E.Godz

Chapter Sixteen

The full beauty of a New England springtime was upon Salem, Massachusetts, when Dov came driving into town. The purpose of his visit, like Peez's before him, was to seek out the self-proclaimed witch-queen Fiorella and secure her backing for the corporate takeover. Given the number of dues-paying followers she commanded, her approval was key to determining the final outcome of the great brother/sister competition. Securing it should have been a matter of the utmost urgency, but one would never know it by watching Dov in action. Instead of seeking out Fiorella immediately, he headed for his bed-and-breakfast lodgings, telling himself that it would be best to check in before he did anything else.

"Got to get organized," he muttered to himself as he steered the snappy red convertible through the city streets. "Got to get my ducks in a row."

"Now you're into ducks?" Ammi piped up. "Dov, Dov, Dov, you have got to start dating women."

Dov paid no mind to the amulet's sally. Ever since leaving Chicago he had been more than usually quiet and self-contained. Normally he viewed all airplane flights as golden opportunities for applied schmoozing. It was like getting an unexpected present: Either his seatmate would turn out to be someone attractive he could court (and, in some cases, seduce), someone with business or social connections he could exploit later on, or someone unbearable on whom he could practice the art of diplomatically telling a creep to bugger off. You could never get too much practice doing that!

This time, on the flight from Chicago to Boston, he had kept himself to himself, burying his nose in a book and behaving as if his seatmate—a highly attractive redhead— were invisible. When her perfume insinuated itself past his first line of defense, he clapped on a sleep mask and forced himself to nap, even though the flight was over too quickly for such a short rest to do anything but leave him logy and cranky.

His original plans had not included staying overnight in Salem, but he thought it would be wise to be in top form when he finally spoke with the witch-queen. For that he needed a base of operations, a way station where he could shake off his travel fatigue while he smartened up his appearance, his mental acuity, and his attitude. Despite the last-minute nature of his lodging quest, he managed to secure a charming suite in one of the better places in town. The innkeeper took real pride in showing off her lovingly decorated home-turned-hostel, particularly the working fireplace in Dov's room.

"You're very lucky that it's not the high tourist season yet," she told him. "We're booked months in advance for that time of year. You wouldn't be able to get a room here for love or money then. I'm not bragging; I'm just giving you fair warning, in case you want to come back some time."

"Maybe I will," said Dov, who knew he would not. As soon as she left, he flopped down on the bed and stared up at the spiderweb-lace canopy. He intended to do no more than stretch his drive-cramped legs, organize his thoughts, unpack his things, and maybe catch a quick shower before giving Fiorella a call to let her know he'd arrived and wanted to see her tomorrow. Then he'd make reservations for lunch at the best place Salem had to offer, give her the time of her little life, pour on the charm along with the champagne, and have her support all wrapped up like a fortune cookie before dessert.

Instead he fell fast asleep.

It was dark by the time he woke up, nine o'clock by the bedside clock. His dreams had not been pleasant ones.

In sleep, he wandered across an endless plain that shifted from sand to scarp to soil underfoot. He was trying to catch up with something or someone that was moving away from him in the distance, but he didn't know what or who it might be, only that it was essential for him to overtake it. There was no sky. The curve of space above his head was filled with masks: the garish pasteboard faces of Mardi Gras, the enameled gold funerary masks of ancient Egypt, the carved wood images of Bear and Raven and Wolf, all these and more. They leered down at Dov as he ran, and they laughed at him. The one that laughed the loudest was a silver mask with the perfect features of a Greek god: Ammi.

He ran faster, trying to escape the faces, and suddenly found himself climbing a sand dune that had not been there before. The higher he climbed, the steeper it grew, until he was on hands and knees, crawling and clawing and kicking in a desperate attempt to reach the crest. At last he made it to the summit and gazed down at what awaited him on the other side.

There you are, Dov, said his sister. She waved at him from the shade of a willow tree. What took you so long? We've been waiting for you.

