by John Tigges
======= THE BOOK =======
It all began with the book—a curious volume of ancient spells and strange incantations.
======= NICOLE =======
She had no money, no love, no prospects. She felt she had reached her darkest hour, so what harm could the dusty book do?
======== THE GIFTS =======
Suddenly, her lover returned, more passionate than ever; her finances improved dramatically; and she was offered a new and challenging job. Her world was bright…until she learned the terrible penalty for dabbling in the dark arts. Unless she could free herself from the hideous demon she had summoned, she would writhe for all eternity clutched in the…
PACT WITH THE DEVIL
“To achieve the best magic possible, the practitioner should perform this and all rites in the nude.”
Nicole stepped out of the circle, careful not to smudge the powder lines. Quickly undressing, she re-entered the circle, holding the book. She strained her eyes to read the small print in the flickering candle light.
“O Emperor Lucifer,” she began in a soft whisper, “Chief of all the spirits which rebelled, I beg Thee to favor me in this conjuration, which I am about to perform to Thee and Thy Ministers …”
She waited. It was now that the book indicated that the summoned one should appear. She continued waiting. Where was he? Had she done something incorrectly in performing the rite?
Glancing at the book, she saw that one more sentence remained.
“I promise Thee, O great and mighty Lucifer, to reward Thee in whatever way Thou see fit, if my request for the love of Myles Lawrence is granted and given unto me this night.”
The clock on the shelf above the TV set struck three times …
Also by John Tigges:
UNTO THE ALTAR
KISS NOT THE CHILD
EVIL DREAMS
THE IMMORTAL GARDEN OF THE INCUBUS
For Reiko and Carey
The two neatest “outlaw” in-laws in the world.
A LEISURE BOOK Published by
Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc. 6 East 39th Street New York, NY 10016
Copyright© 1987 by John Tigges
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law.
Printed in the United States of America
PART ONE
“I Conjure Thee …”
Thursday, September 4, 1986 to
Friday, September 19, 1986
“The sleep of reason produces monsters.”
Goya
1
Thursday, September 4, 1986 12:58 A.M.
Nicole Kilton reached out, turning on the lamp next to her bed. Although the light had been out for only a few minutes, she nevertheless blinked, quickly readjusting her eyes to the brightness. Myles Lawrence remained sitting on the edge of the bed, his shirt off. Nothing else had changed since she had undressed, gotten into bed and turned out the lights.
“Myles?” she asked quietly. Something was wrong. She had sensed it ever since he had arrived around midnight. She felt his preoccupation while they watched part of the late movie on television. Now that she thought about it, he also had seemed tense during the late newscast, on which he served as anchorman. His normal, relaxed air had been missing during his portion of the program but she had not thought anything of it at the time.
But now his peculiar way of acting seemed to bring everything into focus. She and Myles had dated long enough to enable her to read his emotions, his feelings, his reactions—without him uttering a word.
There had been times when she wondered if it were because she was so astute at that sort of thing or if Myles were that transparent. She doubted the latter and questioned the former. If she was ever to get her Masters degree in psychology and be of any worth as a psychiatrist’s assistant, she would need the ability to evaluate people’s states of mind and help them to a clearer understanding of their problems. But that wouldn’t happen for a while—not until she had enough money saved to return to graduate school. The money from her parents’ estate had supported her and paid for her college education. With that money gone, she was on her own and was scared to take out a sizable loan for further tuition. Her advanced education would have to wait a while longer, at least until she saved the necessary funds.
Where Myles and she were concerned, she only hoped she wasn’t practicing on him, trying to understand his motivations without allowing him to explain. That would hardly be fair to either of them.
Myles acknowledged her with a grunt but said nothing.
“That’s hardly the response I would expect from a TV news anchorman,” she said lightly, inching her way toward him. When her bare breasts touched his arm, he stood, moving away from the bed as if repelled by her nearness. He walked to the window and peeped through the Venetian blinds at the dark outside.
Something indeed was bothering him. Nicole quickly replayed the evening. They had kissed when he arrived shortly before midnight, then had eaten a sandwich that Nicole usually had prepared for his arrival after the eleven o’clock news. They had begun watching the late movie on KSLL-TV, Myles’ station, but he had fidgeted and she had picked up on his sense of uneasiness. She should have realized then that something was wrong.
“You’d feel better if you talked about it, Myles.” She worked her way to the edge of the bed, reaching for her robe. After she had slipped into it, she turned to the mirrored wall behind her bed, fluffing her hair. She had been ready for sex when they prepared to retire. Once she had gone to bed, she had expected him to join her within seconds. Now the mood had evaporated, destroyed by his refusal to talk.
He turned to face her, a look of relief crossing his face when he saw her tying the sash of her nylon robe. “I don’t know where to begin,” he said softly. When she took a step toward him, he retreated to the window until his back rattled the blind.
