Mary Vigliante Szydlowski

A PHANTOM LOVER
   In the dream, a warm wind swept across her body, like fingertips barely grazing the surface of her flesh. It aroused her and made her desirous of more. Its silken touch pleased her. Her body had spent the totality of its existence in ignorance of carnal pleasures. Contradictory feelings collided within her mind. The body was to be a pure temple to the Lord. That's what the Bible taught—and yet, there were such longings inside her, desires long concealed and repressed that now demanded satisfaction.

First published by Tower Books in March 1982 using the pseudonym Mary Vigliante

Dorchester Publishing/Leisure Books reprint published December 1985 using the pseudonym Mary Vigliante

CHAPTER XII


    Flesh of one flesh, blood of one blood, kindred souls embattled in a whirlwind of love and hate. All to each other, friend, companion, sole relation; yet now nothing, separated for a time, through death. Was this a reality or part of some devastating terror-filled nightmare that had suddenly taken control of her mind?

    A flood of tears cascaded downward as the shovel scraped away yet another layer of sandy soil. Lea glanced at the still form, its empty eye sockets glaring at her accusingly. She looked away, turning her attention back to her work.

    Was the hole large enough to accommodate the waiting body? She truly hoped so, not knowing how much more she could take. Her head was floating. She was feeling faint, ready to be engulfed by the murky sea of restful blackness. The temperature was up in the high nineties, a rare occurrence for the area. It was hardly a fit day to engage in any form of physical labor, let alone the type that had consumed her late morning and early afternoon. Dragging the body here had been difficult. The plump old woman wasn't what one would refer to as fat, but when lifeless—dead weight, so to speak—she seemed to weigh a ton.

    Although she really wasn't sure how it had been accomplished, utilizing all her strength, with frequent stops to cover her trail, she had brought the body a half mile into the woods. The bones would rest here for eternity amid the shelter of pines. Their tall, bending branches would provide her cathedral, the whistling wind her sacred music, the sun and stars her light. Was this peaceful tranquility such a horrid fate? Lea wanted to believe that it wasn't, but couldn't truly comprehend the sense of nothingness, the cessation of being, that was death. Strangely, throughout her life, she had either feared it, awaiting the pains of Hell, or longed for it, desiring the sweet rapture that existed in the realms of Heaven; but that was long ago, when she had viewed life and death through the eyes of superstitious, unbending dogma. Now, things were wholly and entirely different. The once mysterious rites of religion had assumed startling new dimensions.

    Was the cold flesh that lay before her merely a shell? Had its soul made the journey to whatever lay beyond this life? If that were true, then Lea had committed no sin, had not transgressed. She had simply hastened the old woman on her voyage to another dimension. But— the thought chilled her heart—what if there was nothing beyond this planet, this time, this realm of existence? Then the letting of blood was unholy, sinful even to the eyes of Night. No, such thinking didn't make sense! There was no sin, no trespass, nothing villainous in the act. It was but a simple rite of consecration. The old woman should have rejoiced that Lea had chosen her to be a celebrant of the ritual. It was an honor.

    The wicked imp who occupied the darkest part of her being questioned the value of the old woman's life. It had meant nothing. Who, after all, would mourn her passing? The sad answer echoed loudly in her head; she alone would miss the old woman, her gentle kindness, the tender caring.

    The sweat poured down her forehead, dripping in rivulets from her temples, mixing with her tears. Lea felt nauseous, overcome with pained emotions, with deep feelings of fear. Perhaps the heat or maybe the act itself engendered in her overwhelming panic.

    Lea stepped up and out of the grave, unable to remain there one moment longer. She had worried about its depth; but whatever its measure now, it would just have to suffice. She couldn't continue. The place of interment would have to be a shallow one.

    She didn't think Aunt Evelyn cared where she came to rest. After all, she'd never been much concerned with the hereafter during her lifetime. It seemed strange to stare down at the once animate and vivacious form, lying there so still. Lea honestly wished that the whole horrid turn of events could have been avoided, but the onus was not hers. Why couldn't her aunt have ceased her meddling, left Lea alone? Why had she descended on the cabin, interfered with the rites of Night?

    Lea sat down beside her Aunt's stiffened corpse, trying to understand why things had occurred as they had. Her mind, her heart, the very essence of her being was racked by guilt, by profound sorrow. Strange, but three days ago when she had, for lack of a better word, exterminated Tony, Lea had felt no remorse. She had done him great service by shedding his blood for the holy one. Yet this time, her emotions followed a different course. She was repulsed by this sacrifice. Perhaps before, she hadn't felt guilt because she viewed Tony as being a much needed object. She neither loved nor cared for him the way she did for Aunt Evelyn. In the deepest recess of her soul, Lea wished that some other female could be lying there instead of Evelyn. Anyone else would do. A wealth of questions assaulted her. Why had Lord Night seen fit to bring the woman to Lea at that precise time, when she had been searching so hard for a suitable offering? Was this a punishment for her previous failings? Was taking a loved one his chastisement? No! Night had brought this sacrifice, a lamb to the slaughter, to make her endeavor easier. It was his gift so they might be one. His love, their life together, would serve to lessen the pain of her loss.

    Lea tried to remember the sequence of events that had preceded this tragic state of affairs. It was hard to recollect all the occurrences. During the previous three days, most of her time had been spent in a fearful fog, running like some captive rat, consigned to a horror-filled maze, bumping into walls, terrified of each turn, waiting for the opportunity to escape.

    It had begun, of course, with Tony. Lea had carried out her grisly duty with utmost precision and attention to detail. She had performed the ritual as required; but apparently the sacrifice, the victim, was not pleasing to her Lord.

    That night, she had spread human blood upon the altar, then retired to wait naked on the bed. The transformation from spirit to flesh that she had risked all for had not materialized. The warm night wind pulsated her groin and blew gently across her body, but it did not become man.

