Optical Delusions in Deadwood (40 page)

      “Who?”

      “Lila and Millie.”

      Tears filled Wanda’s eyes. “Millie did this?”

      “Part of it.” There was no time to waste on a therapy session here. “Wanda,
please
help me.”

      She nodded and scooted around behind me. It took her half a minute to loosen the rope holding me to the chair enough that she could slide it up over my shoulders and head.

      “Now my wrists. I have a seam ripper in my right hand.” I opened my palm.

      After a moment’s silence, Wanda said, “This was my aunt’s. Where’d you get it?”

      “I found it in the closet. Hurry up and cut me free.” I kept my eyes on the stairs as she ripped and tugged.

      She stopped suddenly. I tried to pull free, but was still bound.

      “What?” Wanda asked.

      “I didn’t say anything.”

      She shushed me. “Where?” she asked, then took a sharp breath. “Oh, dear Lord.”

      I craned over my shoulder, trying to see what was going on. Wanda stood gaping at the knife-laden sideboard. Then she stumbled forward, almost as if she’d been pushed. She hesitated over the knives, her hand outstretched.

      “Oh, good thinking.” I obviously wasn’t, or I’d have considered those damned knives I’d been trying so hard not to think about.

      “This one?” she asked the empty space to her right and picked up a paring knife. “No? Oh, right. Of course.” She put the paring knife down and grabbed a serrated bread slicer.

      The way she was talking to thin air made my skin crawl.

      Wanda walked toward me, knife held out in front of her, her mouth upturned in garish glee.

      Sweat trickled down my spine. “Uh, Wanda?”

      Her light blue eyes met mine.

      “Did you kill your husband?”

      A frown puckered her forehead. The lunatic grin disappeared. “Of course not.”

      My shoulders sagged in relief. “Okay. Good.” So, my gut had been right all along about Wanda’s innocence. But then what was the deal with that envelope and those pictures I’d found in the upstairs bedroom?

      Wanda grabbed my wrist. “Now hold very still, Miss Parker. I’d hate to cut you.”

      That made two of us. I closed my eyes. Her small tugs jerked my arms. I was just a handful of heartbeats from fresh air and freedom. As soon as my feet were no longer bound together, Wanda and I had an appointment at Cooper’s place. The next time I saw Lila’s face, I wanted it to be in profile pictures above her set of fingerprints.

      My wrists swung loose.

      “There,” Wanda said.

      “Thanks. Now give me the knife.”

      Wanda obliged.

      “Mother!” Millie yelled from the entryway.

      Wanda’s scream rang in my ears.

      I would have screamed, too, but the sight of Millie in a black Grim Reaper robe, hood and all, dried all saliva from my mouth.

      “Get away from her!” Millie stalked toward us.

      Looking like a cornered mouse, Wanda didn’t move, except to widen her eyes.

      “I said get back!” She pushed her mother aside hard enough to send Wanda stumbling and flailing against the wall.

      I slashed out toward Millie with the knife, hoping to catch her off guard, but Millie dodged and I missed her. “Give me that.” She grabbed for my wrist, but I jerked out of her reach. “I said give it here,” she growled and caught a handful of my hair, yanking it hard toward her.

      My eyes watered. I slashed again, blindly, snagging fabric. Millie caught my wrist, twisting my hair and head around painfully with her other hand. We’d reached a stalemate. If only Wanda would stop watching us and come help.

      “What’s going on?” Lila asked, marching into the room, her black robe billowing around her, the book I’d found in Junior’s room in her hand.

      Great. Grim Reaper twins. Double the pleasure, double the fun.

      “Give me that.” Lila set the book down on the end table and came to take the knife from me, but I had a death grip on it. “Let go or I’ll really hurt you.”

      “Go fuck yourself,” I said through clenched teeth. The knife was my ticket to freedom.

      “Fine. Millie, hold her still.”

      Millie gripped my hair and wrist even tighter. A fresh burn of pain stung my skull, and a tear slipped down my cheek.

      Lila returned with the paring knife, her hood pushed back. Eyes glittering in the candlelight, she grinned, her mini-fangs exposed. “We’ll see how strong your grip is when I slice your tendons.”

     
Slice my tendons!
The blade dug into my skin. I cried out in pain and the bread knife clattered to the floor at Lila’s feet.

