The dozens of gargantuan ancient maples and oaks circling the sprawling mansion kept it in perpetual twilight. The black brick drive snaked from the guardhouse and up the modest hill, where it ended in a turn-around beneath the substantial white portico with its numerous polygonal columns.
As she climbed the thirteen steps to the front porch, Gabriella’s handyman/gardener, Hefe, tipped his hat. She smiled, waved, and rushed inside. God, she missed the place more than she admitted when she traveled with Nick. This time, she was absent far too long for her liking.
Gabriella stood still in the vestibule and soaked in the décor’s extraordinary Gothic ambience. The vast labyrinth of broad, tapestried hallways. The low arches fashioned in the shape of demon heads. The mauve walls and marble columns topped by more gargoyle statues. The enchanted ceremonial circles engraved in the smoky gray stone floors. The heavy oak doors and their massive brass handles.
Nothing much had changed throughout the centuries. The interior was nearly identical to the way her father, Wizard Xavier Yorick Wolfe, had designed and built it, and that proceeded Columbus’ journey into the New World. When she was a child, they harmoniously co-existed with the local Indian tribes. Her mother, Xanthe, died two hundred years ago of old age, while her powerful wizard father survived another hundred and twenty-one years before passing. He, like the other refugees from her home dimension, Kundze, became imprisoned in Earth’s dimension many centuries ago after a meteor storm ripped a hole in the fabric separating the two worlds. She and her high-spirited sister, Ariel, inherited their father’s supernatural prowess.
A well-known hunchbacked figure hobbled into the center hallway and smiled widely. Gabriella gave her longtime housemaid/cook an affectionate bear hug.
“It’s so good to see you, Honora,” Gabriella said.
“And you,” the woman replied. “How about I bring you a nice iced tea, Ma’am?”
“An iced tea sounds wonderful. I’ll be in the library.” As Honora shambled back to the kitchen, Gabriella’s suitcase appeared at her side. She picked it up, teleported it to her third floor bedroom, and deposited it on the bed. The unpacking would come later. She envisioned the mansion’s library, and her magical house whisked her there in a split second. She loved the old place. It had character. And it conjured anything she and Nick could imagine … except money and jewels. Her father’s long ago spell on the house deleted those riches from the house’s paranormal powers to eliminate greed and temptation from his family.
Gabriella blithely leaned back in her chair as she scanned the vast library collection—the tomb of tomes, as Nick often referred to it. She chuckled at the humorous memories of some of their houseguests becoming claustrophobic in the midst of so many stuffed bookshelves, but she loved to immerse herself in its cozy and serene atmosphere.
Gabriella slid a false bookshelf panel aside, opened the safe, and withdrew her monthly bills. Like any conscientious consumer, she paid her utility bills in a timely fashion, although she didn’t require their services. Duneden was a magic town where modern technology wasn’t welcome. Her manor generated its own electric power, and she didn’t own a landline phone, television, or computer, but like the other Duneden residents learned a long time ago, refusing these services raised too many local and state eyebrows. Safety inspectors paraded into town. Reports were filed. Citizens’ privacy was invaded. So they all decided to maintain their semi-isolation from the outside bureaucracy and subscribe to those utilities.
Honora reappeared in the library and placed the sweating glass on a coaster next to Gabriella’s usual place at the central table.
“Thanks,” Gabriella said, and then added, “you haven’t seen Kabool or Alick, have you?”
Honora backed away and nodded. “Yes, Ma’am. They’re out playing by the dock along the lake. I can fetch them for you, if you wish.”
Gabriella chuckled. “No, no, don’t bother them, but as soon as they return, please bring them in here.”
“Yes, Ma’am.” Honora bowed like an old world servant and slowly pulled the door shut behind her so as not to disturb Gabriella.
