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“Yes!” Her eyes are suddenly wild and crazed. She charges me savagely, “Midsummer will be upon us, and all those pagan things. A full moon, candles, drums, burgundy wine dripping down your breasts, bonfires, leashes, swollen cunts, beastly women doing beastly things. The rites of summer will end it al
l!” She’s in my face like a madwoman. I shrink back, appalled. “You, dear little lamb,” she says with a syrupy saccharine smile, “you were made for these things, you little slut.” Her voice turns like the edge of a knife, leaving a deep gash in my heart. She cackles at me witch-like and walks away. I watch her sway her round ass, like a whore strolling the street. She turns around with a more natural face. “I wouldn’t treat you so badly if I didn’t love you, Cass,” she tells me. Then she grabs her packed bag and walks out of the room before I can think to talk.
I think she’s mad. Like Elizabeth, yes. Some demonic power has claimed her completely. I want her more than I’ve ever wanted her, I squelch the desire to go after her, to tackle her to the ground, bind her to the bed and fuck her cunt with my fist. The ruthless design lays itself out so clearly, so instantaneously. I wonder if I’m mad too.
But I’m so gutless, I can’t act.
And I won’t stay in this house another night.
I pull my bags from the closet and begin to pack. I’ll call a cab, and be gone, I reason. Leave the Jeep here. I lay the plan in my head. I feel like I’m in a race. The more I pack the more determined I am to go. The taxi will take me to the train station. I’ll return to LA, let Peach find her way back when she’s finished with whatever she has to do. My mind flies as fast as my fingers.
When the bureau drawers are empty, I turn around.
“My god, you startled me!” I gasp, seeing the will-o’-the-wisp woman I saw in the hallway, leaning against the bedpost, as if she’s been staring at me for some time, listening to my thoughts.
“You’re not staying for the ceremony?” she asks sadly.
“What ceremony?” I say.
“Anastasia’s pagan rites. They’re really very lovely,” she says in a voice that almost sings.
I take a long look at her for the first time. She looks frail, as slight as a breeze. You think she might disappear right before your eyes. But I study her deliberately, and seeing her more clearly, I notice her breasts beneath her flowered dress, wiggling as she moves. She’s not as insubstantial as I think. I see her dress is nearly transparent. The “v” of her pussy and a mop of black curls are visible on close inspection. They peer out from the pale green background between two pink wild roses.
“You like the dress?” she says, noticing my interest. Holding either side of the flimsy fabric, she looks as if she’d curtsy. There’s a childish expression on her face. Her enormous soulful eyes watch me innocently. “It would be a shame to go so soon, the other women are just arriving. The midsummer rites are like magic here. Anastasia makes them happen.” Her eyes, like magic, dance.
“You speak of her so fondly,” I comment.
The woman smiles.
“Did you just arrive?” I ask.
“No, I live here with Anastasia.”
This should surprise me, but it doesn’t. For some reason her presence seems to be a part of this place. I may not have seen her before today, but I have felt her. I wonder if it were she who was in the hallway last night when I ran from the room after Peach.
The softness of her manner has taken away the flustered frenzy of my packing. Almost like Miriam calming me with her body, though this is different. I feel as if I’m in the presence of a ghost, the woman so frightfully “unreal”.
“Please say you’ll stay,” she says, like a child imploring a parent. I don’t know whether to trust her. If she’s Tasia’s lover, perhaps the woman has cast a spell on her. It seems perfectly reasonable considering her oddness. Or perhaps she’s been told by her mistress to keep me here for some dark purpose.
In spite of my fears, there’s something appealing to me about her.
She moves closer; her eyes, fixed on my every move make me self-conscious. I feel clumsy in the light of her ethereal grace. I lose all energy for my task.
“It’s so late, the sun’s nearly down,” she says. “It’s not a good night to travel; it will be dark with no moon.”
“I plan to take the train back to Los Angeles.”
“But you don’t really want to go there,” she says.
I consider my plan again. “I don’t suppose I can get a taxi this time of night. Could you take me into town?”
“I’m afraid I don’t drive,” she tells me.
I sigh, realizing that perhaps leaving tonight is too rash a move to make, foolishly silly. But if I stay, what will that mean? I think of Peach in the collar and cringe. Will she be looking like that all the time now? I don’t know how I’ll be able to look at her. What am I suppose to do, watch my lover doing Tasia’s bidding, while I remain alone? Still, I should wait till morning; maybe things will make more sense then.
“You’ve convinced me,” I tell the woman.
She smiles happily.
