Part 25 (1/2)

Again that strange sense of familiarity pa.s.sed over her, as though this woman had held her before.

The low throbbing of an outboard sounded in the darkness, and then a second boat appeared. Its occupant cut the engine almost as soon as it came into view, and a moment later the craft drifted up to the house.

Jonas silently took the bow line from Michael, fastening it to one of the pilings. The two boys climbed up the ladder, and as they stepped onto the porch, Clarey released Kelly from her embrace, took her hand and led her into the house.

Michael and Jonas followed.

Clarey closed the door when they were all inside, then turned the lantern up so that its bright glow washed the shadows from the room. She turned and smiled at Kelly.

”Do you remember my little house?”

Kelly gazed curiously around the single room, which held a coal-burning stove in one corner, a sink and cupboard against the back wall, and a sagging bed in the corner opposite the stove. At the foot of the bed there was an old-fas.h.i.+oned iron bathtub, barely large enough for a single person to crouch in. There was a worn sofa against one of the walls, and a rocking chair sitting close to the stove. A braided rug, little more than a rag, covered the floor.

Never had she seen anything like the tiny house, and yet, like the woman herself, it seemed strangely familiar.

”I-I don't know,” she faltered.

”Come here, child,” Clarey said, leading Kelly to the sink. She worked the handle of a pump, and water spurted into the sink. Taking a washcloth from a hook at the counter's edge, she put it into Kelly's hands. ”You'll be even prettier with the mud gone from your face.”

Kelly gazed into the cracked mirror above the sink. Her face was smeared with mud and slime, and her hair was caked with it as well. She bent over, putting her head beneath the pump's spout, then began working the handle, letting the water gush over her, was.h.i.+ng away the grime from the swamp. At last she used the wash-cloth to wipe away the last flecks from her face, then groped for the towel that hung from the same hook from which Clarey had taken the washcloth. Wrapping the towel around her hair, she straightened up.

In the mirror, she saw the image of the ancient being who had haunted her all her life. She gasped, but then heard the old woman's gentle laughter.

”It's all right,” Clarey told her. ”It's not him. It's only me. Only Clarey.”

Kelly felt the blood drain from her face, and turned to face the old woman. ”H-How do you know about him?”

Clarey smiled, revealing worn teeth. ”Now, never you mind how I know. There's lots I know.” Her eyes fixed on Kelly. ”Do you want me to tell you who you be?”

Kelly said nothing, watching the old woman mutely.

”He stolt you,” Clarey told her. ”The Dark Man stolt you from your mama, and brung you to me before you was even a day old. Then he took you away ag'in, and said you wouldn't never be back, that he were lettin' you go.” Her chin quivered and a tear ran down her cheek. ”But it were too late, wam't it?” she asked. ”He'd already took your soul, an' I couldn't give it back to you.”

Kelly's eyes darted toward Michael, who was listening raptly. ”That's what's wrong with us, isn't it?” he asked softly. ”That's why we never feel like other people.”

Clarey nodded. ”It's what he takes from you. He says it ain't true, but I know it is. It's how you feel, ain't it? Like you're dead?”

”It's always been that way,” Kelly breathed. ”Ever since I was a little girl. I-I thought I was crazy-”

”Hush,” Clarey told her. ”Don't you go thinkin' that. It ain't you that's crazy-it's him! And now it's time to stop it, if'n we can.”

She began talking, her voice droning softly in the night. ”I know who they be, all of 'em.” Her eyes came to rest on Kelly once again. ”And that's why you come back. He said you wouldn't never come back, but he was wrong. You did did come back, and now it's time.” come back, and now it's time.”

Michael's brows knit. ”Time?” he echoed. ”Time for what?”

Clarey Lambert's voice hardened. ”Time to end it. It's time to take your souls back from thems as stole 'em.”

There was a long silence in the room, and then Michael spoke, his voice barely audible. ”Did the Dark Man bring me to you, too?”

Clarey's eyes turned to twin fragments of glittering stone. ”Oh, yes,” she whispered. ”He brung you to me. But I know'd he wouldn't keep you in the swamp.” There was a heavy silence, and Michael sensed what she was about to say even before she spoke the words. ”He's your papa,” she finally said. ”You be the Dark Man's son.”

Outside, Amelie Coulton carefully dipped her oars into the water and silently pulled her boat away from Clarey Lambert's house. She'd heard it all, listened to everything Clarey had said.

And now she knew.

Her baby hadn't died at all.

Hers, and who else's?

But who could she tell?

Who would believe her?

Craig Sheffield glanced at his watch. It was almost four in the morning, and not only Kelly Anderson, but now Michael, too, seemed to have been swallowed up by the swamp. Until an hour ago he'd maintained the hope that if he went just a little farther, rounded one more bend, circled one more of the endless tiny islands, he would come upon Michael's boat and find that nothing more serious than an empty gas tank had befallen his son.

But hope had finally begun to drain away, and though he kept on searching, he felt as if his mind had been dulled by the long night. He still stopped every few yards, cut the engine, and listened for the sound of a motor puttering in the distance.

But there was nothing. Nothing except the endless droning of the insects, a droning he'd long since stopped hearing, except when he wanted to hear the sound of Kelly's voice, or Michael's boat.

Then the night sounds seemed to rise to a deafening level, drowning out anything else that might be there.

He rounded another curve and cut the engine yet again. A hundred feet away he could see the glowing green light of Carl Anderson's starboard lamp, and farther away he could make out the white stern light of one of the other boats that had lingered in the swamp, its occupant refusing to give up until the sun rose and brought with it the searchers that Tim Kitteridge had promised. But all of them were as tired as Craig himself was now, and he wondered if perhaps, unknowingly, they'd pa.s.sed Kelly by, her own calls drowned out by the engines of the boats and the eternal insects.

The Bayliner drifted to a stop, and Craig sat behind the wheel, listening. The moon had risen high in the sky now, its reflection glimmering on the surface of the water. Every now and then Craig could see the glowing eyes of nocturnal animals, foraging for food, pausing in their hunt to stare at him.

Once, half an hour ago, a screech had rent the night and the insects had gone suddenly silent. A chill had pa.s.sed through Craig, but whatever had been attacked in the darkness made no more sounds, and soon the insects had resumed their endless song.

Now, though, as he sat in the darkness, a new song came to him.

Barely audible at first, it grew steadily louder.

A boat, coming toward him, its engine throbbing in the night.

He waited, unconsciously holding his breath, certain he recognized the unique rhythm of the motor. At last, from out of one of the narrow channels, a shadow appeared, a white froth of wake spreading out behind it.

Craig stood up in the Bayliner, hope surging once more. ”Michael? Michael!”

The boat turned, and sped up, and a moment later the little skiff, with Kelly sitting on the center seat and Michael astern next to the engine, pulled alongside. ”Dad? Dad, I found her!”

Tears of relief flooded Craig's eyes and a lump rose in his throat. ”You're okay?” he cried, his voice cracking. ”Both of you?”

”We're fine,” Michael replied.

Craig gaped helplessly at his son, not sure whether to laugh or cry or vent the rage he felt at Michael for going off alone and frightening him so. Bone-tired, he'd been wandering through the swamp for hours, searching for his son, fearing the worst. But now, that didn't matter. Michael was safe. And he'd found Kelly. Craig reached down to the dash of the Bayliner and began flas.h.i.+ng his navigation lights. All around him the other boats turned toward him, moving quickly closer.

”They're back,” Craig yelled as Carl Anderson's boat came near. ”Michael found Kelly!”