19

Savannah stood up, like a ghost in search of flesh.

“Now who, Richard?” Malissa would not allow a moment’s respite. It was all moving too excitingly, too perfectly; a pause would thwart the gathering momentum. She craved more.

As if in answer, Richard, the mamaloi, and the papaloi stood in a triangle, Richard at its head, like an arrow aimed between Valerie and Paul.

Swiftly Mark stood beside the twins—but apart: as if to juxtapose himself with them.

Valerie’s heart beat against the wall of her ears. Or was it her brother’s heartbeat she heard?

“Leave them alone!” It was Tarah.

The priest had stationed himself beside Valerie. “She has nothing for you to destroy!” He felt even stronger now: The revelation of vulnerability had called up all his power to resist.

Blue stood a distance from the priest, to observe him more totally.

Paul looked at his sister, then at Richard, as if ruled by two powerful currents. Now he met her imploring gaze—and he nodded: as if (or did she merely imagine this? she questioned herself, reality occurring suddenly in shifting waves)—as if exhorting her to look at Richard.

She met Richard’s look.

And he was smiling at her. And so was Paul now, a mirror-image of Richard.

She felt a violent implosion within her, a smashing. Behind closed eyes she tried to seal the shattered world. Blackness would restructure it.

Frantically Tarah turned to Karen: “It’s your turn, Karen!” she said quickly, to draw the attention from Paul and Valerie. “Your confesssion is next!” She was almost pleading. And her tactic had worked:

Richard faced his third wife.

Almost too willing to release Paul and Valerie from scrutiny, Malissa thought.

“I confess to the violation of purity!” Karen said suddenly.

“And to hatred for Richard!” Tarah tried to draw the essential words from her, her tactic reinforced now, against Richard.

“Yes, to that too!” Bravo spoke for Karen.

“Tell us!” Tarah insisted.

“I was pure when he married me,” Karen said.

“And what sullied that . . . purity, Karen?” Richard asked.

“You! When you led me to my mother—naked, in bed, groveling with another woman!” she yelled at him.

“He exposed it,” said Mark. He looked at Joja, to extract her allegiance again: a reminder of the extortion?

The actress stared coldly at the boy. She deliberately withheld her needed support against Karen’s assertion. Withheld it longer. Still longer. Mark’s lips parted; he drew his tongue over them, looking down at his body. And Joja responded: “And Richard’s action released you, Karen.”

“I loved my mother because she was pure,” Karen said. “And then Richard opened the door into the room where she and the other woman were, legs tangled, breasts— . . . ‘There is your purity!’ Richard said to me; and then I hated her, I wanted to kill her, I rushed at her— . . .”

“Your mother had made you frigid,” said Joja. Mark’s acknowledgment of her renewed allegiance: He touched his body. “And Richard freed you,” Joja continued.

Tarah glared fiercely at the actress. Still a witness for the defense of Richard. “And then he didn’t want you,” Tarah reminded Karen.

“But he had freed you,” Joja uttered words; she still faced Mark.

“Now she’s free of him!” Bravo said.

“Is she, Richard?” Malissa questioned cunningly.

Karen moved slowly toward Richard, as if finally to confront him.

“How dare you bring us to this depraved place?” Valerie was able at last to form the accusation.

“I invited you,” Richard said.

“How dare you expose us to all this? Paul isn’t aware of what’s occurring here,” she said, avoiding looking at the stranger her brother was becoming.

“But you, Valerie, are you aware?” said Richard. The question was emphatic—the answer important.

“I do know, Valerie,” Paul’s voice filled the silence.

Richard turned away.

“This isn’t our world!” Valerie shouted.

Now Richard seemed to wait for words which perhaps only she could pronounce.

“Such moving love,” Malissa’s lips barely touched the last word. “This brother and his sister!”

“It is, yes, it is!” said la Duquesa. “Why don’t you leave it alone?”

Valerie said to Malissa: “You don’t understand it because it’s pure.”

“Pure,” Richard pronounced.

