Eclipse of Evil

ECLIPSE OF EVIL PART 11

CHAPTER XI

A mad precipitation through space jump-started Justus into wakefulness. Fine start to Friday, he thought, stretching tense muscles. He wanted to run from Millstone, but duty to rectify wrong, ingrained in him since childhood, disquieted him. Direct involvement with danger tempted calamity, a venture he would not risk. Yet deep inside, despite his fear, he secretly hoped some dark challenge intervened before they made plans for Ruidoso.

Justus' watch beeped eight as they pounded Daniel's door that morning. Their noise produced nothing. Justus guessed that Daniel was finally catching deep rest lost in the last few days. The two decided to browse town shops until their friend rested completely. They just passed the barbershop when Sam intercepted, stepping from behind the building's corner. Justus tensed before the pale, expressionless, midnight caller who offered him a lily on the first night of their vacation. Sam's headlights blinked and then stopped. Justus noticed their startling determination.

"Must stay. Friends not ever, never go home," he mumbled thickly. "Must help master kill dragon men. Must stay, must stay!"

"Sam!"

The friends turned around, and Justus saw Sam's cute, round sister step out from the barbershop door. She smiled sweetly at them, her cheeks dimpling.

"Always runnin' off and hidin'," she said. "Leave these good men alone to theirselves and come along," she scolded pleasantly. Sam obediently shuffled up to her. She hooked her arm under his and drew him along.

"How did he know we're planning to leave?" Justus asked.

Cory shook his head. "Strange," he drawled quietly.

"Sure, but as strange as the poor man is, he seems a misfit in this weird town. Those two don't seem like they belong here."

"It's his sister's smile, Justus," Cory said. "A genuine, sweet smile."

"And there's no terror or suspicion in the eyes. Even Sam...."

Cory's name softly snapped out from across the street. Tammy walked toward them. Oh, no, Justus thought since her presence meant disaster to any plans.

"I'm on my way to see Aunt Hilda," Tammy said breathlessly. "She caught a bad flu and needs company." Her eyes pleaded.

Trapped! Could Justus reject a worthy appeal?

Fifteen minutes later they climbed a rotted flight of steps into a wee, squeaking post-and-pier house. Everything was tart smelling, dank, and dingy inside, but the bedroom was a surprise. Three large windows made it airy and bright, especially since two tones in pink and baby blue cheered the walls. Three wooden chairs circled the lower portion of the bed as though someone knew they were coming and arranged the chairs accordingly. Cory exhaled, and Justus smiled. He was sure his squeamish friend held his breath through the pungent front portion of the house. Even so, Cory clamped his mouth shut in a short gasp. Justus moved around the door for a look at the sick woman.

Near the bed by a window was a fourth chair with an occupant. Startled by their entrance, Falling Star turned and drew her shawl about her head.

"I'm sorry, Falling Star," Tammy said with a jump of surprise in her voice. "I didn't know you'd be here."

"It's all right. Please be seated. Hilda will be glad to have extra company."

Justus flicked his eyes at Cory who twisted his hands and threw darting glances at the door behind.

"Relax," Justus whispered as he grabbed a chair. Tammy introduced them, and they sat in their chairs. Falling Star barely acknowledged their presence.

The sick woman clacked out words. "I'm a former schoolteacher, the sister of Tammy's father. I like children and company, so gracious of you for coming. Nice friends Tammy has. Didn't think a crumpled old thing like me could teach, did you? Knew a great deal more back then...."

A hacking cough rattled Hilda, and Cory's chair edged backward. To calm her, Falling Star gently massaged her hands and forehead. Falling Star's patience and gentleness impressed Justus, for Hilda was enough to nettle a saint. She constantly interjected complaints and squirmed like a lizard in bed. Falling Star offered her a home remedy.

"You can't do this to me, Falling Star," Hilda protested. "The horrible stuff will clamp my throat shut and suffocate me. You'll be tried for homicide by misadventure."

After fifteen minutes of endearing persuasions, the woman conceded. Falling Star withdrew a little vial with thick, red orange liquid from her dress pocket, placed it on the nightstand, and vainly worked the cork. She asked Hilda for a corkscrew, but Hilda had none.