Evie's Knight (45 page)

It felt very normal when the earth started giving way beneath their feet. Calvin’s gaze dropped to observe the action. Below them, dirt turned to ash. A thick, pluming mass of it replaced the solid ground, forcing them to sink like anchors into a black sea of soot. Deeper they plunged as the dry, cloudy comfort consumed them.

The darkness hid her face from view, but he held firm to her hands, assured that she was there, unwilling to let her go. A heightened thrill shot through him as Jocelyn made silent promises. Suggesting, to his mind alone, that she would be his if only he did as she wished.

He would. Anything.

Their journey came to an abrupt stop, and Calvin’s hands were suddenly empty. Jocelyn was no longer there.

“Jocelyn,” he shouted, straining to see in the darkness.

All was black, silent, and still. He stretched his arms forward, took bold steps into the obscure space ahead, determined to find her. He wandered further, moving to his right, and then his left, hands reaching, eyes straining, panic hindering every desperate  move.

He was taken by surprise when a silver moon appeared overhead, full and magnificent, lending a metallic glow to the unknown world around him. He’d thought, only moments ago, he was far beneath the earth’s surface. Yet with the moon glowing high in the dusky sky, and trees and rocks surrounding him, it looked as if he was simply back on the canyon ground.

“Jocelyn,” he cried before repeating the call once more. Desperate. Frantic. “Jocelyn!”

His answer came as a transparent image floated into view. It was just a strange outline at first, but slowly, the vision came to life–it was
her.
A voice filled his mind, told him to be patient, to watch. He was witnessing the tale of her past.

A long, silky gown flowed over the beauty’s slender form. She was dragging a heavy piece of slate toward the altar, struggling with the weight, aching beneath the pressure. He wanted to weep at the sight of her anguish. But it was more than the sight that affected him; he could feel it as well. Taste the bitter resentment, strong and stringent on his tongue. An angry fire roared within him, and he broke out in beads of sweat.

Moonlight glistened in the tears on her cheeks as Jocelyn struggled to hoist the large rock into place. When she cried out from the exertion, Calvin clenched his eyes shut and let out a groan, long and slow, the strong hands of agony tightening around his heart. Such sorrow, such fierce despair that he feared his body might collapse.

It was then he heard the inner workings of her mind. Sad and pure.
He doesn’t love me
, the young, almost child-like voice cried. It stung.
Winston loves another.
The words were sharp, each inflicting fresh wounds of their own.
He left me, and now he’ll pay
, the sweet voice promised.

Calvin’s chest swelled. The offender should pay, he agreed, for making her suffer. 

A great spurt of excitement rushed through him as he watched her climb onto the altar. Poised on her knees, she stretched her arms out like wings, thrusting her chin high toward the sky. Long locks of ebony hair crept down her back, a glorious raven ready for flight.

Closer to triumph now.

While bringing her hands together in a mighty teepee above her head, Jocelyn began to chant. Potent words spilled feverishly from her lips in hypnotic rhythm, promising her faithful return, her resolve for conquest.

Even closer to triumph now.

Three times she repeated the verse, conviction ringing stronger with each fervent word. Her final threat hung in the resounding ring, clinging to his ears like a long, lasting promise. And then silence fell over the scene.

An intoxicating blend of pride and anticipation surged through him as he watched her secure the grip on the knife. Then, in a swooping motion, fast and fierce, Jocelyn thrust the dagger deep into her chest. Her piercing scream echoed throughout the land as she dropped in a lifeless slump on the altar.

She was gone. And Calvin felt her absence, cursed the emptiness. The intense beating of his heart became an echo in his head, the only sound he could hear. Jocelyn’s body disappeared, but the altar remained. The moon’s powerful beam began to contract, narrowing until it was one, bold flood of light pointing at the glorious object on the altar. Gold and lovely, beckoning him with a voice of its own, lay the mighty dagger.

Sweat coated his palms. He rubbed them against his jeans as he stepped forward, halting when Jocelyn appeared before him.

“You live for me,” she purred.

“Yes,” he agreed. Truer words had never been spoken. Calvin took another step, but when he attempted to step forward once more, Jocelyn stopped him short.

“You killed for me,” she sang.

“Yes.” He remembered, with unfailing clarity, the feel of the blade sinking into Jocelyn’s enemy, the way the blood pooled. Yes, it was for her, all for her. He was allowed to step forward once more. His breath quickened. Closer, ever closer.

“You’ll die for me,” she spoke again.

“Yes.”

***

“Calvin?” Fear pumped thick in Evie’s heart as she eyed the surface of the water, waiting for him to break through. Too long. It had been way too long. “Calvin,” she yelled louder this time.

She kept her eyes on the spot where he’d gone under. Not even a ripple remained. She knew he’d gone to the other side to look for the pendant, that he’d want her to remain there where it was safe. But each second that crept by in the dim, haunting atmosphere felt like hours.

The witchy voice cackled in the background. The moaning man joined in. But the body of water stayed quiet, and Evie wondered how long she could wait.

***

Calvin followed the alluring woman as she walked backward, step by step toward the altar. His eyes were drawn to the splendid glint of gold behind her, the dagger, shining in all its glory. His mouth watered at the beautiful sight. It was the key, his means to getting what he desired–Jocelyn, beside him forever.

