Amulet of Doom (14 page)

“You're a ghost!” cried Marilyn.

Guptas actually smiled, though the effect was more that of a hideous leer. “No, I am not a ghost. But I'm not really here. I'm in the amulet, just as I have been for ten thousand years.”

Kyle pushed himself to his knees and shook his head. He had another, smaller lump sprouting next to the first one. “So you're a hologram,” he said. Gently he fingered the new protuberance. “Did you really have to give such a convincing demonstration?”

“It's important that you believe me,” said Guptas solemnly.

Marilyn crossed to Kyle and helped him to his feet. “I believe you. I just don't understand what I'm supposed to
do
for you. Let's take it step by step.”

“I want you to let me out of the amulet.”

“You've got to be kidding!” cried Kyle. “You think she's going to let something like you loose when you're good and safe where you are?”

“She will if either of you ever wants to see your home again,” snarled Guptas.

“Don't threaten me!” snapped Marilyn. Holding up the amulet, she added, “I don't want to see you anymore.”

Guptas vanished instantly.

“How'd you do that?” asked Kyle in astonishment.

“It's the amulet. I'm pretty sure it controls him. Didn't you notice the other time, when he slashed at you with his claws and I told him to stop? I was holding the amulet then, and he obeyed me instantly.”

“He couldn't have hurt me anyway,” pointed out Kyle, “since he was only a—what? A mirage? An illusion? What do you call something like that?”

Marilyn shrugged. “I don't have the foggiest. Anyway, the point right now is not what we call him. It's how do we deal with him?”

“I'd say the first thing to do is make him take us home.”

She held up the amulet. “Guptas! I want to see you!”

She was expecting his image to materialize in front of them again. Instead, the jewel in the center of the amulet flashed.

She looked at it curiously and found herself looking
into
it.

Red. And walls. Wall after wall of smooth, hard crimson, all at odd angles to one another, all too close together, cramping, crowding, holding …

She shuddered. This was Guptas's world. This was the place where he had been imprisoned for ten thousand years.

And now he wanted to get out.

Suddenly one eye appeared in the center of the jewel, as it had in the funeral home. It glared at her sullenly.

“Don't play games with me,” said Marilyn fiercely. “I said, ‘Let me see you!'”

The jewel flashed again, and instead of an eye, she saw Guptas, impossibly small, crouched and crowded between the facets of the crimson prison.

“Out here!” she snapped.

At once Guptas stood before them. Glaring at her, he said sullenly, “You'll never rest again.”

She blinked nervously. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you can control me with that amulet, but only when you're awake. I will be free at night—not free of the amulet. Oh, no, I'm never free of that. But free to haunt you. You'll see me in your dreams. I'll shape myself out of air and stalk your room. When you open your eyes, I'll be there, crouching at the end of your bed, waiting to pounce.

“You may know I'm not solid.

“You may know I can never hurt you.

“But will you sleep? Night after night with me prowling your room, screaming at you in a voice no one else can hear, cursing you with the anger I've built up over a hundred centuries—will you sleep then?”

He smiled fiendishly. “Or will you lie awake night after night, quivering in your bed, trembling at the wrath of Guptas? Will you grow pale and weary—”

“Oh, shut up!”

Guptas fell silent.

Kyle walked over to where the demon stood and thrust out his hand. It went right through the scaly hide.

“Cool,” he muttered.

Guptas glanced at him with contempt. Suddenly he threw himself at Marilyn's feet and clasped his arms around her legs. “I want to be real again!” he cried desperately. “Make me real!”

“Talk about co-dependent,” said Kyle.

Even though the demon wasn't actually there, the illusion was so powerful Marilyn found herself trying to keep her balance in his grip.

“Please!” he cried. “Please let me out! I won't be bad. You know I won't! You know why I'm there. I've suffered long enough. Let me out!”

“So you can kill us like you killed her aunt?” sneered Kyle.