    Night was not pleased by her gift of male blood. What he desired was the crimson outpourings of a female. Lea had had great difficulty conceiving of and accepting this reality. It not only crumbled her theory of sympathetic magic, but also meant that she had, in fact, committed a murder, taken a life, for nothing. Tony had died in vain. At first she was burdened with guilt; but that quickly subsided as her focus turned once again to the matter at hand. The only thing which held any import for her was the harvesting of blood with which she could create a living Lord. She had set her mind to that purpose, only to find that her endeavors and her very world were being invaded by unwanted trespassers.

    At ten a.m. on the morning following Tony's death, before she could begin scouting for a suitable female sacrifice, the county sheriff and several state troopers descended on the cabin. Their faces were set in expressions of gravity, their tones ominous. They told her of the existence of danger in the woods, of a monstrous, maniacal presence who had mutilated a young man. Lea had listened intently, eyes wide. They assumed her look to be one of fright, but that was not it, not it at all. The look was one of awe at their total misunderstanding of what had transpired. The psychopath, the crazed pervert to which they constantly referred, was she— none other than the innocuous-appearing Lea.

    At several points in the conversation, she had wanted to scream out to them that they were wrong, that their eyes had deceived them. She wanted to explain about the holy rite of sacrifice, the consecration of the offering; but she dared not. They would never understand. They were too wrapped up in the mundane to comprehend the spirituality of her act. Being uninitiated into the ceremonies of Night, they would think her mad.

    They tried to persuade her to leave, to go back home until the case was closed and the culprit caught; but Lea resisted, saying that she had nothing to fear and was able to protect herself. If only they'd known how foolish they appeared to her! What idiots, imbeciles, to be so concerned for her welfare! They had no inkling of what thoughts flew through her mind, how she secretly laughed at their stupidity. They were in the presence of the ritual executioner, the bloody priestess of Night; yet, like innocents, they were unaware, allowing themselves to be duped by her fragile frame and innocent looks.

    Unable to convince her to go, they vociferously demanded that she exercise a greater degree of caution in all her actions, locking herself into the cabin at sundown, confining her walks to the highway and not the woods, being wary of strangers, and most importantly, reporting any unusual happenings.

    After much pleading and cajoling, she agreed to follow their directives. Satisfied, they had turned to leave. It was then that they gave the bad news. Until the murderer was apprehended, they would maintain a constant twenty-four hour a day surveillance on the western shore of the reservoir. With an audible gasp, Lea had breathed in deeply. They wrongly assumed that it was a sigh of relief, but in fact it was a moan of dread. Now that they were on their guard and looking, it would be difficult for her to identify and seize an appropriate victim.

    After they'd gone, Lea tried to figure out ways of accomplishing her task without risking discovery. The search for a new offering would be simple enough. No one would suspect her on her daily walks of having any involvement in the bizarre rites nor the carnage that had taken place on the shore. Problems had developed, however, when she began to ponder how she was going to find a single female camper who had not been scared out of the woods by the previous day's folly. Perhaps no such creature existed. To seek out a female that was a member of a larger party was more than dangerous, it was downright stupid. To assure her anonymity and a scarcity of witnesses, she'd have to silence anyone with whom she came in contact. That was risky. To hold a group at bay so that she might systematically do away with one of them, would require something more threatening than an agressive stance and a knife; a gun perhaps, or maybe experience in the art of guerilla warfare and the ability to kill victims one by one in absolute silence. Since she possessed neither a weapon nor the training of a terrorist, she was facing a seemingly insurmountable problem.

    In the end, after having spent hours pondering her prospects, all bleak, Lea decided that she'd have to resort to kidnapping. Of necessity, she'd be required to stake out likely sites containing not one, but a group of campers. She'd watch and wait for a time when a female member of the party was alone, while others fished or swam out of sight, then menace her victim with a knife, forcing her into the dense, shadowy forest. Once secure in the knowledge that no one could see, Lea planned to do what had to be done, taking the blood and making her way home through the woods.

    Her plan might have worked if it weren't for the constant interference of the damn police. They patrolled the road every ten minutes, waving at her, getting a fix on her location, assuring her continued safety. If they were to discover a body anywhere along the way, she knew they'd tie her into it, knowing that she'd been walking in the area at an hour which would coincide with the time of death.

    She wasn't even at peace in her own home. The bastards sent patrol cars by her cabin at least every two hours to assure that no harm had come to her.

    Aside from meddling police, other problems existed. There had been a sudden exodus of campers from the woods. The campers, not renowned for bravery, were packing up and deserting the mountains for the safety of hotels and home.

    After two days of searching, she abandoned her plan, deciding that perhaps the deed would have to be done in some other town or hamlet away from this area, a place not alerted to her presence, not wary of strangers. Perhaps then she'd be able to bring this nightmare to a conclusion. There she would find the crimson fluid which would create her lover, thus bringing her bloody rampage to an end.

    It was, however, unnecessary for her to have planned anything or to have worried so. Lea should have realized that Lord Night would provide for her. He had already selected a victim to fulfill her needs and would lure her to the holy place of sacrifice when the time was right. All Lea needed to do was wait.

    If only she'd taken more notice of the phone calls, been less preoccupied with the rite of consecration, then all this might not have happened and the old woman might still be alive.

    Aunt Evelyn, always the busybody, called often, making sure that Lea was well, getting enough rest, eating properly; but, most of all, the conversations assured her that Lea was learning to cope with her grief, able to come out of the experience with emotions and sanity intact.

