Part 44 (2/2)
”We'll buy some aspirin, then!” she said angrily.
He gripped the rail going down the concrete steps back to the street, and paused. ”No... no, it's all right now. We've got to get moving, if we're going to make work on time tonight.”
Megan was still staring at him. He forced a smile and grabbed her hand, and hurried down the walk. The staggering pain was gone, but...
He could still feel a burning. In the shape of a cross, right on his forehead. Tell her, tell Megan! he thought.
No, he couldn't have her running from him. Not now. Not when he was convinced that she was in so much danger.
Again, he forced the smile, winding his fingers more tightly around hers. ”Happier?” he asked her.
”Yes,” she said simply.
Smiling as well, she kept pace with him and they hurried back to the car.
He looked around, certain that they were still being followed. But he didn't see the stranger who had been watching him.
He was still certain that the man was near.
Lucian spent the late afternoon roaming the streets of Salem as any tourist might. With little time left, he stopped by the newest museum.He stared at the building a long time, then walked toward the ticket counter. The woman on duty was dark haired. He could see the many piercings in her ears and face, devoid now of jewelry.
Gayle Sawyer.
As he reached the counter, she opened her mouth to speak, then fell silent, staring at him. He smiled.
”One, please.”
She nodded.
He looked at her a very long time before entering the museum.
Prowling the halls, he came up a seventeenth-century oil. It was tided, Signing the Devil's Book.
In the painting, three women clad in nothing but transparent strips of a gauzy, floating material cavorted about a fire in the woods, surrounded by horned, tailed creatures. In the background an imp or satyr stood, holding a plume and an open book. A plaque by the side of the painting described the belief that witches made pacts with the devil, and that he or his minions would seal the bargain with carnal activities, often in the woods at midnight.
He moved down the halls. The museum was well done. Fact was presented well, and the viewer could be transported back to somewhat comprehend a different mindset. One large plaque stated that there were cases in which-though there may have been no devil summoned, no soul sold-the apprehended man or woman might have been guilty according to the laws of the day. The very practice of witchcraft in any form was a capital crime, and therefore, sticking pins in dolls, burning herbs while cursing, or any such other such activity was clearly illegal.
He moved on. There were scenes of ma.s.s burnings in Europe, and a diorama of the events that had occurred at Salem.
As he stood studying the tableaus, he listened as a man gave a lecture to a group of tourists, recounting the possible causes of the hysteria. The man giving the lecture was dressed somewhat casually in dockers, a tailored denim s.h.i.+rt, and a tie. He wore a name tag that identified as Mike Smith, Curator.
Lucian fell in with the crowd. As the man continued to speak, his eyes fell upon Lucian. He drew them away, but found himself looking at him again.
And again.
Once, he lost his train of thought, and had to be prompted by one of the children on the tour.
Still, he was an excellent historian, and his speech was good, drawing a round of applause when he had finished. Several people stopped to talk to him, many with questions about details regarding the events.
Lucian waited patiently.
At last, they stood alone in the room. The man at last shook his head and smiled ruefully. ”Do I know you?”
”No,” Lucian said, stepping forward and offering the fellow a handshake, which was absently accepted. ”I don't think we've ever met. My name is Lucian DeVeau. Thanks for an excellent education on the witch trials.”
”You're welcome. Glad you enjoyed it.” He was still frowning, as if he should recognize Lucian.
”Actually, I think we have mutual friends,” Lucian said.
”Oh?”
”Finn and Megan Douglas. I'm from New Orleans.””No Southern accent,” Mike Smith commented.
”I've lived all over.”
”I see.”
”Well, thanks again. Great speech.”
”Sure. Thank you.” He stared at Lucian, then seemed to recover himself. ”You should come again. We've got other exhibits.” He shrugged. ”Halloween week, all anyone wants to do is rehash the witch thing, but our maritime exhibits are great, too. We've halls on early settlements, and many other areas that are well worth a look.”
”I'm sure. I'd love to come back, since it seems to be closing time now.”
”Yes, I'm afraid it is.”
”Thanks again,” Lucian said, turning to leave.
”Hey!” Mike called after him.
Lucian turned back.
”I take it you'll be going to watch Finn and Megan play tonight?”
”Probably. I won't be around the entire night, but if you're going, I'll see you there.”
”Great.”
Smith sounded anything but enthused. Lucian exited the museum. The girl, Gayle Sawyer, was still at the counter. She stared at him as he pa.s.sed. Her mouth worked, but no sound came.
Smiling, he waved and walked on.
Megan absently answered her cell phone, holding it to ear as she b.u.t.toned her blouse.
”h.e.l.lo?”
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