"He didn't kill those children," Liliana screamed.

"You believe that the government would send children just out of babyhood to colonize land?"

"No," Liliana whispered.

"Then help us, Liliana. Tell us when he is most vulnerable, for Will means to destroy the fiend."

Liliana jumped up from the step on which she had been sitting and ran to her car, pulling the door open and throwing herself into the seat behind the steering wheel.

The car choked but finally started, and she drove away at high speed.

"Oh dear, Liliana, I tell you a little lie and you run away." Marie had always accepted the idea that the children were kidnapped by government agents; after all, it had happened several other times. She even knew people who had made a considerable amount of money delivering children. However, Marie had decided to use the incidents to enrage her granddaughter.

What if Liliana reported their conversation to Sade? s.h.i.t! She hadn't wanted to inform him of her plans. Perhaps the girl would be smart enough to keep the conversation to herself. If not, Marie was in big trouble.

Liliana undid the few b.u.t.tons on the back of her dress and let the blue linen slide down her naked body. She slipped out of her sandals easily.

Before her stood the off-white coffin that her parents had selected for her. She opened the lid, and the smell of earth hit her nostrils. The yellowed satin had begun to gray and fray. The threadbare pillow lay crooked. The pretty lace dress her mother had selected for her lay to the side of the coffin. Bits and pieces of the convoluted lace spiked out from the dress. The light layer of dirt scattered across the bottom of the coffin clumped where her fingers had dug into the soil.

"Mamma," she said, clutching the tattered lace in one hand. "Mamma, I never meant to do any of it."

The feeding frenzy had gripped her tightly in its spell. Her uncle had allowed her body to be underground too long. She had awakened famished, clawing at the satin surrounding her. At first she had thought that she still lived, that she had to reach the surface or die. After two days lying conscious in the coffin, she realized she couldn't be alive. No gasping for air. Sleep did not come to reprieve her from the insanity of being enclosed in a small s.p.a.ce. She had to be dead, and this possibly was her eternity.

When Sade finally pulled her up from the grave, a ravenous hunger seized her body. He offered her a young child. The other children she had hunted and slaughtered on her own, until Sade instructed her in how to be satisfied with a taste and not gorge on blood.

Yes, there were times, many, she knew, when he killed while drinking, but he loved the hunt and always felt the prey belonged to him to dispose of as he wished.

He taught her caution and managed to rid Paris of the small empty hulks she left behind. He paid people to spread false rumors about the children being kidnapped.

"No, Grandmother, you are blaming the wrong fiend."

Liliana reached up to feel her fangs. Sharp, pointy, only slightly larger than her other teeth. Large enough to pierce flesh down to crimson blood. She pulled at the fangs until her mouth ached, but they stayed in place, waiting for the next meal.

All those children coming to her, trusting her, giving themselves over to her spells. Early on one or two had fought before she understood the mesmerizing control she could exercise over the tiny minds. They had played games with her, shared their sweets, and smelled of the dreadful hovels from which they had come, hovels no worse than the final resting places Sade had found for them.

One girl had felt so warm that Liliana had stripped the child's body in order to touch the warm flesh while savoring the freshness of the child's blood. The little girl's eyelids had closed over the dreamily shiny blue eyes while Liliana sang a soft lullaby. Eventually the gentle sleepy breaths slowed, then suddenly stopped.

Liliana pulled the lace dress from the coffin and rent the material, scattering the tatters onto the wood floor.

"Mamma," she said, kneeling down to gather the threads into her hands. "Mamma."

Lifting the remains of the dress, she stood.

"Mamma," she again said and spread the ruined lace across the bottom of the coffin, mingling her mother's gift with her homeland's soil.

Her long legs stepped into the coffin. Immediately she felt the decay begin. Her skin would shrivel inside the coffin. The body would finally rest, at least for a few hours, never for eternity.

Cautiously she lay her body down. Shame, repulsion, and fear swept through her as the overworked skeleton eased into the centuries of abuse and pain.

