Free The Sound of Seas by Jeff Rovin, Gillian Anderson Page A

stole a quick look back into the bedroom, saw Jacob standing very still now. Then he turned back to the hallway—
    The snake was gone. Clean, healthy morning light once more filled the room, illuminating the familiar, creating normal, comforting shadows behind the sofa and under the table. It was as though the apparition had never been.
    With a small exhalation, Jacob collapsed to the bed. Anita caught him, lowered him to the mattress, and knelt quickly at his side. She took his pulse, listened to his breathing.
    â€œCall for an ambulance,” she said as she felt his forehead.
    â€œDoes he have a high fever?”
    â€œNo, but you just saw what he did—”
    â€œHis mother said he does this, knocks on the wall in his sleep,” Ben said.
    â€œHis mother’s not here and I didn’t bring my medical bag,” Anita said. “Call or get my damn phone and I—”
    â€œNo!” a voice burst from the hallway.
    Madame Langlois was standing at the entrance where the serpent had been. Enok was beside her, holding her elbow. They were silhouetted by the light, but it struck her necklace in a way that made the beads seem uncommonly bright.
    â€œScrew you!” Anita said, still holding Jacob. “You did this!”
    â€œI did not,” the woman replied. “ They did. And medicine will harm him.”
    â€œThey who?” Ben asked.
    â€œI do not know them,” Madame Langlois admitted. “But they have vast power. Greater than yours.”
    Ben approached her. Anita moved to the door of the bedroom, a protective eye on Jacob, an angry turn to her mouth.
    â€œWe should get him to a hospital where he can be monitored properly ,” Anita told him.
    â€œI don’t disagree,” Ben said. “But I want to make sure we don’t do more harm. His mother’s in a hospital and they have no idea what to do.” He turned to Madame Langlois. “Why shouldn’t we get help?”
    â€œBecause help cannot help.”
    â€œWhy?” Ben pressed. “Madame Langlois, please help us here!”
    The Haitian woman stayed where she was. She raised her hand again, extending her forearm into the hall, the two fingers once more extended. Anita and Ben both tensed as the single wall-mounted light near the front door threw a dim shadow on the long rug. But the shadow did not grow or move. It stayed, simply, the shadow of a finger.
    â€œThe serpent sleeps—they sleep within,” she said. “Nothing happens now.”
    Ben was neither reassured nor enlightened. He took a step forward and Enok moved toward him protectively. “It’s all right,” Ben assured him. He looked at the man’s mother and continued in a conciliatory tone, “Who are ‘they’? At least tell me that. Tell me what you know, even if it’s very little.”
    She lowered her hand. It flopped at her side. “They tell you when they wish,” the woman said.
    â€œOf course, you charlatan,” Anita said. “You and your ridiculous conjuring, your tricks. What the hell did you do to Caitlin in Haiti?”
    â€œShowed her things.”
    â€œYou got in her head!” Anita charged.
    â€œAnita, please—” Ben said.
    â€œNo, I’ve had enough,” she said. She went to move around Ben, saw the landline in Caitlin’s room, moved toward it. Ben took her wrist, stopped her. She wrested it away. “I’m calling 911. We need an ambulance and we need cops.” She pointed toward the hallway. “They’re leaving.”
    â€œThey can’t,” Ben told her. “We need them.”
    â€œWhy? To create more bullshit drama? Shaking, pointing, probably releasing some kind of hallucinogenic—”
    â€œAnita, I’m angry too, but Caitlin helped to create this problem, this dynamic,” Ben said.
    Anita looked at him with disbelief. “Are you high, Ben?”
    â€œDammit, no. Caitlin sought