Chapter Eleven
Stephen sat alone in the cafe and watched as the sea-plane bound for Maljardin coasted out onto the water and climbed into the rose-tinted evening sky. He hated the thought of Kathleen over there alone with Julia, but he was surprised to find within himself a feeling of jealousy that Julia had chosen her instead of him. Try as he might, he could not get the image of Julia's long flowing hair or the sound of her voice out of his head, and despite the fact that he had a bad feeling about her, he also felt oddly allured by her, which in itself was strange, since her type of woman did not usually attract him very much. Yet, as he thought back upon the impression she had made on him at dinner, he remembered that as soon as she had entered the room, he had felt that same inward chill that he had noticed at Bill Temple's bedside; and then there was the toast she had proposed. He could not mistake the look she had given him for anything but a look of challenge, and even this feeling of attraction in the midst of repulsion made him certain that it was not merely Julia Desmond with whom he had just met. He knew that there was only one person who could help him to make sense of all this, but he wasn't sure that he could deal with her tonight.
After Kathleen had informed him that the Conjure Woman was none other than Evangeline Abbott, the Tarot-reading waitress from his uncle Matt's journal, he had been in a turmoil of doubt as to how he could ever face her again. He had resolved to avoid it for as long as he could, but now that he had promised Kathleen that he would report the substance of their meeting with Julia to her, he knew he had to go. Reaching into his pocket, he removed the small slip of paper which she had handed him before leaving with Julia and peered again at the hastily-scribbled note.
"Stephen," it said. "You can keep my appointment with our mutual friend tonight. Just go around the back of the hotel and look for a tall man. He'll be there after sunset, and he'll take you along the path."
Stephen remembered the tall man from his earlier visit, and he was a little afraid of meeting him in such a secluded place. However, if Kathleen had been safe with him, he thought, then he would probably be alright. He just hoped that he could make a better impression on him than he had the last time. He had felt at their first meeting that if it were not for Barrett, the man would have had no hesitation in tearing him to pieces with his bare hands or with the strange and ancient-looking knife which he carried. Still, he had seemed to be a man who could be reasoned with. Barrett had done so, after all, so Stephen knew that his fears must be irrational. Whenever he came up against one of these purely instinctive and unreasonable fears within himself, he thought back to a convocation lecture he had once attended, where the visiting professor had said:
"We think we have come so far and have learned so much, but we must remember that we carry the cave always within us. We fear what we don't understand precisely because the unknown often meant death for our cave-dwelling ancestors, and though our brains have become more sophisticated over time, we have never lost the primal drives and fears which have helped us to survive. Hence," he had concluded dramatically, "our lives are a continual struggle against returning to that cave buried in our collective memory, and to tell you the truth, I believe that more of us give up the fight than carry it forward. Let me urge you future anthropologists to use your knowledge of the past to shape humanity's future."
Ever since that lecture, he had tried to remain conscious of what he had come to call his cave-man instincts, but every once in a while, one would catch him unawares as this one had, and he would curse himself for being an unenlightened primitive.
"Lost your companions, Mr. Dawson?" Chris had come over.
"Yes, and now I have to go as well. It's all charged to Julia Desmond apparently."
"Right," said Chris. "Have a good night!" Stephen smiled ironically, downed the remainder of his coffee at a gulp, and walked out of the cafe.
The sun had set by the time he was exiting the hotel by a rear fire-door, and he was grateful for the clarity of the sky as he approached the screen of vines and creepers that gave onto the sacred processional path.
"What are you doing here?" The tall man was there, just as Kathleen had said he would be, and he seemed genuinely suspicious of him.
"I've come to see the Conjure Woman," he said, trying not to sound too defensive. "I need to tell her something about Miss O'Dell."
"Well," said the man, "alright. Come on," and he led the way along the path, indicating when Stephen should remove his shoes and when he was free to put them on again, and when they reached the cabin, he left him without a word.
