by E. G. Foley
Clumps of flowers and vines flourished everywhere in pots and flowerboxes and filled the night with their perfume…oleander bushes sculpted into trees…spiky palms, their dry fronds clacking softly in the night wind.
A cat watched him pass from a high windowsill. Farther on, he heard some lone player plucking a pensive tune on a mandolin.
Jake rambled on, peering into shop windows that he passed, glancing up at the Roman aqueduct overhead, then eventually reaching the sprawling checkerboard piazza in the Piazza IX Aprile, with not one but two churches. The simple and stalwart medieval Sant-Agostino sat across from its companion stone clock tower; between them rose the ornate San Giuseppe, a grand, cream-colored affair in the style called Sicilian Baroque.
Jake walked across the empty square to stand for a moment at the breezy railing with a stunning view of the Ionian Sea. He had to admit he was starting to feel a little lonely. Dani would’ve enjoyed this, he thought. But he marveled that he would be missing her after spending the whole day with the girl.
Finally starting to feel tired, he stifled a yawn and decided it was time to head back. Taking one last look at the starry sea view, he couldn’t help wishing again that Dani were with him. But he supposed they were nearing an age when they’d have to start thinking about what was proper and respectable. He didn’t need Miss Helena to tell him that the reputation of any young lady who went rambling around a city with a boy in the dead of night was as good as “ruined.”
He was still pondering the mysteries of grownup social life as he left the checkerboard piazza. Retracing his steps, he kept to the main road in the interests of not getting lost in this quaint medieval labyrinth.
But halfway back to the Gate of Messina, he gradually became aware of the sensation…that he was being watched.
He stopped and glanced behind him, sweeping the Corso Umberto and the surrounding area with a glance. His pulse had quickened, but he saw no one, so he walked on, picking up his pace.
He wasn’t looking for any trouble. Of course, it did have a way of finding him…
A little farther on, the sensation grew even stronger. The hairs on his nape were bristling now. The night had grown strangely silent.
He paused again at the corner of one of those little side streets with a staircase, scanning in all directions and trying to look casual as he reached down slowly and pulled his knife out of his boot, just in case.
Maybe there was a cutpurse following him, trying to figure out if he was worth robbing. Knife in hand, he was ready for them now.
He marched on—until a flicker of motion out of the corner of his eye made him whip around and say in a menacing tone, “Who’s there?”
What he saw was something he could not have anticipated.
Some sort of phantom, hovering in midair.
Blimey. He took a step back on his heel. Thankfully, though, Jake was no neophyte in dealing with otherworldly beings. He shook off his initial shock and refused to be intimidated. “Why are you following me?” he demanded.
The eerie, black-clad specter didn’t answer, floating at about Jake’s shoulder height, ten feet away.
It looked like some sort of spectral assassin, its loose ebony clothing kept close to its body by crisscrossed lacings, a hood draping its head. Though the apparition was surrounded by an ethereal fog of grayish-green ectoplasm, the two large knives in its hands looked quite solid, gleaming wickedly in the moon’s silver glow.
But the most chilling part was the face.
The creature was wearing some sort of black leather gas mask similar to Archie’s breathing apparatus. It stared at him through the huge, reflective eye holes, its slow, rasping breaths hissing all the while through the air filter and hose over its nose and mouth.
The effect was unnerving, but Jake somehow held his ground.
He could feel the aura of evil pouring off the thing, and a bone-chilling suspicion crept over him that the Dark Druids might have just found him after all.
Still, he hoped for the best. “What are you? A ghost?”
It merely tilted its head and studied him, while the lantern light gleamed off its nasty twin blades.
“Well, I’m not interested in carrying anybody’s messages to the living today. I’m on holiday. So, shove off!” he ordered with a show of bravado.
After all, showing fear toward creatures of darkness only made them stronger. Besides, Jake got the feeling the thing was not able to attack him, or it would’ve done so by now.
Clearly, Aunt Ramona’s various layers of protective magic over him and the town were doing their job. Confident that he was safe, no matter how bizarre the creature trailing him might be, Jake carefully turned around and started walking away, his awareness still trained behind him.
Still, he couldn’t stop himself from ducking with a small yelp when the phantom whooshed after him, coming at him with the knives.
Just as he cringed and threw his arms up to block the certain blow, the creature bumped up against the heretofore invisible shield that Aunt Ramona had created around him. When it hit, the magical force field lit up in shades of white and blue like a bright bubble of safety around him.
The phantom let out a startled screech of pain and flew back, bouncing off the force field as if it had received an electrical shock. It writhed in pain for a moment several yards away, its wispy body flickering like a candle in a breeze.
Jake was almost as surprised as the creature was by the potency of Aunt Ramona’s spell.
“Ha, weren’t expecting that, were you?” he taunted his faceless attacker, though his heart still pounded with belated fright. “You see? It’s no good. You might as well turn around and go home, whoever, whatever you are. I’ve got no quarrel with you, so you’d better leave me alone, and I’ll be on my way.”
The phantom did not take his suggestion.
