by Reid, Terri
She shut her eyes and turned her head to the side, fighting the nausea back.
She heard the doors close and his footsteps against the tile as he neared the table. She forced her eyes open and glared at him.
“How could you do this? They trusted you.”
Sergeant Anderson shrugged. “Well, ma’am, just the same way I’m going to do it to you.”
Paul barreled his Humvee across the lawn of the plantation, pulled in behind Eloise’s SUV and jumped out of the car. Maria moved faster. “This way, she is upstairs, but you have to hurry,” she called, gliding through the French doors and up the stairs.
Paul rushed after here, taking the steps three at a time, ignoring the splintering sounds of the rotted wood. When he reached the hall, he saw Maria already moving into a room in the east wing. When he reached the room he found her gliding back and forth in front of a plain wall. “There is something here that keeps me from moving beyond this point,” she said. “This is not a place where spirits can enter. This is not the work of Delphine, but of a very human fiend.”
Sergeant Anderson lifted the knife and removed the next button from the front of her blouse.
“I like doing this part nice and slow,” he said, smiling down at her. “And the next part too.”
Eloise fought back the panic and tried to remain calm.
“I don’t think the Major is going to be very happy about this,” she said.
Sergeant Anderson paused for a moment and then looked up at Eloise.
“You know, I wondered about that for a while,” he admitted, “I mean, he is my commanding officer. But then when he left you and went to D.C., I figured that he didn’t want you anymore.”
“You figured wrong, Sergeant.”
“Paul,” Eloise cried, watching as Paul moved into the room, gun drawn and pointed directly at Sergeant Anderson’s head.
“You just step away from her Sergeant,” Paul said, moving forward.
Sergeant Anderson giggled, a sound that sent chills down Eloise’s spine.
“But you don’t know my secret, Major.”
“Frankly, Anderson, I don’t give a damn about your secret. Move away from Eloise now, or I will kill you.”
“But that’s just it,” Sergeant Anderson grinned. “See this?”
He held up a small device that looked like a remote control. “If you kill me, she will die too.”
Paul stopped in his tracks. “What do you mean?”
Sergeant Anderson grinned. “Look up.”
Eloise and Paul both looked up and saw a large five foot wide blade suspended above the table. The blade was attached to a series of pulleys and chains and, if allowed to fall, would cut Eloise’s body in half across her waist.
“It’s my guillotine,” Sergeant Anderson said proudly, “It’s very sharp and very deadly.”
He held up the remote. “And this is how I control it.”
Paul turned to Sergeant Anderson and slowly lowered his gun.
“Okay, Sergeant, so how are we going to handle this situation?”
Sergeant Anderson shrugged. “I don’t know. I think I’m going to have to kill both of you.”
Paul kept eye contact with Sergeant Anderson, “I could see how that might seem like the only solution.”
“You can?”
“Sure, we’re both fighting men, men of action, we know when to take risks and when to cut our losses,” Paul agreed. “But, if you don’t mind, I rather die fighting.”
Sergeant Anderson looked warily at Paul. “What do you mean?”
Paul shrugged. “You outweigh me by about 40 pounds or so, wouldn’t you say?”
Sergeant Anderson nodded.
“And, although I hate to admit it, you are probably in better shape than I am. You’re used to physical combat.”
Sergeant Anderson preened a bit. “Yeah, I suppose you could say I am.”
“So, what do you say, we have ourselves a little hand-to-hand warfare,” Paul suggested. “You’re going to kill me anyway, why not have a little sport with it.”
Sergeant Anderson smiled. “Yeah, that could be fun. I like that idea.”
Paul placed his gun back in the holster, unstrapped it and laid it on the ground. Kicking it across the room, he stood up and raised his hands over his head.
“I’ve got one request before we start,” Paul said.
“What?” Sergeant Anderson asked impatiently.
“That I’m allowed a last kiss from Eloise,” he said.
