“Then I got something for you.”
Large gorilla removed an envelope from his sport coat pocket and handed it to Nick.
“It’s an invitation to my party tonight honoring your boss,” the man explained. He extended a hand to Nick. “Carlos Chavez.”
Nick’s name caught in his throat. Carlos Chavez! How did the Creeper know about this? He coughed away his surprise.
“Dave Findlay, and I’d be pleased to attend your party tonight,” Nick said, as he shook Chavez’s thick hand. “It’ll be nice to be there when you honor the senator.”
Chavez turned toward the XKE. “Yours?” he asked suspiciously.
Nick realized that it would be unlikely that a government agent could afford such a rental.
“Compliments of the senator. He wanted me to have a really good time,” Nick replied, smiling. “The papers are in the car. Would you care to check them for yourself?”
Chavez hesitated, and then shook his head. “Have a nice day, Mister Findlay. See you tonight.”
The first thing Nick did once he was inside the XKE was open the glove box. He prayed that the rental agreement was in the car while he bluffed Chavez. He withdrew a bundle of pink and yellow sheets, read them carefully, and breathed easier. Sure enough, the Creeper had been on the level with him. Danforth was his sugar daddy.
An unexpected movement in the rear view mirror startled him. He twisted his shoulders and discovered a Siamese cat sitting stiffly on his flight bags, which had been stuffed into the space behind the seats. He pulled the cat forward and stroked its silky fur.
“Your master is full of surprises,” he said. “You don’t look like much of a body guard.”
The cat nuzzled his shoulder and meowed softly. Nick put it on the other seat and checked the glove box for a local map. He found it and a reservation at the local Holiday Inn clipped to the outside. He unfolded the small map, scanned it, and nodded approvingly.
Nick fired up the V-12 engine and laid rubber out of the parking lot onto A-1A. This was certainly an unexpected turn of events, but one that he’d use to turn the tables on the Creeper. A plan, a damn good plan, had formed in his convalescing mind. There was only one complication.
The cat.
His gut instinct told him that there was more to this cat than met the eye, and whatever that something was, it meant trouble.
Chapter 42
Ariel, Hugo, and Fritz waited quietly for Gabriella to appear. Seated awkwardly in an overstuffed recliner, Ariel was still afflicted with the mysterious butterfly and webbed hand spell. None of her own spells had been successful in countering it, so there had only been one avenue open to her: travel to Duneden and ask her sister for help.
Ariel hated the family manor house and its Gothic décor. She revisited the broad, tapestried hallways that were divided by low arches resembling demon mouths, the mauve-colored walls broken at intervals by marble columns topped with menacing gargoyles, and the ceremonial circles flawlessly etched into the gray stone floors. And most of all, she hated her sister, who had inherited the entire estate and its inherent magical powers from their late father, Wizard Xavier Yorick Wolfe, while she was left with a generous trust that carried the condition that she be exiled from Duneden for the remainder of her life. Gabriella tolerated her occasional visits, but they were not encouraged.
A clicking sound broke her reverie. The brass knob twisted, and the heavy oaken door swung back into the bleak shadows beyond.
“To what do I owe this visit?” a soft feminine voice asked using mental telepathy.
“Can you at least come out here?” Ariel replied with telepathy, weary of years of her sister’s theatrics.
“I’m not feeling well today. I’d rather stay in the darkness,” she replied, unperturbed by Ariel’s acerbic mental tone.
“Suit yourself,” Ariel snapped. She explained the effects of the spell she was under without revealing the circumstances in which she was bewitched.
The Guttentag brothers fidgeted uneasily in the prolonged silence that followed. They each hoped that Ariel wouldn’t upset their precious Gabriella. Her health deteriorated more with each passing year despite being in the prime of life at thirty, and the doctors, both physical and spiritual, could not discover the cause. Only their mother had an inkling of Gabriella’s malady, but she wasn’t talking. She told the boys that she would speak up if and when the time came.
Finally, Gabriella spoke. “I feel the spell. Thomas is becoming more powerful with age.”