As Jake started backing away, heading for the Gate of Messina, it charged him again, heedless of the pain it obviously experienced with every attack.
The apparition just kept bashing itself against the magical barrier again and again, ramming it with its head or shoulder, trying to slash through it with its blades, even kicking it. Its body was smoking here and there and shimmering like a heat wave from the damage it was taking with its dogged attacks.
Safe in his bubble of magical protection, Jake did his best to ignore the creature, and continued making his way up the dark, empty street as best he could. Still, he started wondering about the wisdom of simply returning to the villa with this aggressive, hostile entity plaguing him.
By now, he just wanted to go back to bed, but he didn’t like the thought of it following him home and seeing where he was staying. What if it threatened Dani or the others?
Of course, if it followed him all the way back to the villa, he could sic Aunt Ramona on it. No doubt the Elder witch could do something to it—drive it away or maybe even destroy it. But then Jake would have to admit to Her Ladyship that he’d gone on a walk alone in the middle of the night…
When the phantom rammed his bubble once again, he quit walking, fed up. “Would you stop that? You can see it’s not doing any good. You’re really beginning to annoy me.”
The feeling was clearly mutual. The phantom took a short break to catch its breath.
How am I going to get rid of this thing? Jake wondered. There had to be a way. “Why don’t you simply tell me what it is you want?” he suggested. “Maybe I can help.”
“Boy…die,” it rasped.
“Rrright,” said Jake. So much for that, then. He paused, almost not wanting to know the answer to his next question. “I take it the Dark Druids sent you?”
“Avenge…Garnock.”
“Uh-huh.” Boldly, Jake took a step toward the creature and stared right into the blank, reflective eyeholes of its mask. “And what makes you think you’re going to fare any better than he did, comin’ after me?”
His show of courage angered the thing. The phantom let out an ugly squeal and stabbed
at Jake—and this time, the tip of its knife penetrated the bubble of protection around him.
Only a couple inches of the blade got through, but Jake’s eyes widened at the implications. Likewise, the creature realized that it was making progress and went wild, redoubling its efforts.
This time, Jake reacted automatically to the next attack and fought back with his telekinesis. “I said, stay away from me!” he bellowed as he flung a rush of concentrated energy from his hands.
Unfortunately, his best weapon had little effect on an ethereal being. The wallop of energy just flowed right through the phantom, causing its shape to undulate for a moment like a column of smoke struck by a breeze, but it quickly reconstituted.
Alas, the massive outflow of telekinetic power passing through the magical force field had had an unforeseen effect: it had weakened the shield around him, as he learned with the creature’s next attack.
When the phantom head-butted the force field, suddenly, its whole head crashed through the magical barrier from the neck up. Jake suddenly found himself eye to eye with the hideous, staring mask.
He screamed even as the creature screeched in his face.
It withdrew from the boundaries of the bubble, and, to be sure, it paid dearly for its success. It whooshed around the street in crazed pain, making disturbing noises and holding its neck, which was smoking, along with other parts of its body.
Jake did not waste time waiting for it to recover. If there was no way to fight the creature, then his only option was to flee.
Give it the slip somehow and outrun it.
Lose it in the labyrinth of the city.
With that, he ducked around the corner and made a run for it, sprinting down the cobbled side alley—quick as a pickpocket fleeing from the bobbies…
CHAPTER 21
Nightstalkers
Jake raced into the maze of narrow, cobbled side streets, keeping to the shadows. In moments, he had turned several corners and was confident of the distance he’d begun to put between himself and the creature.
He still didn’t know exactly what it was, but there’d be time to ponder that once he was sure he’d got away.
He jogged on through the sleeping city, hugging the wall like an alley cat, and keeping his footsteps as stealthy as possible; his pulse had not yet returned to normal when a bone-chilling wave of sound rushed out over the city. Somewhere in the distance behind him, the phantom must have recovered and realized it had lost him, for it let out the loudest, most horrible screech Jake had ever heard.
He stopped and looked around uneasily, tempted to cover his ears.
At first he thought it was just a scream of rage, but then he realized this was not the case. For an answering scream called back in kind from another quarter of the city, somewhere off to his left.
He gasped and looked toward the sound.
A third such cry sounded somewhere in the distance off to his right.
How many of them are there? His stomach lurched. I’ve got to get out of here.
As he turned and sprinted on, he realized his mistake. He had assumed that he had encountered a solitary bounty hunter that the Dark Druids had sent after him, but no. There were others out there searching the city for him; that one had just happened to find him first.
Think. What am I going to do if they catch up to me?
He could not count on the protective force field around him holding much longer. The phantom had already stuck its whole head through the magical barrier.
Plus, Jake had already seen that his telekinesis had no effect on the ghostly creatures. He gripped his dagger, wishing he could hurl it at them, but a solid knife would obviously pass right through the phantoms’ immaterial bodies.
Well, you’d better figure out something quick, he thought with a gulp as one of the other phantoms came zooming over the rooftops ahead and descended into the street a short distance ahead of him.
