Darkwater by V. J. Banis Page A

the bed with her fist. Alarmed, Jennifer tried to calm her.
    â€œPerhaps if you were just outside occasionally,” she suggested, “in the sunshine and the fresh air. I don’t think it could be good for anyone to confine herself indefinitely. Even my mother....”
    Alicia seemed not to have heard her at all but rather appeared to be contemplating some dark inner voices of her own. Suddenly, without so much as an apology, she interrupted Jennifer.
    â€œCall Walter.” Alicia screamed, turning livid. “Now, at once. I want to see him.”
    Jennifer’s face burned at being treated so rudely but she was too well disciplined herself to argue further or to ignore a command given so peremptorily. Without a further word she went to the library, where she had seen Walter a short time before.
    â€œYour wife wishes to speak to you,” she informed him curtly.
    He gave her a surprised look, studying her face for a moment, which only served to heighten her color and further disconcert her, although she did not know why it should have that effect.
    He did not question her, but rose from his chair and went swiftly along the hall to his wife’s bedroom, his long strides easily leaving Jennifer behind, so that by the time she arrived at the bedroom and went in, Alicia was already unleashing an angry torrent of words aimed at her husband.
    â€œShe has got to leave,” Alicia was saying, her voice rising hysterically until she was all but screaming. “She must go.”
    Walter’s normal speaking voice sounded like a whisper in contrast to Alicia’s shouting. “I can’t just turn her out,” he said.
    â€œI won’t have her here.”
    â€œYou’re working yourself up over nothing.” Despite the softness of his voice, Walter spoke with firm determination.
    â€œI tell you, she’s killing me. She’s a witch, like her mother, and she’s killing me with her tricks. And you don’t even care. No one cares if I die or not.”
    â€œThat’s not true.” Walter went to the bed and knelt, trying to take her in his arms and comfort her.
    â€œLeave me alone,” she shrieked, slapping his hands away. “I believe you want her to kill me. You want me dead. That’s why you brought that witch into the house.”
    She gave a sharp gasp, clutching at her breast and threw her head back with a grimace of pain.
    To Jennifer, standing helping just inside the door, it certainly looked as if Alicia’s pain was real—or was this just more of her acting? She went swiftly to her. She had to fight an increasing dislike for this cruel, grasping woman who could be so venomous toward a mere child and so heartless toward a patient and gentle husband, but she could not let this scene continue, and not for Alicia’s sake alone.
    â€œMrs. Dere, let me help you,” she said, putting an arm around the woman’s stiff shoulders. Alicia did not resist, but sank weakly into Jennifer’s arms. Jennifer looked past her, directly at Walter. Their eyes met and for a moment it seemed as if they shared some secret knowledge, as if in some odd way the two of them were united in purpose against his wife.
    She was suddenly angry, angry that she should be thrust into that position between them, angry that she should share his thoughts regarding his wife. Angry that his wife should join them together in understanding.
    â€œPerhaps you should leave us,” she said to him coldly, because she was angry, and frightened, too, but she did not watch him go. She gave her attention instead to the woman in her arms. Alicia was weeping softly now, as helpless as a kitten. It was hard to believe that a moment before she had shown the savagery of a jungle cat.
    * * * * * * *
    For just a moment before he left, Walter paused, looking down at the two women—at his wife, so shrill, so hard and demanding, who had brought so much unhappiness into his