The witching hour - By Anne Rice Page 0,505

that wasn’t true. She only wanted to torment Stella. I don’t even think Julien knew.”

“Do you know the words of the riddle?” Michael asked.

Fielding turned to the left and glanced down at him. And suddenly they all appeared to notice Michael, and to focus upon him. Rowan slipped her hand closer to his neck, clasping it affectionately and drawing her legs closer to him, as if embracing him and declaring him part of her.

“Yes, what were the words of the riddle?” Rowan asked.

Randall looked at Peter, and they both looked at Fielding.

Again Fielding shook his head. “I never knew. I never heard there were any special words. It was just that when there were thirteen witches, the doorway would be opened at last. And the night that Julien died, my father said, ‘They’ll never get the thirteen now, not without Julien.’ ”

“And who told them the riddle?” asked Rowan. “Was it ‘the man’?”

They were all staring at her again. Even Anne Marie appeared apprehensive and Beatrice at a loss, as if someone had made a fearful breach of etiquette. Lauren was gazing at her in the strangest way.

“She doesn’t even know what this is all about,” declared Beatrice.

“I think we should forget it,” said Felice.

“Why? Why should we forget it?” asked Fielding. “You don’t think ‘the man’ will come to her as he came to all the others? What’s changed?”

“You’re scaring her!” declared Cecilia. “And frankly you’re scaring me.”

“Was it ‘the man’ who gave them the riddle?” Rowan asked again.

No one spoke.

What could she say to make them start talking again, to make them yield up what they possessed. “Carlotta told me about ‘the man,’ ” Rowan said. “I’m not afraid of him.”

How still the garden seemed. Every single one of them was gathered into the circle except for Ryan, who had taken Gifford away. Even Pierce had returned and stood just behind Peter. It was almost twilight. And the servants had vanished, as if they knew they were not wanted.

Anne Marie picked up a bottle from the nearby table, and with a loud gurgling noise filled her glass. Someone else reached for a bottle. And then another. But the eyes of all remained fixed upon Rowan.

“Do you all want me to be afraid?” Rowan asked.

“No, of course not,” said Lauren.

“Indeed not!” said Cecilia. “I think this sort of talk could ruin everything.”

“ … in a big shadowy old house like that.”

“ … nonsense if you ask me.”

Randall shook his head; Peter murmured no, but Fielding merely looked at her.

Again the silence came, blanketing the group, as if it were snow. A rustling darkness seemed to be gathering under the small trees. A light had gone on across the lawn, behind the small panes of the French windows.

“Have any of you ever seen ‘the man’?” Rowan asked.

Peter’s face was solemn and unreadable. He did not seem to notice when Lauren poured the bourbon in his glass.

“God, I wish I could see him,” said Pierce, “just once!”

“So do I!” said Beatrice. “I wouldn’t think of trying to get rid of him. I’d talk to him .… ”

“Oh shut up, Bea!” said Peter suddenly. “You don’t know what you’re saying. You never do!”

“And you do, I suppose,” said Lily sharply, obviously protective of Bea. “Come here, Bea, sit down with the women. If it’s going to be war, be on the right side.”

Beatrice sat down on the grass beside Lily’s chair. “You old idiot, I hate you,” she said to Peter. “I’d like to see what you’d do if you ever saw ‘the man.’ ”

He dismissed her with a raised eyebrow, and took another sip of his drink.

Fielding sneered, muttering something under his breath.

“I’ve gone up there to First Street,” said Pierce, “and hung around that iron fence for hours on end trying to see him. If only I’d ever caught one glimpse.”

“Oh, for the love of heaven!” declared Anne Marie. “As if you didn’t have anything better to do.”

“Don’t let your mother hear that,” Isaac murmured.

“You all believe in him,” Rowan said. “Surely some of you have seen him.”

“What would make you think that!” Felice laughed.

“My father says it’s a fantasy, an old tale,” said Pierce.

“Pierce, the best thing you could do,” said Lily, “is stop taking every word that falls from your father’s lips as if it were gospel because it is not.”

“Have you seen him, Aunt Lily?” Pierce asked.

“Indeed, I have, Pierce,” Lily said in a low voice. “Indeed I have.”

The others registered undisguised surprise, except for the three