Amulet of Doom (10 page)

But whether or not she got in trouble wasn't the point. The point was, in her heart she would know what she had done. In her heart she would remember robbing the dead for as long as she lived.

In fact, she could think of only one thing worse: going home without the amulet and finding it had all been real, and she had let Zenobia down.

In the end there was no choice: She had to do it.

“Stay here,” she whispered to Kyle. Taking the flashlight from his hand, she walked toward the coffin. The scent of the flowers was overwhelming, almost sickening in its sweetness.

She hesitated, remembering the moment earlier that evening when she had heard Zenobia's voice. Would it happen again?

She braced herself and stepped forward. Her light hit Zenobia's face, etching her still, cold features against the coffin's satin lining.

She took another step.

There it was! The beam of her light had caught the edge of the amulet.

Now there was nothing to it. All she had to do was reach down and take it.

She couldn't.

She remembered her aunt pleading with her earlier in the evening.

She couldn't let her down now.

Slowly she forced herself to reach out and move aside the spray of flowers that covered the amulet. The red jewel in the center caught her light and sprang to life, as if it were filled with a fire of its own.

When nothing else happened, she began to relax a bit. She had almost expected a clap of thunder and a heavenly voice chastising her for robbing the dead.

She took a breath and reached down to lift the amulet from Zenobia's chest.

Something was wrong. It took her a moment to figure it out. Then she realized—Zenobia was dead, and being dead was cold. Yet the amulet was warm, warmer, even, than if it had been resting on the chest of a living person.

Marilyn shivered. What was this thing, anyway?

Then a worse question occurred to her. How was she going to get it off Zenobia's corpse? The chain, she now remembered, had no clasp. It was a solid piece of work.

You've come this far, Sparks
, she told herself firmly.
No sense in being squeamish now
.

She set the flashlight in the coffin. The beam, playing around the amulet, cast eerie shadows on Zenobia's waxy-looking face, and the wall of flowers behind her.

Marilyn reached down and slipped her hand under the corpse's head. She tried to tip the neck forward.

It wouldn't bend.

She remembered what she had heard about rigor mortis and the stiffness of death. Pulling harder, she was able to raise Zenobia's entire body just enough to free the chain. She was amazed at how light, even frail, her tough old aunt seemed now.

Bracing her left elbow against the side of the coffin, Marilyn held Zenobia's body at a slight angle. Then she took the amulet in her right hand and guided the loop of the chain under the back of Zenobia's head. She moved slowly, trying not to disturb the carefully arranged white hair. Once the chain was free, she continued to slide it along her own arm, until it reached the crook of her elbow. Then she let it dangle against the outside of the casket while she put her hand back under Zenobia's head and gently lowered the body to a resting position.

She had done it!

She grabbed the flashlight and turned triumphantly to Kyle, holding up the amulet. “I've got it!” she whispered. “I've got …”

Her words faltered, trailed to a whisper. Kyle was staring at her in horror.

No. He wasn't staring at her. It was something behind her.

She heard a soft noise and whirled around.

Zenobia had placed one hand on each side of the coffin and was drawing herself to a sitting position.

Marilyn's throat closed with fear. She was trying desperately to scream, but nothing would come out.

Zenobia was sitting straight up now. Still moving stiffly, her torso twisted in their direction.

The corpse opened its eyes and looked at Marilyn. A hideous smile twisted its face. Reaching out with its cold, white hands, it said, “Give me the amulet.”

Marilyn dropped the flashlight.

It clattered to the floor and went out. Except for a faint glow coming from the amulet itself, the room was pitch black.

But she could hear the sound of fabric rustling, and there was no question in her mind what it meant.

Zenobia was climbing out of her coffin.

11

THE EYE OF THE AMULET

The darkness was driving Marilyn out of her mind. She couldn't see a thing. Not a thing!

But the sound of the slow, deliberate movements of whatever had climbed out of Zenobia's casket fueled her imagination, and she could almost see the dead eyes looking into hers, feel the cold hands closing on her neck.