“If Daniel were here— . . .” Valerie tossed the unfinished threat at Richard.

“Daniel agreed to your coming,” he said.

“But he didn’t know what you’d expose us to!” Valerie protested.

“He knew,” Richard said. “He’s known all along.”

Tarah realized: He would reveal to Paul and Valerie in brutal moments the horror withheld from them for years. As if to render the inevitable less painful by shortening it—if only that—Tarah rushed words: “Your father made an arrangement with Richard.”

“Your father gave you to me,” Richard said.

The mamaloi and the papaloi became rigid. Erect, painted, black corpses.

Richard’s words released others in Valerie’s consciousness: Suicide! Murder! A trial!

Paul made no reaction of surprise.

“How can you give people?’’ Jeremy said.

“He sold them!” Malissa understood. “And later Daniel murdered Hester!” The wild jeweled gestures of her hands turned inward now, devoured themselves hungrily.

Mark’s face registered interest.

Even though her hands blocked her ears, Valerie had heard Malissa’s words. “He didn’t!” she shouted. And remembered: Whispered voices quickly silenced by her presence. All a nightmare in reverse: as if she were wakening into it.

“He was tried for her murder!” Tarah once again attempted to rush the climax, to render it less cruel—and perhaps to propel them into leaving before— . . .

“No!” Valerie insisted.

“Your father gave you to me before you were conceived,” said Richard.

The words bolted out of Valerie: “If Daniel were here, he’d kill you, Richard!”

“Can this nightmare be possible? What are you trying to discover?” the priest blurted at Richard.

Mark awaited his father’s answer.

But there was none.

“No one buys anyone,” Valerie seized control.

“Your father had an expensive habit—his money was all gone. In drugs.” Richard’s calm voice belied the brutal words.

“Lies!” said Valerie.

“He’s telling the truth,” Paul accepted easily.

Eagerly? Did he already know? Since when? Had Richard told him only earlier? The blue moments— . . . Valerie looked at Richard with a rage which flooded over to her brother.

“I needed a child,” said Richard.

‘‘But I was going to have Gable—you knew I carried him,” Tarah said.

“I needed another,” Richard said. “At the same time.”

“What were you plotting even then?” Tarah asked. “What demonic experiment were you already preparing?”

The rarefied years. The beautiful seclusion. It was over. What was important now was to save Paul, Valerie knew.

Still calmly, almost gently, Richard went on pronouncing the terrible words: “Your father didn’t want to be sure, ever, that the child which would result from that night was really his. Or mine.”

‘‘Oh, God!” the priest understood.

“Both of them took her!” Tarah yelled. “They called it: Sexual roulette!”

Malissa glanced at Paul, then Mark.

“You may be their father, then—and still you allow— . . .” the priest started.

“It’s all a lie!” Valerie shouted. “None of this is happening!”

“I fled with Gable, to protect him from this hungry evil,” Tarah said. “But that’s what you counted on all along. . . . Is it, Richard!”

“And because of remorse for the disgusting agreement,” the priest said, “their father killed the poor woman.”

“Hester agreed to the arrangement,” Richard said slowly. Then to Paul and Valerie: “Daniel did not kill Hester.”

“I knew it,” Valerie said.

“Did you kill her, Richard?” Malissa said.

“She committed suicide,” Richard said; “she deliberately made it appear like murder so Daniel would be punished.” Again the sound of the terrible words was incongruous, the voice almost compassionate.

“What is the purpose of these hideous revelations?” said the priest.

“What is the purpose of confession?” Richard countered.

“How she must have loathed Daniel, to long so powerfully for revenge, even with her life,” said Tarah.

“But she didn’t have the courage to kill him herself,” Richard said to Tarah.

“How do you throttle evil like yours?” the priest pronounced the overt declaration of war on Richard.

“You exorcise it with a stake,” Mark said with a smile.

I have to save Paul! The thought draped Valerie’s mind like a shroud. Suddenly she embraced her brother. Tightly. Paul’s body pressed against his sister’s. Richard’s gaze did not waver. Then the tight embrace ended. Valerie turned to the priest, feeling an accusation. She had to explain: “I have to save him, Father! From them!”

