Nick realized he wasn’t dealing with an ordinary, run-of-the-mill sorcerer, but one who was clever and powerful enough to kidnap Gabriella! That had never been attempted before in the history of the mansion.
There was a loud scratching at the kitchen door, and he ran upstairs and admitted Kabool and Alick. After he rapidly explained the situation to the two familiars, Alick transformed into his larger, fiercer alternate identity—the Zyloux! The relentless demon protector.
Nick moved back to give it space to expand. When it completed its transformation, Nick appraised its menacing eight-foot form.
The familiar’s leathery gray skull sloped down from a sharp crown with two brief spikes above enormous soulless eyes, blood-red pupils floating in seas of glowing green. The mouth and jaw formed a long muzzle with a single row of jagged fangs dripping thick saliva. Its ears were finely sculpted to points, and its nostrils were merely flared perforations atop the muzzle. But its sense of smell was unequaled. The flesh was smooth and pale gray and was tightly stretched over its ropy frame. Its bulging muscular arms terminated with webbed palms joined to three keen rubicund claws, curved slightly at the tips.
Nick watched intently as it sniffed the air for the kidnapper’s scents. He recalled barely escaping the Zyloux down in Florida during his investigation entitled The Ancient Breed. Now it was good to have the demon hunter as an ally.
Although the Zyloux was unable to speak, it communicated by gesturing and implanting images into Nick’s mind. The demon picked up the trail of the demon kidnapper, a medium strength monster summoned from a black arts dimension. Although it was much weaker than Nick’s demon ally, the horned demon posed a challenge because of its guerilla fighting prowess. It could pop in and out of existence to strike quickly before fading away again. The Zyloux warned Nick to be cautious.
“Can you follow its scent to Gabriella?” Nick asked.
The Zyloux grunted affirmatively and lifted Nick off the ground. The demon hugged him close with its brawny arms, while Kazool leaped on Nick’s back and gained firm claw holds in his shirt.
Before Honora and Hefe began their climb up the basement stairs to the kitchen, the unconventional trio vanished into thin air.
24
The demon’s ruby clawed hands tightly grasped the steering wheel as it guided the van west on State Route 52 to the little known airfield forty miles beyond Cincinnati, Ohio. The sorcerer removed his invisible spell from the van once they passed Duneden’s town limits. At that point, the demon pulled a ratty Cleveland Indians ball cap bill low over its face in an effort to hide its terrifying features from other car passengers. The only problem—the horns stuck through the top fabric. But if the cops noticed and pulled them over, the situation would get sticky fast. Blood sticky.
The wizened sorcerer calmly stroked his trimmed white beard. Everything about this mission went precisely according to plan. And why not? He was the best sorcerer on the planet, despite what the Wolfe family’s professed superiority. He laughed. Who was riding free and unfettered, and who was strapped to a cot in the back, drugged to the hilt? I guess he proved he was the better sorcerer. He, Addison Grimoult, bested the most powerful Wolfe … and did it with relative ease.
Addison folded his arms and transformed himself into a handsome black-haired thirty-something man. Even though he was actually centuries old, he despised the physical characteristics associated with advanced age: the wrinkles, sags, and paunch. He preferred his younger conjured appearance, because his older one was a definite impediment when he prowled the bars for an attractive free female ride for the night.
By the time dawn broke, his rides were dead. He couldn’t afford to leave any witnesses to his sadistic rapes behind.
They were a scant ten miles east of Cincinnati when Addison went into the rear of the van to check on Gabriella. It wouldn’t be long till they crossed Interstate 75 and reached the private airstrip where Ulrich Strasser’s private jet waited to fly them to Hawaii. The sorcerer tugged on Gabriella’s wrist and ankle restraints to make certain they were secure before lifting one of her eyelids. Her pupil dilation signified she was still unconscious. Pleased, he headed toward his seat when the van began vibrating like a Mexican Jumping Bean.
He held on tightly to the exposed van frame. “What’s going on?” he shouted to his conjured servant.