The willow grew beside a brook, the brook threaded its way between grassy green banks and sweet, cool meadows starred with tender flowers. The wasteland was less than a memory. Dov stumbled down into the lovely valley where Peez had spread a picnic on the grass. She was dressed like a refugee from a Jane Austen novel, but that wasn't the oddest thing about her: She was smiling. She was smiling at him. As soon as he came within reach she threw her arms around his neck and gave him a sisterly kiss of welcome.

She was actually happy to see him!

This is definitely a dream, thought Dov.

The dream-Peez shepherded him over to the picnic blanket and sat him down, putting a glass of iced tea in one of his hands and a plate full of his favorite finger-foods in the other. She began to talk with him about his travels, listening sympathetically to all that he had to say, telling him about her own adventures in return. Her dream-self confirmed that yes, she had slept with Martin Agparak and weren't his new-style totem poles the strangest things Dov had ever seen? Then she made a surprisingly naughty pun in which the word "pole" figured prominently (as well as the word "prominent"), setting the two of them off into gales of laughter.

Wow, I'm actually having a good time talking with my sister, Dov thought. This really must be a dream!

As they continued to eat and drink and talk, he noticed something: Peez was growing younger. Before his eyes, the years flowed off her face and body while she chattered on, oblivious. He was frightened, wondering what this meant, what he could do to stop it, whether she would continue growing younger and younger indefinitely until she became toddler, infant, newborn, fetus, embryo, and then vanished altogether. He reached out as if to halt the process and saw that his own hand had grown smaller, softer, a child's hand.

Seeing him reach out to her that way, his sister jumped up happily, grabbed him by the wrist, and hauled him after her, dashing off into the meadow. In the logicless way of dreams, the grassy field transformed itself into an idyllic playground, with slides and swings and seesaws and toys strewn everywhere. The siblings ran like young fawns, spun around until they got dizzy and fell over, climbed everything in sight, played leapfrog and hopscotch and can't-catch-me, hung upside down by their knees from anything that could bear their weight. Peez's fancy dress went inside-out over her head and Dov teased her mercilessly about the color of her underpants. She dropped to the earth and when she stood up again, a water balloon had materialized in her hand. He was soaked to the skin before he could say another word. The two of them fell over laughing again.

Hello, kids, keeping busy?

The two of them looked up into Edwina's face. She was smiling down at them from the great height of adulthood. She was not only older than they were, and smarter, and taller, but in the dream she had become a veritable giantess. She bent over and scooped the two of them into the palm of her enormous hand, lifting them high into the sky so fast that Dov's cheeks burned in the rushing wind of their passage. Terrified and exhilarated, Dov and Peez clung to Edwina's fingers the way a drowning man clings to a floating log. The beautiful valley, the trees, the stream, the playground, even the clouds lay far below them. For an instant Dov wondered what would happen if he let go of his mother's hand and tried to fly.

Don't be stupid, Edwina said, reading his mind the way all mothers can. You're much too young to fly. You'll only fall.

And then: You don't see your sister trying anything as dumb as that, do you?

Her words made Dov angry, but he didn't dare let Edwina know that he was mad at her. She might let him drop through her fingers and then where would he be? Instead he glared at Peez.

Hey! What did I do? Peez implored him.

Like you don't know! Dov sneered at her, and felt tainted inside for having said that, and for not having the courage to tell Edwina straight out that she was the object of his hostility. For some reason, knowing that he'd never find the courage to confront his mother, he became even angrier at his sister and decided to make her sorry.

But how?

A glitter of gold caught his eye. Something besides the sun was shining in the sky. He looked up and saw that in Edwina's other hand she held an old-fashioned weighing device, a pair of glittering pans swinging from a balance like the Scales of Justice. The giantess brought the scales level with the hand that held her children and gave them an encouraging look.

All aboard, she said. We might as well get this started.

No! Peez shouted, throwing her arms around Dov. We won't! You can't make us!

Oh, please. Edwina rolled her eyes over the silly notions of children. You know very well that I can. Anyhow, what's wrong with a little healthy competition?

I wonder if "healthy" is the right word for this? Dov thought.

Stop it! Peez said, hugging her baby brother more closely to her. Leave us alone! We were having fun before you came along and spoiled it.

