Chills & Thrills Paranormal Boxed Set (34 page)

But even as this thought crossed his mind, Frank's eyes
fluttered shut.

"When two join as one, the soft overpower the
strong," Frank murmured.

"Beg your pardon."

He received no answer. Frank had slipped away. Zach leaned
close, checking to make sure he was breathing. Reassured, he stood up and took
a final drag from his cigarette before tossing it away. Several feet away the
opal waited for him to fetch it. The time for pure gut courage had arrived.

Uncapping his flask, Zach lifted it to his lips and drank
deeply.

* * *

So quiet, Liz thought. Too quiet. Surely Ankouer hadn't
lured her here to simply ignore her. Where was he?

"'Wash over me a love so pure,'" she said, her
voice barely above a whisper. "'My heart . . . my heart is—'"

Her memory choked.

"'My heart . . " She couldn't do this. Not even
through the first stanza and she'd already forgotten the words. She stood in a
world of solid black, frozen, too terrified to move. She'd stepped through that
wall full of fierce protectiveness. Now only electrifying terror remained, and
it was so complete she couldn't find it within herself to take another step.
She had no opal. She had no effigy with which to torment Ankouer. She had no
defender by her side. The prayer was all she had for protection. And she
couldn't remember the next line.

A sob left her lips.

The two keep the one at bay.

Her mother's voice. Her mother's voice, talking to her
inside her head, giving her the next line of the quatrain. And she'd heard the
line recently, from somebody else's lips.

Then it came back. In Harris's bar. He'd used those very
words when he'd handed her the
gris-gris
. Suddenly Liz's panic wasn't
quite so complete. She reached into her pocket for the chalcedony and the
packet of rose dust. Guided only by her sense of touch, she ripped the
cellophane with her teeth.

With no clue how to use them, she relied on her instincts.

Even as the paper tore, she felt the dust drifting down.
Particles struck her arms, and soon she felt them on her ankles. The sweet
smell of summer roses came to her nose.

A mild shiver shook the dark landscape of Ankouer's soul.

Encouraged, Liz overturned the packet and sprinkled dust in
front of her. '"My heart . . .'" she said. Another shiver jarred the
support beneath her feet.

Two, she reminded herself. It took two. Again without a clue
to its use, she rubbed the green stone with her thumb and repeated the only
words of the prayer she could recall. The shudder escalated to a quake.

"'My heart, my heart, my heart,' " she repeated
fervently. Immediately, the remainder of the forgotten line came to her.
"'My heart is cleansed of fear.'"

She took a tentative step forward. "'Glow, glow, bright
opal, free your fire. Illuminate the shadows. Pave my way.'"

Although she had no fire stone, the total darkness lifted,
permitting her to cross a black divide into a world of gray upon gray.
Soundless, formless. Bleak and empty. And infinite, it seemed.

"'Pave my way, pave my way, so darkness does not fall
upon this earth.'" Cold air nipped at her bare arms and legs, at her face
and neck, but at least she could see.

She finished the stanza, finding that the stillness sapped
her spirit. She'd primed herself for battle, for clashing and screaming, for
out-and-out conflict. She felt aimless, weary, and so terribly, terribly sad.
Her legs were growing weak, begging for rest.

"'Power above, Power divine, I call to thee,'" she
cried, desperate to shake off her lethargy. "'Shine your light upon my
soul.'" Her weariness declined, and she rushed to spill out the next
words. "'Wash over me a love so pure, my heart is cleansed of
sorrow.'"

Suddenly the fog came alive with darting, shrieking bats.
Liz's spirits lifted. The challenge had arrived.

"'Power above, Power divine—'"

"Stop that babbling, child!" One of the bats
landed at her feet. With a small squeal it took Maddie's shape and wagged a
finger at her. "You cannot win."

"Get out of my way," Liz ordered. "You're not
real. Not real at all."

"Oh, I real enough."

Her animosity at Maddie rising, Liz turned her mind back to
the prayer. "'I call to thee.'"

Maddie put her hands over her ears. "Stop that, I say.
Stop, stop, stop!"

"'Wash over me—'"

With an outraged cry, Maddie vanished.

