Captain Quad by Sean Costello

Author:Sean Costello [Costello, Sean]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Canada
Publisher: Open Road Media
Published: 2014-04-01T00:00:00+00:00

Immediately on the heels of the piano's tuneless belch, the candle flame guttered with a tiny roar, as if exposed to a sudden draft. Startled, Tabitha looked sharply at Eliza. The medium sucked in a sharp gust of air, and then her eyes popped open like blinds. Her fists clamped brutally shut, causing both Leona and Tabitha to wince. In the dancing light of the candle flame, Eliza's lips purpled to a sickly burgundy.

Leona gave a delighted squeal.

Tabitha, who didn't have a clue what was going on, started to get up from the table. None of this shit was in their repertoire, and how in the fuck had Myrt got that piano to pitch a fit? In the past Myrt had always forewarned her about any of the cute little special effects she sometimes rigged. And she never got this downright peculiar. She looked like she was having a heart attack, and Tabitha decided it was time to put a stop to it.

But Eliza's grip tightened, and Tabitha thumped back down in her seat, stifling a cry, the small bones in the blubber of her hand grinding like faulty gears.

"Peter?" Leona cried. "Peter, are you here?"

Eliza's head lolled forward, her iron grip suddenly slackening. A fat bead of drool took a swan dive from her lower lip.

From the floor beside her Tabitha's empty pop can rose to the level of her nose. It imploded, then described a whistling arc through the air. It struck the K-Mart oil painting over the mock fireplace, punching a knuckle-size hole in the canvas before clattering to the floor.

Eliza, looking stunned, lifted her head and gawked hazy-eyed at Tabitha. "Wha—" she managed to say.

Then a whining whirlwind surrounded them. Eliza's hair, hung in a tight Gypsy's braid, stood smartly at attention on the top of her head. A faint band of metallic blue light encircled them, crackling with malign energy. Transfixed, Tabitha turned to Eliza, fear and befuddlement in her eyes. Eliza, still shell-shocked, gazed back blearily.

"Peter?" Leona whispered.

And the whirlwind ceased. As if shot, Eliza recoiled against the back of her chair. She stiffened, eyes widening, lips curling back to reveal stained, uneven teeth. A run of meaningless syllables slopped out of her mouth, and then she barked like a startled dog. Her face seemed at war with itself.

Then: "Hi, mom," she said in a husky masculine voice.

Tabitha clutched her heart.

"Why don't you throw these simple sluts out and clean up your act?"

"Peter?"

"Yes, Mommy dearest," Eliza said, turning to face Leona. "It's me. Remember this?"

Enraptured, Leona looked on as Eliza's face rearranged itself, muscles forced beneath wrinkled skin into configurations contrary to remembered patterns. Her eyebrows peaked into exaggerated arcs, and her mouth shaped an impish grin, the effect one of a battered, effeminate Jack Nicholson.

"Heeeeeere's Johnny!" Eliza sang out with maniacal glee: Peter's impersonation of Nicholson as the homicidal caretaker in The Shining, the one that had always gotten a roar out of Leona and Sam and Kelly and his football buddies. "Remember?"

"Oh, Peter," Leona moaned, tears glazing her bloodshot eyes.

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