"Came along"? The giantess was amused. You silly nit, can't you see that I've been here all the time? Who do you think gave you this wonderful place without even asking if you deserved it? Who's got the power to take it all away from you in the blink of an eye? You're a very bad little girl, Peez. I don't see your brother behaving like that. He's smiling!

Dov was puzzled. He knew the giantess was lying: He wasn't smiling, and yet ... maybe he'd better do as she said. He slapped on Smile #1, the simple, sunny basic model on which his entire subsequent repertoire of artificially cheery grimaces was built. Peez saw him do it and looked betrayed.

Dov is a good child. One point for Dov, said the giantess.

Peez turned angrily on her brother. Why are you helping her? she demanded.

Dov tried to explain. Edwina was just so big, so powerful. She had the unassailable ability to control everything in their lives; didn't Peez see that? Wasn't it better to win her over rather than fight her? They were so small that they'd only lose.

He tried, but he couldn't find the words, so instead he created Smile #2 and tried to use it to win his sister's understanding. He needed it badly, that and her continued support and protection. She was stronger than he was, and smarter too, and he loved—

I love her? I love Peez?

Dov was so shocked by this realization that the smile dropped right off his face and over the edge of Edwina's huge hand. Down and down he watched it fall until it struck the ground and shattered. He clapped his hands to where his mouth had been and felt only smooth, featureless skin. A scream rose from the bottom of his soul but could not escape. It echoed inside his head, thudding against the inside of his skull, wildly searching for a way out and finding none.

Through the panic and the pain, he heard his mother's voice: Just see how good your baby brother is being, how nice and quiet. Quiet equals obedient. Why can't you be more like him? He's not angry all the time; he's cheerful. No wonder he has friends and you don't! And you never will until you become exactly like he is.

Just before his head exploded, he heard Edwina say: Two points for Dov.

The idyllic meadow of his dream world vanished. In its place was only a land of swirling mists and shadows. Dov could see nothing, but he could hear the sound of chains creaking and knew they were the ones attached to the titanic set of scales in his mother's hand. They groaned and clanked somewhere out of sight. Though the noise they made was almost deafening, somehow he could still make out a different sound as well, a softer sound, the sound of someone else's footsteps besides his own. He couldn't explain why he knew that they belonged to Peez, but he did. That too was part of the dream's insane logic.

He wished that his eyes were as clever as his ears so that he might catch sight of his sister. She didn't sound as if she were far away. He realized that he missed her, that he wouldn't mind the darkness so much if only he could make his way through it with her beside him. Together they could form a plan, find a way to help one another escape this terrible place, if only—!

But that was impossible. That wasn't playing by the rules of the competition. Edwina wouldn't like that. He didn't dare do anything that Edwina wouldn't like. He walked on alone, and in the metallic complaints of the unseen chains he heard the twin pans of Edwina's golden balances rising and falling as she watched over him and Peez, always adding or subtracting those precious points that she awarded to her children.

It doesn't really matter, Dov thought as he slogged his way through the darkness. Just a little longer and she won't be able to do that to us any more. Soon she'll be dead.

As soon as he thought them, the words knocked him off his feet. He was sitting in a puddle of slimy, ice-cold water, alone with those words: Soon she'll be dead.

And then ... what?

What will I have left? Playing her game, fighting with my sister because I was too scared to fight with my mother, scoring points off Peez because I thought it was the best way to keep Edwina on my side, that's all my life's become! That's all it is!

The thought no sooner formed itself than Dov felt the puddle beneath him ooze a little higher until it was a pool, then a pond, then a lake whose bottom and borders spread farther and farther away from him as his head sank beneath the clammy water. He splashed wildly, trying to stay afloat, but could not remember how to swim. The waters rushed into his chest and darkness followed. The giantess had taken her revenge.

And as he sank deeper into the black lake, all he could hear above the sound of the rushing waters was Ammi's persistent, penetrating voice insisting: You know none of this would've happened if you'd only shaved your chest hair!

Dov woke up in a wash of sweat almost as cold as the drowning lake of his dreams. He lurched into the bathroom, tearing off his clothes as he went, and threw himself into a hot shower. That made him feel a little better.