Sergeant Anderson looked from Paul to Eloise. Paul stood straight and tall, his eyes never wavering. Eloise stared ahead, holding her head high, unshed tears in her eyes.
Sergeant Anderson shrugged. “Sure, why not, it can’t hurt me.”
He walked over to the side of the table and pressed a button on the control panel, moving the angle of the table back so it was parallel to the floor. Then he moved back, away from Paul’s reach.
“You’ve got two minutes, better make it good,” he laughed.
Paul leaned over Eloise.
“Hey, you should have stayed in my dreams a little longer,” he said, smiling at her. “Things were just beginning to get interesting.”
“Paul, you need to get out of here,” she pleaded. “Please don’t fight him. He’s going to kill you.”
Paul lowered his face to hers. “Sweetheart, you’ve got to have a little faith.”
His lips met hers and she kissed him with all the love she had in her heart. She felt some pressure on the band of her right arm, the arm that Paul had been leaning over. Then felt something cold being pressed into her hand. Paul lifted his head and smiled at her.
“Sweetheart,” he whispered, “cut the bands and run like hell.”
He gave her a hard brief parting kiss and then stood up and faced Sergeant Anderson. Paul circled around the room so Anderson was facing away from Eloise. Anderson positioned himself for the fight.
“Hey, Sergeant,” Paul said. “That remote for your guillotine, you have it in some safe place right? I’d hate for you to trip, fall on the remote and then miss the fun of seeing it happen.”
Anderson paused for a moment, dug into his pocket and placed the remote on the built-in cabinet.
Once the remote was out of the way, the men positioned themselves for the fight. Paul was crouched low, arms flexed and outstretched, senses alert. Anderson was bent at the waist, leaning forward, fists clenched.
Paul moved first, he grabbed Anderson’s arm and pulled it forward and raised his leg and kicked Anderson in the chest. Anderson grabbed Paul’s foot and swung it up, dropping Paul on the floor. Anderson dove on Paul, but missed as Paul rolled away and jumped up onto his feet. He leaned sideways and delivered a sharp kick onto Anderson’s face. The force knock Anderson back for a moment, then Anderson turned and charged Paul like a linebacker.
Eloise watched the two men fight for a moment and then turned to her right hand. She saw that the leather strap had nearly been cut through. With just a little pressure she was able to break through the remainder and free her wrist. She opened her hand and found that Paul had left her a small knife.
She glanced over and saw that the men were too busy to notice her. She leaned across and started sawing away at the binding that held her other hand. The leather was thick and from the angle she was forced to use, her cutting techniques were fairly ineffective.
She stole another glance at the men. Anderson had Paul pinned in a headlock, and was lifting his body off the ground and slamming it down. Paul got a hold of Anderson’s head and yanked it down, dropping Anderson to the ground. Blood dripped from Paul’s nose as he stood above Anderson, gasping for breath for a moment until the fight resumed.
Eloise turned back to the task at hand, sawing at the bindings. Slowly she was making progress, she was just about there.
“What the hell?”
Eloise turned back to see Anderson staring in shock at her semi-freed position. Blood was running down his face and purple br
uises were forming around his eyes. He turned to Paul, “You tried to trick me.”
He glanced at Eloise. “Now you’re going to have to die.”
He ran towards the cabinet where the remote lay. Paul dove after him, grabbing him around the legs. Anderson fingered the remote, but Paul knocked him to the ground sliding the remote across the tile floor.
“Give it up,” Paul yelled.
Anderson kicked at Paul and caught him in the neck.
“You can’t beat me,” Anderson cried.
Choking, Paul released Anderson for a moment and Anderson crawled across the room, after the remote.
“Now, you’ll see.”
He reached forward, nearly there, when Paul jumped on top of him.
“No,” Paul said. “You’ll see.”
