deliberate lie. The secret was locked inside a little compartment in her mind, like Bluebeard’s secret chamber, and the key had been thrown down the well.
The weather was getting colder. Soon there wouldn’t be an excuse for remaining here. She knew they ought to go back.
What was she doing not telling Michael, and not telling Aaron? Running away like this, to hide?
But the longer she remained here, the more she began to understand her conflicts and her reasons.
She wanted to talk to the being. The memory of him in the kitchen flooded her with a powerful sense of him, all the more particular because she had heard the tender quality of his voice. Yes, she wanted to know him! It was exactly as Michael had predicted it that first awful night when the old woman had just died. What was Lasher? Where had he come from? What secrets lay beyond that flawless and tragic face? What would Lasher say about the doorway and the thirteen witches?
And all she had to do was call him, like Prospero calling to Ariel. Keep the secret, and say his name.
Oh, but you are a witch, she said to herself as her guilt deepened. And they all knew it. They knew it that afternoon you spoke to Gifford; they knew by the stark silvery power that came from you, what everybody thinks is coldness and cunning, but was never anything but unwelcome strength. The old man, Fielding, was right in his warnings. And Aaron knows, doesn’t he? Of course he knows.
Everybody but Michael, and Michael is so easy to deceive.
But what if she decided that she wouldn’t deceive anyone, that she wouldn’t play along? Maybe she was searching for the courage to make that decision. Or maybe she was simply resisting. Maybe she was making the demon thing wait the way he had made her wait.
Whatever the case, she no longer felt that aversion for him, that awful dislike which had followed the incident on the plane. She felt the anger still, but the curiosity and the ever increasing attraction were greater …
It was the first really cold day, when Michael came out on the beach and sat down beside her and told her he had to go back. She was enjoying the brisk air, actually, sunbathing in a heavy cotton sweater and long pants, the way she might have done in California on her windy deck.
“Look, this is what’s going down,” he said. “Aunt Viv wants her things from San Francisco and you know how old people can be. And, Rowan, there’s nobody to close up Liberty Street except me. I have to make some decisions about my old store out there, too. My accountant just called me again about somebody wanting to rent it, and I have to get back there and go through the inventory myself.”
He went on, about selling a couple of pieces of California property, shipping certain things, renting out his house, that sort of thing. And the truth was, he was needed in New Orleans. His new business on Magazine Street needed him. If this thing was going to work .…
“Truth is, I’d rather fly out there now than later. It’s almost December, Rowan. Christmas is coming. You realize it?”
“Sure, I understand. We’ll drive back tonight.”
“But you don’t have to, babe. You can stay here in Florida till I come back, or as long as you want.”
“No, I’ll come with you,” she said. “I’ll come up and pack in a little while. Besides, it’s time to be leaving. It’s warm now but it was really chilly this morning when I first came out.”
He nodded. “Didn’t you hate it?”
She laughed. “Still not as cold as any summer day back in California,” she said.
He nodded. “I have to tell you something. It’s going to get even colder. A lot colder. Winter in the South is going to surprise you. They’re saying this may be a bad winter all over the southern states. In a way I just love it. First the dizzying heat and then the frost on the windows.”
“I know what you mean.” And I love you. I love you more than anyone I’ve ever loved.
She sat back in the wooden beach chair as he walked away, and she let her head roll to the side. The Gulf was now a dull silver blaze before her, as often happened when the sun was at its height. She let her left hand fall down into the soft, sugary sand. She pushed