Kabool was a beautiful large white cat that doubled as Gabriella’s witch’s familiar. Whenever she was in danger, the cat morphed into a vicious warrior gargoyle. Alick was Nick’s familiar, given to him as a gift by the world’s most powerful living wizard. Although his familiar appeared to be a playful Jack Russell Terrier, when Nick was in trouble, it transformed into a sinewy, gargantuan demon known as a Zyloux. Only Nick possessed the power to kill it; otherwise, it was invincible to everyone and everything else.
Gabriella spread her bills out on the rectangular oak table, but before she wrote the checks, she froze. She looked around the library and frowned when she didn’t find anything amiss. Her sixth sense suggested that something was wrong in there. But what? The feeling was too ambiguous for her to pinpoint. She frowned when she thought about the familiars’ unusual behavior; they normally preferred to stay indoors. Was she merely being paranoid? She scanned the short pile of bills while she absently tapped her pen on the dark oak tabletop. Hopefully, Nick could identify the irksome anomaly when he showed up later.
Gabriella sipped her iced tea and listened to the ice cubes clinking against the glass. She took another drink and plucked the top bill off the stack. The electric company. She opened the bulky leather check ledger and started filling in the first check when the table and its contents grew fuzzy and distorted. She rubbed her eyes, but that darkened the haziness. The bookshelves spun around, and her eyes rolled up white in their sockets. Gabriella’s head and shoulders slumped forward onto the ledger and didn’t move.
The library door quickly opened, and Honora morphed into a wizened old man wearing black slacks, a black shirt, and a gray knit smoking sweater with leather elbow patches. He was very satisfied at the results of his drugged tea. Hefe appeared in the doorway behind him and rapidly transformed into a scarlet-skinned demon with brief curved horns protruding above his forehead.
“What now?” the demon asked the old man.
“We’re gonna take Miss Wolfe for a little trip across the ocean. She’s our trump card to persuade Nick Bellamy to keep his nose out of our boss’ Final Scream business.” The man meticulously picked a piece of lint from the front his sweater. “Take her out the back door to the van, but be careful you’re not seen, or those damned gargoyles on the fence posts will attack you. You’re strong, but not strong enough to defeat them all.”
The demon huffed hostilely, stomped into the library, and transported Gabriella’s slack form out the back door. After it strapped her to the cot securely bolted to the floor in the rear, the old man leaned out the open passenger window and cast a spell over the unmarked van.
Within minutes, the invisible vehicle flew along the driveway, past the open security gate, and into the street, conveying its precious cargo toward a private airfield outside Cincinnati.
22
The roaring curl swept Noah and Reese toward the invisible barrier at a terrifying speed, but Noah didn’t notice. His eyelids stayed tightly closed. Dying was bad enough, but he didn’t have to watch the end!
The northern edge of the tremendous swell crashed all along the barrier to their left, and the conjured wall brutally rebuffed it. Their part of the breaker was seconds away from pulverizing their bodies to bloody molecules. He listened for one final hiss of the breaking swell, and then …
Nothing.
The wave’s wild momentum boosted Noah and Reese through the barrier and rudely deposited them on the sandy beach. The wave pushed them twenty feet from the surf, scraping away layers of skin on their arms, legs, and belly. But they were alive. Not exactly kicking, but still alive. The scoured patches of skin stung like crazy, but he wasn’t complaining. It was a miracle they survived the invisible barrier! He restrained his probing mind from analyzing the how and why of their survival. For the moment, he was content to know the wall parted and let them pass through.
H
e crawled over to Reese’s inert body and collapsed beside her, physically and emotionally spent. He had contemplated their deaths so much during that last stretch run on the wave that his muscles were twisted knots. He needed time to unwind. Relax.
He examined the invisible barrier and saw the section where they passed through was now closed again. The white caps pounded it with monotonous frequency. Again, he battled senseless questions like how and why did their section of the wall vanish to let them through, and did the sorcerer who conjured the barrier take pity on them? There were no answers. And besides, knowing them wouldn’t help them reach the boat at the cove.
