Chapter 11

She was still outside, between the trees. She had not moved at all since he had seen her last... If she had seen her at all...

It was a ghost, Louella decided. But it did not seem to mean her harm... and she did not try to follow her house, she remembered now.

It wasn't Jenny. Even if she could not be sure about the face, she dress did not correspond to the period. It was more late eighteenth century.

And there seemed to be no threat. He expression was more of sorrow and pain than of hatred.

She went to her.

"What do you want?' she asked bluntly.

"I want to warn you about your danger, so what happened to me won't happen to you."

"What happened to you?"

"She...she offered me something and I found out too late what she meant."

"She? Who is she?"

There was fear in the girl's face... "I am afraid to say her name... If I say it, she will know I am doing this..."

Louella rubbed her arms. "It is cold here. Can't we talk inside?"

The girl shook her head, more afraid still. "No. I can't go where there is fire. I can't go where She is strong."

Louella shook her head. "Why? What are you afraid of?"

"Don't let Her have your child!" the girls said fiercely "No matter what they promise you, don't give it to them!:

"Nobody has asked..."

"They have and you know them. Tell Barnabas of it. Tell him that you saw Priscilla. He will remember me." now there was hatred in her face. "He was the one who made me turn to Her. This would not have happened if it had not been for him. Still, he knows her and can defeat her. He is the one who can free me, and the others."

"So you saw Louella?" Willie could not keep quiet "What you think of her?'"

"She seems normal." Barnabas said, "but a bit nervous."

"So, you see, there IS something wrong."

"And the something wrong is how you are acting. She is a bit nervous. You are a lot nervous. Look at you. You cannot stay quiet. You fidget, you get up and walk, then sit down again, then chew your fingernails, then rub your face, then scratch yourself, then..."

"So, it is my fault"

"You should learn to relax... I can lend you tapes for that."

Priscilla... who was she? And why Barnabas?

She should ask Barnabas about it, Louella decided should have told him when this thing started.

But first she had to warm herself. She pulled off her gloves and stood next to the fireplace.

The flames revived as she approached, warming her.

"We can help you, Louella. We can make things right for you and Willie."

It was nice to stand there, warming herself. So much better than going outside in the cold.

She moved to the couch and sat down. She took her knitting and began working on it.

It was a mess... No, it was not... but still it was not what she expected. And knitting was so slow...

"We can make it so that you won't ever need to knit again."

Zeb didn't lift his head when Barnabas came in. "I am busy" he said dryly "If you want to talk to me you'll have to wait."

"I understand." Barnabas sat down and read the magazines in the room until Zeb was done.

"Well." Zeb pushed himself back. "I guess it is time to talk about it."

"Talk about what?"

"What are you trying to do with Jessica and me?"

"I just wanted to... to apologize for the way I behaved towards you."

Zeb shook his head "We agreed not to have any hard feelings either way."

Barnabas hunched over with embarrassment "I wanted to make sure."

"You were trying to buy our friendship."

"It wasn't that!" Barnabas tried to protest.

"You were." Zeb said implacably "I can tell when someone is trying too hard. If it wasn't for what I know, I'd think that you were a fag trying to put the make on me. But I know that it isn't that, or I would have socked you already. No, it is just that for you being forgiven is not enough. You also want to be loved."

"It... it is not that."

"It is. Look, I am glad I didn't shoot you, after all. But that does not make you automatically my friend. I prefer to make friendships on my own time. I just don't like being pushed. And I don't like your reasons for wanting to be my friend."

"I just thought..."

"Don't interrupt me. I got your number. You blew your chance with Uncle Dave. Well, it was a tragedy for everyone involved, I agree. But you won't make things any better by pretending that I am him, and trying to win my friendship by hook or by crook. I am me, Zeb King, and no one else. And until you get that into your head, it would be better if we didn't see each other for a while."