“I never did!” shrieked Guptas. “I told you, she died all by herself. She wasn't supposed to do that!” His voice grew sly. “Besides, I did that while I was bound to the amulet. I can do it again, whether she frees me or not. I just send a picture, as I'm doing now. As I'll continue to do.”

One look at Marilyn's face and he changed tactics again. “But not to you!” he cried, banging his head on the floor at her feet. “You know my story! You know the truth! Let me out! Let me out! Let me out!”

Marilyn hesitated. Finally she said, “I don't think I could, even if I wanted to.”

The demon arched his back and spread his arms and screamed. Marilyn covered her ears. But even with her hands pressed against her skull she could hear his anguished pleas.

“What do you mean? Why can't you free me?”

“Because of the curse the king put on you!”

Instantly he stopped screaming and rose to his knees. “What do you mean?”

“Well, what he said when he put you in there. You're bound there until someone trusts you. I can't just say, ‘Oh, come on out, it's okay now!' If I don't
trust
you, it won't work.”

“You can trust me!” cried Guptas eagerly. “You know that. You can trust me. I'll even be your servant. I'll fetch and carry for you and always do what you ask and …”

Marilyn actually broke out laughing. “What would I do with you if I had you?”

“I'm a very good servant,” said Guptas sullenly.

“No, you are not,” replied Marilyn sternly. “You betrayed your master before. You would do it again.”

“Not if my master was true!” cried Guptas. “What about that? What about that, eh? What about what Suleiman did?”

“What did Suleiman do?” asked Marilyn. “You wouldn't show me. You kept it hidden.”

Guptas turned away. “He was cruel.”

“That means nothing,” said Marilyn. “What did he do? You want me to trust you, but you won't trust me. You won't even tell me the whole story.”

Guptas turned back to her.

“If I tell you, will you let me go?”

“If you don't, I won't.”

“That's not the same thing!”

“I know that. But it's the best you're going to get. Never mind. I'm getting tired of you anyway. Get ready, Kyle. I'm going to make him take us back now.”

“Wait … wait … wait … wait … wait!” howled Guptas. He was rocking back and forth, clutching his knees.

“Well?”

“All right, I'll tell you.”

Marilyn tightened her grip on the amulet and waited expectantly.

Guptas hesitated. He glanced at Kyle, then turned again to Marilyn.

“Suleiman was my father,” he said at last.

16

THE LAMIA

The three of them—Marilyn, Kyle, and Guptas the demon—sat in a circle on the floor, their legs crossed Indian fashion, trying to make sense of the story the demon had just told them.

At one point in his tale Marilyn had interrupted to fill in Kyle on her earlier experience of seeming to live part of Guptas's life.

“How did you do that, anyway?” she had asked the demon.

He shrugged. “You asked me a question while you were holding the amulet. That gave me permission to answer it.”

“But how did you answer it? Did you just send a picture from your head to mine, or—”

Guptas broke in. “No, you were
there
. I took you back in time to the reign of the Suleimans. And then I let you merge with me, so you could see my story.”

“You mean I was really there—really in the past?”

He smiled and nodded. “Fun, wasn't it?”

She shivered a little.

“Let's get back to the point,” said Kyle. “How do we find out if you're telling the truth about your father and this … what did you call her? A lamia?”

Guptas did a backward somersault and stood on his head. “You can't. You'll just have to take my word for it.”

“Can't you show us, like you did before?” asked Marilyn.

“I can't take you back to before my birth. How can I show you things that happened before I was born?”

Taking a guess, Marilyn whispered, “Then show us her death.”

Guptas tumbled to the floor. He actually seemed to go pale for a moment. Looking up at her, his eyes filled with misery, he hissed, “No.”

“It would make things easier.”

“No.”

“I could command you.”

The demon shrugged. “I won't be responsible for the consequences.”

“Which would be …”

He looked directly into her eyes. She flinched, but did not turn her gaze away. Once again she had the sensation of looking into the fires of hell.

“A memory,” he said at last. “A memory you will carry with you the rest of your life. A nightmare you'll have to live with.”

