Edith stamped her feet on the porch, waiting for Fischer's return. The blanket she'd wrapped around herself was not keeping her warm; her clothes, still damp, were getting chilled again. She looked into the entry hall. Would it hurt to step a few feet inside and get out of the worst of the cold?
She had to do it finally. Entering the house, she closed the door and stood beside it, looking toward the staircase.
It seemed as if they'd come into this house in another life. Monday seemed as distant in her mind as the time of Christ. That had been one reason she'd come back. Now that Lionel was gone, nothing seemed important anymore.
She wondered how long it would take before the full impact of his death hit her. Maybe when she saw his body again.
She thrust aside the thought. Had it been only yesterday that she'd come down those stairs after Fischer? She shivered. She'd been such an easy prey for Belasco.
When she was examining Florence, it had been Belasco looking in at her, noting her embarrassment. Belasco had shown her the photos, made her drink the brandy, turned her fear of possessing lesbian tendencies into a thoughtless counterdesire for Fischer; she winced at the memory. How weak she was; how easily Belasco had manipulated her.
She thrust aside that thought as well. Every thought about Belasco was an affront to Lionel's memory. She was almost sorry she'd come back, to discover that he'd been wrong in everything he'd said and done.
She grimaced with self-accusing guilt. How could his entire body of work have been for nothing? She felt herself tighten with anger against Fischer for destroying her faith in Lionel. What right had he to do that?
A rush of sudden anguish made her start across the entry hall. Ascending the stairs, she crossed the corridor. The two suitcases stood outside their room. She looked around, heard sounds in Fischer's room, and moved there rapidly.
He started as she came in. "I told you - "
"I know what you told me," she interrupted. She had to get it out before he spoke. "I want to know why you're so sure my husband was wrong."
"I'm not."
The impetus of her anger carried her past the point of reaction. She began to speak again, then had to catch herself and backtrack. "What?"
"I'm wondering if he might have been partially right."
"I don't - "
"You recall what Florence said?"
"What?"
"She said, 'Can't you see that both of us can be right?'"
"I don't understand."
"I'm wondering if Belasco's power is electromagnetic radiation, as she said," Fischer told her. "I'm wondering if he was weakened by the Reversor."
He scowled. "But why would he allow himself to be weakened? It doesn't make sense. Especially when he had a chance to wreck the Reversor."
Edith wouldn't listen to his objection. Eager to restore validity to Lionel's work, she said, "Maybe he is weakened, though.
You said he trapped you in the chapel. If he was still powerful, why would he have to do that? Why not attack you anywhere you were?"
Fischer didn't look convinced. He started pacing. "It might explain why he lured me there," he said. "If, in coming out after the Reversor had weakened him, he used up most of his remaining energy to destroy your husband and attack you - " He broke off angrily. "No. It doesn't add up. If the Reversor worked at all, it would have dissipated all his power, not just part of it."
"Maybe it wasn't strong enough. Maybe his power was too great for even the Reversor to destroy it entirely."
"I doubt it," he said. "And that still wouldn't explain why he'd allow the Reversor to be used at all when he had a chance to destroy it before it could be used."
"But Lionel believed in the Reversor," she persisted. "If Belasco had destroyed it before it could be used, wouldn't that be as much as an admission, to Lionel, that he was right?"
Fischer studied her face. Something was needling up inside him, something that had the same exhilarating sense of rightness he'd felt when Florence had told him her theory about Belasco. Seeing his expression, Edith hurried on, desperate to convince him that Lionel had been right, even if only partially. "Wouldn't it be more satisfying to Belasco to let Lionel actually use the Reversor, then destroy him?" she asked. "Because Lionel must have believed that he was wrong when he died. Wouldn't that be what Belasco would want?"
The feeling was increasing steadily. Fischer's mind struggled to fit the pieces together. Could Belasco really have been so determined to destroy Barrett in just that way that he'd deliberately let himself be weakened? Only an egomaniac would -
It sounded like a groan that shuddered upward from his vitals.
"What?" she asked in alarm.
"Ego," he said.
He pointed at Edith without realizing it. "Ego," he repeated.
"What do you mean?"
"That's why he did it that way. You're right; it wouldn't have been satisfying to him any other way. But to let your husband actually use his Reversor, apparently dissipate the power - and when your husband was at the peak of his fulfillment, to get him then." He nodded. "Yes. Only that way could satisfy his ego.
"He had to let Florence know before she died that it was him alone. Ego. He must have told your husband, too. Ego. He let you know in the theater. Ego. He had to let me know. Ego. It wasn't enough to lure us to our destruction. He had to tell us, at the precise moment when he had us powerless, that it was him. Except that, by the time he got to me, most of his power was used up, and he couldn't destroy me. All he could do was direct me to destroy myself."
He looked suddenly excited. " What if he can't leave the chapel now? "
"But you said he made you go there."
"What if he didn't? What if it was her? What if she knew he was trapped in there?"
"But why would she lead you to destruction?"
Fischer looked distressed. "She wouldn't. Why would she lead me there, then? It had to be for a reason."