John Saul - House of Reckoning

By John Saul

Suffer the Children
Punish the Sinners
Cry for the Strangers
Comes the Blind Fury
When the Wind Blows
The God Project
Nathaniel
Brainchild
Hellfire
The Unwanted
The Unloved
Creature
Second Child
Sleepwalk
Darkness
Shadows
Guardian
The Homing
Black Lightning

THE BLACKSTONE CHRONICLES

PART I: An Eye for an Eye: The Doll
PART 2: Twist of Fate: The Locket
PART 3: Ashes to Ashes: The Dragons Flame
PART 4: In the Shadow of Evil: The Handkerchief
PART 5: Day of Reckoning: The Stereoscope
PART 6: Asylum
The Presence
The Right Hand of Evil
Nightshade
The Manhattan Hunt Club
Midnight Voices
Black Creek Crossing
Perfect Nightmare
In the Dark of the Night
The Devils Labyrinth
Faces of Fear

For Michael
Who made it all possible!

S arah Crane breathed deeply of the Vermont air as she quickly counted the chickens to make certain they were all safe in the coop before she closed the door for the night. Twelve. Perfect. She secured the door against any raccoons or weasels that might be out looking for an easy midnight snack, and with a last backward glance at the barn to make certain she had locked the door, she carried the egg basket up to the house, just as her mother had done every night for the past fifteen years. Fall was Sarahs favorite season; there was something about the lightmaybe the way it filtered through the golden leaves of the maples surrounding the small farmhouse, or just the angle from which the sun shone down on her. Whatever it was, it always made her skin tingle and filled her with a sense of pure exuberance. Or at least it had until her mother got sick almost a year ago, and then died six months later. Since then even the fall twilight couldnt quite fill her with the joy of earlier years.

Nor did it help that there were only six eggs in the basket, and with the late September chill in the air, Sarah knew that the hens were about to stop laying until next spring. That, though, was nothing compared to the other thing worrying her tonight: how were she and the animals and the farm going to survive the winter with her father going into what her mother used to call his cycle, without any preparation at all for the cold months ahead. He hadnt chopped any wood, he hadnt hunted deer, he hadnt even sold the calves, and now they were too old to bring the best price.

Instead he started drinking, and the vague unease Sarah had been feeling for the past few months was blossoming into a gut-churning fear as she scraped the bottom of the feed barrels. Now, with winter quickly approaching, the rats were taking over the barn, the hay was rotting in the field, and the woodpile, which should have been at least four cords by now, was pitifully small.

But she couldnt do it all herself.

The last of her exuberance fading as she stepped back into the warm kitchen, Sarah tried to unwind her worries as she unwound the wool scarf from around her neck. She put the eggs into the refrigerator and began cleaning up after supper, even though her father was still sitting at the kitchen table.

He hadnt eaten any of the corned beef hash shed made for him; instead he pushed his plate aside and was staring morosely down at a photo album open on the table in front of him.

Sarah quietly cleared the table, careful not to bother him. She scraped the leftover hash into a dish, covered it with plastic, and put it next to the eggs in the refrigerator, then began running hot water into the sink.

Sarah?

Her fathers voice was hoarse with the grief hed been carrying for half a year, and the sound of it pulled tears to her eyes. Those tears were never far away, but most of the time she could control them.

Unless her father began to cry.

Then she wouldnt be able to stop them. How many times in the past six months had she and her father held each other on the sofa and just cried together? But when were they going to move away from all that? Her mother had told hertold her over and over againthat she wasnt to spend her life grieving. You keep living, understand? You have a whole life ahead of you, and I dont want you wasting any of it crying about me going and dying on you.

Yes? Sarah said, in response to her father, gritting her teeth against the cold fear in her heart.

Bring me another beer, honey.

She felt a fist close in her belly. Before her mother died, her father never had more than one beer, even on the hottest days. But lately the first beer led to the second, and then on and on. And it did no good to argue with himhed just tell her to stop worrying. She pulled a beer from the refrigerator and put it on the table, but couldnt keep herself from at least trying to slow him down. Do you have to, Daddy? she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Just something to take the edge off, sweet pea, Ed Crane said, putting his thick arm around his daughter and drawing her close.

Every part of her father seemed larger and more powerful than other men, which was why everyone except her mother always called him Big Ed. He was tall, broad-shouldered, had legs nearly as thick and strong as the trunks of the maple trees, and a grip that could have crushed her if he wasnt careful. But he was always careful, at least with her, and now his arm was gentle around her.

Look at your mama in her wedding dress, he said, pointing to a photograph. Wasnt she the most beautiful thing youve ever seen?

Sarah didnt want to look at those pictures again; they only made her miss her mother even more. She wanted her father to put them away and start living again. But night after night, he didnt eat, he didnt sleep.

He just grieved.

And now he wanted another beer.

She knew how this would end. Hed keep drinking most of the night, and in the morning would apologize and swear it would never happen again. And for a while hed be her father again.

Until the next time he decided to have a beer, and then another, and then ended up going out and drinking all night.

She squirmed uneasily from his grasp. I have homework I have to do.

Ed let out a massive sigh. How am I going to raise a daughter? he said. Without your mama His voice trailed off and his entire body seemed to shrink into a shrug of defeat.

You stay sober and tend the farm, Sarah wanted to say. I can raise myself if you just take care of the farm. Im already fourteen and I can handle it. But she said nothing, and went back to the sink to finish cleaning up.

Just as she was drying the last of the dishes, her father opened the refrigerator and helped himself to yet another of the brown bottles that always sat at the back of the top shelf.

Please dont, Daddy, Sarah said, unable to bite back the words. Please dont start. The tears she had struggled to control now slid down her cheeks.

Its okay, sweet pea, Ed said. This isnt like last time. Dont you worry now, you go up and do your homework.

Please? she begged, a sob escaping her. What if he went off the deep end this time and never came home again? What would she do then?