Stephen stood a while in thought, uncertain of what he was going to do when he saw her again, but before he could raise a hand to knock on the door, he heard a light step coming around the side of the house, and the Conjure Woman was soon standing beside him.
"So you've come at last," she said.
"Yes, Miss Abbott," he said slowly, "I guess I have."
"Please come in," she said, opening the door and beckoning him inside with a wave of her hand, "and sit down."
Stephen stepped into the firelit room and moved carefully to the chair in which he had sat on his first visit here. He saw the Conjure Woman regarding him quizzically as she too came in, closing the door behind her, and took her usual low stool across from him. They sat in silence for what seemed like an interminable space of time, and just as he was beginning to become annoyed by its depth, the silence was broken by her soft and mellifluous voice.
"I'm glad you've come, Stephen."
"To be honest, Miss Abbott," he said, "I'm not entirely sure why I'm here."
"Please," she said with a light laugh. "Now that you know my name, call me Vangie."
"So it's really true then," said Stephen, shifting nervously in his chair. "You really are--uh--her."
"Yes, it's true," said Vangie, "though I know it's difficult for you to accept."
"Well," said Stephen, hesitating, "I don't mean to sound ungrateful or anything. I mean, I do thank you for helping me with that Flu I went through, and for giving me more of my uncle's story, and for--uh--for the night when Bill Temple died. You--uh--came to me and helped me. I do thank you for all that, but well, how could you be that same waitress that my uncle met? I just don't understand!"
"Let me try to help you," said Vangie. "You and I need to understand each other if we're going to set things to rights on Maljardin."
"We?"
"Yes. The evil has touched you. You're a part of it now, whether you want to be or not."
"But I could leave any time I want to," he said, "and I must say that I have wanted to leave ever since I finished Uncle Matt's journal."
"But you couldn't, could you?" She looked at him with that direct gaze that seemed to pierce him to the heart.
"Well," he said, "I got sick, yes, but--"
"Yes. You got sick. You got sick the day after you attended a dying man who had been touched by evil."
"A coincidence!"
"You, a man of God, talk of coincidence?"
"I'm a man of the twenty-first century! Do you expect me to believe that I got the Flu from some evil spirit?"
"I don't expect you to believe anything. I hope that you will look at the facts as they are, even if they seem incredible to you."
"Alright," he said stiffly. "Here are the facts as I see them. I was invited down here by an old friend to meet a venerable personage who was supposed to have known my uncle before he died, and I was introduced to a woman who barely looks to be past thirty years of age who gave me a couple of books and a cross. My uncle died forty years ago!" He found himself yelling now, but he couldn't stop. Instead, he plunged on without a break. "I can't believe that you knew him, and I can't believe that you really are who Kathleen says you are."
"Kathleen? Will you tell me about her?"
"She went with Julia to Maljardin," he said almost offhandedly.
"And you gave her the cross I had given you."
"Yes," he said, "but how did you know?"
"I know," she said. "That's enough. You did rightly, by the way, and the fact that you gave it to her tells me that part of you believes that she is going into great danger."
"Well," he said, "I do. I met Julia Desmond tonight, and she definitely seemed--well--odd. She looked at me in the most confrontational way at one point, and seemed to know me for a priest and for the man who gave Mr. Temple the last rites, and there's another thing. She was wearing a locket around her neck which looked to be stained with very old dry blood."
Vangie's face went a deadly shade of white and she gasped audibly.
"Are you alright?"
"Do you not recall your uncle's journal?"
"Do you mean that business about the black rabbit and the locket? I must admit that by that point I was getting very confused."
"Have you got the journal with you?"
He reached into a pocket of the light jacket he was wearing and took out the book.
"Alright," he said, flipping pages. "Here's the bit. Uncle Matt says that a black rabbit mysteriously appeared one day where no living thing could survive. The plants of Maljardin are apparently poisonous. Then he says that Jean Paul's servant Raxl suddenly found a blood-stained locket around the rabbit's neck and was convinced that the rabbit was evil."
