Part 40 (1/2)
Morwenna shook her head, disheartened. ”I'm not firing you. But you've got to help me. There's been a change. I must... I must be with Megan.”
Sara sat down in front of Morwenna. Morwenna had been reading the Tarot cards.
The Grim Reaper was face up in front of her.
”I'm really sorry; I do have my own agenda,” Sara said. ”But... I'll help you think. We'll come up with something.”
Megan didn't know what had induced her to tell Mike everything she had told him. She hadn't, of course, told him everything, but enough so that they had really gotten into talking. Mike knew a lot of old lore as well as history, and he didn't laugh at Megan at all, but told her he believed the story about Cabal Thorne having come to Salem to raise the demon, Bac-Dal, was certainly based on some kind of truth. He thought it was nearly criminally cruel for Andy to have taken her out to the unhallowed ground to tell her that a demon was after her.
He didn't believe in demons, and agreed that the dreams she was having had to have something to do with the many impressions she received during the day.
”That old Andy Markham! So he said, 'Bac-Dal wants you'? ”
”That's what he said, exactly.”
”That old fool!” Her hand lay on the table. He covered it with his own and told her seriously, ”Megan, there are no such things as demons.”
”But there are such things as bad people.”
”Sure. But I think that old Andy may be crazy, but do you think he's a bad person? You know, you can take ghost tours here and hear about all kinds of bad things that have happened to people. They'll show you all kinds of pictures and tell you that rain spots are ectoplasm and stuff like that. There are plenty of horror stories that take place in real life. But that doesn't make those involved bad people. Take old Andy though-he's been telling his tales the longest. You know, Salem wasn't all this great big place where tourism ruled everything. It's only been... what, maybe twenty, thirty or so years that everyone has cashed in on history. But Andy... he was just a storyteller from the start, that's what the old folks say. He was a teacher when he was young, and loved to set up campfire tales and stuff like that. He started believing his own schtick. That's all there is to it.”
Megan smiled. ”I never thought of Andy as dangerous himself. Just scary.”
”What things do to the mind is scary,” Mike said. ”Don't let him get under your skin.”
His hand remained on hers. Both their heads were lowered.
”Did you order my coffee?”
Megan's head jerked up at the sound of her husband's voice. Inadvertently, she jerked her hand back. She didn't know why in h.e.l.l she felt guilty when she looked up.”Finn. You made it. Yes, I ordered the coffee-the waitress said she'd bring it as soon as she saw you so that it wouldn't get cold.”
She thought his smile looked a little forced, but he acted casually.
”Thanks. Hi, Mike.”
”Hey, Finn, good to see you.”
Mike offered him a hand across the table. Finn shook it, and sat in the chair at the end of the table.
”Where are your friends?” she asked.
”Reading,” he said, giving her another smile and glancing at Mike. He didn't want to say too much in front of a third party, she realized, and dropped it, despite the fact that she was dying of curiosity and still feeling somewhat left out.
”I have some friends in from New Orleans,” Finn said to Mike. ”A woman who does travel books, guides, tilings like that. So...
they're off, happily exploring Salem. How was lunch?”
”Good,” Mike said. ”Seems like a place that will make it Some here do, and some don't.”
”Like everywhere in the world,” Finn said agreeably.
The waitress brought his coffee. Finn thanked her and brought the cup to his lips, but then paused, looking out the gla.s.s window to the street.
”What?”
”I don't believe it.”
”What?”
Mike was staring at him, too.
Finn shrugged. ”There's Mr. Fallon, walking around with a big bag. He's been doing some tourist shopping, I guess.”
Mike swung around to look out the window, too. It was true. Fallon was standing in front of one of the shops with a big sign that advertised itself as a witchcraft store.
”Who'd have thunk, huh?” Mike said dryly.
”So everyone gets into it a little bit,” Megan murmured.
”Not everyone,” Mike said. ”But, hey, most people who come here do so for the history-and the fun of it. Moms buy their daughters all kinds of jewelry in those shops, and some of them carry beautiful little Victorian dolls and things like that. Cute books, and oils-lots and lots of people get into the scented oils, whether they believe that they do anything or not. I had a lady in the museum one day who had bags full of mortars and pestles-and not for witchcraft. She needed them because she had five kids and found out they were great for science projects.”
”The commercial world is the commercial world, right?” Finn said.
”Oh, yeah. And it's okay. One of the haunted houses is run by a really great guy. He starts off his little bit by telling the kids that it's all just for fun, and the entire 'scare' factor is done by someone running around in front of them in the darkness, making things bang and bob out. But if anyone gets really scared, he just stops and escorts them out. Fear is usually in the mind,” he said, offering Megan an awkward little smile again.”Fear can be real and sensible, too,” Finn said flatly. ”Megan, did you tell him that you were attacked in the parking lot last night?”
Mike stared at her hard. Funny, she had said so much, but nothing about that. Maybe because she was still smarting from what Morwenna had said. Could she say for sure that anyone else had been there? Anyone other than Finn?
She looked at her husband in the light of day. She'd known him to be angry at times, temperamental, determined, impatient, pa.s.sionate... and tender. She couldn't look into his eyes and believe that he didn't love her, almost too fiercely, at times.
She gritted her teeth, absolutely determined to shake off the unease that Morwenna had awakened in her.
Her husband might be many things, but not a demon.
”I was stalked, more than anything. I wasn't hurt, but Finn did get into a tussle with whoever it was.”
Mike looked sharply at Finn. ”You went to the police, right?”
”We didn't actually have to go to the police; a cop who comes in all the time was there. They're going to set up more security at the place.”
”You've got to be really careful,” Mike said gravely. He looked at Megan, and seemed uneasy. ”You know... they haven't caught that guy who killed the girl in Boston. And we're awful d.a.m.ned close here.”
”A murderer who struck in Boston almost a month ago could be anywhere in the country now,” Finn said, ”but that's beside the point. Every young woman out there has to be extremely careful because at any given time, there's more than one psychopath in the world, preying upon the vulnerable, which usually means children and young women.”
”I'm careful,” Megan said.