Anderson rolled sideways and sent a massive punch into the side of Paul’s face. Paul hung on, trying to keep him from reaching the remote that sat only a few feet away. He kicked his foot sideways and sent the remote sliding to corner of the room that held the Iron Maiden.
Anderson slid out from under him and kicked him with both feet. Paul, hurtling across the tile floor, rammed his head into the solid metal table pedestal that held up the rack and was knocked unconscious.
Eloise screamed and pulled against the strip as she watched Anderson stand and walk over to the remote. He picked it up and wiped the blood off his face with his forearm. He was breathing heavy, his face flushed and his eyes narrowed.
“I’m going to kill you like I killed all of those others,” he screamed.
Eloise twisted her wrist against the strap, pulling with all of her might.
“I thought you liked the killing to go slow,” she said. “I thought you liked to play.”
He shook his head. “You’re just trying to confuse me,” he said. “You don’t want me, you want the Major.”
“If you kill me, I’ll haunt you like all the others,” she said. “I can see them, all of the women you killed in this room. They’re here, and they are angry.”
Anderson looked nervously around the room. “You’re lying to me.”
“The black woman you killed is standing next to you,” Eloise said, “Next to the place you killed her.”
Anderson turned sharply to his side. “You’re lying,” he cried.
“And the Hispanic girl that you stretched on the rack? She’s behind you.”
Anderson turned back. “No, no, they’re not here anymore, I killed them.”
“But you can feel them, can’t you, Sergeant. Just like on the beach, you can feel the spirits who surround you. The spirits who call out for vengeance.”
Anderson turned back and glared at Eloise. “You’re the one. You’re the one that brought them here. You’re bad, just like great-great-grandma said. You’re bad and you’re going to die.’
Anderson raised the remote and pointed. He moved to press the contact button when a shot rang out in the room. Anderson looked down, a look of surprise on his face at the circle of blood spreading across his chest.
Eloise turned and saw Paul drop his gun and struggle to his feet.
“Eloise, you’ve got to get free.”
She cut against the final fibers of the strap. Only two more to go and she would be free. Anderson looked up and with his final bit of strength deliberately pressed the contact button. He tottered backwards and fell into the gaping jaws of the Iron Maiden.
Eloise pulled at her hand; the strap broke just as the guillotine was released. She threw her body forward and felt the huge blade crash into the table just inches behind her.
Paul ran to Eloise, gathering her close. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him tight.
“You could have died,” he said, pulling back and looking at the large piece of metal embedded in the table, “If you hadn’t been able...”
Eloise took Paul’s face in her hands. “Paul, you’re bleeding, you’re hurt…”
Paul looked at the welts on Eloise’s wrists and brought them to his lips.
“I thought I was going to lose you,” he murmured, his voice taut with emotion, “Dammit, Eloise, I can’t lose you.”
Suddenly they heard a clang of metal against metal, they turned and saw the doors of the Iron Maiden being closed and latched by unseen hands.
“My feelings exactly,” Eloise whispered.
“El, Paul, where are you?” Sally’s voice came from the hall.
“We’re here, through the closet,” Paul shouted.
Sally led Sergeant Turner and a group of six law enforcement officers into the hidden room. Sally’s eyes grew wide as she entered the room and saw the assortment of torture devices. Then she saw the pool of blood growing beneath the Iron Maiden.
“If it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll wait outside,” Sally said, turning and walking out of the room.
“Sergeant Turner,” Paul said. “I would appreciate if you would help these officers with any information they need. I’m going to ensure that Ms. Parker is cared for first, then I’ll be back to answer any questions.”
Sergeant Turner looked around the room, sadness in his eyes. He walked over to the Iron Maiden and shook his head. Then he turned to Eloise. “I am deeply sorry, ma’am, I never suspected…” he began.
“Of course you didn’t, Sergeant,” Eloise said, “None of us suspected him.”
Paul cut the remaining straps and lifted Eloise into his arms.
“I know you can probably walk,” he said, before she could protest. “But let me do this little thing for you, okay?”