    From the first, although Lea tried to hide it, there had been a marked change in her nature. It was noticeable, even across the miles, in the tone of her speech. Her meek and mild-mannered propriety had somehow given way to a brusque and arrogant demeanor. Lea no longer spoke of Bible study, nor going to church, nor chastised her aunt for using saucy language. The person who answered the phone in the evening was someone new and unknown to Evelyn. All their conversations had been kept short at her niece's behest. Evelyn was talkative, inquiring about the north country's weather and people, all manner of things; but Lea was tight-lipped, especially concerning the manner in which she spent her days and nights.

    This unexpected change made Evelyn fearful for Lea's wellbeing. What did the innocent young woman know about life or the dangers that could await her in the world of reality? Being sheltered for so long, her existence so sternly dominated by her mother, Evelyn felt Lea ill equipped to survive.

    From their later conversation, it appeared that last night's call was the magnet which drew Evelyn here. Lea, unable to find a suitable sacrifice, frustrated at every turn, wildy impatient for a human lover, insane with desire, was less then pleased to hear her aunt's voice at the other end of the line. She usually disguised her displeasure, trying to tactfully sidestep the prying questions; but that evening, with her dreams falling apart, she did not. It was controlled anger that poured from her—not loud, but wounding, nevertheless. She accused her aunt of spying and trying to run her life, just as her mother had. Perhaps her aunt wouldn't have been so shocked if it hadn't been for her constant use of profanity to punctuate phrases and drive home points. It was grossly out of character for Lea to behave in such a manner.

    Lea regretted her words immediately, not only because they alerted Evelyn to the sudden overwhelming change in her personality, but also because she knew it hurt the old lady, who, regardless of her meddling and other numerous faults, had always treated Lea with much concern and kindness. In an attempt to smooth things over, she had apologized profusely. The call had ended on an amicable note, but Lea should have realized that Evelyn's curiosity, once stimulated, would not rest.

    Truly worried about what was happening to her shy, quiet niece, unable to comprehend the change in her personality, Evelyn immediately redialed the phone; only this time, the party at the other end was Ronald Penn. Making small talk, Evelyn tried to glean as much information as she could from the real estate broker. She was relieved to hear that he had recently seen Lea and that she was looking well, although a mite different than the first time he had met her. The news of Lea's altered appearance disturbed her. The more she talked to the man about how dramatic the makeover had been, the more frightened she became. If her worst fears were true, then the girl had become so emotionally distraught that she had succumbed to a nervous breakdown. Ronald had described the transformation as being from caterpillar to butterfly. It seemed strange that a personality so well fixed and stable could shatter and reform into something so foreign, so different.

    As it turned out, Evelyn didn't determine her plan of action until Ronald, in passing, inquired as to whether the Albany papers were covering the local murder story. Evelyn was taken aback by the news. Lea had never mentioned it. Ronald, evidently taking great delight in relaying all the grisly details of the slaughter, frightened Evelyn out of her wits, when, after a long pause, he informed her that the maniac who had done the bloody deed was still wandering through the mountain woodlands.

    As would be expected, Evelyn panicked, fearing for Lea's life. After quickly thanking Ronald for his help, she hung up the phone and ran to pack a bag. To her way of thinking, the ritual murder could be blamed for Lea's strange unexplained behavior. How could the poor girl hope to get well, attempt to overcome her nervousness, depression, and emotional upheavals, when she was in mortal fear of her life? If she had taken time to stop and think, Evelyn would have realized that the change in Lea predated the murder; but refusing to view the evidence objectively, she came to the wrong conclusion.

    It had taken her but a second to decide definitely that she would go to the cabin. The trip would serve a dual purpose; it would provide Lea with a modicum of safety and security—no murderer in his right mind would attempt to harm her with the hefty old woman for protection—and it would enable her to see for herself this curious personality turnabout which had suddenly afflicted her niece. Wasting no time about it, after only the most minimal of preparations, Evelyn left the comfort and safety of her home and drove through the night to the cabin, to Lea, and the fate that had been decreed for her.

    Unaware of what had transpired earlier in the evening, at four a.m. Lea was roused to wakefulness by intense pounding on the door. Startled by the sound, yet still half asleep after hours of lascivious lechery, she switched on the light, stumbled to the door, and without questioning the name of the visitor, pulled it open. Stunned by the face that stared back at her, Lea stood speechless in the presence of her aunt. The old woman's face was a study in shock and disbelief. Her staid, prudish niece was dressed in a lowcut, slinky, black satin gown. The pillow hadn't rubbed the rouge from Lea's cheeks, nor smeared the shadow and mascara from her eyes. Evelyn had never seen her looking better. As Ronald said, Lea had turned into a truly beautiful butterfly. The once dowdy woman was lovely, fragile, with the most exquisite of features. Startling what a bit of paint and a new hairdo could accomplish. Only a mere handful of days had gone by since they'd last been together, but to Evelyn it seemed like the passage of centuries. What had once been a plain and unattractive woman was now an ethereal, blossoming, flower.

    They stood for a moment staring at one another, neither speaking, both faces revealing the shock of the encounter. Embarrassed by her garb, Lea raised her hand up to cover the deep cleavage of her breasts and motioned for her aunt to cross the threshold and enter.

    Passing the doorway, her aunt began surveying the room and sniffing the air with obvious interest. The sweet smell of incense wafted to her nostrils and she began searching out its origin. There was a disconcerting look on Evelyn's face, a strange mixture of shock and curiosity, of pleasure and delight, but most of all the eyes had reflected internal churnings of fear. She sensed that something was wrong, very wrong. The woman who answered the door, who walked like Lea, looked like Lea, was not, in reality, her niece. She knew it instinctively. It was someone else, living like a parasite on the bones and flesh, a creature whose intentions were not known.