Her uncle had raped her, but she had found a perverted joy in his taste, smell, and touch.

She yanked on the lid and let the coffin slam shut.

"Mamma, come and save your little girl."

"And indeed what creature is more precious, more appealing in the eyes of men than the person who has cherished, respected, and cultivated the virtues of the earth and, at each step of the way, has found naught but misfortune and grief?"

Eugenie de Franval.

by the Marquis de Sade.

Chapter 51.

Bubbles wet the flakes of skin on Keith's lips. The stale breath blew an occasional bubble away. He projected a hiss and a gurgle into the room. His stubby beard hid the slackness of his skin underneath. Hairs grew from his nostrils and snot clogged the air pa.s.sages. The open eyes stared at the ceiling. Occasionally Wil thought he caught his father glancing at him. The furrows hemmed in between Keith's eyebrows seemed to have deepened since the accident. A pulsing vein caused the lines on his forehead to quiver. Keith's hair, swept back off his face, shined with an oily sheen.

Wil had been sponge-bathing his father, noticing the shrunken chest, the stretch marks covering the lean abdomen, and the wilted hood of his father's p.e.n.i.s.

"Old man, how did this happen to you?"

Keith's legs shook in a trembling spasm, the right foot kicking upwards from the ankle twice. The son rested his hands on Keith's legs and waited for the spasm to quit.

"You know, Dad, I miss that wizened voice of yours. The throaty bark of your cough in the morning is something else that I miss. I never thought I'd ever miss those sounds, but yeah, I do." The spasm had ended, and Wil returned to sponging down his father. "Sometimes I imagine I hear you spitting up a gob of sputum. G.o.d, you were so disgusting. I wish you could do it again so's I don't have to worry about pneumonia setting into your chest.

"One thing you got me to do, though, and that's stay here in this house. Can't put you away in a home, Dad. Can't go back to the city, either. May as well stay here with you. This is our one last chance to become buddies, and there you are, stricken dumb." Will shook his head and dropped the sponge back into the tepid water. "You're as clean as you'll ever be. Your skin, that is. Your soul is another matter."

Keith's fingertips pattered against the towel covering the sheeted mattress. He emitted a hoa.r.s.e breath from his mouth. His lips trembled.

"I wonder whether anything is going on inside your head. Major thoughts of how to save the world? Or curses d.a.m.ning me? Maybe a whole lot of nothing."

Wil easily lifted his father and brought him into the living room.

"Have to leave you on the sofa for a few minutes while I change the bed. Here, let me wrap you up in this throw." Wil grabbed the hand-knitted blanket his mother had knitted while pregnant with him. "Has a few moth holes, but it will keep you warm until I get back." Wil looked around the room. "Want some television?" Wil shrugged his shoulders and used the remote to turn on the screen. He clicked between several stations before settling on a televised stock-car race.

When Wil returned to the bedroom, the stink suddenly hit him. Stay in a room long enough and you start getting used to p.i.s.s and s.h.i.t. He dumped the wash basin out in the sink in the bathroom. Another room he needed to clean, he thought, wiping shaving cream off the medicine chest.

In the bedroom, the distant roar of the televised car race seemed like white noise. He went through the mechanics of tossing the towels and used sheets on the floor. Down to one more clean set of sheets--then he'd have to do the dreaded laundry. He picked up the soiled bedclothes and carried them into the bathroom to fling on top of the rest of the laundry stacking up in the tub. Thank G.o.d dad had thought of putting in a shower stall.

The dark wooden sleigh bed, a wedding gift to his parents, looked pristine covered in clean sheets, but he knew the sheets would soon be soiled again. He plumped up the pillows and took a deep breath, preparing himself for the return to the living room.

A red race car was spinning off the track when he entered the living room. His father's blanket-wrapped body lay on the couch, shaking.

"Hey, hey, old man. The excitement too much for you?" Wil shut the television off and hurried over to hold his father. "It's okay. How the h.e.l.l did you get into this shape? How could anyone do this to you? I confronted Marie, and she denied having anything to do with this. h.e.l.l, she's strong, but not strong enough to break a man like this.