“You've already threatened me with that if I don't free you. I'm stuck in the middle.”

“I shouldn't have threatened you before,” said Guptas. “I'm sorry.”

She looked at him in astonishment. His voice sounded genuinely apologetic.

He read her eyes. “Don't be so surprised! I know right from wrong. You've seen part of my life. You know I'm different from the others. Look at me! I am not a demon! I am Guptas—half Suleiman, half demon, and different from anything or anyone you've ever heard of. Don't judge me by what you think or what you fear or what you've heard! Judge me by what I am!”

“Right now you're hysterical,” said Marilyn softly.

Guptas began to laugh—a harsh, coughing sound that was two steps on the far side of pleasant.

“Do you really want the story?”

She nodded.

“Him, too?”

She looked at Kyle. His face was grim. But he nodded.

She held up the amulet. “Tell us both. No tricks.”

Guptas looked hurt. “I had no tricks in mind. How do I make you trust me?”

“You don't,” said Kyle softly. “You just make it
possible
—by being trustworthy.”

Guptas shot him an angry look. “Put your hand on the amulet,” he said. “Both of you hold it. And remember … you asked for this.”

Kyle slid around next to Marilyn and closed his hand over hers.

And they were gone.

Guptas stood cowering behind his father. Suleiman laid a hand on his head to comfort him.

Marilyn relaxed at the touch. The king had the hands of a healer.

Only he wasn't king yet. Guptas aimed some thoughts in her direction, and she understood that what they were about to see predated her last experience in the past. The king she had seen that time was still a prince now. His father was on the throne.

His name was Suleiman, too—as was that of every king who had reigned before him.

Guptas's father wore a short tunic made of black and scarlet cloth embroidered with gold. A band of silk circled his forehead, binding his long jet-black hair. He had a strong nose, olive skin, enormous dark eyes. He was incredibly handsome.

Marilyn felt a surge of emotion. It was coming from Kyle. With a start, she realized it was jealousy.

“Where are we?” he asked.

“In the Hall of the Kings,” replied Guptas.

“I know that,” he said sharply. “But where in the hall? Where are Marilyn and I?”

“Inside me,” said Guptas simply. “Just watch. Both of you.”

She watched. The hall was filled, as before. And there was an air of expectancy. But this time it was not joyful. There was fear in it, and horror.

Two guards brought in a woman. A murmur of disgust rippled through the court.

Marilyn cried out at the surge of emotion that ran through Guptas. She felt Suleiman's hand slide down his neck and onto his shoulder, drawing him close. Guptas clung to his leg, which was like a young oak. Suddenly she realized that at the time of this scene Guptas was little more than a babe.

“Twelve hundred years,” said Guptas, in answer to her unspoken question. “This is twelve hundred years before the last scene I showed you. The Demon Wars are still raging in their full fury. Suleiman-the-king, he who sits on the throne, has reigned for over eight hundred years. In all that time he has never been able to defeat the demons.”

He paused, then added: “Now his son has fathered one.”

The woman struggled wildly, until she looked over at Guptas. Then she stopped. Marilyn read a terrible longing in her face.

Whatever else she was, she was beautiful.

It was a wild, terrible beauty—untamed, fascinating, almost frightening.

She was dressed in gossamer rags. Marilyn had the feeling they were the remnant of some once beautiful gown she had destroyed in her fury.

Her hair was fire red, redder even than Marilyn's, something she would never have thought possible.

And her eyes …

Her eyes were locked on Guptas now, looking right into him—and at the same time, it seemed, into Marilyn. As in the demon cave, she had the uneasy sensation that perhaps her presence here was not a secret after all.

They were wild eyes, wild and filled with anger. But there was a softness in them when they gazed on Guptas.

The demon tightened his grip on his father's leg, digging his claws into the flesh.

Prince Suleiman seemed not to notice. His eyes were riveted on his wife. Marilyn felt a tremor run through his body.