Jeremy turned away from the girl’s intensity, which judged him ambiguously. Blue’s cold eyes pounced on him.

“Are you one of them too?” Valerie asked the priest. And she moved apart from them all.

“Oh, splendid!” said Malissa. “A beautiful game! Superbly played! The best in a lifetime of seasons!” Fed by the crushed lives, she looked sinisterly beautiful. “But now the most crucial aspect of the game: We must not allow it to lag!” Her hands seemed determined to set the very air into motion. “There is still much more!”

A deliberate postponement: Richard had turned from Valerie and Paul. Tarah, Jeremy flanked the twins like guards.

“Topaze!” Richard’s pronouncement of the midget’s name announced his willing retreat from the twins.

The crucial test of his permanent position in the entourage? Topaze looked beseechingly at Malissa.

The impervious purple-glassed eyes told him she would leave him to survive the attention on his own: The encounter might provide a few moments of amusement.

“What’s it like to be a dwarf?” Rev tossed at Topaze.

Topaze winced at the despised word. “I’m not a dwarf! I’m a midget!” he protested.

“A freak!” Rev was re-entering the arena of power.

“I’m not a freak,” Topaze shouted, “I’m perfectly formed, and my cock— . . .” Then desperately he jumped into the air. Challenging space, he somersaulted in a full, perfect, graceful loop. He landed expertly, flawlessly on his feet, his cavalier’s hat slicing in a flourish before him. And he smiled anxiously.

Now Malissa released him from the scrutiny: “And that is Topaze’s confession!” she allowed gaily.

Topaze looked gratefully at her.

Rev felt as if he had been abandoned in a glaring, hostile, savage light.

“Let Albert confess.” It was Bravo.

The smile fled Malissa’s face.

“I’ve told you he has nothing to say,” said Malissa.

“But you said earlier that there is always something to confess, Malissa,” Bravo reminded her. “Let’s all play the game!” She glanced at Richard, and she nodded. That glance, that nod—they told him that for the purpose of these moments—and only these moments, because she despised him—they might become allies: “Is the game still called Catch, Malissa?” she taunted.

“Catch Malissa?” Richard asked wryly. “No one can . . . catch . . . Malissa.”

“Kneel!” Bravo commanded Albert suddenly.

“I forbid it!” Malissa said.

Terrified, Albert looked from one woman to the other.

Bravo’s whip cracked over the man’s head. “Kneel!”

“He does what I say,” Malissa said.

“We’ll see!” said Bravo. She would take a dangerous risk: She had humiliated Rev, yes—but by that very fact she might restore his posture for her purpose: her early victim, an ally for now. “Rev!” she plunged. Her desperate risk worked:

Rev joined her swiftly. There was power there too, and Malissa was irrevocably through with him.

Malissa understood the alliance: Bravo was moving to trap Albert.

Bravo said: “Open your vest, Rev!”

“Don’t, Rev!” Malissa shouted.

Rev opened the black leather vest, exhibiting the tangle of tattoos.

“He did it, Miss Malissa!” Topaze gasped incredulously. “He disobeyed you!”

“Look, Albert,” Bravo parodied admiration, “aren’t Rev’s tattoos beautiful on his bare flesh?”

Albert moved toward Rev’s torso.

“Albert!” Malissa barked.

Albert froze. He had become a mere object between two storming vortexes of power.

Bravo was already saying to Rev: “Take your vest off!”

Rev removed the leather vest.

Albert swayed in fascination.

“Move back, Albert!” came Malissa’s voice. Her rubied hands destroyed the air before her.

Retreating, Albert pulled his eyes from Rev’s tight torso.

Malissa smiled.

Bravo commanded with just one word: “Rev!”

Exuding the violent sexuality, Rev stretched his body.

Albert’s eyes were riveted to it.

“He’s moving closer, Miss Malissa!” Topaze announced.

“Go to your room, Albert!” Malissa demanded.