    The amenities were observed, with the women exchanging nervous greetings, and then sitting down to trade banter over cups of coffee. Angered as she was at the imposition and blatant interference in the wee hours of the morning, Lea managed to conceal her displeasure, setting her mouth in the most saccharine of smiles. It took but a minute for Evelyn to tire of the game of avoiding the issue at hand, that being Lea's strange behavior and her own sudden appearance here. Not known for her tactfulness, Auntie jumped right in, looking Lea in the eye and asking what in hell had been going on. She followed up with an inquiry as to why her niece was dressed like she was in the business of entertaining males for profit. She had always imagined Lea to be the high-necked flannel type. It was not that Evelyn viewed a friendly bang as immoral, it was just that she had a hard time visualizing Lea crawling into bed with a guy who was hell bent on screwing her. Frankly, Evelyn had thought that getting laid would be of enormous benefit to Lea, loosen the girl up a bit; it was just going to take her considerable time to get used to the idea that Lea did such things of her own volition. For years she had assumed that Lea would die a virgin, never having uncrossed her legs; now the young woman appeared to be moving in quite the opposite direction.

    Ire aroused, Lea announced to her aunt that what she wore to bed was her business. She wore such things simply because she liked them. As for her behavior, it was alarming only to those who were trying to maintain control over her. In no uncertain terms, she informed her aunt that she had, at this late date, finally grown up and was intending to be her own person; independent, liberated from confining rules and regulations, free of family interference.

    Evelyn listened quietly as her niece's speech continued, intimating that her youth had been wrecked because she had allowed others to run her life. Loudly, Lea declared that those times had come to an end. The words, pouring from her mouth, were true enough. It was Lea's right to be left alone; but something struck the old woman as being amiss. For years Evelyn had waited, hoping that the girl would free herself from her mother's domination, wanting her to be young and free and enjoying life. No one wanted Lea to be happy more than she; but this sudden rash of independence had too swift an onslaught. Something had triggered it and Evelyn wanted to know what.

    For a half hour they argued back and forth. Lea accused her aunt of coming to the cabin to snoop. Evelyn was upset and hurt by Lea's accusations, informing her niece that she had been frightened for her safety because of the horrid happenings. It was at that point that an alarm had gone off in Lea's head. She'd never mentioned the murder because she had feared that her aunt would do just what she did; it was immediately apparent that Evelyn had been in contact with someone for the sole purpose of keeping tabs on her niece's whereabouts. The only person it could be was the chatty real estate broker. Lea was incensed that her aunt would have the gall to involve Ronald, to pump him for information. But as adamantly as Lea accused her, Evelyn denied the charges, saying that she was simply attempting to look out for Lea's welfare, not meaning at all to pry. If there was a sin, it was that Auntie was just being a mite over-protective. Regardless, it had not been done out of malice as Lea seemed to feel, but rather out of love.

    The issue was not settled to anyone's satisfaction, least of all Lea's. Tiring of what she felt were weak excuses for meddling, she reiterated that she wanted to be left alone and pointedly asked her aunt to leave.

    To describe Evelyn's reaction as shock would be like calling a typhoon a spring rain. Never in her wildest imaginings could she envision her niece treating her so. In the old days, Beatrice used to order her out regularly; but that was due to her "moral outrage" at Evelyn's lifestyle. Lea doing something like this while holding a Bible and preaching about damnation, hellfire and brimstone—now that she could identify with, could understand; but this was not the same thing. Lea's outrage seemed directed just as much at Beatrice as at herself. Quite a turn-around for a girl who used to think that her mother represented the epitome of Christian womanhood. The last time they were together, and for all the times she could remember previous to that, Lea had always interspersed her conversations with scriptural phrases and moral parables, but that was no longer the case. Since Evelyn arrived, not once had God's name entered the conversation, except when used in vain. The words "damn" and "hell" were no longer used to describe the fate of lost souls, but were instead cursed at the old woman. The gentle piety that had once been Lea's trademark vanished, leaving instead a seething, vicious-tongued harpy. Although she seemed rational enough, Evelyn was convinced that Lea's mind had snapped. How else could such an overwhelming departure from her old self be explained?

    Just as adamantly as Lea had demanded that she go, Evelyn insisted that she was staying. It was at that point that her sad fate became fixed. Seeing that the more she yelled, the more intractable Evelyn became, Lea began to calm herself, trying to convince her Aunt that nothing was wrong, that she really just wanted to be alone. But Evelyn was buying none of it. The more she refused to listen to reason, the closer she drew to her own doom.

    From the very moment Lea had opened the door and seen her, she knew that this thing had not come to pass by chance. Lord Night had summoned the old woman here. Bright enough to recognize the immediate possibilities of the situation, the sudden appearance of a suitable female offering, Lea struggled to push the thought from her mind. Evelyn was a much loved, but unfortunately meddling, relative. Regardless of their past differences, there was a bond of caring between the two. She viewed sacrificing her aunt in much the same way as she would have her own mother—a form of convoluted, guilt-inspiring matricide. She hadn't realized at the time the degree of anger and hatred that raged within her.

    Words would not sway the old biddy, and try as she might, Lea was unable to convince her to leave. Evelyn didn't understand the tears that appeared in Lea's eyes when she unequivocally told the young woman that she was staying regardless of what she said or did. There was no use fighting it. The die was cast. Her fate was sealed. Once again, blood would drench the altar.

    Evelyn was no genius, but once she stepped into the bedroom and saw the black altar and other appurtenances of the new religion, the faith of the flesh, she began to put two and two together, thinking her niece mad. Evelyn would try to take action; even, perhaps, involving the police. Lea dared chance none of it. At her own stupid insistence, her aunt would view the altar; but sadly for her, she would never live to tell anyone about it.

    Looking back on it now, Lea remembered that that was the moment she decided to do away with Aunt Evelyn; but not the moment she came up with a suitable plan. That came later.