"Just so," said Vangie. "Jean Paul Desmond identified the locket as belonging to his wife, and he also stated that it had been sealed into the cryo-capsule with her. I recall the locket and the intense anger which seemed to flow through it. As we now know, Erica's spirit was in the rabbit and wanted to get out, and when she finally resumed human form, she was in league with Jacques."
"And she was supposed to have killed you," said Stephen in an accusatory tone, "but somehow, you're alive. Could you be in league with Jacques as well?"
"It's very astute of you to ask that question," she said, never altering her gentle speech, "and all I can do is tell you my story. You'll have to judge it for yourself."
"Alright then," said Stephen. "Say what you have to say!"
"First," said Vangie, "let me tell you that there are many things in this story of which I am not proud." She paused a while and looked into the heart of the fire, and then, with a deep breath, she began to speak.
"As you have read, my purpose for coming to Maljardin was twofold; as far as Jean Paul Desmond was concerned, I was there to conduct a séance in which he would contact the spirit of his recently-deceased wife. For my own part, I was there to complete my father's unfinished work. I had been given the task by him as he lay on his deathbed, but it was a difficult thing for me to accept it, since I had predicted long ago that my own death would take place on that island. However, it would be a heartless person who could refuse a parent's dying wish, so I resolved to get there by any means necessary.
"Once there, I realized that the signs shown in the Tarot readings I had done from afar were only the beginning of the strange and fantastic portents which would soon show themselves. In a ritual conducted by Raxl and myself, I received a vision which revealed that if we did a séance, there would be sorrow and death, but no matter how much we tried to dissuade Jean Paul from his purpose, we could not, and I did hold out hope that the ritual would reveal a way to rid the island of its ancient curse."
"But at that first attempt," Stephen said, "the chandelier fell and you fell into some sort of trance."
"Just so," said Vangie. "I was in the grip of a very strong influence, and when I finally came out of the trance, I realized that there was more going on here than any of us knew. As you will have read in your uncle's journal, Raxl and I had set up a box of sand over which was hung a pendulum so that the spirits could write messages to us if they wished."
"I'm familiar with this kind of practice," he said as she paused in her story. "You only got confused messages from it as I understand."
"Yes. We thought we might be able to find the doll and the pin by the ancient symbols we could see in the sand, but when we looked for them where we thought the spirit-writing told us to look, nothing was there. Suffice it to say that after all these strange events, we were all stretched to the limits of our sanity, so that by the time the rabbit and the locket appeared, none of us knew what was right. All that I knew was that there was growing anger and mistrust all around, and it was impossible for me to conduct a séance in safety while these energies were present.
"I took to spending long hours in my room, trying to calm myself enough to find the clarity which I sought, but it was to no avail. I tried to conduct a second séance in order to determine whether the locket did in fact belong to the deceased Erica, but the anger was very strong and it put Holly Marshall in danger, and I finally refused to perform another one."
"Yes," said Stephen. "Uncle Matt wrote that Holly was poisoned by some wine that she drank."
"It was fortunate that she did not die," said Vangie, "but as she did not die, Jean Paul felt that a séance would still be possible. Not wanting him to try it himself, I finally agreed to conduct it, but I was very weak and barely in control of myself. I knew that my death could very well result from it. I had been falling in and out of trances ever since the first one and I knew that I was in over my head. However, my father's dying words rang in my ears. He had told me that I would never rest until I had accomplished the task of getting rid of Jacques Eloi des Mondes and his influence forever.
"So, though I had barely eaten or slept, I agreed to conduct one last séance. I was upset that Holly was involved, but for some reason, she was a very strong connection to Erica's spirit. So, with everyone on the island participating this time, we began. I called for Erica to come across the chasm of death, and she did come. She chose Holly for her vessel, and as Holly's lips moved, we all watched in awe as Erica's voice came from this young girl.