“Thomas?” Ariel shouted, and immediately regretted it. Two butterflies fluttered from her open mouth and flitted about the immense drawing room. The drafty, stone fireplace attracted them, and as the pair danced above the grate, green flames sprang up from the cold ashes and incinerated them.
“Oh!” escaped Ariel’s lips as the skin between her fingers dissolved. A few moments later, she was able to freely move each finger.
“It was relatively easy,” Gabriella said aloud from the darkness.
Ariel bristled. “Really! Well, I’m a pretty fair witch myself, and it stumped me.”
Gabriella laughed quietly. “Of course it did. Only a witch who was not afflicted by the spell could remove it. That’s why your own magic failed.”
Ariel’s defenses relaxed some. “I’ve never heard of a spell like that.”
Gabriella ignored the small talk. “Why did you try to kill my Nick?”
“Why, that’s ridiculous, Gabby. Now why would I do that?”
“Why indeed? Boys, I’d like you to leave us now. Thanks for tailing Nick for me.”
“Yes, Gabriella.”
“Our pleasure, Gabriella.”
They quickly retreated through the mansion and out the front doors.
“Now,” Gabriella said, her voice rising, “who are you working for?”
“I don’t have to stay here and be questioned like a common criminal!” Ariel stood and backed away from her sister.
Suddenly, the draperies glided together and blocked the daylight as mortar and brick appeared from thin air and sealed the fireplace opening. Two nearby gargoyle statues came to life, leaped down from their crouched perches atop the columns, and backed her into the chair. They squatted at her feet; growls reverberated like engines in their powerful chests, and thick saliva dripped from their stalactite fangs. The blackness seemed infinite to Ariel.
A single red candle burst into flame on the black marble table beside the chair. Ariel’s head was bent forward, chin on chest. Her eyelids were clamped shut as she chanted. Her voice started low, then rose. The words came faster.
Purple smoke seeped up like toxic steam through cracks in the stone floor. The gargoyles swiftly returned to their posts atop the columns as the outer ring of the ceremonial circle surrounding Ariel emitted a dazzling white light.
The floor shook, and Ariel’s voice grew even louder. One heavy stone after another was regurgitated from the floor inside the circle. Gradually, a gigantic horned demon took shape from the purple smoke and solidified to life. The reflection of the white brilliance off its purple scales burst into a prism of purple hues. Its eyes burned blood red. It raised its spiked head, and its nostrils opened and closed, hungrily sniffing for Gabriella. It was obeying Ariel’s will.
At last, the unworldly demon shrieked success and spun toward the open oaken door. Its razor tongue licked its lips and drew blood. It tenuously tasted the wound and shrieked wildly again. Its victim’s scent sent it into an uncontrollable frenzy.
The demon stomped to the doorway on its thick, brawny legs, and paused inches from the glowing edge of the ceremonial circle. Gabriella’s scent was so strong there that it disregarded its fear of the light and lunged forward.
The demon’s arms penetrated the lighted edge of the circle first, and like a formidable buzz saw, the glow reduced the arms to particles resembling a swarm of black flies and whisked them upward beyond the ceiling. The demon’s high-pitched shrieks filled the room during its struggle
to pull free from the deadly force, but even with its considerable strength, it was futile. The white light sucked it forward, pulverizing it piece by piece until the soulless shrieking stopped and the silence returned.
Ariel opened her eyes and shouted, “Okay, enough is enough, Gabby. You win, all right?”
The white brilliance instantly disappeared. The draperies opened; and the bricks sealing the fireplace vanished. Ariel heard laughter.
“That was fun,” Gabriella said. “We haven’t done anything like that since we were girls.”
“And you always won, if I remember correctly,” Ariel added sullenly.
“So what? We had fun, didn’t we?”
“Sure, I suppose. But let me warn you, Gabby, one of these days I’m gonna win.”
“Not if I can help it.” She laughed again. “C’mon, let’s call a truce and conjure up some lunch. I’m starving.”
Silence.
“You’re not a sore loser, are you?”