“I don’t know. It ain’t the road causing it,” the demon growled.
Addison snapped his fingers. Of course! Someone or something was attempting to penetrate his protective spell and enter the vehicle.
But who?
His bloated ego reassured him there wasn’t another sorcerer on Earth who could abolish one of his spells. And if this was a rescue attempt, then it had to be Bellamy knocking at his door. Nick Bellamy. Addison chuckled. Bellamy might know a few parlor tricks, but his magic couldn’t measure up to Addison’s powerful spells.
The rattling grew more violent, and the rivets securing the side panels to the frame slackened, but even that detail failed to shake Addison’s self-confidence. He hastily returned to his seat and ignored the demon’s vexed expression. Everything would turn out fine in the end. If the intruder was Bellamy, he would ultimately understand the spell could not be broken and call it quits.
The demon swerved onto the congested southbound Interstate 75 on ramp, and neither it nor Addison noticed the jagged portal appear above Gabriella’s cot. A lengthy scaled skull popped through the breach in the magic spell and searched the area for resistance. There was none. The Zyloux stretched the portal until it accommodated its eight-foot body. Nick handed Kazool to his large ally before stepping into the rear of the van.
He rapidly administered a Wolfe magic cure-all antidote to Gabriella while the Zyloux rushed forward and buried its considerable fangs into the demon driver’s neck. Skin split and bones crunched beneath the tremendous pressure, followed by a total decapitation. Its horned head flew out the window as Addison snarled at the strange beast. How did that damned freak break through his defensive spell?
With the demon driver’s heavy foot still depressing the accelerator, the van veered right and left into the guard rails like an out-of-control toboggan as it approached the pokey traffic jam on Interstate 75.
Nick wasn’t about to challenge the angry sorcerer to a pissing contest when the van was seconds away from careening into several cars. He ignored Addison’s ranting as he ripped away Gabriella’s bonds and hoisted his fiancée and Kazool through the portal. The Zyloux’s shoved Nick through after them and followed closely behind.
The portal closed just as the white van T-boned an SUV and flipped over it into the path of an oncoming semi-tractor trailer. The truck driver slammed on the brakes, but he didn’t have time to avoid the hitting van. Addison managed to escape with the demon’s headless body seconds before the collision caused the van to explode into a heaven-bound fireball.
When the firemen and state highway patrolmen showed up at the accident scene, they were mystified that there weren’t any bodies inside the van’s burned out shell. Perplexed, they questioned every witness they could find, but none of them professed seeing the van’s driver. The section of the highway patrolman’s accident report describing the accident logistics and listing any victims was left blank.
Addison and his dead demon teleported to the stairs ascending to Ulrich Strasser’s private jet. The warm breeze partially mollified the sorcerer’s anger over being bested by a primitive beast and Bellamy. Was he losing his touch? Was the spell too weak? Addison concluded he should have uttered a stouter incantation.
He cast the dead demon back to its vile home dimension before boarding the plane and ordering a Grey Goose Vodka martini. The busty stewardess with enough exposed cleavage to cradle a fifth of the vodka hustled to the back of the plane to mix his drink. The pilot appeared in the cockpit doorway and announced they would be taking off immediately.
While the stewardess mixed Addison’s martini, another woman with a scarf tied across her
nose and mouth magically appeared, nodded at the stewardess who didn’t appear surprised by the intrusion, opened a vial, and tapped two drops of a purple liquid into the drink. The fluid instantly dissolved. Satisfied, the mysterious woman vanished. The stewardess placed the poisoned martini on a small serving tray and served it to Addison.
Addison smacked his lips as he sipped the martini. Perfect. The sorcerer settled back in his seat and watched the ground shrink beneath the plane as it ascended into a low ceiling of gray clouds. He continued to sip his martini and marveled at its exquisite taste.
Moments later, the stewardess held out a single sheet menu, but when he didn’t immediately take it, she checked to make sure he was awake. She screamed long and loud. She had no idea what those purple drops did … until now.