"It was too much for Holly's mother to bear, so she asked us to stop. I too said that it should stop, but Jean Paul was insistent that we continue. Then I felt a surge of power flow through me. I knew that the conjure gods were with me, but then all at once another power was opposing me, and I felt my throat beginning to close as though someone was strangling me."
"Even then," said Stephen, "Jean Paul refused to stop the séance. I remember that from Uncle Matt's journal!"
"He was almost mad at that point," said Vangie, "and so was I. I felt my death approaching, and at the last minute, I remembered a technique that my father had taught me. I decided to try to fool the spirits, so I cried out that I had been murdered. I urged everyone to leave the island, and then I threw myself into a self-induced deathlike state. I slowed my heart and my breathing and hoped that Dr. Carr wouldn't detect a pulse, and when everyone was sure I was dead, I simply lay on the floor, still in my trance, but able to see, hear and sense things as though I were awake.
"With dismay I felt the vibrations of Erica's spirit growing stronger. It had been able to use me to gain a foothold in this world, and I knew now, when it was too late for me to do anything, that Erica was the angry spirit that I had been sensing. Jean Paul had found a skull which he thought belonged to a prisoner of Jacques who had been murdered rather savagely, and it was this man whom he had thought to be the angry spirit that was troubling us. I knew now that this had been a ruse, a trick to allow Erica to come back.
"I heard Jean Paul ask me for forgiveness, and it was I who felt the most need of forgiveness in that room, but I was too much of a coward to release myself from the trance. Instead, I waited for Quito to carry me away to the sacred burial-ground of our folk which existed on Maljardin, and before he could begin digging my grave, I managed to bring myself out of the trance and to tell him not to bury me. I was very weak and could not walk, so I asked Quito to take me to a secluded cave in the cliffs, well above the water-line even at high tide, and I told him that I would do my best to help everyone still trapped in that house. I knew that Erica was too strong for me to battle with directly, so I tried other means."
"But if you couldn't deal with Erica, What had made you think you could deal with Jacques Eloi des Mondes?"
"I was arrogant," said Vangie. "I thought that I could match him act for act, using my father's ancient rituals to focus my modern and exceptional mind. It was only when I sat in the shelter of the cave to which Quito had brought me that I realized the error of my ways. I had largely abandoned my father's teachings in favor of those which parapsychology could offer me, and as a result, I was completely out of my element when dealing with the forces on Maljardin. I was a believer in ESP and other extensions of the mind, but I felt that my father's teachings were outmoded and unnecessarily steeped in superstition and ritual."
"But you participated in rituals with Raxl," said Stephen.
"I did," said Vangie, "because my duties as Conjure Woman instructed me to do so. However, I felt that in the last analysis, the enlightened mind would triumph over those ancient ways. I felt that it was just a matter of balancing the positive and negative energies in the house, and I thought that Erica's energy would be positive enough to do so."
"And yet," remonstrated Stephen, "you told my uncle that the devil was loose on Maljardin."
"I was trying to speak his language," said Vangie. "I felt that his prayers and ceremonies could only provide more positive energy. It's true that a part of me really believed my father's ideas about Jacques Eloi des Mondes, but I considered this a very childish part of myself, until I had spent some time on the island, that is. There, Vangie Abbott did die, in a manner of speaking, and the young girl I had been long ago was reborn."
"And just how long ago were you what you would call a young girl?"
"I am the youngest of the daughters of the last Conjure Man," said Vangie, "and he was the same man who condemned Jacques Eloi des Mondes to be bound in his dead body or in his effigy for eternity. I was alive when that happened, though I was too young to participate."
"You mean to tell me that you are three-hundred years old?"
