CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Dunston saw the door standing wide open. He dashed out of the car and into the house. “Julia. Julia,” he called. He heard his own voice echoing through the empty rooms. Then he looked down and saw a discarded garland of garlic lying on a recently scrubbed floor. The pentacle was gone, the silver cups overturned, the candles extinguished. The horseshoes were scattered and the mandrake root had vanished.

“Julia! Mrs. Carrier!”

No one answered. Dunston rushed from room to room. He knew they would be empty when he saw that the pentacle was gone. It did not take him very long to figure out who had been responsible for washing it away. He knew Julia would never have done such a thing, and he cursed himself for having put any trust in Sarah Carrier, a woman he scarcely knew. He remembered her speaking of the Satanists’ spies in Weaver, and she was, obviously, one of them.

There was only one alternative. He had to find Julia before it was too late, if it wasn’t too late already. There was only one place to look for her and he had no time to lose.

The silence on the road warned him against using his car to get to Cagliostro’s house. His only chance would be on foot and with the benefit of the element of surprise. They would, of course, be looking out for him, so he told himself he had to be particularly careful.

He went along the road at a steady pace. He was totally lost in his worries about Danny, his fears for Julia, and his determination, and didn’t see the woman dressed in black standing just at the edge of the woods. When she spoke his name, he jumped and felt every nerve in his body tingle.

“You can’t save her now.”

Dunston screwed up his courage and stepped closer to the figure. “Who are you? What do you want?” he demanded. He fingered a small rosary which he had in his pocket. Taking out the beads, he slipped them around his neck. He felt suddenly braver. The tiny silver cross glinted in the light of the yellow moon. He saw the figure raise the long flowing sleeves of her cloak and cover her eyes.

“You cannot save her. It is too late,” the figure repeated.

“I know you,” Dunston said. “You’re the housekeeper.”

Matilda nodded. “I mean you no harm. Put the cross to your back so that we can talk.”

Dunston hesitated. He fingered the cross for a moment. It was a trick, obviously. “I’m sorry. I cannot do that,” he said firmly. “You know it is my only protection. What is it you have to say to me?”

“Put away the cross.”

“No. Tell me what you want or I will be on my way.”

Matilda kept her eyes turned away from him. “Julia is where she belongs. You must not interfere with her destiny.”

“Destiny. You dare speak of destiny?” He thought of his young and innocent wife who’d died at the hands of such people as this. “You didn’t consider Nancy’s destiny when you brutally sacrificed her to your friend.”

“But that was her destiny,” Matilda said.

“So I was right. You did kill her. Fiends. You’re all fiends,” he cried. “Sarah Carrier said you deserved to be burned. I’m in full agreement with her!”

Matilda remained undaunted and unafraid of him. “Sarah Carrier was burned at the stake many, many years ago. The Sarah Carrier you spoke with was only an image of the Sarah Carrier we counted among our fold.”

“What are you saying?”

“I am saying that the Sarah Carrier you saw was no woman at all, but merely a vision which Cagliostro sent to help him with his plan.”

“His plan to reclaim Julia,” Dunston finished.

“Julia belongs to him. She can know no other life but that for which she was intended. Bridget Bishop was wrong in thinking she could protect her child from Cagliostro.”

“Bridget Bishop? What do you know of Julia’s mother?”

“Only that she discovered that Cagliostro and her sister, Rose, were deeply in love with one another. And Cagliostro wanted the child sacrificed to the Master. Bridget took the child and ran out into the night. Unfortunately, the people from Weaver caught her and snuffed out her life. They were not as harsh in their treatment of the child, however. They thought disposing of it in an orphanage would be punishment enough. They never thought that child would someday return to fulfill her true destiny.”

“To be sacrificed? Where is Julia now?”

“Where else but where she belongs. I was sent to warn you.”

“About what?”

“If you want your brother Danny to recover, you will not lift a finger to help Julia. You must choose which is more important to you: Julia or your little brother. Remember, Julia is a girl you scarcely know; Danny is your only family.”