“No, but I don’t want you bugging me for information the whole time,” she replied.
“Fair enough. Really, what you do is none of my business. You and I are women now and have our own lives to live. Our own crosses to bear. I don’t want to be one of those controlling sisters that I read about. I’d hate that if I were you,” she said.
“I do.”
“So let’s put an end to all that now. Let’s start fresh. Truce, Ariel?”
Ariel sighed. “If you really mean it.”
“I do.”
Ariel gave in against her better judgment. “Okay. Truce.”
“Good! Blow out the candle and come in. We’ll cook up something special.”
Ariel blew out the flame and tried to rise from the chair, but her body didn’t respond. Her joints were suddenly immobile. Her flesh stiffened and her lungs had difficulty drawing air.
“Gabby, you . . .” There was no breath left to propel the words. In less than a minute, Ariel hardened into a bronze statue. Gabriella used her magic to elevate her sister and float her across the room to the corner by the windows.
“Sorry, Ariel, but you taught me a long time ago that I can’t trust you. If I had allowed you to leave today, I know that you’d try to murder my Nick again, and that would be catastrophic,” she said sadly. “Some day, when this is all over, you’ll be free again.”
The oaken door closed and Gabriella moved deeper into the darkness. She was worried. Thomas’s powers were growing, and if fate didn’t step in soon, there would be no stopping him or Danforth.
“Hey, what’s going on in there?” It was Jill Sandlin.
“Just practicing some spells,” Gabriella replied.
“Well, you just about scared me out of a year’s growth.” There was brief pause. “Hey, when did you get the lovely statue?”
Gabriella blinked away tears. “The delivery men from Pogue’s just dropped it off an hour ago.”
“It fits nicely. Hey, when we gonna eat? I’m starving.”
“I’ll be right out.” She dabbed the tear tracks on her checks, composed herself, and opened the door.
Chapter 43
The lake creature that had attacked Neo wrapped a tentacle-like appendage about Neo’s left wrist and guided him through the complete blackness. Since the creature could read his mind, Neo attempted to bury his mistrust of these mutants. He chose a familiar college-drinking ditty to block his thoughts.
“One hundred bottles of beer on the wall, a hundred bottles of beer. If one of those bottles should happen to fall, ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall,” he sang aloud.
“Why do you sing that song?” the creature asked. The others became restless. One of them released a deep-throated growl behind Neo that raised the hairs on his neck again.
“I sing when I’m . . . nervous,” he lied.
“It hurts our ears.”
“Sorry.” He sang the next refrain softer. He wasn’t about to stop. He had to divert their attention from his thoughts.
Neo stumbled and scraped his toes as the slope of the cavern floor unexpectedly angled steeply upward. The creature tightened its grip on the man until he recovered his balance.
“How much further?” Neo thought.
“A few yards.”
Neo resumed the song as he plotted his escape from the cavern. They were dangerous thoughts that could easily get him killed and worse - eaten, but he had to take the chance. Nick needed his help against some very incredible enemies. If he and Nick managed to pull off a miracle and succeed, they could write a new chapter in the FBI training manual.
They stopped suddenly.
“What are you thinking about?” the creature demanded.
Neo felt the others crowd him in the darkness. “Nick Bellamy. I miss that son-of-a-gun,” he replied mentally.
“Oh, but I sensed more treacherous thoughts.” Its grip on Neo’s wrist became rigid and unyielding. “Thoughts of escape.”
Perspiration leaked from his pores.
“You are sweating, Neo Doss.”
Slimy flesh brushed his hips. His hand dropped with lightning speed and covered his genitals.
“Hey, man, get off my case. I’ve got the cold sweats. I’m freezing my ass off down here, okay guys. And as for my thoughts on escaping, I was thinking about us escaping and me getting some warm clothes!” he retorted curtly.
The others became agitated again, and as they conversed, they left him out of the loop by pulling the plug on his mental receiver. He didn’t like it. His realized that he had to get away from these creepazoids the first chance he could. He had a real bad feeling about being the pawn in their escape party, and in the end being the dead man out.