Unable to think of anything else to do, she started to sing.

Later, she could never understand exactly why she reacted that way. At the moment she didn't even think about it. It just happened. She opened her mouth to scream, some instinct took over, and the words to “When You Walk Through a Storm”—the anthem of hope in the midst of darkness from
Carousel
—started pouring out instead.

The funny thing was, it worked. She actually felt better, at least for the first few notes.

Better yet, the noise in front of her stopped.

Unfortunately, the moment of relief was short-lived. She had just reached the line “And don't be afraid of the dark” when a harsh voice grated, “Silence, wench! Hand me that amulet!”

At that moment the terror she had been fighting to stave off all night finally came crashing in on her. Her old fear of the dark was multiplied a thousandfold by all the genuine horrors she had had to face, and she began to scream, hopelessly and uncontrollably. Somewhere in the background she could hear Kyle. She thought he was screaming, too, but she couldn't be certain.

“Silence!” ordered the voice again.

The scream died in Marilyn's throat. She was too frightened to force it out.

The amulet was burning in her hand.

Suddenly it blazed into life. A red glow burst from the jewel in its center. By its fiery light she could see Zenobia's corpse standing in front of the coffin.

“Give me the amulet!” repeated the voice. The corpse began lurching toward her, its pale white fingers twitching with anticipation.

“Marilyn, let's get out of here!”

It was Kyle. His wits had finally returned, and he was beside her, his hands on her shoulders, trying to turn her around.

It did no good. She was rooted to the spot, mesmerized by the horror moving step by step in her direction.

“Marilyn!”

“Give … me … the amulet!”

The corpse was almost upon them now. They could see, by the amulet's glow, a look of something close to madness in its eyes.

Kyle put his arm around Marilyn's waist and pulled her back. He tried to run, but got no help from her. He turned and linked both hands around her stomach, then began backing toward the door.

“There is no use in fleeing. There is nowhere to run! Give me the amulet!”

Suddenly Marilyn began to struggle with Kyle. “Let go of me!” she cried, twisting in his arms.

Zenobia's corpse, moving slowly, was almost upon them.

The glare from the amulet was brighter than ever.

Kyle tightened his grip; spurred by terror, he lurched backward. As he did, he stepped on Brick, who had been lurking behind him. The cat emitted a piercing yowl of pain and shot away to hide under one of the chairs. But the damage had been done; Kyle's footing had been destroyed. He struggled wildly to keep his balance, but finally failed and fell backward, still holding Marilyn.

Her feet thrust out and tangled in Zenobia's legs, causing the corpse to fall on top of them.

When her aunt's body landed on her, Marilyn screamed, convinced she was going to die of fright if nothing else.

The corpse reared back and opened its mouth. With a fresh jolt of horror Marilyn realized it was going to bite her. She thrust upward with her palm, catching Aunt Zenobia's body under the chin, slamming her head back. “Oh! I'm so sorry!” she gasped.

The corpse howled with rage and began to scrabble at her hand, trying to rip the amulet from her fingers. Marilyn beat at it with her fists, trying to push it away. She was still screaming and crying.

Kyle, pinned beneath both of them, struggled to free himself so he could help Marilyn.

The whole scene was illuminated by the bloody red light still pulsing from the amulet.

“Guptas, let go of that body!”

The voice was Zenobia's, but it did not come from her body. Looking in the direction from which it had come, Marilyn was astonished to see another version of her aunt standing next to them. She had her hands on hips. A furious expression contorted her face. And her body, rather than solid and heavy like the corpse with which Marilyn was now wrestling, was clearly that of a ghost.

“Guptas, let go!” repeated Zenobia.

A howl of despair ripped through the night. Suddenly Zenobia's corpse went limp, trapping Kyle and Marilyn under its dead weight. The light in the amulet died, so that the only illumination in the room came from the pale figure of Zenobia, who was still scowling.