"Yes," said Vangie. "When I was dedicated to the gods as a woman, I went into a deep trance. It was then that I prophesied my death on Maljardin, and for a girl of thirteen this was very traumatic. I didn't know what to do, and as years passed, my fear of death became all-consuming. So, when my father asked for volunteers to undergo a ceremony which would slow the aging process so that we could remain vigilant in case Jacques Eloi des Mondes' spirit was freed, I agreed without hesitation. I had a thirst for life and a hunger for knowledge. I wanted to live for as long as I could, and I never thought that I would have to assume my father's post; but one by one, my brothers and sisters died, and my father, who had extended his life well past the limits of merely mortal endurance, kept silent watch over Maljardin, so that I was able to adapt myself to this world and its modern complexities without shouldering any of the responsibilities to which I had pledged myself so long ago."
"So you left your father alone?"
"There were also Raxl and Quito," said Vangie. "They too had undergone the ritual of long life. They were the frontline soldiers in the fight against evil on Maljardin."
"So," said Stephen coldly, "you basically ran and hid, just like you ran and hid in a cave and left the others, including my uncle, to die on Maljardin."
"I'm afraid that you're correct," said Vangie, "and I wish to ask you for forgiveness."
"Finish your story," said Stephen, "and I'll decide."
"Well, as I sat in the cave, I realized I had been wrong to doubt my father's faith, and it was Quito who was my teacher in those days. He came to me whenever he could and told me in his sign-language what was happening in the house, and when I learned that the artist Tim Stanton was going to paint a portrait of the resurrected Erica, I tried with all my might to show him her true self. From what Quito told me and from what your uncle's journal said, he received the impressions on a subconscious level and painted her as something ugly and demonic."
"But how did you feel when everyone started dying?"
"I was extremely grieved," said Vangie, "but I knew I was unable to prevent what was happening. I had been taught much by my father, but I had been too attached to my own selfish plans to practice what I had learned. So, when the fire broke out, Quito arranged for me to hide in the boat and to cross the channel, and when I came here, I devoted myself to learning all I could of my father's ways. I spent many nights traveling on spiritual paths and learning from my ancestors the ways of the Conjure Woman, and though I still retain much of my knowledge of modern psychic phenomena, I have reacquainted myself with my roots and have found the well-spring from which my father drew his strength."
"Well," said Stephen after a long silence, "I don't know if I can forgive you for abandoning my uncle and the others, but I think I understand something of your dilemma. That's the best I can do for now."
"I thought you might," said Vangie. "That's the reason I wanted to show you that you are a true priest."
"A true priest? The last time I heard that phrase was in a strange dream I had."
"Dreams can be flights of the soul, Stephen, and they can speak the truth as well."
"So what then? Am I supposed to storm over to Maljardin and start exorcising the place? We haven't done exorcisms in the Catholic Church for centuries."
"But you know them to be effective in some cases, I think?"
"Yes, but the effectiveness is believed to be due to the power of suggestion, the possession itself being also due to some sort of deeply-implanted suggestion, usually a cultural one."
"Please think of my own example," said Vangie. "There are times when the old ways are the best. Your ancient thinkers believed in demons and in the power of Christ to exorcise them. Why can't you? Remember, if you go to Maljardin largely unarmed against what waits for you, you will be overpowered."
Stephen stood up and began pacing the room restlessly. He had heard so many strange things tonight that he was emotionally overwhelmed.
"Look," he said finally, coming to stand near her. "I don't know what's right anymore and I don't know if I can trust you, but I promise that I'll give all that I've heard due consideration, and I won't leave until you and I meet again."
"Thank you, Stephen," she said, clasping his hand in hers and gazing deeply into his eyes for a long moment. "I will await that meeting eagerly."
"I promise something else," said Stephen. "If I hear anything more about what's going on at Maljardin, I'll find a way to let you know about it."
"And I will do the same," she said. "Now, I think it's about time for you to sleep!" She gave him an appraising look. "You're still recovering, after all."
"True," he said.
"If you walk to the edge of the sacred path," she said, "Michel will see you. He will guide you to your hotel."
"Very well," said Stephen. "Till we meet again!"
"Till then," she replied, and he left her gazing fixedly at the fire and walked slowly out into the star-strewn night.
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