"Right you are," said Mona. "That's Old English. I have at one time or another looked up the derivation of every single word that pertains to witches and witchcraft."
"Yeah, so have I. Warlock, right you are. Or it means, don't tell me, it means somebody who knows the truth all the time, right?"
"And to think it was Oncle Julien who wanted me to do this, that's the puzzle, but then a ghost knows his own business and Oncle Julien maybe didn't know. The dead don't know everything. The evil people do, whether they're dead or alive, or at least they know enough to tangle us up in such a web we can never escape. But Julien didn't know that Michael was his descendant. I know he didn't. He wouldn't have told me to come."
"To come where, Mona?"
"To this house on Mardi Gras night, to sleep with Michael, to make this baby that only Michael and I could have made, or maybe you too could have made it with Michael, perhaps, because you can smell that smell coming up out of these boxes, that smell of him?"
"Yeah, maybe I could, Mona. You never know."
"Right, sweets, you never know. But I got him first. I got Michael while the door was open before Rowan came home. Just slipped through the cracks, and wham! This baby, this marvelous little baby."
Mona turned over and lifted her head, resting her chin on her hands, elbows on the carpet.
"Mary Jane, you have to know everything."
"Yeah, I do," said Mary Jane. "I want to. I'm kind of worried about you."
"Me? Don't worry. I couldn't be better. I'm thirsty for some more milk, but otherwise, I'm fine. Look, I can still lie on my belly, well, actually no." She sat up. "That wasn't so comfortable, guess I have to kiss that goodbye for a while, you know, sleeping on your stomach?"
Mary Jane's brows had gone together in a very serious expression. She looked so cute! No wonder men were so damned patronizing to women. Did Mona look cute this way?
"Little witches!" said Mona in a hissing whisper, and she made her fingers flutter beside her hair.
Mary Jane laughed. "Yeah, little witches," she said. "So it was the ghost of Oncle Julien told you to come up here and sleep with Michael, and Rowan was nowhere around."
"Exactly, nowhere around. And Oncle Julien had more than a heavy hand in it, I tell you. The thing is, I fear he has gone to heaven and left us to our own devices, but then that is fine. I wouldn't want to have to explain this to him."
"Why wouldn't you?"
"It's a new phase, Mary Jane. You might say it's witchcraft in our generation. It's got nothing to do with Julien or Michael or Rowan and the way that they would have solved things. It's something else altogether."
"Yeah, I see."
"You do, don't you?"
"Yep. You're really sleepy. I'm going to go get you some milk."
"Oh, that would be divine."
"You just lie down and go on to sleep, darlin'. Your eyes look really bad. Can you see me at all?"
"Sure, I can, but you're right. I'm just going to sleep right here. And, Mary Jane, take advantage of the situation."
"Oh, you're too young for that, Mona."
"No, silly, I didn't mean that," said Mona, laughing. "Besides, if I'm not too young for men, I'm not too young for girls either. As a matter of fact, I'm curious about doing it with a girl, or a woman perhaps, a beautiful woman like Rowan. But what I meant was, the boxes are opened. Take advantage of that fact, and read what you can out of them."
"Yeah, maybe I'll do that. I can't really read his handwriting, but I can read hers. And she's got stuff here."
"Yeah, read it. If you're going to help me, you have to read it. And down in the library, Mary Jane, the file on the Mayfair witches. I know you said you read it, but did you really read it?"
"You know, Mona? I'm not sure I really did."
Mona turned over on her side, and closed her eyes.
And as for you, Morrigan, let's go back, way, way back, none of this foolishness about invaders and Roman soldiers, way back to the plain, and tell me how it all began. Who is the dark-haired one that everyone so loves? "Good-night, Mary Jane."
"Listen, before you fly away here, darlin', who would you say is your very best trusted next of kin?"
Mona laughed. She almost forgot the question, then woke with a start.
"Aaah, you are, Mary Jane."
"Not Rowan and Michael?"
"Absolutely not. They must now be perceived as the enemy. But there are things I have to ask Rowan, I have to know from her, but she doesn't have to know what's going on with me. I have to think out the purpose for my questions. As for Gifford and Alicia, they're dead, and Ancient Evelyn is too sick, and Ryan is too dumb. And Jenn and Shelby are too innocent. And Pierce and Clancy are simply hopeless, and why ruin normal life for them? Have you ever put much of a premium on normal life?"
"Never."
"I guess I'm depending upon you, then, Mary Jane. 'Bye now, Mary Jane."
"Then what you're saying is, you don't want me to call Rowan or Michael in London and ask their advice."
"Good heavens, no." Six circles had formed, and the dance was beginning. She didn't want to miss it. "You mustn't do that, Mary Jane. You absolutely mustn't. Promise me you won't, Mary Jane. Besides, it's the middle of the night in London and we don't know what they're doing, do we? God help them. God help Yuri."
Mona was floating away. Ophelia, with the flowers in her hair, moving steadily downstream. The branches of the trees came down to stroke her face, to touch the water. No, she was dancing in the circle, and the dark-haired one was standing in the very center and trying to tell them, but everyone was laughing and laughing. They loved him, but they knew he had a habit of going on and on, with such foolish worries....
"Well, I am worried about you, Mona, I should tell you ..."
Mary Jane's voice was very far away. Flowers, bouquets of flowers. That explains everything, why I have dreamed gardens all my life, and drawn pictures of gardens with crayons. Why are you always drawing gardens, Mona, Sister Louise asked me. I love gardens, and First Street's garden was so ruined until they cleared it and changed it, and now, all clipped and kept, it harbors the worst secret of all.
No, Mother, don't ...
No, the flowers, the circles, you talk! This dream was going to be as good as the last one. "Mona?"
"Let me go, Mary Jane."
Mona could barely hear her; besides, it didn't make any difference what she said.
And that was a good thing, too, because this was what came out of Mary Jane's mouth, far, far away ... before Mona and Morrigan began to sing.
"... you know, Mona Mayfair, I hate to tell you this, but that baby's grown since you went to sleep out by the tree!"
Eighteen
"I THINK WE should leave now," said Marklin.
He lay on Tommy's bed, his head resting on his clasped hands, studying over and over the knots in the wood of the bed's coffered canopy.
Tommy sat at the desk, feet crossed on the black leather ottoman. This room was larger than Marklin's, with a southern exposure, but he had never resented it. He had loved his own room. Well, he was ready now to get out of it. He had packed everything of importance in one suitcase, and hidden it under his own bed.
"Call it a premonition. I don't want to stay here," he said. "There's no reason to stay longer."
"You're being fatalistic and a bit silly," said Tommy.
"Look, you've wiped the computers. Stuart's quarters are absolutely impenetrable, unless we want to risk breaking in the doors, and I don't like being under a curfew."
"The curfew is for everyone, may I remind you, and if we were to leave now, we wouldn't make it to the door without a dozen questions. Besides, to walk out before the memorial service would be blatantly disrespectful."
"Tommy, I can't endure some tenebrious ceremony in the small hours of the morning, with a lot of preposterous speeches about Anton and Aaron. I want to go now. Customs; rituals. These people are fools, Tommy. It's too late to be anything but frank. There are b
ack stairs; there are side stairs. I'm for leaving here immediately. I have things on my mind. I have work to do."
"I want to do what they asked us to do," said Tommy, "which is what I intend to do. Observe the curfew they have asked us to observe. And go down when the bell is sounded. Now, please, Marklin, if you have nothing insightful or helpful to say, be quiet, will you?"
"Why should I be quiet? Why do you want to stay here?"