Nicole felt as if she had the plague or some horrible disfigurement that suddenly drove him from her. “Talk to me, Myles. Please?”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered.
“Hurt me?” She almost swallowed the words. How could he hurt her? “I don’t understand.”
“I … I want to break up. I …” He stopped, unable to continue—or perhaps playing the moment for all it was worth to see how she would react.
“Break … break up? Why? I thought we had something good going. Something that …”
“That’s just it. I don’t want anything ‘good going’ right now, to use your words. I’m only twenty-seven. I want to get out and live—a lot. I didn’t really mean for the two of us to get so deeply involved. But …” His voice faded.
“But we did,” she completed softly. She studied him for a long moment. Myles was handsome in a broad sense of the word. He could easily have been a male model or done major commercials for national television or, had he so desired, become an actor, who in time would have had teenage girls wild about him. His square jaw, at first glance, seemed almost too wide for the rest of his face but it instantly conformed, complimenting the steady blue eyes and black hair that bordered his face. His long, thin nose was virtually unnoticeable despite the tip, which he maintained was too long. There was absolutely nothing about him that didn’t fit.
No matter how he tried to cover his emotions, his feelings were advertised by his eyes. No matter what he felt, his eyes told the truth, and Nicole could see he truly did feel bad.
“You feel rotten, and yet you’re willing to put yourself and me through something like this?” She turned, walking back to the bed
, catching her reflection in the mirror again. Scowling, she dropped onto the chest that sat at the foot of the bed and faced him. “Is there someone else?”
The words rung hollowly in her ears. Where had that thought come from? Why would she suspect something like that? A question like that went along with insecurity and jealousy. Was she either? Could she be both?
Myles took several steps toward her but stopped. He shook his head. “It … it’s nothing like that. It’s just that I’ve practically moved in here with you. We see each other every day. Every night. It’s as if we were married, and I don’t want to be a husband—not yet, at least. Not for a long while. I wouldn’t be doing you any favors if we did get married.”
Nicole frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“I haven’t done everything that I want to do yet. As a single person.”
Was that it? She quickly regained her composure. Perhaps he was doing her a favor if that were the case. Why run the risk of marriage only to have him get a bad case of marital wanderlust and then—what? Divorce? “I suppose you mean … other women?” She swallowed, waiting for his answer.
He looked up. “That’s part of it, I guess. I want to travel around and see the country. I’ve been working for three years since I got out of school, and I sure hope that the end of the road for me isn’t here in a college town, reporting the news at a small, second-rate UHF station. I’ve got more ambition than that.”
Nicole struggled with a tear tickling the corner of her eye, fighting for a life of its own. She had felt her face flush the instant she had heard the words “break up” but had managed to control her emotions thus far. Wasn’t that part of being a psychologist? She would have to learn that type of control. Control her emotions. Be in control of everything. Be calculating. Make the right decisions—not only for herself but for anyone who came to her for help. Would that much power—power over herself and others—make for happiness? Perhaps it would, in her chosen line of work if she ever attained that goal. But she doubted that it would where her personal life was concerned. She had thought of applying for graduate work last spring but had held off for financial reasons. She knew for the most part that people in the field of psychology and psychiatry were able to keep other people’s problems from bothering them. At least, they weren’t supposed to be affected.
But Damnit! This was her problem. She was the one being handed a platter of crap from the guy she loved. At twenty-four, she had thought well enough of herself and Myles as a couple to believe that their relationship would blossom into full-blown love and eventually culminate in marriage. She snorted a derisive laugh and broke into tears.
Myles looked up, startled. “Are you all right?” He took another step toward her.
“No, damnit! No, I’m not all right,” she cried, standing and grasping for support at the dresser, on top of which her collection of dolls wiggled and danced about, threatening to spill to the floor. But she caught herself and the impromptu dance by the toys stopped as suddenly as it had started. An antique Little Orphan Annie doll’s head bobbed back and forth in diminishing gestures. “Myles, I love you. I thought you loved me. It’s … it’s just … just so damned shocking. So unexpected. I … I never once …” She felt her body trembling and roughly shook her head. Her soft, wavy brown hair flew outward, falling back in place when she stopped.
“I … I think I understand,” he said lamely. “You’re a super person. Sweet. Kind. Intelligent. Lov …”
“Oh, can it, Myles.” She sobbed, fighting desperately to control the tears but nothing worked. “I … I don’t need a letter of recommendation to survive this.”
He dropped his head, moving toward the foot of the bed where his shirt lay draped over the edge, half on the floor. He slipped into it and awkwardly fumbled with the buttons.
Nicole watched him through her tears, his figure slithering in the watery view. When he finished, he stood there, watching her for a full minute in silence.
His nostrils flared before he spoke. “Will you be all right?”
“Of course not. I’ll probably cry the whole night. What do you care?” She wiped her face with both hands. “I love you, Myles Lawrence. I want you … I want you to be with me forever. As my husband. One day, we will be together.”
