He held his breath. Desperate not to lose the visions, he didn’t reach out for them mentally. He didn’t crowd them. He remained locked in stillness, feeling them leave him again in confusion, feeling the coldness and the solidity of his body around him, feeling the old familiar longing and anger and pain.
“Oh, my God,” he whispered. “And Rowan doesn’t even have the slightest idea … ”
He realized he was sitting down on the couch again. Lightner had hold of him, and he was grateful. Otherwise he might have fallen. He shut his eyes again. But the visions were nowhere near. He saw only Rowan, soft and pretty and beautifully disheveled in the big white terry-cloth robe, her neck bent, her blond hair falling down to veil her face as she cried.
When he opened his eyes, he saw that Lightner was sitting next to him. There was the horrifying feeling that he had lost seconds, possibly minutes of time. He didn’t mind the presence of the man, however, The man seemed genuinely kindly and respecting, in spite of all the incredible things he had to say.
“Only a second or two has passed,” said Lightner. (Mind reading again!) “But you were dizzy. You almost fell.”
“Right. You don’t know how awful this is, not remembering. And Rowan said the strangest thing.”
“What was that?”
“That maybe they didn’t mean for me to remember.”
“And this struck you as strange?”
“They want me to remember. They want me to do what I’m supposed to do. It has to do with the doorway, I know it does. And the number thirteen. And Rowan said another thing that really threw me. She said how did I know that these people I saw were good? Christ, she asked me if I thought they were responsible for the accident, you know, for me being washed out to sea like that. God, I tell you I’m going crazy.”
“Those are very good questions,” said the man with a sigh. “Did you say the number thirteen?”
“Did I? Is that what I said? I don’t … I guess I did say that. Yes, it was the number thirteen. Christ, I’ve got that back now. Yes, it was the number thirteen.”
“Now I want you to listen to me. I don’t want you to call Rowan. I want you to get dressed and to come with me.”
“Wait a second, my friend. You’re a very interesting guy. You look better in a smoking jacket than anybody I’ve ever seen in the movies and you have a very persuasive and charming manner. But I’m right here, exactly where I want to be. And I’m going back to that house after I call Rowan … ”
“And what exactly are you going to do there? Ring the bell?”
“Well, I’ll wait till Rowan comes. Rowan wants to come, you know. She wants to see her family. That’s got to be what this is all about.”
“And the man, what do you suppose he has to do with it all?” asked Lightner.
Michael was stopped. He sat there staring at Lightner. “Did you see that man?” he asked.
“No. He didn’t allow time for that. He wanted you to see him. And why is what I would like to know.”
“But you know all about him, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“OK, it’s your turn to talk, and I wish you’d start right now.”
“Yes, that’s our bargain,” said Lightner. “But I find it’s more important than ever that you know everything.” He stood up, and walked slowly over to the table, and began to gather up the papers that were scattered all over it, placing them neatly into a large leather folder. “And everything is in this file.”
Michael followed him. He looked down at the impossibly large mass of materials which the man was cramming into the folder. Mostly typewritten sheets, yet some were in longhand as well.
“Look, Lightner, you owe me some answers,” Michael said.
“This is a compendium of answers, Michael. It’s from our archives. It’s entirely devoted to the Mayfair family. It goes back to the year 1664. But you must hear me out. I cannot give it to you here.”
“Where then?”
“We have a retreat house near here, an old plantation house, quite a lovely place.”
“No!” Michael said impatiently.
Lightner gestured for quiet. “It’s less than an hour and a half away. I must insist that you dress now and you come with me, and that you read the file in peace and quiet at Oak Haven, and that you save all your questions until you’ve done so, and all the aspects of this case are clear. Once you’ve read the records you’ll understand why I’ve begged you to postpone your call to Dr. Mayfair. I think you’ll be glad that you did.”
“Rowan should see this record.”
“Indeed, she should. And if you were willing to place it in her hands for us, we would be eternally grateful indeed.”
Michael studied the man, trying to separate the charm of the man’s manner from the astonishing content of what he said. He felt drawn to the man and reassured by his knowledge on the one hand; yet suspicious on the other. And through it all, he was powerfully fascinated by the pieces of the puzzle which were falling into place.
Something else had come clear to him also. The reason he so disliked this power in his hands was that once he had touched another, or the belongings of another, a certain intimacy was established. In the case of strangers, it was fairly quickly effaced. In the case of Lightner it was gradually increasing.
“I can’t go with you to the country,” Michael said. “There’s no doubt in my mind that you’re sincere. But I have to call Rowan and I want you to give this material to me here.”
“Michael, there is information here which is pertinent to everything you’ve told me. It concerns a woman with black hair. It concerns a very significant jewel. As for the doorway, I don’t know the meaning. As for the number thirteen, I might. As for the man, the woman with the black hair and jewel are connected to him. But I shall let it out of my hands only on my terms.”
Michael narrowed his eyes. “You’re saying this is the woman I saw in the visions?”
“Only you can determine that for yourself.”
“You wouldn’t play games with me.”
“No. Of course not. But don’t play games with yourself either, Michael. You always knew that man was not … what he appeared to be, didn’t you? What did you feel last night when you saw him?”
“Yeesss, I knew … ” Michael whispered. He felt the disorientation again. Yet a dark unsettling thrill ran through him. He saw the man again peering down at him through the fence. “Christ,” he whispered. And before he could stop himself, the most surprising thing happened. He raised his right hand and made a quick, reflexive sign of the cross.
Embarrassed he looked at Lightner.
Then the clearest thought came to him. The sense of excitement in him was rising. “Could they have meant for me to meet you?” Michael asked. “The woman with the black hair, could she have meant for this meeting between you and me to take place?”
“Only you can be the judge of that. Only you know what these beings said to you. Only you know who they actually were.”
“God, but I don’t.” Michael put his hands to the side of his head. He found that he was staring down at the leather folder. There was writing on it in English. Large letters, embossed in gold, but half worn away. “ ‘The Mayfair Witches,’ ” he whispered. “Is that what those words say?”
“Yes. Would you dress now and come with me? They can have breakfast waiting for us in the country. Please?”
“You don’t believe in witches!” Michael said. But they were coming. Again the room was fading. And Lightner’s voice was once again distant, his words without meaning, merely faint, innocuous sounds coming from far away. Michael shuddered all over. Sick feeling. He saw the room again in the dusty morning light. Aunt Vivian had sat over there years ago, and his mother had sat here. But this was now. Call Rowan …