Part 11 (1/2)

9.

Kelly sat in the den with her parents and grandfather. The television was on, but she wasn't watching it. She stared out the window, her attention drawn to the gathering dusk outside. The sun had set half an hour ago, and the twilight was just beginning to fade. The noises from the swamp across the ca.n.a.l began to change, growing louder, and the heavy fragrance of jasmine drifted through the open door to the patio. There was a stillness to the warm evening air, and Kelly began to feel as though she would suffocate if she stayed in the den any longer.

And there was Michael.

She was absolutely certain he was coming tonight.

She didn't know why-he hadn't even looked at her when she'd suggested it that afternoon. All he'd done was mumble something noncommittal and then ride away.

Yet she knew knew he was coming. he was coming.

But she didn't want her father cross-examining him, acting like he was some kind of jerk who was going to try to rape her or something.

Nor did she want her father demanding to know where they were going, or what they were going to do.

She got up from the sofa, stretching. ”I think I'll go up to my room,” she said to no one in particular.

Her father spoke, his eyes never leaving the television screen. ”So early? The movie's barely started.”

”It doesn't look very good,” Kelly replied. ”I'm gonna listen to some tapes and read.” She kissed her parents good night and hurried upstairs. If either of them came to check on her, it wouldn't be for at least a couple of hours. By then they'd think she'd gone to sleep.

In her room, she pulled the coverlet off the bed, shoved some pillows under the sheets, then checked how it looked from the door. If no one turned on the light, it would look as if she were in bed, sleeping. Satisfied, she switched all the lights off, leaving through the outside door to the deck at the top of the stairs. She descended the steps carefully, but they were new and solidly built-there wasn't so much as a squeak to betray her. Coming to the lawn, she darted across to the ca.n.a.l, then turned right, moving a few yards away from her grandfather's house.

She came to a bench and sat down to wait.

A cloud of gnats hovered just above the surface of the ca.n.a.l, and a school of small fish gathered, leaping up from the water to feed on the tiny insects, their movements leaving the surface covered with an intricate pattern of tiny ripples. A bird dropped down out of the sky, plunging into the water, emerging a moment later with one of the fish in its mouth. Another bird swooped, and then another, until soon there was a small flock of them, feeding on the fish that fed on the gnats. Kelly watched in fascination, until the birds rose as one into the air, as if heeding an unseen signal, wheeled, and soared away, their wingtips barely clearing the tops of the cypress trees. Kelly searched the wilderness across the ca.n.a.l, but could see nothing that might have disturbed them. Then she heard a noise, a soft puttering that floated above the drone of the frogs and insects.

A boat came around a curve, and Kelly instinctively knew who it was. She stood up from the bench, moving to the water's edge. A moment later the boat glided to a stop beside her and she recognized Michael in the stern, gazing at her curiously.

”How did you know I was coming?” he asked as she climbed into the dory and settled herself on the center bench.

Kelly shrugged. ”I don't know. I guess I just had a feeling. Doesn't that ever happen to you? You know what's going to happen before it does?”

Michael's brow furrowed slightly. ”But I didn't even know myself, till I left my house.” He hesitated, then went on. ”My folks were having a fight.”

Kelly knew without being told that the fight had been about her; she could sense it in the way Michael's gaze suddenly s.h.i.+fted away. She waited for him to go on, but he didn't elaborate, merely turning the boat around to go back the way he'd come.

They cruised slowly along the ca.n.a.l, the darkness gathering steadily about them. And yet, despite the coming of the night, Kelly felt no fear. Ahead, a narrow channel veered off to the left, and even before they came to it, Kelly knew Michael would steer the boat into it. A few seconds later, as they pa.s.sed through the narrows and the overhanging trees closed around them, Kelly felt a subtle change come over her.

She felt safe, as if the swamp itself were somehow nestling her in its arms. The feeling she'd always had in Atlanta-the strange sensation of never quite belonging-was gone. Here, in the swamp, she felt as if she'd come home.

The channel, only a few feet wider than the boat itself, snaked between two islands, then branched.

Again Kelly knew before they arrived at the fork which way Michael would go.

It was, she realized, as if some unseen force, some sentinel neither of them could see, was guiding them.

The boat moved slowly and steadily. As they coursed deeper into the tangled bayous of the marshland, Kelly became aware once more of the nearly inaudible siren song she'd heard last night. She turned, looking at Michael, and found that despite the gloom within the swamp, she could see him clearly.

His eyes, expressionless, were fixed on her, but then she realized that he wasn't looking at her at all. Rather, he seemed to be gazing beyond her, as if seeing right through her. Saying nothing, he cut the engine and lifted oars from the bottom of the boat. Except for the music of the swamp, they moved forward in silence now.

The eerie strains of the subliminal aria reached deep into her mind, and she responded to its call, letting herself drift with the unearthly music, letting it imbue her with the sense of peace its notes brought.

They were no longer alone.

Other boats were around them now, shadowy forms drifting around the edges of Kelly's vision. She had no idea how many there were, nor did it matter, for each of the boats contained someone else like herself, someone else whose mind was obeying the gentle summons of the music.

Slowly, barely visible at first, Kelly saw a glow of light flickering in the darkness ahead. Like a beacon, it pierced the darkness, and even though it was still far away, Kelly imagined she could feel its heat on her face. She felt drawn to it, as a moth to a flame, and as the boat moved steadily toward it, a sense of antic.i.p.ation grew within her.

Tonight, something special was going to happen.

Tonight, she was certain, she was finally going to find out who she was, and why she had always known she was different from anyone else.

At last the boat touched the sh.o.r.e. Without needing any instruction at all, Kelly stepped out of the bow and fastened the line to a low-hanging cypress branch.

Other boats were already there. In the darkness beyond the island on which she stood, Kelly could sense the presence of still others, each of them homing in on the glowing signal.

The music was more compelling than ever: a low drumbeat pulsed in the air, and above it a high voice keened a melody.

With Michael beside her, and other shapes drawing closer in the night, Kelly moved toward the beckoning light.

Clarey Lambert felt the children drawing near. Shortly after dusk she had journeyed to the island hidden deep in the wilds of the swamp, and begun the preparations for the ceremony that was to come.

Last night George Coulton had died.

Tonight, a new child would join the Circle.

Now, on the island from which the Circle had begun its spread so many years ago, the preparations were all but complete. The altar was ready, the candles waited to be lit.

The Dark Man was nearby.

Clarey's mind concentrated now on the call she had sent out an hour ago, the call only the children could hear, the call that would draw them to the Circle.

Someday, she supposed, she, too, would die. What would the Dark Man do then? Without her, would it all end, as he had always said?

She doubted it.

No, he would simply find someone else to take her place, someone else to don the robes and summon the children.

But it wouldn't be someone like her, who loved the children, who felt a small piece of herself die each time a new child was taken into the Circle.

Still, despite all the tiny fragments that had died within her over the years, she still lived, still clung to the hope of destroying the Circle. Still searched for a way to destroy the Dark Man and release the children from the living death to which he had condemned them.

She stiffened, sensing something different in the clearing where the children were gathering.

Long ago she had tuned her mind to sense each of them, so that always she knew where they were, what they were doing.

Except for the two.