    Evelyn began looking around the kitchen, babbling to Lea about the fond memories she had of the place in the years before her parents had separated. From there, she had moved to the living room. A peculiar look crossed her aunt's face as her eyes scanned the contents.

    "You know," Evelyn commented in disbelief, "This looks almost exactly as I remembered it. Nothing seems to have aged here but me. Almost thirty years and it's as if I was never awayl"

    Shaking her head, she moved out into the hall. At first she appeared to be heading toward the bedroom; then, as if something had seized her attention, she moved past the doorway, coming to a halt in front of the wall. Lea took immediate notice, for it was at that precise place, at what appeared to be a walled up doorway, that Lea always felt chilled, fearful of some unnamed, unknown horror. Since her arrival, Lea had dreaded passing it. Invariably her breathing would quicken, her heart pound, muscles tighten, sweat drip profusely; yet she couldn't understand why. She had often chided herself about allowing the wall to discomfit her so, yet the strange apprehension, the nerve-induced malady, continued.

    "Did you do this?" her aunt queried, staring at the flat surface before her.

    "Do what?" Lea inquired in little more than a whisper.

    "Block the doorway," her aunt answered, still staring straight ahead.

    "No," Lea responded. "It was like that when I got here." She paused for a moment, then turned to her aunt. "Do you know where it led?" she asked.

    "Sure, upstairs to your room," the old woman replied. "Didn't you remember that?" she questioned gently." When you were a little girl you used to sleep up there in the loft."

    For one split second a scene flashed across the screen of Lea's brain. A tiny child with soft brown curls lay frightened and crying in a large wooden bed. Amid the dark shadows that surrounded her, a figure approached, reaching out. As it loomed nearer, the vision had suddenly melted into oblivion, leaving Lea to ponder its significance. Was it a real memory or simply a flight of fantasy? She wasn't sure. The only thing of which she was positive, however, was that her skin began to crawl when she neared the wall, and the chill that ensued moved through her bones with such rapidity as to make her body convulse with tremendous spasms.

    All that she could muster, in response to her aunt's inquiry, had been a weak shake of the head. Lea could remember nothing of those early times.

    "Guess you were too young," her aunt reasoned. "It's really lovely up there, quite spacious, and there's a beautiful view of the reservoir from the window."

    The breath caught in Lea's lungs. From a place deep in her forgotten past, she could visualize something; large, deep blue in color, with diamonds dancing on its surface, shimmering in a field of green. Above it, the clear blue was dotted by puffs of soft white. This was the panorama that had long troubled her. It hadn't been a fantasy, this expanse of blue and green, but rather a vague recollection from a long ago childhood. Lea tried hard to force other memories out, but they would not come. She didn't possess the key which would unlock her elusive past.

    "I wonder why anyone would have walled this up?" Evelyn asked aloud.

    At that precise moment, Lea was thinking the very same thing. The cabin was certainly not spacious by any stretch of the imagination. Why would anyone try to further cut down on the usable living space by closing off a serviceable area, especially the only room that commanded a view of the massive Stillwater Reservoir? It made no sense, no sense at all.

    Evelyn hesitated, jaw set, pondering the stupidity of such a remodeling, wondering who it was who had carried out the labor. Then, as if drawn by some force more powerful than herself, she turned and began slowly walking toward the bedroom.

    The room had been cloaked in darkness; but from memories long ago thought forgotten, she reached out, flicking the switch, bathing the cubicle in light. Evelyn stared at the coverlet in disbelief. How unlike Lea, she thought, to possess such extravagant and frankly flamboyant items! The bright crimson satin had been strewn about, as if reclined upon by two forms, giving fuel to the contention that Lea had a lover. Black clinging nightgowns and rumpled satin sheets could lead to no other conclusion.

    Next to catch her attention was the strange wall decoration that hung above the bed. Evelyn's eyes opened wide as she viewed the tiny naked worshippers bowing in homage to the five-pointed star.

    "Where did you get this? she cross-examined, voice rising in a crescendo of abhorrence. There was something vile about the scene depicted that chilled her soul. Evelyn knew little about theology, caring not for the mutterings of ministers; but she did recognize the symbol. In ancient times, the five-pointed star, the pentagram as it was called, was symbolic of evil, representing the overlord of Hell, Satan himself. It took little intelligence to realize that the hanging represented an act of devil worship, some form of demonic ritual; but what, she wondered, was it doing here? Of all people, Lea, with her strict Biblical morality, did not seem the type to possess such a profane and diabolic representation.

    It was apparent that Evelyn was deeply troubled by what she had seen. Her eyes darted back and forth between the unmade bed and the wall hanging, growing wider with each passing moment. It appeared that she was struggling to come to some sort of decision as to what was going on, what it was that she was seeing.

    "It was here when I arrived. Kind of interesting, don't you think?" Lea volunteered, peering out of the corner of her eye at Evelyn, an impudent smile curling her lips.

    It wasn't often that she was able to startle someone, to shock them by her conduct or possessions, so Lea truly relished the encounter, secretly giggling at her aunt's look of consternation.

    Auntie had looked at her coldly, eyes fixed and unmoving. "I know one damn thing for sure," she snapped at her smirking niece. "This wasn't here when your mother was! You call it interesting, I call it damn weird," she stated emphatically. "It looks like a frigging black mass!"

    Never really having thought about it before nor given it a name, Lea pondered the possibility that her aunt was right, that it was in fact a picture of a black mass. While she remained engrossed in contemplation, the focus of Evelyn's attention turned to other items in the room.

    Lea had been standing, still staring at the picture, when she suddenly became aware that her aunt was no longer by her side. Her concentration broken, Lea looked over her shoulder, startled at what she saw. Evelyn's eyes were wide with fright as her fingers moved across the shiny black marble. She eyed the various items on the table, set out as if upon an altar of worship, examining them, analyzing their purpose for being. It was not the candle holders, or the incense burner that disturbed her, nor held her unswaying attention; but rather the silver and black goblet.