“Just because I scarcely know the girl, I can’t turn my back on her and let her fall victim to whatever you people have in store for her. I have no other alternative but to do what I can to save the girl from your terrible decrees.”

“Then your brother will die,” Matilda said evenly. She raised her arm and pointed a bony finger. “You have been warned. Go away from here. Do not proceed any farther. Go to your brother in Peabody and you will find him fully recovered by the time you arrive there. Take him and never return to Belham again. Forget Julia. It is too late for her anyway.”

“No,” Dunston swore.

“The girl is happy where she is. She wants only to be with Him. Why do you persist on interfering where you are not welcome?”

“I am trying to save a girl’s life in spite of herself. It is too late for the rest of you, or I would do everything I could to save you also. Julia hasn’t been consecrated as yet—this I’m certain of.”

Matilda nodded her head. “True, she has not been consecrated. However, that is but a matter of time. Now that she is back where she belongs, she will be consecrated two days hence. At the stroke of midnight on the thirteenth day of August, the twenty-first anniversary of her birth, Julia will be given to the Master. You can do nothing to prevent that from happening. It has been decreed. The Great One had told us that she would return in time for this sacred rite.”

Her eyes sparkled and glinted. “Our Master has told us time and time again that a young and beautiful virgin would come to us and save us from the misfortunes that were destined to befall us through the instigation of a nonbeliever who takes up residence in Belham. We knew who you were the day you and your brother arrived here. He told us. Adrian, Lucifer, call him what you wish. He tells us all.”

She leveled her blazing eyes on Dunston. “We allowed you to take up residence here, knowing that once you’d ensconced yourself in Belham, the young maid would soon follow, and the prophecy would be fulfilled. Without Julia it was prophesied that you would sow only trouble and misery for all the members of our family. But Julia has shown up, and she is our protection from whatever trouble you meant to cause us. We will do everything to keep you from her.”

“I intend finding her and bringing her back under my protection.”

“Then you will lose your little brother. He will be dead the minute you take Julia away.”

Dunston felt driven back. He tried to think of what should be done. He knew now that the threats Matilda was making were not idle ones. They would do what they threatened to do. He would lose Danny if he interfered with Julia’s consecration to Satan.

What could he do? He had to think of something. Julia’s consecration wasn’t to take place for two more days. He would have to construct a well-devised plan. He wouldn’t be able to rush blindly into Cagliostro’s house and spirit her away before their very eyes. In so doing, Danny would die. There had to be a way of saving both of them. There had to be a way.

He glared at Matilda. She knew she held the upper hand. She turned, tossing her head high in defiance, and disappeared into the darkness of the night. Dunston stood there until she was out of sight. Then he turned and strolled slowly back toward his cottage. He racked his brain, trying to come up with a solution to his dilemma. Nothing came to him. It was Danny or Julia. He would have to make a choice.

As he walked he continued to finger the cross of the rosary beads he was wearing around his neck. Something made him look down at the tiny crucifix. His eyes were drawn to it, like a pin to a magnet.

“Of course,” Dunston said. “If I protect Danny with every holy relic I can get my hands on, no one can touch him. No curse can be put on him. It will bounce off the relics and fly back like a boomerang to the person who cast it.” He chastised himself for not having thought of that simple solution before this.

But he would have to work quickly, he told himself. He would drive to Peabody again and arrange for Danny’s protection. He would surround the boy with chalices of holy water. Every holy relic he could find would take a place on or about Danny’s bed. He would surround the boy with every conceivable charm and talisman. He would immerse him in a tub of holy water if necessary. He’d make a pentacle under his bed. He’d isolate him in a sea of holy protection. Nothing would penetrate the wall of defense Dunston vowed to build. And then he would come back and attend to Julia’s safety.

He quickened his steps and once inside his cottage, he stripped it of everything he thought he would need. He found garlands of garlic, the horseshoes, the chalk, the mandrake root. He realized he would have to stop at a church and collect more holy water. They would possibly have some at the hospital, but he could not take the chance of their being out of it. He would need more candles. They would need the blessing of a priest. He had enough of the resinous substance to sprinkle on the outside of the circles.