At once, Jake darted into a side street and pounded on, but an ancient mosaic of the Blessed Mother set into a nearby wall as he ran by gave him a sudden inspiration.
Holy ground!
Since these phantoms were clearly evil spirits of some kind, then a spiritual solution might be his only real defense.
There was no shortage of churches in the old Sicilian city; as places of sanctuary, by tradition, these were never locked at night. If he could duck into one, the phantoms probably wouldn’t be able to follow him in, then he could run out one of the side doors and get away.
It seemed as good a plan as any. At least it would get him out of the reach of those long, wicked knives.
Spotting a steeple over the roofs ahead, he made a beeline for it, though he’d have to find the church somewhere within this sleeping stone labyrinth—and that before the phantoms found him.
They were coming closer. He could hear them shrieking to each other in frustration as they hunted him. He wondered if any of the local folk were hearing this or if they were still fast asleep in their beds…
Suddenly, Jake saw the small stone church ahead, tucked in among the crowded buildings. A ray of moonlight gleamed down upon it.
He poured on a burst of speed as he went tearing toward it, giving up on stealth in favor of just reaching the front door. His lungs burned, sweat coursed down his face, and every bounding step over the uneven cobbles jarred his knees. The church was only sixty yards away when one of the phantoms flew by overhead.
It almost didn’t notice him, scanning back and forth along the surrounding streets while he ran practically right beneath it. Unfortunately, it spotted him, and the next thing Jake knew, it was on his tail.
It was hard to be certain, but he believed this was a different one from the fellow he had battled back on the Corso Umberto. It called to its mates in a rasping shriek like a thousand nails on chalkboards as it whooshed after him down the street.
Jake winced at the awful sound, but focused with all his might on reaching the little church. He wasn’t even sure his plan would work, but he was about to find out.
Suddenly—disaster.
He tripped on a crooked cobblestone and stumbled hard onto one knee, crying out with pain as he caught himself with his hands.
That brief pause was all the phantom needed to close the distance between them, and then it was upon him.
It had not yet learned, as its companion had, that the force field around him could hurt it. However, that protective barrier was waning, and though it zapped the phantom back, the creature counterattacked at once.
Jake’s eyes widened as its blade penetrated the bubble, narrowly missing his ear. As the creature withdrew its arm, snarling at the pain, its injury gave Jake the sliver of time he needed to pick himself up and barrel on, grimacing and limping, his right knee bloodied by the hard bang.
The other two phantoms arrived then and joined the fray, all three of them racing up behind him, screeching with murderous intent, as he hobbled through the front gate, up the few steps to the portico, and grasped the handle of the door, praying it was unlocked.
The heavy door swung open. A glance over his shoulder showed the phantoms still in pursuit, undeterred by the boundary of the church property line. His last hope as he threw himself over the threshold was that they could not come into the church itself.
The creatures flew right up to the doorway but could not get through, to his relief. Once the door had swung closed, he took a few steps back into the vestibule and leaned against the wall, his chest heaving, his knee throbbing.
He reached down to rub it a bit and attempted to catch his breath while the phantoms thumped uselessly against the door, but they did not breach the building.
For now, it seemed he was safe.
Recalling his earlier plan to slip out through a side door and get away, he walked quietly into the church and glanced around to find another exit.
The nave was lit by votive candles clustered around the feet of statues here and there. The agonized form of the Man nailed to the cross at the fr
ont of the church sent a shiver down his spine. It looked so real.
He hurried across the nave to the side entrance and cautiously opened the door a crack. Sure enough, a phantom waited for him there, floating off the ground and screeching when it saw him. Jake slammed the door shut again.
Heart pounding, he crossed to the opposite side of the church and tried the door there, as well: same result.
Three doors, each one guarded by a phantom.
How am I going to get out of here? Should he simply wait till dawn and hope the creatures would withdraw at sunrise? He did not fancy sitting here all night. Besides, what if daylight didn’t actually make them go away?
I’ve got to find another exit. Feeling steadier after his brief respite, he walked around the dimly lit church trying to see if there were any other options for how he might proceed. He peeked into the sacristy behind the altar, but it was just a plain room with some shelves and the priest’s robes hanging on a hook.
He walked on, bowing his head when he passed in front of the altar, the way he had seen Dani do in Notre Dame Cathedral. And then, on the far side of the church, in the front corner, Jake spotted his solution. An unassuming wooden door there was hung with a sign that said: Crypt and Exit to Churchyard.
Perfect! thought Jake. Better still, there was a display of holy water on a table beside the door to the underground crypt. The sign said that for a small donation, visitors could take one of the small vials.
At once, Jake reached into his pocket and pulled out a coin. He dropped it in the Poor Box, then helped himself to a few of the little bottles of the stuff. Maybe it would keep the phantoms at bay.
Nothing else so far had worked.
Then he went through the little door and started down the cramped wooden steps.
At the bottom, he stepped down into a vaulted passageway. It didn’t seem very long—maybe thirty feet—merely a sort of tunnel to the churchyard.