    Lea watched, becoming fearful that the old woman was beginning to fit the pieces of the puzzle together. Evelyn glowered at the chalice with such revulsion and disgust, that it seemed as if she knew its ritual purpose; knew that, but days before, it had held the warm blood of human sacrifice.

    "Yours?" her voice began its interrogation.

    "Yes," Lea rejoined, staring defiantly at Evelyn. "They're mine."

    "I see," Evelyn snapped, eyes beginning to mist over, her worst fears confirmed. "Is this an altar of some sort," she grilled, voice cracking. "Lea?"

    Evelyn knew that it wasn't unusual for fanatically religious individuals to set aside areas of their home in which to pray; but this was wholly and decidedly different. Lea's clothing, the picture, the strange black altar with its implements of ritual—all led her to wonder what strange rites her niece was party to. She wouldn't have been quite so alarmed except for the fact that the Bible, which had previously served as Lea's constant companion, was nowhere in evidence and neither was a crucifix.

    Lea didn't respond. Her smile was broad and toothy, eyes twinkling, as she stared at Aunt Evelyn, amazed at how perceptive the old woman was.

    "Lea, what in God's name is the matter with you? What is all this? What is it that you do here?" The words poured from her mouth like a dam breaking, and with each syllable, a storm of emotion rose. Her hands were shaking as she held them outstretched, imploring Lea to answer. "What is it that you do here?" she repeated. There was a long pause as she waited for the reply. When it was apparent that no response was forthcoming, she clenched her fist, shaking it at Lea, screaming, "Answer me damn it, answer me!"

    Since the scenario for the coming hours had already been decreed. Lea saw no need of keeping the truth of her faith a secret any longer. Aunt Evelyn would not be leaving the cabin, so who might she tell—the worms?

    Eyes wide and shining in a hypnotic stare, Lea smiled as she began. "This, dear Aunt Evelyn, is the temple. My place of worship." She paused to see what reaction it would elicit.

    It was evident that the old woman was afraid. She first moved away from the altar toward Lea; but then, shrinking from her niece, she began backing slowly toward the doorway.

    It was obvious that Evelyn was trying to leave, to get away. Such behavior could not be tolerated. She had been brought here by the one that was most holy. Evelyn should have been grateful and obedient to his wishes, but she wasn't. Like a frightened rabbit, she was trying to run, attempting to flee her destiny. Lea could not permit that. Chosen by the god to do his will, Lea had moved quickly, blocking the path of escape.

    "With the coming of the sundown, I am transformed," Lea began again in a whisper, looking at her near hysterical aunt with eyes that reflected the innocence and joy of devout belief. "I am a priestess of shadows, a consecrator."

    Evelyn, shaking, with tears streaming down her face, half mad with fear, questioned Lea in quiet tones. The young woman appeared menacing, ready to do harm, but Evelyn reasoned that perhaps with calming conversation, she might be persuaded to allow her to leave in peace. "Who is it, dear, that you worship? Whose priestess are you?"

    Lea's eyes revealed astonishment. How could her aunt be so naive? "I am consecrated to Night. He is my master, my Lord!" Lea then paused for a minute as her aunt began sobbing loudly, once again backing away from her, only this time moving toward the bed. Lea shook her head at the stupidity of her aunt's reaction. Those who were not initiates at the altar of Night were like frightened children when confronted with the presence of the holy one. "Don't cry?" Lea implored. "He is a wonderful God, a deity of pleasure." She moved toward the old woman, forcing Evelyn back onto the bed. "He's freed me. I'm saved. All I need do is bring him the offering, place the holy blood before him, and I shall be forever free of want." Her eyes were saucer-like, searching Evelyn's face. There was no understanding there, no comprehension, only blind fear.

    Evelyn shook, flailing around on the satin coverlet, trying to move away from Lea. She was sure that the girl was insane, to a degree far surpassing her worst nightmares.

    Lea kept coming, eyes opened wide, as if begging for understanding.

    Evelyn, struggling to get up, pushed aside the comforter, revealing brown blood stains. When she realized what they were, she screamed out in terror. With one swift burst of strength, she raised herself up from the bed, only to be intercepted by Lea's strong right arm grabbing out at her. She resisted, only to find her neck caught in the ever-tightening grip of her niece's fingers. They rolled on the bed, finally tumbling off onto the floor.

    It was here, at this point, at this precise moment, that the memory became unclear. Lea was unsure of whether the rest of her recollections were fact or fantasy.

    She had vague visions of straddling her aunt's body, then lifting and slamming the old woman's skull onto the floor repeatedly, until the body lay motionless. From there, Lea had run to the kitchen. She'd found a thin bladed butcher knife in the drawer and returned to the bedroom to begin the sacrifice.

    She dragged the unconscious form near the altar, reaching up to grasp the chalice, and set it down beside her on the floor. This was the moment for which she had been waiting, the time when he would become flesh; but all was not ready. Once again she ran to the kitchen, only this time it was to obtain fresh candles and incense for the sacred altar. She needn't have rushed. The sacrifice could not begin. Lea had tarried too long. The sky had already begun to lighten with the first glow of morning. The shadowed time of ritual had passed, she'd have to wait yet another day before he could come to her.

    Angered at the delay, she resumed her place above the body; only this time, held securely in her hands, was the thin, shiny blade of salvation.

    "To you my Lord." she whispered softly, "I give this gift!"