He came out of the shower and wiped steam from the mirror with a towel so that he could see his reflection. He looked awful, rumpled and haggard enough to be a shoo-in for the role of Willie Loman in Death of a Salesman.

"Work," he said aloud. "I've got to get to work. Salem is the last stop I've got to make. All I need to do is get this Fiorella woman's support and I bet I can swing the rest of the fence-sitters. Then I can go back to Miami and not have to think about Edw— I mean, I'll bet that there's a ton of stuff back in the Miami office that needs my attention. I've been letting things slide too damn much, being on the road like this. Whether or not I get control of the company, I've still got an obligation to the accounts that we handle directly in Miami. I don't care how much is at stake, I am not going to let the home team down!"

"Rah, rah, rah," said Ammi, deadpan. "And might I add, boola-boola."

Dov was in no mood for sass. He jerked the amulet's chain so hard that he snapped the clasp, then he flung it out the bathroom door, vaguely hoping it would land on the bed so that he wouldn't have to hunt for it on hands and knees when he wanted to find it again.

He toweled himself off, picked his damp clothes off the bathroom floor, unpacked his things, got dressed and groomed to his own satisfaction, and only then checked on the amulet's whereabouts. He wasn't very surprised when he didn't find it on the bed; he knew his luck. A cursory survey of the bedroom floor likewise produced nothing.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," he called, trying to put a little interest into his voice. He was too emotionally exhausted by his dreams to work up any enthusiasm for locating the sarcastic bit of jewelry in a hurry.

"Come on, Ammi, give me a hint," he said. "I've decided that I'm going to hunt up Fiorella tonight after all. I know it's almost ten o'clock, but that's not going to be too late to phone a witch-queen. If she says it's okay to come see her, I'm going. I can go with you or without you, your choice. So how about it? Are you in or are you going to sulk and miss all the fun?"

Silence answered him.

"Fine. Be that way. I don't have time for this. Catch you later." He walked out of the bedroom without further ceremony.

Once out on the nighted streets of Salem, he took out his cell phone and called Fiorella's home number. It rang for a long time without answer or answering machine. He was about to give up and go back inside to locate Ammi (and see if the little amulet had an alternate contact number for the witch-queen) when there was a click and a woman's voice, very low and sweet, saying: "Ye Cat and Cauldron, why not drop by for a spell? We now feature special evening hours the better to serve all your arcane needs. This is Fiorella speaking; may I help you?"

Dov introduced himself and secured a very warm invitation to come to the witch- queen's book shop as soon as possible. ("How very fortunate you are, Mr. Godz, that I have a call-forwarding spell put on my home phone. Just as good as a pager and much less annoying.") He found a parking spot right in front of Ye Cat and Cauldron, but didn't attribute it to either luck or magic. After all, the hour was fairly late, tourist season was not yet in full swing, and most of the good folk of Salem were home waiting for Letterman to come on.

A light burned inside the bookshop; several, in fact. Actually, the place was lit up like Christmas at Macy's and the crowds within were almost as thick. As soon as Dov opened the door and stepped inside, he found himself up to his eyebrows in women. They came in as many shapes and colors as that candy gel used to make chewy fish, worms, teddy bears, sharks, spiders, and the whole Noah's ark of tooth-rotting fauna. Tall, short, fat, thin, meek, bold, laughing, grim, their skin, eyes, and hair of every color found in nature or made possible through chemistry, cosmetics, and contact lenses, they surged and swarmed around the bookshelves, wicker shopping baskets on their arms piled high with purchases.

Dov felt his heart begin to beat faster with fear. It wasn't that he was afraid of being trampled or shoved. He certainly wasn't scared of women per se. What had him spooked was the way that every single one of the ladies present acted as if he weren't there. Their glances either bounced off him entirely or went right through him, seeing nothing where he stood. The phenomenon wasn't caused by active hostility on their part or even common rudeness. The room pulsed with magical power, more than Dov had ever felt centered in one spot before. They were the source of the power and its victims, for it was the power itself that possessed them and made them unable to recognize that Dov existed.

