Demon Child

drenched!”
        “Don't worry about me. Pull your coat over your head and run for it. I left both doors slightly ajar, so you can get in quickly. It's the maroon Corvette there. Ready?”
        Lightning snapped across the low clouds, making the darkening afternoon momentarily brighter. Jenny jumped as the clap of thunder rattled the windows.
        “Lightning always strikes the highest object in the area,” Richard said, sensing her fright. “I'm a good foot taller than you.”
        “Don't say that!” she snapped, gripping his arm.
        He had meant it as a joke, was surprised she took him so earnestly. “The car's only a dozen yards away. No trouble. Now?”
        “Now,” she said, resigned to it.
        He shouldered open the door, lead her onto the veranda. Richard ran into the downpour. A moment later, her coat pulled over her head, slightly hunched to make herself a smaller target, she ran too.
        The pavement lighted with a reflection of a wide, jagged run of lightning.
        She almost slipped and fell on the slick macadam, regained her balance only by the sheerest luck. She found the passenger's door, opened it and slid into the small, low-slung sportscar.
        Again, yellow light shattered the even black glaze of the sky, but she felt safe from it now. She had heard that the four tires of an automobile grounded it in a storm. She was careful, though, not to touch any of the metal fixtures. She still remembered the nightmare she had had on the bus. That was an omen of some kind.
        Richard was soaked by the time he had the luggage in the compartment behind the seat and had slipped behind the wheel.
        “I feel awful, putting you through this,” Jenny said. She took a clean handkerchief out of her purse and wiped his face and neck.
        “Why?” he asked, grinning broadly. “Were you the one who made it rain?”
        She made a face at him. “Here,” she said, “let me dry your hair,” When he bent toward her, she toweled it until her handkerchief was sopping.
        “Don't worry,” he said, “I'm as healthy as a horse- as two horses!” He started the car, raced the engine once or twice, then drove away.
        “The waitress didn't think much of you,” Jenny said to start a conversation beyond mere pleasantries. besides, she was curious to know why the waitress seemed to fear a gentle man like Richard Brucker.
        “Catherine? Really? I've noticed that she treats me cooly these days, though I haven't bothered to find out why.” He drove off the main highway onto a secondary, less well-paved road where Dutch elms grew on both sides and formed a canopy above them, making the way even darker. “What'd she say?”
        “That you were responsible for some curse over a girl named Freya.”
        Richard smiled, leaned forward and turned on the headlights. If lightning still cracked above, it did not penetrate these lush branches.
        “You haven't been involved in some public scandal, have you?” she asked, teasing him.
        “Not woman troubles,” he said. “In this town, anything can make a scandal. Rural life is charming, except for its lack of privacy. In small towns, everyone's business becomes public. Freya is my cousin, from my father's side of the family. She's seven years old, has a twin brother, Frank, and she's presently having what I call psychiatric problems. Cora calls it a family curse.”
        Jenny had been surprised the first time she had heard Richard refer to his mother by her Christian name, even though she understood it was a custom among some of the very wealthy. Still, it seemed to lack respect. “A curse?”
        “Psychiatric problems,” he corrected. He sighed as if weary with the story. “The twins came from a broken home. Lena Brucker, my father's sister, married a good-for-nothing who eventually ran off with half her money. She drinks too much, likes the jet-set life too well. When Cora found that Lena planned on boarding the two seven-year-olds in separate schools, she asked Lena to leave them here. Lena didn't care one way or the other, as long as she had her freedom. That was a year ago; they've been with us since.”
        “Aunt Cora didn't say you had guests!” Jenny said. “I don't want to inconvenience anyone.”
        Richard laughed. “Jenny, sweets, the Brucker estate mansion has eighteen bedrooms.”
        “Eighteen!”
        “Our ancestors were fond of parties that lasted whole