    With that phrase, the blade began its rapid descent downward. When it was but an inch above the chest, the eyes of the sacrifice opened wide in terror, the mouth screamed out. As the knife plunged into the waiting breast, the body lurched upward, practically knocking Lea off. As the agonized form thrashed about, emitting piercing screams, the face of the sacrifice began to change before Lea's eyes. No longer was the offering the aging Evelyn; but instead, a strange face, one that Lea at first did not recognize. With each second that passed, the screams grew louder, the writhing more intense. As if made from some malleable substance, the features of the face began to distort. The brow became etched with scowling furrows. The eyes became piercing and narrow. The cheeks were wrinkled and colorless. An internal chord had been struck—Lea knew the face. It was so familiar, yet she had been unable to give it a name. Not until the mouth was transformed, evidencing the thin, cruel, lips and the yellowing teeth within, had she realized the identity. The body before her had become Mama.

    Lea remembered little of that moment, except the sudden rage that had swept over her. She had lifted the knife and repeatedly plunged it into the chest, belly, and finally the face. All life's denials, the loneliness, the want, the fear, the beatings, the punishments; all could be blamed on Beatrice. During her lifetime, Lea hadn't had the strength to fight her, to repay the cruelties, right the injustices, to free herself of the woman's crushing, smothering control; but now—now it was different. This was Lea's world, Beatrice no longer belonged. If she were trying to come back, trying once again to gain power over Lea, then her daughter, acting in defense of her new and wondrous life, was justified in trying to send her back to the realm of death from whence she'd come.

    Lea could remember vividly how the knife had turned from silver to red, going up and down, repeatedly. Into the eyes, the nose, the mouth; stabbing harder and harder, in an attempt to remove the hated face from view.

    How long the carnage continued, she had no idea; but by the time the knife finally dropped from her hand, the thing beneath her was a featureless mass of oozing flesh. The blood was everywhere, puddled and congealed as if the bedroom had became a slaughterhouse.

    Strangely, when she'd stood up, leaving the room to cleanse herself of the gore that had splattered over her, Lea began laughing hysterically. The morbid cacophony continued through her shower, subsiding only after all the blood had been washed down the drain.

    The bedroom resembled visions from a nightmare, imaginings of hell. After collecting enough blood to fill the cup, Lea mopped up the mess, cleaning the floor, walls, and furniture with every available piece of cloth. She wrapped the corpse in the blood spattered satin bed linens, securely tying the ghastly remains with string.

    Lea dragged the body through the house to the back door, abandoning it there until she could determine her next move. An eerie feeling manifested itself, as she tugged the body past the hidden threshold. Not only did the usual chill pass through Lea's frame, but an unnerving sensation of having endured it all before washed over her. How could that be? Perhaps in a dream that she couldn't recollect or in a moment of hatred, Lea had imagined such murderous activity; yet the feeling had been strong, making her feel that she'd previously lived through such an ordeal. It frightened her so completely as to shake the depths of her soul.

    Among the myriad of terrors which had pursued her following the act was the profound fear of being found out, apprehended, punished for her crimes. The world was incapable of understanding that she had acted at the direction of the Night god and therefore was blameless. If Lea were caught and arrested, there could be no sacrifice, no altar, no night ritual; her lord would never become flesh.

    Suppressing her fears, she rummaged through her aunt's purse, got the car keys out, and left the cabin to dispose of the most obvious piece of evidence. Without tangible proof, no one could attest to the fact that Evelyn had ever been here. Lea had been unsure as to whether Auntie had told Ronald, or anyone else for that matter, that she was coming up to the cabin. If her disappearance should be discovered, Lea would have to insist that she knew nothing, that to her knowledge her aunt had never arrived at her north country destination.

    Her daily walks in search of likely campers had been worthwhile. Not far from her cabin, no further than two miles away, was an overgrown, abandoned logging road that ended abruptly above the reservoir. It was a fifty foot drop from the edge into what appeared to be fairly deep water. Lea had decided to dispose of the car there.

    For a change, her endeavors were successful. The ground was hilly and aptly suited for the task. When Lea placed a stone on the gas pedal and put the gear shift into the drive position, the automobile began rolling forward, picking up momentum, finally sailing over the small cliff, landing a distance away. It hit with a resounding splash, slowly sinking from sight, finally disappearing beneath the ominous, gray-blue water. From the look of the road, it was evident that few people knew of the spot or used it. There was no easy access to the water, so campers could neither fish nor swim there. In this environment of solitude, it would take years before anyone would chance upon the auto's hulk. By then, it would be nearly destroyed, too rusted to be identified.

    Lea was going to get away with it. She sensed it in her bones. Lord Night would provide for her safety, see that she was protected from retribution.

    The walk back to the cabin was made through the woods, assuring that no one could see her. At all costs, suspicion must be averted. It took her longer than expected, as she tried to erase the scars that the car's tires had made in the soft carpet of pine needles covering the road.

    Arriving at her cabin after an absense of two and a half hours, she repeated the procedure again. No connection must be made between the cabin and Evelyn's disappearance.

    Upon returning, she went through the bedroom and hall again, assuring that no telltale spatters remained. Once satisfied, Lea began the big job, the disposal of the corpse. Filled with trepidation, she waited for the patrol car to make its pass by the cabin. When she heard the sound of an engine approaching, she moved out onto the porch and waved nonchalantly to the approaching officer. As she had hoped, he nodded his head to her in greeting and wheeled his vehicle around, heading back out the way he'd come.

    Lea waited ten minutes to assure that he would not return and then set to work at her task. She propped open the back door, pulled the body out, and blindly headed into the woods, hoping that she would come upon a clearing where there would be soft earth, free of large roots, to bury her aunt. It took her a while to locate such a spot. For some strange reason, a large circular area, perhaps fifty feet across, was treeless. It was as if someone had taken the time to plant them, yet she knew that that was impossible.

    Promptly determining that this was the perfect spot, Lea retrieved the body, bringing it to this place of rest. Once there, she concealed it in nearby shrubbery, then returned to the cabin to obtain the needed digging tools, a shovel and a large ax.