He calculated what he needed to get and how long it would take to procure. He figured the length of time he needed to reach Peabody and return. He glanced at his watch. He would have to hurry. He could not take the chance of waiting until the very last minute to snatch Julia out of their clutches.

He piled his collection into the trunk of the car and filled the backseat with books, clothing, and several pieces of furniture. He decided to stop at the inn and let them think he’d accepted the ultimatum and had chosen to save his brother’s life.

Julia’s Aunt Rose was sitting on a chair before the front door when he drove up. The door to the inn was wide open. Inside, Dunston saw the Hastings boys bent over a game of cards. The night had turned suddenly warm, although a breeze was moving the leaves of the trees, causing a rustling sound that sounded not unlike a death rattle.

Rose stood when Dunston braked his car. He got out and walked over to her.

“I thought I’d drop off the keys to my house,” he said. “I couldn’t find old Mr. Hastings at his house.”

“He’s inside at a card game. I’ll give him the keys.” She looked him in the eyes. “Are you leaving us, Dr. Dunston?”

“You know perfectly well I’m leaving,” he said, not bothering to hide his anger or irritation.

Rose laughed. “Well, I can’t say I blame you for making the choice you made.”

Dunston frowned. “Do you people know everything that happens the minute it happens?”

“Just about. Matilda was told what to tell you. We all know about it. We ain’t exactly sorry to be seeing you go, Dunston. It’s about time, if you ask me. If it had been up to me and the Hastings boys, we’d have had you out of here long ago.”

“It would have been rather difficult to get me to up and leave just by telling me to,” he said.

“You should know we don’t tell people to do anything, we make them do it. We could have done you and that sniveling brother of yours in at any time. You have the good Dr. Cagliostro to thank for saving your hide.”

“If you’d done away with me, your young Joan of Arc wouldn’t have shown up.”

“Oh, her. She’ll only mean trouble in the end. I told Cagliostro we’d be better off without her. I never wanted Bridget’s kid here anyway.”

“But she’s your niece.”

“She’s a troublemaker, just like her mother.”

Dunston saw the look in her eye and knew that it was a look of jealousy. Cagliostro would turn his daughter Julia into something more than an advocate of Satan.

“Surely she won’t make trouble now that she’s with her father,” Dunston said, hoping to lure her into more conversation.

“Father? He ain’t her father. Nobody knows who Julia’s father is. Bridget was living as Cagliostro’s wife, but Cagliostro didn’t love her. He and I were carrying on behind Bridget’s back. When Bridget found out about it, she decided to do a bit of carrying on herself. Only trouble was that she got caught by having that kid. Cagliostro intended to get rid of her anyway. He was going to marry me.”

“Why didn’t he?”

Rose’s mouth turned down at the corners. “That’s none of your damn business, Dunston.”

A voice from the doorway said, “Because the good Doctor Cagliostro found himself a younger and prettier plaything. He gave Rose here the boot.”

“Liar!” Rose shrieked. “He’s always loved me. He still does.”

Harold Hastings laughed. “Oh, sure he does, Rosy. That’s why he’s all on fire for that young, pretty Julia. He’ll turn himself into Adrian and she’ll fall hook, line, and sinker for him.”

Dunston tried to keep himself under control. Their disgusting talk was riling him, but he had to remain calm and not show his concern for Julia’s welfare.

“Well,” Dunston said offhandedly as he turned and went back to his car. “You can fight it all out among yourselves. I for one will be glad to get away from this rotten place and get back to where civilized people live.”

“Remember, Dunston,” Harold Hastings called. “Get to Peabody, collect little Danny, and get as far away from Belham as you can. If you even try to interfere, it will be the end of both of you.”

Dunston slammed the door of the car and threw it into gear. He found his hands were shaking. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel. He’d be back, he swore under his breath. He’d be back and deal with every last one of them.