It was very disconcerting. He didn't know what to do. He thought about calling out Fiorella's name, but stopped short of doing it. What if the power caged within this room had also rendered him inaudible? What if it were only a matter of time before he dissolved clear out of reality and ended up ... where?

"Mr. Godz?" A shapely green-eyed blonde materialized at Dov's side and took him by the hand. "I'm Fiorella; so pleased to meet you."

He tried to smile at her, but he was still fast in the thrall of unreasoning fear. She gave him a sympathetic look. "Oh dear," she said. "You poor darling, have we really got the power turned on that high? I'm so sorry. Come with me; it's better in the storeroom."

Dov allowed himself to be led like a little child on a shopping expedition with Mommy. "You mustn't feel bad," she told him. "This happens a lot on nights when we offer extended hours for shopping."

"Is it a ... woman's magic thing?" Dov asked, his voice hoarse and fragile.

Fiorella showed her dimples. "Perhaps it is. Most of my female customers spend their worldly days being treated a little better than furniture. The people around them at home or at work or in the social whirl never seem to see them unless they absolutely must. Sometimes it's because they aren't pretty enough, or young enough, or wearing the right clothes, or holding down the right sort of job. They're the mothers with small children who get shoved aside by the people who think anything outside of an office isn't real work. They're the women who accomplish great things but who only turn visible when someone wants to ask them when they're going to get married and have kids. They're the ladies who wear size 18 dresses who can't get a salesclerk to notice that they want to buy the lipstick that the size 2 model is wearing. They were once the eleven-year-old girls who wanted to play Spin-the-Particle-Accelerator instead of Spin-the-Bottle. They make most men and some women nervous. And do you know what else? They don't like being invisible. That's why they come here, seeking magic, trying to learn how to be seen again. Meanwhile, as long as there are enough of them banded together in one place, they automatically invoke the power to treat others the way they've been treated themselves. They can't help it."

While she spoke, Fiorella simultaneously conducted Dov through the thick of the females thronging her store, behind the main display counter, and out via a bead-hung doorway. The farther they went from the open-to-the-public part of Ye Cat and Cauldron, the better he felt, so he made no objection when she took him straight through the little parlor where she'd entertained Peez. A door at the far end of the Lilith Lair opened onto a narrow flight of stone steps that went down into the earth. A gust of warm air from below blew over his face and dried the beads of nervous sweat from his brow as he and Fiorella descended, a breeze that smelled of Oriental spices.

The steps ended in a room that was empty except for a wide green velvet divan, a marble-topped table bearing a crystal decanter and two silver goblets, and a pair of wooden chairs so straight-backed and uncomfortable-looking that they would have pleased even the critical eye of a Puritan elder. The walls were covered with trompe l'oeil paper printed to resemble the shelves of a well-stocked library.

"I thought you said you were taking me to a storeroom," Dov said, looking around uncertainly.

"This is it." Fiorella reached out and tapped the spine of the book closest to her. Its outline shimmered and an actual book popped out of the wall like toast from a toaster. The witch-queen passed it to Dov so that he could examine its solidity. The blank spot its removal had left in the wallpaper was already refilled by a fresh volume. "A little magic prevents a lot of storage problems, which can be the making or breaking of a small book business," she explained. "Plus it cuts down on the need for reserves against returns."

"Fascinating." Dov riffled through the pages, then handed the book to her again. She put it back in its original site. The replacement volume very agreeably sank into the wall to accommodate its twin's return.

"I was so glad to hear from you tonight," Fiorella said, waving him into one of the wooden chairs. "I've been looking forward to our meeting ever since your sister stopped by."

"How was she?" Dov blurted. The question surprised him. It just wasn't the sort of thing he'd expect himself to say. An inquiry as to whether or not Peez had secured Fiorella's backing for the company takeover, maybe; a query about any deals Peez might have offered the witch-queen so that he might, in turn, better them, perhaps. But a simple question about her health and well-being? A sincere one, no less? Astounding.

Because it was sincere; Dov couldn't deny that. He actually cared enough about Peez to ask after her! This was something new for him. How had it happened?