Albert began to move away.

Bravo intercepted him, forcing him to turn. “Look!”

Rev allowed his hand to dangle lazily over his own groin.

“If you kneel, you can have him!” Bravo struck.

Panting, Albert knelt.

Bravo exhaled in triumph. “You see, Malissa, he did kneel!” she said victoriously.

Malissa felt defeat strike like a bullet in her heart. She struggled to regain control. “Get up!” she barked at Albert, her hands like swift swords.

Inches from Rev, the kneeling man did not respond.

‘‘Get up!” Malissa commanded.

Albert was like a statue before Rev.

“Miss Malissa demands that you get up, Albert!” Topaze growled.

Rev looked boldly at Malissa, then down at Albert. His triumph.

Now Bravo circled the kneeling man like a panther. “Albert, tell us— . . .” she began.

“I forbid this!” said Malissa. She faced Richard.

Richard did not intercede.

Mark smiled.

“Tell us about Malissa!” came Bravo’s voice.

Hypnotized by the scene, as if they were witnessing the swaying of cobras, the others watched the confrontation.

“Tell them, Albert!” la Duquesa said suddenly. “Finally free yourself from her!”

“What does she do with the entourage once she’s through?” When Albert did not speak, Bravo motioned to Rev, who understood:

He spread his thighs, boots planted firmly.

“She— . . . She— . . .” came Albert’s tortured voice.

“What!” Bravo demanded.

“Sometimes— . . .” he started.

“Albert!” Malissa’s lips thrust the name.

Albert shook his head.

Aware that he was wavering—that she must move swiftly—Bravo signaled Rev again: He reached for Albert’s head, as if to pull it against his body. Instead, he held it away.

Paul blocked Valerie’s view. She heard only words.

“Tell us, Albert!” Bravo commanded.

“She killed— . . .” he stammered.

Malissa rushed at him. But her words were controlled: “You lying fool,” she said. “Shut up, now, or I’ll— . . .”

“Miss Malissa is: going: to commit: you: Albert!” Topaze warned in a clipped voice.

Bravo blocked Malissa. “She won’t do anything to you, Albert. I’ll protect you. And you can have Rev!”

“She pushed one . . . out of a window when he— . . . He was a beautiful youngman,” Albert said. His gaze was pasted to Rev’s thighs.

“Liar,” Malissa said calmly.

“And once— . . . she gave heroin to— . . . Then she deprived him—for entertainment.”

“Albert’s imagination!” came Malissa’s steely laughter.

Bravo signaled Rev to move back.

Albert shouted: “She uses their blood to stay young!”

“You stupid madman,” said Malissa. “I’ll commit you for all your lies.”

Apart from the others, Valerie saw the strange scene, heard the strange words. Are we in hell or in an insane asylum? she thought. It was as if they were all objects in a terrifying experiment. Suddenly disoriented, she looked at the dome over them. The black sky.

Tor’s body tensed, as if to stir the blood within him.

A potential ally? Jeremy wondered.

Albert’s imploring look begged to consummate the contact with Rev.

Malissa’s jeweled fingers tore the air. Now she moved in with deadly accuracy: “Tell us about Karen, Bravo!”

“Leave her out!” Bravo warned. She glanced quickly at Karen.

“Confessions are sometimes made with a single glance,” Malissa interpreted. “You won’t get her, Bravo!” She looked at Richard: a reminder: allies against Bravo.

Bravo struck her own thigh with the whip. “We’ll see!” she said. Then she knew: She must possess Karen before them all—that would be her true victory. She turned savagely to the kneeling man. “I’ll let you have Rev if you tell us: What the hell are you to Malissa? Who the hell are you?”

Rev’s hand relaxed its grip on Albert’s straining head—but only for an instant; it still held it away. Albert’s mouth gaped in expectation.

“Tell us!” Bravo shouted.

“I’m— . . .” Albert stuttered.

“Albert!” Malissa flung the name like a sentence of execution.

“Her father,” Albert whimpered. “I’m Malissa’s father.”