Panicked, Addison glimpsed his reflection in the window beside him. He reacted by flying into a rage and heaving his poisoned martini against the pilot’s locked door.
He growled menacingly at the horrified stewardess. It was obvious she spiked his drink with a black magic ingredient that reduced him, the great Addison Grimoult, to a faun— half-man, half-goat. His reflection exposed his goat ears, legs, horns and tail! Before making the conniving bitch pay for her treachery, Addison attempted to reverse the cursed spell, but he failed miserably. None of them broke the spell.
The infuriated goat man cast his most diabolical spell on the stewardess. But to his great surprise, she remained unaffected. No oozing leprotic sores. No inflamed nerves generating hair-pulling agony.
His goat’s head slumped forward at his latest setback. It appeared as if his magic had been neutralized as well.
Angry scarlet welts broke out on his skin and burst into pussy volcanos. His entire network of nerves suddenly emitted excruciating pain. His calloused hands contacted his red-hot forehead, and pointed horns sprouted beneath his touch. Addison angrily ripped one of the horns out of his forehead, rupturing his skull plate in the process. Brain matter oozed down his tormented features.
The pilot abandoned the cockpit, assessed his passenger’s status, and dragged the faun kicking and baaing to the emergency exit. The grim-faced pilot fastened a pair of cargo straps around his shoulders, pulled the emergency door’s locking lever, and shoved Addison’s grotesque body into the whistling clouds.
The cursed sorcerer tumbled downward at an escalating pace until he abruptly struck the ground goat head first. Addison was reduced to an unrecognizable puddle of blood and gore in the middle of a remote Indiana corn field.
He and his inflated ego were both history.
25
Strange three-clawed crabs flitted left and right, avoiding Noah’s footfalls as he navigated the island’s blunt southern tip. The wary, lobster-sized crustaceans quickly burrowed into the soft sand and vanished upon his approach. The sheer cliff to his left gradually sloped downward until it was a mere low-slung hill. It greeted the plush green jungle bordering the beach. Palm trees. Various shaped, multi-colored flowers. But what creeped Noah out was the ominous rustling.
Noah tottered forward, trying hard not to fall flat on his face. His sight was sweat blurry. His exposed flesh ruby red. But he couldn’t quit now. Giving up signified certain death for them both, and he didn’t feel like dying today.
The modest hill progressively swelled into the elevated eastern mountainous terrain as he headed north toward the cove. He would have missed the mounting craggy landscape if it hadn’t been for the roar of a jungle cataract catching his attention. Despite the rustling of unseen animals, Noah turned and entered the dense foliage. A high waterfall spilled from the mountaintop to a sparkling sapphire pool of refreshing water. The spot was surrounded by swaying palm trees and a patch of sand, and would have made the idyllic picture postcard. He collapsed to his knees in disbelief as the thundering fresh water mesmerized him. Fresh water! He couldn’t believe his luck.
Noah’s raw, blistered skin squawked as he waded into the icy water, but his intolerable thirst celebrated his find with a hoarse hip … hip … hooray! He floated face down in the invigorating pool before slowly rolling over and hydrating his sore back. His entire essence was revitalized … except for his testy sunburn that would tighten as it dried, like cured leather. But sore skin was a fair price to pay for his lifesaving discovery.
After an extended soaking, he climbed out of the pool and back into the island’s stifling humidity. His skin dried and tightened as he predicted, but he disregarded the pain as he leisurely dangled his feet over the pool’s edge. He cupped his hands, dipped them into the pool, and then swallowed the precious water. His belly sloshed like a bloated water balloon, but his mouth felt two thousand percent better than it did earlier.
After a quick catnap, Noah’s legs recharged enough that he could resume his trek to the cove. He figured his destination was less than a mile away.
Noah was frustrated he couldn’t take some water along with him, but he didn’t have a canteen or other receptacle. He didn’t let that minor disappointment dampen his mood. If he remembered correctly, Oracle’s boat was stuffed to the gills with bottled water, which could easily be carried back to Reese.