You think you're beyond my reach, Guardian? Do not
believe such lies. My power has no limits.

Liz felt a surge of hate so intense it was palpable.
"I'm here to kill you, phantom," she shouted into the bleak gray
land. "You'll die before I leave."

One of us will die.
His mocking laughter reverberated
from every direction. The bats screeched with delight.

A shiver ran through Liz's body—not from fear, but from
cold, alerting her that the phantom's powers were growing again. What had the
journal warned her of? Ankouer fed on hate. And yet she could hardly contain
hers.

"See, Izzy?" came Maddie's voice. "You cannot
win."

"'Wash over me,'" Liz responded, warring against
the malice consuming her. "'Wash over me a love so . . .'"—the words
were coming so slowly— "'a love so pure, my heart is cleansed—'"

Cleansed? Look into your heart again, Guardian.

Another bat flew up.

"You're tired, Izzy. Give up."

"Mama?"

It was her. She stood in front of Liz, one hand extended as
if to smooth her brow. And though Liz knew this was just another of Ankouer's
messengers, she became so filled with love and joy she rushed forward to
embrace her.

No!
bellowed Ankouer
. No!

Liz threw her arms around her mother's body, then gasped as
they went straight through. An illusion, only an illusion. A wave of despair
nearly brought Liz to her knees. It was no use, no use at all. Maddie was
right. Ankouer was right. She couldn't win. Nor could she remember the next
line.

What did it matter anyway? What did it matter? What on earth
had ever made her think she could defeat boundless evil just by reciting a
stupid prayer?

* * *

Zach stood in front of Ankouer's spiraling form, listening,
listening hard for Liz's voice. She needed him. He knew she needed him. But
what weapons did he have to fight a monster? A pocket knife, a cigarette
lighter, a nearly empty flask and a cryptic couplet. Not enough. But, of course
he had enough, he reminded himself. He had more than Liz did.

He had the opal, and it still waited for him to pick it up.

"So, Defender, the woman or your bottle?"

Zach spun around. "Richard!"

"At your service. Nope, that's wrong. Actually I'm here
to see your downfall. You don't have it in you, Zach. You know you don't. Give
it up."

"You bastard! You've sold your soul!"

"Ankouer is the future. Your future. No turning away
from him." Richard moved closer. His lips curved up in smug satisfaction.
"And he has plans for you, Zach. Big plans."

"I don't have time for this." As before, Richard's
taunt strengthened Zach's determination and he gave a half-turn toward the
opal.

"Don't you want to know the rest?" Richard
scurried to Zach's side, then gazed up at the slowly spinning cloud. "Soon
as the master has defeated your lady, he'll come and take your body. Imagine
this, Zach. Being host to Ankouer, destined to rule the world. Unlimited power
. . No reason to ever run."

Richard was so close now, his nose nearly touching Zach's,
his breath heavy with foul promises. Foul, oh yes, but so enticing. Never
running away. Never again. Ever.

Not like that night so long ago, that night he'd tried so
hard to block from memory. That night that was suddenly flooding back.

He'd crept up the outer steps to the screened-in
second-story
galerie
of the Deveraux cabin, planning to sweet-talk Izzy
into joining him in the warm night so he could whisper sweet words and feel her
grow hot for him again. He loved her, how he loved her, and in his arrogant
youth he never doubted she'd one day be his wife.

"You thought you had it all, didn't you, Fortier?"

Zach's absorption in the memories was so thorough he barely
registered Richard's question or the scathing words that followed. "Golden
boy. Good looks, athletic prowess, rich parents and a disgustingly bright
future. You had it all. Until that night."

He'd sneaked toward the room where Izzy slept with her
grandmother Catherine. Quietly he moved, trusting the thunder to muffle his
steps, and he was already hardening with anticipation when he'd heard the hum.
Not loud, at first, more like the buzz of a June bug. But it escalated until it
bounced in his head and drowned out all other thoughts.

Izzy shot straight up in her bed, and as he was about to
call her name, she clapped her hands to her ears and sobbed,
"Grandmere!
Grandmere!"

It all seemed to happen at once. Missus Catherine spoke to
someone unseen, and Izzy clutched the worn sheet to her breasts. Screams filled
the air, but not from the women. Higher pitched than the hum, and piercing, so
piercing, they nearly split apart his eardrums. Fire exploded, sending out
searing cold.