Noah had just stretched out to dry when the sniper went back to work. A bullet kicked up sand near his shoulder. He jerked up and scanned the top of the cliff. Either the sniper was a bad shot, or he was trying to drive them south. Another enigma without an explanation. This time, the sun betrayed the sniper’s position by reflecting off his scope.
Noah stood, waved his arms, and shouted a slew of vulgarities at the sniper, and although he doubted whether the tirade would reach the shooter’s ears, it made Noah feel better about dying.
Noah anticipated a bullet to the head, but instead of a bullet, a shadowy form tumbled over the edge and freefell to the beach. The figure screamed and squirmed the entire fall until it thumped against the sand with a modest plash. Silence. Dead. Fifty feet away. The man still clutched a long rifle.
Was it the sniper? From where Noah stood, the corpse sure as hell looked like one.
His curiosity got the best of him, so he persuaded his weary legs to investigate. The man was dressed in jungle camouflage clothing and had sustained a broken neck and spine from the plunge. Despite the gruesome sight, Noah rolled the sniper over. The deeply tanned man, who appeared to be in his mid-thirties, was a stranger to him, but his black T-shirt certainly wasn’t.
The multicolored Oracle Network logo was emblazoned on the front with the slogan, The Future of Television Entertainment Now, silkscreened below it!
Rage surged through Noah like a raging prairie fire. Did this mean Oracle Network was responsible for the island slaughter? Noah punched the loose sand several times beside the man’s head. The ruthless bastards! Who else but Oracle would have sacrificed all those lives? He couldn’t think of one other coldblooded company. The billion dollar question was why Oracle scuttled their own television show, especially their mega hit Final Scream? Their deceit didn’t make any sense to Noah.
Reese moaned and started thrashing feverishly in her sleep. Noah picked up the man’s rifle and patted the battered corpse down for any identification documents and more ammunition. He found neither. Noah’s knees wobbled like rubber joints as he stumbled back to Reese. After surviving yet another life-threatening adventure, his body protested the extra exertion and demanded food and water. Noah ignored the cravings. Unless there was a carry-out store up ahead, he was out of luck. The only supplies he was aware of were in the Oracle boat docked in the cove.
He placed his forearm across her forehead—she was burning up with fever. Her eyelids fluttered open at his cool touch.
“You’d better go on without me,” she slurred like a Saturday night drunk.
“Not a chance,” he argued, but his words were hollow. He knew she would never survive the journey.
She feebly squeezed his arm. “Please. I’ll just slow you down. Get the medicine from the boat and bring it back here. I’ll be okay until you return.”
Like Hell, he thought. “Okay, you win. But first I’m finding you a sheltered spot to wait.”
She nodded.
Noah helped her walk to another slender cave at the base of the cliff. He gathered a bundle of leafy brush for a bed and made her comfortable. Then he gathered more brush and used it to camouflage the cave opening.
He squeezed her hand before securing the last branch. “I’ll be back before nightfall. Get some rest, okay?”
She acknowledged his promise with a drowsy headshake before nodding off to sleep. Before departing, Noah buried the corpse with a thin layer of sand to keep the flies from congregating near the cave entrance. Satisfied with his handiwork, Noah kicked off his daunting hike around Terror Island’s southern tip to the eastern cove. Who knew what monsters waited for him along the way? He tried not to think about it.
Noah stopped periodically to scan the mountainside for any onlookers. The goosebumps coating both arms suggested someone was watching him, but as in the past, he saw no one.
He had plenty of time to think as he rounded the south end of the island. To contemplate the sniper’s fall. Was it an accident? Did he slip? That seemed right. Suddenly a darker, more frightening possibility seeped into his mind. Was the man pushed off the mountain? That bleak possibility enlarged his goosebumps. Why would someone do that? To save their lives? An even gloomier option cropped up. Did that mysterious someone plan to kill Reese and him instead?
There were too many likelihoods swirling around inside his mind—longshots like believing the sorcerer who conjured the invisible barrier shoved the sniper off the cliff for some obscure reason. But he found himself back to square one. Not one of his speculations made sense.