He kept a close eye on the surf line for emerging mermen and mermaids, but so far they left him alone. His hand gently patted his knife handle. Until he found rifles on the boat, the hunting knife was his only defense.
The sun climbed higher overhead, transforming the island atmosphere to an oven. He was besieged with dizziness once again when the cove became visible, but he shook it off and followed the sand and pebble shoal separating the cove from the Pacific. The eastern sea breeze picked up steam in the noon heat and tousled his hair, but he didn’t feel it. Noah picked up the pace and vaulted the rocky barrier sheltering the cove entrance from the ocean breakers. Oracle’s forty-foot rental nodded on the low wind-driven undulations and nudged the white dock bumpers.
From his current location, he couldn’t see whether the boat was occupied or not, but he didn’t care one way or the other. He was there to nab some antibiotics, food, and water and high-tail it back to Reese before she succumbed to her infection. He power walked between the barrier and water until he reached the dock, but he stopped there.
“Dammit!” he swore, wincing from disappointment and disgust. He sat and hugged his knees to his chest to keep from vomiting. It took quite a while for his stomach to settle down, and once it did, he could look at the disgusting sight without gagging.
The dock and the boat’s walls and deck were painted in blood.
The white exterior. The teak trim. The newly assembled dock planks.
There were no bodies in sight, so whatever caused this carnage was still alive. And possibly lurking in the neighborhood … like the jungle or shallows around the dock. That notion prompted him to jump up and walk carefully out on the dock. Was there someone or something below decks waiting to ambush him? He mulled over the possibility until he decided there was only one way to find out.
Board the boat.
Step by step, he tiptoed over the pressure treated planks, avoiding the scarlet stains the best he could. After several nerve-rattling steps, the dock creaked and nearly gave him a heart attack, besides betraying his presence. He gripped his knife handle and waited anxiously for a response.
There was none.
Noah’s thumping heart finally quieted, and he hurried across the gangplank to the deck before he lost his nerve. He stared down the shadowy staircase leading to the lower deck—where the medical supply room was located.
Was he walking into a trap down there?
Probably. Terror Island didn’t earn its name for nothing.
His foot hovered above the first step before taking the plunge. One step down, and seven more to go.
Reese badly needed the antibiotics, and he couldn’t let her down.
Noah swallowed his cowardice and raced down the remaining steps into the foreboding gloom below.
26
Gabriella tossed and turned in her bed, wh
impering from feverish nightmares. Nick kept a cold compress on her forehead to ease her symptoms, but he felt it wasn’t enough. There had to be something else he could do to bring her out of the poisonous hangover, but he didn’t have an inkling of what that might be. The two familiars parked themselves at the foot of the bed and waited patiently for her recovery. An hour later, she awoke. She was still a bit tipsy, but otherwise the painful aftermath was history.
“What happened to me, Nick?” She tried to sit up against the headboard, but a sudden bout of dizziness forced her back down.
“Whoa, take it easy, Honey,” he said, positioning the blanket beneath her chin. “You’ve been through a lot today.”
“It looks like I don’t have a choice.”
Nick smiled sympathetically. “You were drugged by a second-rate sorcerer named Addison Grimoult.”
“Drugged? How?”
“He put it in the iced tea you drank in the library.”
“What a dirty trick,” she fumed. “I’ve heard of that sorcerer, and what I’ve heard wasn’t good. He’s a two-bit thief, too.”
“I checked, and he didn’t steal anything here,” Nick said.
“Then he was working for someone who wanted me kidnapped.”
“That’s the way I figure it, too.” He briefly described Honora and Hefe’s basement imprisonment, the sorcerer and demon assuming their identities, her kidnapping and rescue. The last thing he wanted was his narration to put her to sleep again.
Honora appeared with a bowl of chicken and rice soup. Nick helped Gabriella into a sitting position with her back against the headboard and handed her the bowl. Thankfully, the soup wasn’t steaming hot, so she could eat it right away. She thanked Honora, and the old Spanish woman smiled, curtsied, and backed out of the bedroom.
Final Scream Page 12