And why shouldn't it happen? he thought fiercely, as though someone had challenged his right to feel concern for her. She's my sister, dammit! We're family! Why the hell shouldn't I want to know how she is?

"Just fine," Fiorella replied, sitting opposite Dov and filling the goblets. "A trifle disappointed that I couldn't bring myself to give her my unqualified support, but otherwise well. You see, I like to hear both sides of most things before I make up my mind. That's why I'm so glad that you've finally come to see me. I'd like to choose between you and your sister for the directorship of E. Godz, Inc., after Edwina—"

Dov burst into tears.

He was still shaking with sobs as he felt Fiorella move nearer and put her arms around him. She stroked his hair and whispered soft words of comfort, helped him to his feet, led him to the green velvet divan and lay down beside him, cradling him to her. He cried and cried until all of his tears were gone. Then he closed his eyes tight, took a deep breath, blew it out forcefully, and thrust himself out of Fiorella's embrace.

"I am such an idiot," he said, sitting on the edge of the divan with his head in his hands.

"Probably," Fiorella said, being amenable. "But would you mind specifying what brought on that little bout of personal evaluation?"

"Very funny. I've got a friend you should meet: He's jewelry, but the two of you would get along fine in spite of that. The two of you, working together, should be able to get my ego whittled down to sand-grain size without breaking a sweat."

"Jewelry doesn't sweat. Do you mean you're a fool for crying, or for crying in front of me?" The witch-queen remained comfortably stretched out on the divan like a modern day Cleopatra. "Put your mind at ease, Mr. Godz: Men have been allowed to cry in public since the '90s, and not just over football games. Or are you afraid your outburst will make me think less of you as the potential head of E. Godz, Inc.? Au contraire, it's a blessing to find a CEO who's got human emotions. Why do you think we call it sympathetic magic?"

Dov sat up a little straighter, feeling the old self-confidence trickling back into his bones. "Really?" he asked.

Fiorella nodded. "Considering all the stress you're under, I'd be repulsed if you didn't show a little emotion. Mr. Godz, what I do within the spiritual path I've chosen—what all of us who follow such paths do—is to seek connection. If I wanted a leader who was cold and detached from everything except the dictates of his own ego—" She sighed. "Never mind. I hate discussing politics."

"It has been a rough time for me," Dov admitted. "I've spent most of it, ever since I heard about the report from Mother's doctor, trying not to think about what's coming. It all seems so ... strange to me."

"You're not the only one," Fiorella said. "I must say, when I first heard about poor Edwina's condition, I was shocked."

"Of course you were. You and she have been more than business associates, right? When a friend tells you her doctor's only given her a short time to live—"

"Oh, it wasn't that so much as— Well, yes, it was that, but what struck me as even more shocking was that Edwina not only went to a common M.D., but that she actually believed what he told her. In all the years that I've known your mother, I can count the times she's seen mainstream medicos on the fingers of one hand. Frankly, I think she's only gone to see them that many times for tax purposes."

"Tax purposes?" Dov's right eyebrow lifted.

"Tax purposes, insurance purposes, something like that. You know, like when you want to take out a new policy and it calls for a physical? Most insurance companies won't accept forms that are signed by herbalists, no matters how reputable. Edwina just doesn't trust ordinary doctors; says their diagnoses are a crapshoot and they're too closed-minded to accept alternative methods of healing. I'd have thought that if one of them told her she was about to die, she'd laugh in his face and—" Abruptly, the witch-queen stopped talking. She stared at Dov closely. "Mr. Godz?" she inquired apprehensively. "Mr. Godz, is something wrong?"

"No," said Dov, his voice pitched to that soft, scary level that meant he'd had a very telling revelation. "Nothing's wrong at all. In fact, everything you've just told me is so very, very right that I was a fool not to notice it before now."

He stood up and bowed his head slightly to the witch-queen. "It's been a pleasure, but I have to go. Now. Will you excuse me? I'll see myself out."

Fiorella swung her legs off the divan and reached out a staying hand, "Wait!" she cried. "At least let me escort you back through the store. All that power—"

"Unnecessary," Dov replied as he stalked out. "Now I'll be able to stand it. Power and I are old friends. You might even say we're family."