“I hate to see that body treated that way,” she said bitterly. “It served me very well for quite a number of years. And you be careful there, young man!” This last was addressed to Kyle, who was trying to roll the corpse away so that he and Marilyn could sit up.

Zenobia's ghost turned and walked toward the coffin, which had shifted when the corpse climbed out of it. Reaching out, she tried to move it back into place. Nothing happened, and she made a little noise of frustration.

“Well, at least we have the amulet back,” she said, turning her back to the coffin.

“Will you help us get out from under this?” asked Kyle, his voice testy.

“I can't!” snapped Zenobia. “I haven't learned how to move things yet. It's all I can do to materialize.”

Marilyn, still in a daze, began to come to her senses. Gently she helped Kyle push Zenobia's now empty body away from them. Then she shoved the amulet into her pocket, got to her feet, and reached down to help him up.

When he was standing beside her, she turned to her aunt. “Don't you vanish on me this time,” she said. Though she was trembling, her voice had an angry tone, and her jaw was set in a firm line that made it look remarkably like Zenobia's. “I think it's about time you filled me in on a few things!”

“You're right,” said Zenobia, looking a little shamefaced. “I should have before. Only I didn't know much. I only had guesses. I still don't understand all of it, but I'm beginning to make sense of things.”

She looked around nervously. “We'll have to hurry. We won't have much time before it starts again.”

Kyle and Marilyn glanced at each other. “Before
what
starts again?” asked Marilyn.

“Sit down,” said Zenobia. “I want to tell you a story.”

Kyle went to the row of chairs that had been set up for calling hours. He picked up two, then turned back to Zenobia and asked, uncertainly, “Do you want one?”

Zenobia shrugged. “I have no need to take the weight off my feet,” she said with the ghost of a smile. “I'll stand.”

Kyle returned with chairs for himself and Marilyn. He placed them side by side, then took Marilyn's hand. The two of them sat down together.

“Damn!” said Zenobia. “This isn't going to be easy. I wish I had a cigar.”

“We can do without the smell,” said Marilyn impatiently. “Let's get on with this.”

“Aren't we touchy?” said Zenobia.

“Considering that I'm sitting in a funeral parlor, which I broke into, in the middle of the night, and having a conversation with a ghost whose body just tried to kill me, I think I'm doing pretty well! Tell me you had an experience that topped this one in all your famous travels.”

She was holding Kyle's hand with a crushing grip and pressing herself against him to keep the violence of her trembling from being too visible.

Zenobia shook her head. “Nope. You've got me on that one. I've been almost everywhere and never had an experience to top this one. Nothing like your own hometown for a good time.”

Marilyn made a sound of exasperation.

“All right, all right,” said Zenobia. “I'll get on with it. But this isn't easy, because a lot of it's my own fault, and I'm going to have to admit to screwing up in a way that I'm not used to.”

She looked wistfully down to where her body lay on the floor. “If I'd handled things a little better, I might still be inside that, instead of struggling with all my might just to stay visible for you.” She shrugged. “But that's neither here nor there. What you want to know is, what's going on.”

Marilyn nodded.

“Well, I don't know,” said Zenobia flatly. “At least, not entirely. But I can tell you this much: That amulet is haunted by a demon named Guptas, who was bound to it by the great Suleiman himself.

“What Guptas wants most of all is to be free. But he is subject to whoever owns the amulet. If you know how to use it, you can command incredible power.

“But that's the problem: knowing how to use it. If you try to summon Guptas without knowing the proper procedures, you can end up in big trouble.”

“Which is what happened to you?” asked Marilyn.

Zenobia nodded sheepishly. “I really should have known better. Even though I'd never seen anything like that in action, I've spent enough time in the ancient parts of the world to know what can happen. There are strange stories—things
we
would call primitive nonsense—that crop up over and over, linger in the mind, have touches that just don't want to let you explain them away. I should have known better than to fool around with this thing after Eldred died.”

“Eldred Cooley?” asked Kyle.