Noah was unsure what fate awaited him before he reached the cove, but he was afraid. Fear of the unknown.
There was a whole lot about the perilous island he didn’t know. Couldn’t even imagine.
But in the end, he concluded Terror Island was the exception to the rule.
Knowledge was meaningless.
Ignorance was bliss.
23
Nick: Something’s rotten in Denmark, to quote Mr. Shakespeare. The reality show mystery goes deeper than the Oracle network. Beyond the NSA. Spread some of the blame to a few unidentified traitors in the Pentagon. I heard from reliable sources these traitors have a top secret venture in the works that is supposedly more hideous than your dad’s Mortal Eclipse operation. Those military assholes have already murdered many others to maintain its confidentiality. So what I’m saying is don’t quit your investigation, no matter what. Instead, you, Neo, and Crow watch your backs and be very secretive about your plans. The walls have ears, if you catch my drift. The only particular concerning the Pentagon’s project I could squeeze out of my Nervous Nelly sources was the acronym E.V.A.N. It’s Greek to me, but I hope it helps. Don’t count on any support from me this time. I’m being watched 24/7. Good luck.
Nick refolded the note, stuffed it back into his pocket, and kneaded his throbbing temples. It was clear Rance had been warned off the investigation, and his involvement in their investigation would only jeopardize their investigation. What kind of project had the Pentagon dreamed up now that was more hideous and immoral than Mortal Eclipse? And who or what was E.V.A.N.?
Nick shelved the maddening questions, stripped, and stepped into the steaming shower spray. The in-house landline phone jangled annoyingly and interrupted his soothing shower. He twisted the valve handle to off and grabbed the bathroom’s wall phone.
“Yeah?” he barked sullenly. “I’m trying to take a shower here.”
It was Crow. “Sorry, Nick, but this is an emergency.”
Nick exhaled heavily. “All right, what the hell’s going on?”
“Geronimo just informed me there’s trouble at Gabriella’s estate,” Crow said breathlessly. “You’d better vamoose over there fast.”
All thoughts of his tranquil shower dissipated. “What does Geronimo mean by ‘trouble’?”
“An unidentified white van with no license plates was parked by the back door. The mansion security video shows a large demon with horns carry Gabriella out the kitchen door, put her inside the van, and drive off. But here’s the kicker. Before the van pulls away, an old man leans out of the open passenger side window, waves his arms, and the van’s suddenly invisible!”
“Shit!” Nick’s mind was spinning. “Where were our familiars?”
“Out by the lake.”
“That’s really odd. They both usually pref
er staying in the house on a hot and humid summer day like this.”
“Hey, I’m only the reporter here, not your resident psychic,” Crow snapped.
He ignored Crow’s sarcasm. “I’ll teleport over there as soon as I dry off.”
Nick had to hurry if he stood any chance of locating the van and Gabriella’s kidnappers. He finished dressing in record time and teleported to the mansion’s foyer. He ran through the house shouting her name, in case she had fooled the kidnappers by surrendering a doppelganger.
But she didn’t respond.
He paused at the library entrance. The door was open, and Gabriella’s bills were scattered on the table next to a sweating glass of iced tea. He rushed in, sniffed the drink, and slammed it down, splashing a quarter of the liquid on the notices. She had been drugged. That’s how her kidnappers overcame her magical advantage. But how did they slip her the tea without arousing her suspicion? The person serving her had to be someone she completely trusted.
He utilized his virtual search supernatural power to cast his senses out to every corner of the place. When they returned to his body, one of them revealed Gabriella’s household employees were trussed and gagged inside one of the barred dungeons in the ancient basement. But there was no sign of the familiars. Nick instantly teleported there and freed the bug-eyed captives.
Honora and Hefe quickly recounted their story. They were caught with their pants down, so to speak. An old elderly man and a demon showed up at the back door, and the two household employees found themselves trussed and bound in the basement. They knew they were victims of magic, because the entire incident occurred in the blink of an eye.
Final Scream Page 11
