now this strange woman had obviously sought him out to prevent God
only knew what atrocities. He felt as if huge weight was lifted.
“What do you need me to do?”
She
moved to sit next to him on the couch, though careful never to accidentally
touch him. “Miss Edith says I must give you a choice.”
She gestured to the doll by the teapot. “If I don’t, you’ll
be most cross, and I shan’t have my games.”
Johnny’s
brow wrinkled in confusion even as he leaned nearer to smell the
faintest whiff of her scent, like wisteria on a cool summer night.
“Choice? And you’re talking to your doll?” Ok, so
maybe she wasn’t all there. But she believed him, and he believed
her, and in the end, that’s all he needed.
“We
shall be wicked! You’ll laugh and dance and sing till morning.”
She raised one hand to the level of his cheek, the white tips of
her blood red nails almost grazing the skin. “All you need
to do is ask.”
He
nodded faintly, caught up in the shifting colors of her eyes, swirling
through the colors of deep dark, the colors of long before dawn.
He exhaled and leaned forward, closing his eyes. “You never
told me your name…”
As
her face shifted into serpentine brow ridges, gleaming fangs, and
glowing yellow eyes, she lowered her head to his neck. Before the
first burst of pain that sent Johnny to a world of visions he couldn’t
begin to comprehend, that sent his soul into screaming agony, she
murmured like the breath of a lover, “Drusilla.”
~Fin~
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