"You just ran like hell." Richard used the
battering tone of a cross-examiner. "Took off for home with your tail
between your legs like a cur. Didn't you, Zach? Didn't you?"

Zach buried his face in his hands. He'd just turned
eighteen. Only eighteen. And still too vividly recalling the day he'd gone
after the yellow orchid. Still too terrified to face such horror again. Still
too young to face Ankouer.

"Now you're thirty-nine. And you still want to
run."

It never occurred to Zach to wonder how Richard knew what
he'd been thinking because the seductiveness of the next words had him lifting
his head from his hands.

"You'll never be afraid again. Think about it. No
wrenching of your gut. No pounding of your heart. You'd be free of fear
forever."

No fear. Forever.

"No fear, Zach. No fear at all. Never again will your
innards quake and make you run away." Zach stared in fascination, growing
hypnotized by Richard's voice.

Then another voice, soft and hesitant, cut through his daze.

"'Cleanse my heart . . '" It was Liz.

Liz.

Her trembling refrain seeped through the walls of the
phantom's twisting shape. "'Cleanse . . . my heart of . . . God help me, I
can't remember!"

Zach stared at Ankouer, then back at Richard, who
confidently awaited his answer. He hesitated and absently reached for his back
pocket.

Richard chuckled. "Go ahead. Steady the nerves. It's
just what you need."

Right, just the ticket to get him through. He slipped the
flask from his pocket, unscrewed the cap, and lifted it to his lips. Just as he
started to drink he saw his distorted image in the smooth silver. His hair was
completely matted to his head, except for two tufts that stood up like horns.
His skin looked thick and pasty, with irregular blond stubble on his chin and
jaw. And his eyes . . .

They weren't blue anymore, but a fiery, angry red, and they
stared back at him with such malevolence his stomach rolled in revulsion.

Him. That was him if he accepted Ankouer's unholy bargain.
It was who he would become. The worst of him unleased upon the world. Without
fear, without remorse. Never a moment of creepycrawlies, never a moment of
hesitation, never that limb-paralyzing electric shiver. Invincible,
invulnerable.

"'Cleanse my heart of . .'" Liz's words came out
on a desperate sob, "'. . . my heart—'"

Zach spun and hurled the flask toward the lake. Vodka
spilled as it soared, drenching Richard. Then the flask fell into the water,
gurgling and sending up bubbles as it sank.

"You fucking idiot!" Richard hissed, his image
getting weak. "You've ruined everything!"

Liz was on her knees, doubled over, so weighed down by her
burden of despair she couldn't lift her head.

She'd failed again, just as she had on her grandmother's
night of reckoning. She was inadequate. She'd succumbed to fear, despair, and
hate, and couldn't even remember a simple prayer. " 'Power above, Power
divine, I call to—' " Call to what? You? Thou? Who was she calling?

And why didn't they answer?

Dead, all dead.
Grandmere.
Mama. Jed. Maddie. Dead.
Soon she would be, too. And Papa. Maybe Zach. Once she was gone, Ankouer
wouldn't let him live. She didn't even want to think of the larger picture, of
the conqueror who would rise into the world and lead it into bloody warfare.
She couldn't think of it.

"'I c-call ... I call to . .'"

The gray world was more desolate than a sunless desert, and
it rolled like the waves of a cheerless arctic sea, broken only by the dark
flitting bats that circled above.

"Give up," she heard Maddie say.

"Terminal," said a new voice. She lifted her eyes
and saw Doc Allain's floating head.

"Ankouer wins," they droned in unison.

"'I call . . " She was tired, soul weary, without
hope or faith to guide her through.

She dropped her head to the floor that wasn't a floor, yet
somehow supported her anyway, and rolled into a shivering ball. Her teeth
chattered like gunshots in the deathly stillness. Her body shuddered violently.
Control of it was beyond her now. She doubted she could get up, even if she'd
wanted to.

But she didn't want to. No, she didn't want to. She'd lost.
She'd accept her fate. After all, it was destiny, wasn't it?

Ankouer laughed triumphantly.