    Her work went slowly. Although the ground was soft, the undersoil was riddled with roots which had to be chopped. The work had proved both exhausting and traumatic.

    All during her labor, she experienced the continuing feeling that once before she had stood beside a woodland grave, only that time the hole was gaping and monstrous, threatening to swallow her up. The rectangular cavern had contained a giant; a bloody, black-haired behemoth. She could see the vision clearly in her mind, yet couldn't remember its origin—a story book, a fairytale. Certainly such scenes had no basis in reality.

    Lea lifted her hand up to her head; she was tired, yet there was so much to do. She was filled with conflicting emotions. She felt guilty, yet happy; repulsed at her actions, yet satisfied. She was sorry that Aunt Evelyn was dead, yet she was joyful in the knowledge that her desires for a flesh and blood lover would soon be realized. Lea knew that to feel so was selfish. She should be overcome with shame at the barbarous act she had committed, sobbing and mournful by the side of the grave; but the only emotion she could conjure up was relief, that soon the phantom of passion would be man, to dwell with her always. It was a sad commentary on her own humanity. Somewhere, somehow, she had learned to place the needs of self before the welfare of others. A whispered voice, deep within, chided her; but a far stronger voice told of a firm-muscled lover who would soon be hers.

    Anxious to end this chapter of her life and begin the new, wanting to return to the cabin in preparation for the night ritual and her lover's strong embrace, Lea rose and approached the body. She positioned it near the edge of the grave, then pushed it in. As luck would have it, it came to rest on its side. There was something about the burial site that gave Lea unspecified feelings of dread. She certainly didn't want to climb down into it again, to lay the body out properly; but she had no choice, the grave was shallow enough already.

    Gingerly she stepped down into the pit and positioned the body on its back. Once again that same vision of an enormous grave came to her. In the distance, the soft whimperings of a child could be heard, as a shadowy figure began throwing dirt on the giant's bloodied face.

    It scared her so that Lea leaped out of the grave. The vision aroused strange emotions in her. Suddenly she felt like crying, yet didn't know why; for the giant, for herself, for her aunt? She was confused, but didn't want to be. She had to finish the job and go. No time for crying, no time for morbid, nightmarish apparitions.

    As fast as she could, Lea began throwing the dirt in the grave. She wanted to get out of here, before she was driven crazy by bizarre hallucinations.

    Should she say something. Lea wondered? Was it necessary? Aunt Evelyn was in no position to care, and not having been religious, she wouldn't want some idiot incantation about the glorious hereafter recited over her remains. Still, it seemed somehow disrespectful to keep silent at this time.

    After a moment's pause to gather her thoughts, Lea mouthed the only words she could think of. "Rest in peace," she whispered softly.

    She stood staring at the corpse, reminiscing about the times she and her aunt had been together, feeling sorrow at the loss. And then, through a thin veil of soil, the face again began to transform itself. From the mutilated flesh, a mass of tissue began to grow, covering the skull, filling the eyes, forming the lips,. The features were not Evelyn's, but those of an awakening Beatrice. The spectre's expression was one of anger, of menacing vengeance, of raging hatred.

    Lea stepped back in terror. Why wouldn't Mama die? She had come back again to take away her lover, just as she had done before; but this time, but this time. . . Lea lifted the shovel high above her head and smashed it down into the grave, over and over again.

    "Die, damn you! Die, damn you! Die! Die! Die!" she screamed while destroying what remained of the head.

    The skull was reduced to pulp. Lea began feverishly shoveling dirt on it. She had to work fast, otherwise Mama'd try to climb out and be alive again. Beatrice was dead and Lea meant to keep her that way.

    Sweat dripped down as the grave began to fill. Although it was shallow and small animals might eventually gain access to it, Lea was quite sure that no human would be able to uncover it. Mama would be entombed there forever.

    Lea worked harder and harder, limbs aching, head pounding in pain. She wanted to go home, lie down, rest.

    She didn't understand anything, didn't understand it at all. She'd sacrificed Aunt Evelyn to Lord Night, so why was Mama lying in the grave? It must be a hallucination, caused by the stress and strain of the last few hours. That was natural, explainable. It was only logical that killing her aunt would play havoc with her emotions, would be traumatic enough to make her start seeing things that weren't there.

    Still, why was it a zombie in the form of Mama that she had imagined, and why was it that after all these years, Lea suddenly found herself filled with hatred against the woman? She feared that somehow her mother would wreck this love, take away her happiness just as she had done in the past. Yet how could that be? There had been no men in Lea's past. Perhaps she'd cared for someone when she was younger and Mama had destroyed the friendship. Perhaps it had so affected her that she had thrust the painful experience into her subconscious, forgetting names and places, yet secretly harboring an immense resentment all these years. That could be the only explanation.

    When the last shovel of dirt was thrown on the grave and the top soil was once again covered with leaves, needles, and twigs, the spot appeared just as sylvan as it had a few hours before, when she'd first seen it. Lea had done her work well. No one would ever know what this vision of woodland paradise concealed. So strange, it was as if Evelyn had never existed; in just a few hours, wiped from the face of the earth, never to exist again, consigned forever to silent darkness.

    She rebuked herself for not mourning the woman, for not being the slightest bit repentant at the dastardly act that she had so easily committed, but there was no time for such mental self-flagellation; it was getting late. Lea needed to get some rest before preparing for tonight's ritual. This evening everything had to be perfect, so that he might be pleased with her. If she pleasured him and served his needs well, then he would become man. She must rush home to prepare for this most glorious night.

    Lea turned from the gravesite, lifting the tools onto her shoulders, and, without looking back once, began walking swiftly toward the cabin, the coming sundown, and her awaiting Lord.