Lair of Dreams - Page 120/221

Back in the motel, by the weak light of a bedside lamp, Will read through his stack of clippings gathered from newspapers around the country:

THE BOSTON GLOBE

“… I was walking in old Salem, up near the hill where they used to hang the witches, you see, when Buster, my dog, barked up a storm, and a terrible feeling come over me. I saw them silhouetted by the mist in their black dresses, some with heads wobbling on broken necks and eyes dark with hate.…”

THE CEDAR RAPIDS EVENING GAZETTE

Mr. and Mrs. Samuel Stuart of Altoona have asked for any assistance in locating their daughter, Alice Kathleen, who disappeared on her way home from a territory band dance. The orchestra in question, the Travelers, has also disappeared, and curiously, no other territory bands can remember much about them at all, though there are many accounts of people who’ve gone missing once the band has come through town.…

THE NEWPORT MERCURY

… Passing by the site of a former slave auction block, the ship’s captain, John Thatcher, claimed to hear terrible cries and swore that he saw, for a moment, stretched out along the port, the ghosts of whole families in chains, their eyes on him in accusation, inciting in him a feeling “as if a day of reckoning were at hand…”

THE DOYLESTOWN DAILY INTELLIGENCER

… Mrs. Coelina Booth will not enter the woods beyond her home anymore, for she believes they are haunted by malevolent spirits. “I noticed the birds had stopped singing in our trees. Then I got a chill for no good reason, and I heard giggling. That’s when I saw them—two phantom girls in pinafores with teeth sharp as razors and all around them the bones of the birds.…”

… The longtime groundskeeper reported graves desecrated and one tomb left open.…

… Graves disturbed… cattle mutilated…

… Sudden fog rising up on the road late at night near the old church cemetery…

… The farmer discovered his faithful horse, Justice, by the drinking pond, “torn apart and covered in flies.…”

… Claimed to see a gray man in a long coat and a tall black hat out in the field during a lightning storm…

… Claimed to see a man in a tall hat standing in the graveyard under a yellow moon…

… Claimed to see a man in a tall hat leading a band of ghosts into the dark woods…

As the last of his convenient illusions tore away, Will turned off the light and slipped into bed.

But sleep did not come for a very long time.

Sam and Evie stood in line at the main branch of the New York City post office, watching the large wall clock’s filigreed hand tick off precious minutes. The post office was surprisingly busy. Long lines, and it wasn’t even Christmas. At window number six, a statuesque redhead grew exasperated with the addled clerk, who couldn’t seem to locate her package. “Could you look again, please?” the woman asked in a clipped, slightly British accent. “It was sent parcel post two weeks ago from Miss Felicity Worthington and addressed to Mrs. Rao, Mrs. Gemma Doyle Rao.”

“Excuse me, but aren’t you Sam and Evie?”

Evie turned around. A young woman in a flowered hat beamed at her, excited.

“Guilty!” Evie said, preening.

The woman gasped. “I adore your show! Oh, do you think I could get an autograph for my mother? It would make her so happy, and—”

“Sorry, sis, we’re not in the Sam ’n’ Evie business just now,” Sam said, shutting her up.

“That was rude,” Evie whispered to him through clenched teeth.

“We don’t need the attention right now, Sheba. This is why it’s good not to be famous.”

Evie’s eyebrows shot up. “That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard come out of your lips, Sam Lloyd. And you say a lot of stupid.”

“Next,” the clerk called, waving Sam and Evie over.

“How ya doin’, Pops?” Sam said. “We need some help with an address.”

“No kidding,” the clerk deadpanned without looking up. “Where to?”

“Oh, no, we’re not mailing anything,” Evie said. “We’re curious about an office here in this very building.”

The clerk glared over the top of his glasses. “Two years away from a watch and a pension,” he said with a sigh. “What office is that?”

Sam handed over his mother’s mysterious file. The clerk frowned. He disappeared into the mystical recesses of the post office. A few minutes later, he returned. “Sorry. I can’t help you with that unless you’re with the United States government.”