"You'd really be p.i.s.sed now if you knew what she wants me to do. Kill her son-in-law. Says he's already dead. I'd just be disposing of the body." Keith laughed. "The worst part is that I agreed. s.h.i.t, I don't know how I got myself into this. Wants me to flee to Paris with her, but I can't leave you." Keith kissed his father's forehead.

Keith's hands began to claw at his son's shirtsleeve. Saliva dribbled down his chin.

"Hey, don't worry, I'm not going to kill anyone for that b.i.t.c.h. Look at me. I'm talking to you as if you understood." Wil looked closely at his father's face. Tears welled in his father's eyes. Wil couldn't tell whether the eyes looked at him or through him. A knock on the front door distracted Wil. "Listen, Dad, I'm going to put you back in bed and see who that is." His father's seizure seemed to be almost over, but Wil lifted his still-trembling father with difficulty. Another knock. Wil cursed. Carefully he carried his father back to bed. Wil had lain out his father's pajamas at the foot of the bed, thinking that he would dress the old man before tucking him in.

Another knock.

"I'll be back in a few minutes, Dad." He left his father on the bed, bundled in the blanket.

"I hate waiting. You know that."

"Keep your voice down, Marie. Dad's recovering from a seizure."

"He p.i.s.s himself again?" Marie walked into the house and directly toward the father's bedroom.

"No, no. You can't go in there," Will said, grabbing Marie's right elbow.

"I've only seen him once since the accident. Mind if I go in and give my regrets? Tell him how we're all praying for him?"

"Stop it, Marie."

"You are still talking to him, aren't you, as hopeless as it is?"

"The doctor said I should act as I did before the accident."

"Oh my G.o.d, you're not picking on him again."

"Marie, what do you want?"

"To take you for a drive."

"I can't go right now. There's no one to watch Dad."

"Call someone. What about that visiting nurse? Is this a visiting day?"

"She'll be coming over tomorrow."

"How about I get Liliana to come over and sit? You trust her, right?"

"I don't need to take a d.a.m.n car ride right now."

Marie walked over to the side table where the phone sat, lifted the receiver, and started dialing a number.

"s.h.i.t, didn't you hear what I just said?" Wil moved forward to set his hand down on the cradle. Marie grabbed his wrist and held it, making it impossible for him to reach the phone.

"Liliana, hi. I have a favor to ask."

Wil felt Marie's fingers digging into his skin. Where her fingernails met flesh, blood seeped. Could she have savagely attacked his father? he wondered.

Marie had opened all the windows of the car. Her short hair barely moved. From the corner of her eye she could see that Will fought a losing battle to keep his hair off his face.

"Where the h.e.l.l are we going?"

"A special surprise." She turned her head slightly to wink at Wil.

"I've had plenty of surprises."

"But this one is a treat."

Marie pulled into Sade's driveway. Liliana had said that he would be at home. Out of his coffin, but still at home.

She turned off the ignition and invited Wil to follow her.

"Who lives here?" Wil asked.

"You'll see." Marie smiled and reached for the elaborate door knocker. The door opened before she had a chance to knock.

"Marie!"

"h.e.l.lo, Louis."

"Liliana is not at home."

"That's okay. We're here to visit with you."

"I thought we were not even on speaking terms."

"By now you should know that I never stay angry with you." She brushed past Sade and crooked a finger in invitation to Wil.

"Monsieur?"

"I'm..." Wil looked at Marie as if he didn't know who the h.e.l.l he was.

"Come in. Come in."

Sade stepped back and invited Wil into the house.

Marie walked into the living room and settled herself on the striped sofa.

"Wil is my... new friend."

Sade walked a circle around Wil. Marie instantly recognized the predatory movements Sade made. He's interested. She had made Wil slip on a clean shirt. The poor boy had become as uncivilized as his father, hanging around in dirty T-shirts and worn-out shorts. The white cotton shirt emphasized Wil's tan.