Key of Knowledge
Page 39
She was in a room she didn’t recognize, yet somehow knew. A large bedroom, saturated with color. Deep blue walls, an enormous bed covered in a ruby comforter, mounded with jewel-toned pillows. There was a generous sitting area, with two wing chairs facing a snapping fire. It was here that she sat, with Jordan kneeling at her feet. Her hands were clutched in his.
And his trembled.
“I love you, Dana. I never knew I could feel like this, as if there’s no point in taking the next breath unless you’re with me.”
It was wrong. Wrong. His face never looked weak and pleading. “Stop it.”
“You have to listen.” His voice urgent, he buried his head in her lap. “You have to give me a chance to show you, to prove to you how much I love you. The biggest mistake of my life was leaving you. Nothing I’ve done, nothing I’ve touched since has meant anything. I’ll do anything you want.” He lifted his head and with some horror, she caught the gleam of tears in his eyes. “Be anything you want. If you’ll only forgive me, let me spend every minute of every day for the rest of my life worshiping you.”
“Get the hell away from me!” Shocked, panicked, she shoved at Jordan, knocking him back as she scrambled to her feet.
“Kick me. Beat me. I deserve it. Just let me stay with you.”
“Do you think this is what I want?” She shouted it as she spun in a circle. “Do you think you can control me by making pictures out of my thoughts? You don’t understand what I want, and that’s why I’ll beat you. No deal, ass**le. And this is not only a lie, it’s pathetic.”
The fury in her voice echoed even when she found herself standing in the empty room with the paint roller on the floor at her feet.
Scrawled on the white wall in oily black was the message:
Drown thyself!
“Fat chance, you bastard.” Though her hands shook, she picked up the roller and covered the black with fresh white primer.
Then they steadied, and her fingers dug in on the handle of the roller. “Wait a minute, wait a minute!”
Her mind whirling, she dropped the roller with a splatter of paint, grabbed her bag and ran as though the gods were chasing her.
Minutes later, she charged into her apartment. She tossed her purse aside and grabbed the library copy of Othello.
“ ‘Drown thyself, drown thyself.’ It’s in here.” She flipped pages, frantically pulling the scene and context into her mind as she searched for the quote.
It was one of Iago’s lines, when he was doing one of his numbers on Roderigo. She knew that line.
When she found it, she sat down on the floor. “ ‘It is a lust of the blood and a permission of the will,’ ” she read aloud. “ ‘Come, be a man. Drown thyself! drown cats and blind puppies.’ ”
She fought for calm.
A lust of the blood and a permission of the will. Yes, that described Kane’s vicious acts.
Jealousy, guile, betrayal, and ambition. What Iago knew, what Othello was ignorant of. Kane as Iago? The god-king as Othello. The king hadn’t killed, but still the daughters—those he loved—were lost to him through lies and ambition.
And the play—surely this play had beauty, truth, courage. Was it the key?
Ordering herself to be methodical, she paged through the book, searched its binding. Setting it aside, she found her own copy and did the same. She forced herself to sit again, to read through the entire scene.
There were other copies of the play. She would go to the mall bookstore, search through those. She could hit the library again on Monday. Rising, she began to pace.
There were probably dozens of copies of Othello in various forms around the Valley. She would go to the schools, the college. She’d knock on damn doors if she had to.
“ ‘Drown thyself,’ my ass,” she repeated and scooped up her purse. She would drive to the mall right now.
She’d already wrenched open the door when it struck her. Her own fury knocked her two steps back before she slammed the door shut again.
She was being a fool, a mark. An idiot. Who had written the words on the wall? Kane. A liar quoting a liar. It wasn’t a clue. It was misdirection. Something to have her running off on a tangent. Exactly as she had done.
“Goddamn it!” She flung her purse across the room. “Outright lies or twisted truth? Which is it?”
Resigned, she marched across the room to retrieve her purse. She had to find out, so it looked like she was taking that trip to the mall after all.
SHE was, Dana thought when she arrived home, probably as calm as she was going to get after spending the morning on what she was certain was a wild-goose chase. Still, she’d be happier when Malory and Zoe arrived. If nothing else, a girlfriend afternoon would cheer her up.
They’d have some food, they’d talk. And when Dana had called and said she needed them to come, Zoe had promised pedicures.
Not a bad deal.
She carried the Chinese food she’d picked up into the kitchen, set it on the counter. Then just stood there for a moment.
All right, she admitted, maybe she wasn’t calm, maybe she wasn’t steady. Not quite yet. And her head was screaming from the echoes of the morning fear, the frustration that had followed.
She walked to the bathroom, took a bottle of Extra-Strength Tylenol out of the medicine cabinet, and washed two down with tap water.
Maybe she should have opted for a nap instead of company. But despite the headache, the vague nausea, this was one time she didn’t want to be alone.
She nearly flew to the door at the knock.
“Are you all right?” Zoe stepped in, dropped the bags she carried on the floor, then gathered Dana in her arms. “I’m sorry it took me so long to get here.”
“It’s okay. I’m all right.” No, Dana realized, this was much better than a nap. “I’m just really glad you’re here. What about Simon?”
“Flynn took him. It was really nice. He and Jordan are taking Simon over to Bradley’s. He can run around with Moe, play with guys, eat junk food, watch football. Simon’s thrilled. Isn’t Mal here yet? She left before I did.”
“Right behind you.” Malory came hurrying down the hall, then held up a bakery box before she stepped inside the apartment. “I made a stop. Brownies—double fudge.”