Finally, his former attacker addressed Neo. “All right, we believe you. Let’s continue.”
“Fine with me,” Neo mumbled aloud.
Several steps later, they stopped. “Here, Neo Doss. It is a door to warm clothes and our history. Both are yours if you can open it.”
The creature’s tentacle released its grip and slid away into the impenetrable gloom. Neo inched slowly toward the mysterious door with his hands outstretched. His fingers bumped cold metal. They explored the surface like a blind man’s fingers reading Braille. The exterior was rough, as if coated by years of rust, but because he couldn’t see, it was just an educated guess.
He knelt, and something round crunched beneath his knee and shot forward, ricocheting off the door. His hand groped for the object and swept across several smooth, cylindrical objects that felt like petrified wood stacked against the door. He searched the cavern floor with his other hand, and it grazed a small metal item. After a moment, he identified it as an old flip lighter.
His heart raced. Please, God, let it work. He flipped back the cover, held his breath, and spun the wheel with his thumb.
The flint sparked! Neo squeezed his eyes shut and exhaled lightly. C’mon, baby, light for me. Light for me. He tried again.
A short flame tickled the darkness and sputtered away. Startled, the creatures retreated quickly, but Neo barely noticed. Third time’s the charm, baby. Third time’s the charm. His thumb rested on the wheel. One . . . two . . . flick.
A yellow tongue flared, flickered, and then burned steadily. Neo squinted against the abrupt light. Thank you, God!
But his celebration was short lived. As far as the delicate light spread, Neo was horrified at mountains of human skulls and bones. Everywhere he looked, they littered the cavern floor. The bones closest to the door were newer and gray with clinging slivers of muscle and tendon, while the other piled bones had aged to the color of burnished straw.
Neo snapped the lighter cover shut and sat against the door, relishing the return of the darkness. The horror of his discovery had sickened him. His lungs couldn’t suck air fast enough to sate his nerves. Now he wished he had drowned after seeing an abysmal preview of his own fate.
“We sense fear in you, Neo Doss,” the creature stated.
“Leave me alone,” Neo replied a
loud. “Just leave me the hell alone!”
“We cannot do that. You must try to open the door.”
“I can’t.”
“You can. What is it that frightens you?”
A cold, humorless laugh exploded from his mouth. “What frightens me? Surely you jest, man. Take a look around. There’re bones everywhere. Human bones,” he said angrily. “Why should I help you guys escape? You’re gonna kill me anyway.”
“Those are the bones of failures, Neo Doss. You will not join them, because you will succeed.”
Neo’s trepidation eased as he grasped the creature’s somewhat twisted logic. If he was to escape, he had to at least try opening the door. He was too young to die as a mutant happy meal.
He found the bottom edge of the door, slid his hands upward over the two hinges until he found the top edge. The door opening was approximately three feet wide by six feet high. In the center of the door, there was a round wheel like those on submarines. He tucked the lighter between his lips, grabbed the wheel with his large hands, and twisted. His weakened muscles bulged from the strain, but the wheel refused to budge.
Winded, he sat and tried to solve the problem. If all the men who had tried before him were represented by the massive cavern bone yard, the wheel was not easily turned. There had to be a catch. He fingered the lighter. Neo needed light to solve it, and he hoped there was enough fluid left in the old lighter to thoroughly inspect the door’s locking mechanism.
He flicked and a flame appeared. He released his held breath and examined the wheel. It appeared normal, but he wasn’t a navy guy used to these mechanisms. After several minutes, the flame grew smaller, and he was about to give up when he noticed three pins protruding from the bottom of the column that penetrated the metal door. He pushed up on one, but it didn’t move. He tried the others with the same results.
“Damn!” he thought. “Why me?”
The darkness closed in as the flame shrank to a splinter of light. His flesh was sponge damp. Neo discovered that the wheel sat forward on the column, and it dawned on him that the outer surface might just be a casing covering the real column. If he pushed in on the wheel and pushed the pins up, it might unlock the mechanism. It was worth a try.
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