      Lila picked up the knife. “That’s my girl.” She patted my head. “I knew you’d come to your senses.” She let go of my wrist and I cradled it against my chest, afraid to see how deep she’d cut. I could feel my pulse beating in the cut.

      “Should I tie her back up?” Millie asked.

      “No need,” Lila said. “Her ankles are still bound. She’s not going to bunny-hop anywhere fast.” She pulled the hood up onto her head.

      “What about Mother?” Millie took a step toward Wanda. “Should I tie her up? Stuff her in the closet?”

      “Your mother knows better than to do anything else stupid. Don’t you, dear?” Wanda just stared up at Lila with those big mouse eyes. Lila added, “I’d hate to have to summon your dead husband again. He’s going to be very angry if I do. I don’t think he’ll be as gentle with your punishment this time.”

      Wanda curled up like a roly-poly bug, rousing the protector in me. “Leave her alone,” I said.

      “You are in no position to be giving orders, Nosy Nellie.” Lila cleared some curly strands from my forehead, her touch delicate, yet menacing.

      I quivered in a mix of rage and fear and yanked away from her touch.

      She slapped me. The sting spread clear back to my ear and down my neck. “Now, where were we, Millie?”

      “We need blood.”

      “Perfect.” Lila grabbed my pulsing wrist. “Bring me the shot glass.”

      I tried to tug my hand free, but she brought her boot heel down on my bare toes until I relented.

      Wiggling my crushed toes, I glared at her. Turn the other cheek, my ass. I was going to slam her face into the sideboard the first chance I got. “So, what are you? Some kind of witch?” The hair fit. The nails, too.

      Lila laughed at me. “You’ve read too many fairy tales. This pentagram is pointing down, not up.”

      According to whom? From where I sat it pointed due east, toward the exit that I planned to run out the first chance I got. “So what’s that mean? You’re going to summon the devil?”

      “You don’t summon the devil,” Lila said, as if she were scolding a toddler. “You summon demons, and only certain ones at that.”

      “What’s the difference? A demon is a demon.” And Hell was Hell, wasn’t it?

      “Not all demons play nice.” I could tell by Lila’s haughty tone and curled lip that she was riding high on this wave of superiority, enjoying my ignorance. “Some are downright nasty. Tonight, you’re going to help me summon Azazel, the standard bearer of Hell’s armies.”

      Azazel? Just the name gave me the heebie-jeebies. I hid my quiver of fear behind a scoff. “Right. Let me guess. You need a human sacrifice, and I’m the lucky virgin.”

      “Don’t be so dramatic. We just need your blood.”

      She was the one preparing to summon a demon and I was being dramatic. Oh, that was rich. “How much blood?”

      “Don’t worry. We have to keep you alive. Azazel needs a female body to inhabit while he lets Kyrkozz through.”

      Whew, wasn’t that a relief. Just demon possession. Lovely. Maybe Azazel would be better at selling real estate than I was. “Then what?”

      “Then Azazel leaves your body and returns to Hell, and Kyrkozz copulates with you, planting his seed.”

     
Copulates!
Uurrcchhhh! Hold on. Time out. Nobody was going to be copulating with anyone tonight, especially not with me. Things had gone from
Exorcist
freaky to
The Omen
spooky in one sentence, and while I didn’t believe in the whole demons-from-Hell song and dance, Lila obviously did. Her determination to try to raise something from wherever coated my skin in a cold sweat.

      “We had a host,” Lila continued, “but she didn’t work out. You coming along when you did worked out perfectly.”

      “Timing is everything,” I said, trying to keep my knees from knocking against each other. What did she mean by “didn’t work out”? How didn’t it? Criminy, Lila wasn’t just going off the rails on the crazy train, she was the goddamned conductor.

      The grandfather clock chimed in agreement. Midnight. Damn. The witching hour was upon us.

      “Now hold still.” Lila sliced open my thumb before I knew what was happening. I screeched and jerked and tugged. She stepped down on my bare toes again, her boot heel crushing, pain stealing my breath. “I said hold the fuck still.”

      I did as she demanded, watching as drops of my blood splattered inside the shot glass Millie held under my thumb.

      The click of the deadbolt made us all jump in surprise.

      Millie’s eyes tripled in size behind her magnified lenses as she stared up at Lila.