“You’re making that sound almost like a threat,” he said quietly.
“It’s no threat. It’s a … a statement of fact. You can rest assured that no matter what you do, you’ll always be in my thoughts. I won’t give up.”
“I think you might be saying things you don’t mean.”
“Go on, Myles. Get out of here. But go with the thought you can come back any time you want. I’ll be waiting for you.”
He moved toward her. She didn’t back away when he gently grasped her by the arms. “If we’re meant to be together, we’ll one day be husband and wife. I don’t want you doing anything foolish.”
“Foolish?” She almost screamed the word, wrenching from his hands. “I hope you don’t think that I’d hurt myself in some way over this. That’s the farthest thing from my mind. In fact, the sooner you get out of here, the quicker I … I can get to planning on how to get you back. I … I will get you back, you know?” She clenched her fists, her nails digging into the palms, doing everything possible to maintain some degree of calmness.
“Look here, Nicole, the last thing I need at this point in my life is someone chasing after me, making life miserable by always being wherever I happen to be. I mean …”
“You’re flattering yourself, Myles. I’ll get you back but I won’t embarrass you … or me. I promise you that.” She looked at him, just as his expression of apprehension was replaced by a look of relief. His eyes softened, a relaxing coolness taking over.
“I believe you. I should go. I … I’ll see you around … sometime.”
He turned, leaving the bedroom. She watched him go down the short hallway past the living room to the front door. Opening it, he hesitated for an instant and then left without looking back.
Rooted to the spot. Nicole felt the wave of nausea come like a splash of hot water. She ran to the bathroom, falling to her knees just in time, the stream of vomit choking her in its intense desire to quit her body. Coughing and spitting, she managed to bring herself under control. Wiping her face on a washcloth, she relished in its relief. Then, she returned to the bedroom.
For a split second she felt tempted to dress and run after him, but quickly decided that that was the wrong tack at this time. She would win Myles back, but not that way. She only hoped her absence in his life would prove to be as devastating to him as his would be to her.
She sat down on the bed, slipping the robe from her shoulders. She caught the reflection of her body’s profile in the mirrors that formed the headboard for her bed. Her large breasts proudly jutted out, denying her own sinking sense of defeat. Turning to face her image, she managed a wry smile. Her tear-reddened eyes matched her flushed complexion. She looked a mess but didn’t care. Lying back across the bed, she wiped her face with both hands. There had to be something she could do—but what? How did one go about winning back a reluctant love?
But was Myles actually reluctant? Or was he giving her a routine to simply be rid of her? She doubted that very much. Myles and she had had a good relationship—at least she had thought it had been good. No matter what it had been before, she would make certain that the relationship—a quality relationship-would come about again. She and Myles Lawrence would be together again—soon!
Sitting up, she saw herself in the mirrors again, and an ironic smile crossed her round face. She stood, moving to the dressing table. When she had seated herself, she peered into its mirror, staring deeply into her own eyes.
“So,” she said aloud, addressing the tear-streaked face staring back at her, “how do I go about getting him back? What do I do?”
She sat for a long while, studying herself, and then slowly stood. Picking up her brush, she vigorously ran it through her hair. Satisfi
ed the tangles had been taken out and that her hair could be cared for in a quick manner the next morning, she slipped between the cool sheets.
How much time had elapsed since she had gotten into bed earlier? Glancing at the alarm clock, she winced. It was a little after two. They had turned off the TV set before the movie ended and had gone to the bedroom. Then Myles had dropped his bomb. It seemed like a lifetime had passed since he first broached the subject of breaking up, and here it was still early enough for her to get a good night’s sleep.
She turned off the light after making certain the alarm clock was set and lay on her back, staring into the inky blackness that embraced her and the room. There had to be a way. There simply had to be a way to win back Myles. The last thing in the world she ever thought she would have to do was plot to win back a lost love. But what was she to do? She loved Myles —more than anything or anyone in her entire life.
Nicole turned over on her side and closed her eyes. Sleep did not come easily, and the last time she looked it was almost four in the morning before she managed to drop off.
She opened her eyes. Where was she? It was dark. Black. She couldn’t see anything. How long had she slept? It seemed like hours had passed since … What had happened? Something that had been almost traumatic …
Myles? Where was Myles? She groped next to her. Sitting up, Nicole fumbled for the bedside lamp switch. Plunging the room into light, she blinked. What time was it? How long had she been asleep? She focused on the digital numbers until the blue blurs became hard, fast lines. Four forty-five. It had to be later than that. It just had to be. If time were going to pass that slowly for her, it would take a millenium for her to age a year.
She had dreamt. About Myles. Myles running away from her on a desert plain of some sort. There was nothing else. Nothing as far as she could see—except the diminishing figure of Myles Lawrence as he moved quickly away from her toward the distant horizon.