“I love you guys.” Dana’s voice broke as she said it and, appalled, she pressed her fingers to her eyes. “Oh, Jesus, I’m in worse shape than I thought. It’s been a very crappy day so far.”
And his trembled.
“I love you, Dana. I never knew I could feel like this, as if there’s no point in taking the next breath unless you’re with me.”
It was wrong. Wrong. His face never looked weak and pleading. “Stop it.”
“You have to listen.” His voice urgent, he buried his head in her lap. “You have to give me a chance to show you, to prove to you how much I love you. The biggest mistake of my life was leaving you. Nothing I’ve done, nothing I’ve touched since has meant anything. I’ll do anything you want.” He lifted his head and with some horror, she caught the gleam of tears in his eyes. “Be anything you want. If you’ll only forgive me, let me spend every minute of every day for the rest of my life worshiping you.”
“Get the hell away from me!” Shocked, panicked, she shoved at Jordan, knocking him back as she scrambled to her feet.
“Kick me. Beat me. I deserve it. Just let me stay with you.”
“Do you think this is what I want?” She shouted it as she spun in a circle. “Do you think you can control me by making pictures out of my thoughts? You don’t understand what I want, and that’s why I’ll beat you. No deal, ass**le. And this is not only a lie, it’s pathetic.”
The fury in her voice echoed even when she found herself standing in the empty room with the paint roller on the floor at her feet.
Scrawled on the white wall in oily black was the message:
Drown thyself!
“Fat chance, you bastard.” Though her hands shook, she picked up the roller and covered the black with fresh white primer.
Then they steadied, and her fingers dug in on the handle of the roller. “Wait a minute, wait a minute!”
Her mind whirling, she dropped the roller with a splatter of paint, grabbed her bag and ran as though the gods were chasing her.
Minutes later, she charged into her apartment. She tossed her purse aside and grabbed the library copy of Othello.
“ ‘Drown thyself, drown thyself.’ It’s in here.” She flipped pages, frantically pulling the scene and context into her mind as she searched for the quote.
It was one of Iago’s lines, when he was doing one of his numbers on Roderigo. She knew that line.
When she found it, she sat down on the floor. “ ‘It is a lust of the blood and a permission of the will,’ ” she read aloud. “ ‘Come, be a man. Drown thyself! drown cats and blind puppies.’ ”
She fought for calm.
A lust of the blood and a permission of the will. Yes, that described Kane’s vicious acts.
Jealousy, guile, betrayal, and ambition. What Iago knew, what Othello was ignorant of. Kane as Iago? The god-king as Othello. The king hadn’t killed, but still the daughters—those he loved—were lost to him through lies and ambition.
And the play—surely this play had beauty, truth, courage. Was it the key?
Ordering herself to be methodical, she paged through the book, searched its binding. Setting it aside, she found her own copy and did the same. She forced herself to sit again, to read through the entire scene.
There were other copies of the play. She would go to the mall bookstore, search through those. She could hit the library again on Monday. Rising, she began to pace.
There were probably dozens of copies of Othello in various forms around the Valley. She would go to the schools, the college. She’d knock on damn doors if she had to.
“ ‘Drown thyself,’ my ass,” she repeated and scooped up her purse. She would drive to the mall right now.
She’d already wrenched open the door when it struck her. Her own fury knocked her two steps back before she slammed the door shut again.
She was being a fool, a mark. An idiot. Who had written the words on the wall? Kane. A liar quoting a liar. It wasn’t a clue. It was misdirection. Something to have her running off on a tangent. Exactly as she had done.
“Goddamn it!” She flung her purse across the room. “Outright lies or twisted truth? Which is it?”
Resigned, she marched across the room to retrieve her purse. She had to find out, so it looked like she was taking that trip to the mall after all.
SHE was, Dana thought when she arrived home, probably as calm as she was going to get after spending the morning on what she was certain was a wild-goose chase. Still, she’d be happier when Malory and Zoe arrived. If nothing else, a girlfriend afternoon would cheer her up.
They’d have some food, they’d talk. And when Dana had called and said she needed them to come, Zoe had promised pedicures.
Not a bad deal.
She carried the Chinese food she’d picked up into the kitchen, set it on the counter. Then just stood there for a moment.
All right, she admitted, maybe she wasn’t calm, maybe she wasn’t steady. Not quite yet. And her head was screaming from the echoes of the morning fear, the frustration that had followed.
She walked to the bathroom, took a bottle of Extra-Strength Tylenol out of the medicine cabinet, and washed two down with tap water.
Maybe she should have opted for a nap instead of company. But despite the headache, the vague nausea, this was one time she didn’t want to be alone.
She nearly flew to the door at the knock.
“Are you all right?” Zoe stepped in, dropped the bags she carried on the floor, then gathered Dana in her arms. “I’m sorry it took me so long to get here.”
“It’s okay. I’m all right.” No, Dana realized, this was much better than a nap. “I’m just really glad you’re here. What about Simon?”
“Flynn took him. It was really nice. He and Jordan are taking Simon over to Bradley’s. He can run around with Moe, play with guys, eat junk food, watch football. Simon’s thrilled. Isn’t Mal here yet? She left before I did.”
“Right behind you.” Malory came hurrying down the hall, then held up a bakery box before she stepped inside the apartment. “I made a stop. Brownies—double fudge.”
“I love you guys.” Dana’s voice broke as she said it and, appalled, she pressed her fingers to her eyes. “Oh, Jesus, I’m in worse shape than I thought. It’s been a very crappy day so far.”