      Before either of them could move, the door slammed open. “Lila,” Douglas Mann called out. “Where are you? We have a problem.”

      Relief raced through my veins. My limbs trembled.

      “In here,” Lila said all light and happy, as if we were having a good old-fashioned taffy pull.

      Douglas came striding into the parlor, dressed for a funeral again—I hoped it wasn’t mine. He stopped at the sight of us three Musketeers all huddling in the pentagram. “What in hell are you doing?”

      “Summoning Azazel.” Again, airy and nonchalant. Next on the docket: baking snickerdoodles.

      “Jesus Christ, Lila. That’s enough of this crazy demon shit of yours.” Douglas’ fingers tore through his hair. He grimaced. “I’m sorry about this, Violet.”

      “No problem.” I matched Lila’s sunshine-and-rainbows tone. No need to go ape-shit until I had Cooper by my side. “Can I go now?”

      He shook his head. “Sorry about that, too.” His gaze moved to Millie. “Take Violet out to the mine and get rid of her.”

     
Chapter Twenty-Three

     
Saturday, August 11
^th
(just after midnight)

      “No!” Lila yelled at Douglas.

      Wait, I thought, closing my mouth. That was supposed to be my line, it being my life and all.

      “Violet’s mine.” Lila stepped between us, blocking me from Douglas’ view. “I need her.”

      Usually, I liked feeling needed.

      “Let it go, Lila,” Doug’s tone fell, growing stern and fatherly. “We have to get rid of her. The cops are out looking for her in force. It’s just a matter of time before they come knocking.”

      Hurray! Here came Cooper and the cavalry.

      Lila didn’t budge. “I just need another hour.”

      “You can summon a demon that fast?” I scoffed. “Where’d you learn this trick? From the back of a cereal box?”

      Lila turned and slapped me.

      I held the back of my hand to my burning cheek. That was twice now. Man, I wanted to tar and feather the bitch.

      “Stop it.” Douglas grabbed Lila by the arm, dragging her away from me, outside the pentagram. “You’ve messed with Violet enough.”

      She shook off his arm. “There you go again, protecting your little blonde girlfriend.”

      “Damn it, Lila. This has nothing to do with how I feel about Violet.”

      How he felt about me? Were we in a relationship that I didn’t know about?

      “It has everything to do with you and her.” Lila shot me a glare that singed my hair. “You love
her
, don’t you? Don’t you? I should have burned her up in her stupid truck.”

      “It was a Bronco, you dumbass,” I said, wishing I was wearing a wire to catch that confession. Unfortunately, that still wouldn’t get me a new vehicle. Car dealers didn’t take arsonist confessions as a form of payment.

      “Violet, stay out of this,” Douglas ordered. “You’re not helping.”

      My apologies. I was new at the whole Stockholm-syndrome psychosis song and dance.

      He grabbed Lila by the shoulders. “Honey, calm down. You know you’re one of my favorite girls.”

      She clung to his chest. “I could dye my hair blonde. Get a perm. Just tell me what you want.”

      The sight of a woman throwing herself at a man was never pretty, especially when he looked like a jowly lollipop. Watching Lila morph into a spineless ninny should have made me want to burn my bra for women worldwide, but after I’d been kicked and slapped by the bitch, my can of compassion was empty. In fact, I had an idea. “Douglas, darling,” I said, in a warm purr. “If you won’t tell her the truth, I will.”

      All eyes turned to me, including Millie’s magnified ones, which were rimmed with extra-large tears.

      I smirked at Lila. “You should know by now that gentlemen prefer blondes. Douglas was only using you.” That last part was true and obvious to any outsider, but for what purpose, I had yet to figure out.

      Lila’s lily-white cheeks bloomed rosy red. She bared her fangs. “You lie!”

      “You sure about that?” I looked up at Douglas, whose mouth was catching flies. “Douglas, would you please stop dallying with the trash? We don’t need her anymore. I can give you what you want—what you need.”

      I was winging it so hard I was flying in circles.

      Lila clenched her fists. She whirled on Douglas. “I knew it! That’s why you get horny every time you talk about her.”

      “Lila, shut up. That has nothing to do with Violet.”

      I wasn’t going to touch that one.

      “You told me you’d leave your wife for me,” Lila said.