Eloise nodded and smiled a little. “You know, I’m not sure I can walk, Major.”
“Sergeant Turner,” Eloise said, “There are some… some remains of victims on the shelves in the cabinet. Please make sure they fall into the right hands.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Sergeant Turner assured her.
Paul carried her down the stairs and outside the house. He continued across the lawn and through a grove of willow trees.
“Paul?” Eloise asked.
Paul shrugged his shoulders, “I don’t know what it is, but I know this place.”
They found the gazebo in the midst of the willow trees. Paul walked up the steps and placed her gingerly on her feet, keeping his arms around her waist.
“Can you stand?” he asked.
Eloise looked up at him. “Yes, I think I’m fine.”
Paul leaned his forehead against hers. “I’ve been through wars, Eloise. I’ve worked with the Special Forces. I’ve seen things that would horrify most people. But I have to tell you that this – seeing you strapped to that table, knowing that he would kill you if I didn’t beat him –was the most terrifying experience I’ve ever had.”
“I was so afraid that he was going to kill you,” Eloise whispered, tears streaming down her face, “I was so frightened… I didn’t want you to die for me.”
Paul tenderly wiped away her tears and cupped her face in his hands.
“Do you think my life would have been worth living without you?” he asked.
He pulled her closer and kissed her tenderly, his lips barely skimming hers.
“Eloise, I love you,” he whispered. Then he tightened his arms around her and kissed her deeply. Eloise tightened her arms around his neck and kissed him back with all the emotion she was feeling inside – love, relief, and passion. She felt the love growing and burning inside of her and let it flow from her to him. She moved closer, threading her hands through his hair.
He kissed her again and again, whispering her name, murmuring endearments, making her heart pound and her knees go weak.
“Paul,” she whispered tenderly, knowing that he was the only man she would ever love.
He raised his head and met her eyes. They were filled with such tenderness and concern, such love for her. Her heart burst and she opened her mouth to tell him how much she loved him. She started to speak when, looking over his shoulder, she saw them. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of spirits surrounding t
he gazebo. There were spirits of Civil War soldiers, American Indians, people dressed in turn of the century clothing, slaves, and even more contemporarily dressed spirits.
“Eloise, oh, no, please don’t tell me that it’s happened again,” Paul groaned and turned to look out onto the empty field. “What do you see?”
“So many spirits, from all periods of times, still waiting for someone to help them,” she said sadly, her eyes never leaving the view in front of her.
Paul sighed and sadly stepped away from Eloise. He took her hand and led her off the gazebo.
“Come on, you can’t deal with this today. I’m taking you home.”
Chapter Twenty-two
“Okay, normally I wouldn’t think of sticking my nose in where it doesn’t belong,” Sally said, as she watched Paul and Eloise not make eye contact with each other for several hours, “But seeing as how tomorrow may be the end of the world, I’ve just got to ask, what happened between you two?”
Eloise, sitting at the kitchen counter, shook her head, “Nothing, it was nothing.”
Paul walked over and pounded a fist on the countertop. “Like hell it was nothing. As soon as I start to kiss you the gates of hell break open and there are dead people from three different centuries standing before you.”
Sally, sitting on the computer desk, whistled. “Three centuries, that’s pretty powerful.”
Eloise shook her head. “It’s not power,” she snapped. “If I had power I could do something for them. It’s not power, it’s just pain.”
Sally pondered Eloise’s comment for a moment and then hopped down from the desk and pulled out a Guass meter. “El, can this meter measure the amount of power that you give off when you help a spirit pass on?”
Eloise shrugged, “I think so, why?”
“Have you ever measured yourself, you know, done a reading?”
“Once during training camp we were measured to see how powerful our levels were,” she said. “I was pretty powerful. I came in at about six hundred.”
Sally nodded her head and switched on the meter. “I have a theory that I’d like to test, if you two are game.”