It was
his
turn now, and each blessed step brought him closer to his fate, his destiny. The alluring woman directed him, guided him, showed him. Vivid images of what should come next played blissfully in his head. He’d do what Jocelyn had done. Courageously. Valiantly.  One small sacrifice and she’d belong to him.

“Winston, my sweet Winston Knight,” Jocelyn sang. Her fingers swept across his chest. He nodded, unsure whether that was really his name. It didn’t matter. He didn’t need to know his name. Didn’t need anything except for her and her alone… and that thing on her neck. It looked familiar.

He reached out, grabbed the hypnotic pendant. “What is this?”

A rush of anger flared in her eyes. “Winston,” she said tersely. “Ignore this. It is me that you want. Not this tarnished trinket.”

“But it’s speaking to me,” he said. “I want it. I need it.”

“No, you don’t, Winston. You want me and only me. Let go of it.” She pried his fingers off the piece.

An image flashed before his eyes: A face. Soft, warm, and lovely. Gold, flowing hair, eyes like the sea. A name danced on the tip of his tongue. “Evie.”

Jocelyn’s eyes grew wide with horror.

He backed away from her as another image came to mind. The same lovely face with a smile, warm and glowing, lit by flickering candles. “Nineteen,” he whispered.

A new, vibrant vision jumped to the surface of his mind, replacing all else. A dagger, solid and strong, tight within his grip, promising what he truly wanted, needed. The woman who stood before him, now holding the very dagger of his dreams. The key to having it all.

He smiled.

“That’s right, my love. Almost done.” She swept a hand over the altar’s surface. “Right here.”

Calvin climbed onto the cold, solid structure, knelt in position as more visions played out in his head. “I’m ready.”

The dagger rested on her open palm. He gazed at the gold blade, the thick, ivory handle, and then at the object looming just beyond: the pendant. He closed his eyes while a new vision sped to the forefront. A lovely woman, rich olive skin with dark, flowing hair. She stood before him, explaining the pendant, smiling when she called him her
valeroso caballero.
His eyes shot open, and the woman before him–the once beautiful Jocelyn–had changed.

Chapter Forty-six

Evie cursed the frigid temperature of the water as she waded into the depths of it, unable to wait any longer. Calvin had been sucked back through, but surely he would have found the amulet by now, come back to her. Something had gone wrong.

Her body shivered as she sank fully beneath the surface, into the black depths below. Once she hit the bottom, Evie remembered how long the journey had taken, recalled the way she’d nearly lost her breath. Using the ground to press off, she kicked her way to the surface for one last breath of air, then swam back to the base, determined to get past the fear that gripped her in the cold and unknown darkness.

Evie glided her hands along the edge where the cave wall met the earth below. Resisting the urge to release any air, she searched the floor for the porthole. Solid rock and grainy sand slid beneath her palms until she felt it–a large gap, impossibly colder, inviting her to enter with its massive pull.

Pointing her arms before her, she dove into the suctioning tunnel headfirst. Like strong hands gripping her body, the water–or the force behind it–pushed her forward, pulled her higher. She welcomed the fast, unyielding movement, knowing she’d break through the surface quickly, glad her breath hadn’t escaped her completely.

When the motion finally thrust her through the crest of water at the fall’s base, Evie squinted, eyes aching from the afternoon sun reflecting off the pool at her feet. She stepped over the pebbles, searching for any sign of him. “Calvin?” she yelled between panting breaths. “Calvin!” The impulse to call his cell was lost as Evie realized she no longer had her cell phone, not that they’d have reception up there anyway. “Damn it.” How would she find him?

The rocks along the mountain wall seemed to move, and Evie jumped as she realized it wasn’t simply the rocks. It was Parker; he was in the water, hunched over and gasping for breath.

“What happened?” She ran to his side. “What happened, Parker? Where’s Calvin? Did you see him?” A sick knot twisted in her stomach as the words rushed from her lips.

Bracing himself against the mountain wall, Parker came to a stand and  gave his head a quick shake, splattering cold drops from his hair. “I saw him. He went with Jocelyn.” His eyes widened as he looked at her. “You’re alive,” he said. “I thought you were dead.”

“Calvin went with Jocelyn? You saw it?”

Parker nodded, and her heart plunged to the ground. Her worst fear had come true. Her body grew heavy suddenly, became hard to support. She placed a hand on the rocks behind her as the world turned clouded and grey.

“I think I can get him,” Parker said.

She sucked in a shallow breath and set her gaze on him. “How?”

“I’ve been there. To the place she took him,” he said. “I think I can go back. You’re wearing the pendant so–” He stopped short. “Why aren’t you wearing the pendant?”

“It fell off somehow. Calvin came out here to find it, but then he didn’t come back and–”

“It has to be here,” Parker said, eyeing the surrounding area. “It has to be, because this is where it led me. I had Jocelyn, I beat her even, I actually did it, but then Calvin was out here and...” He stopped, looked her over. “Look, you stay here, find the pendant. It’s close. As soon as you get it, get back into The Lockdown.”

“I don’t want to be down there alone. What if you guys don’t ever come back?”

He trudged through the water. “We will. Get the pendant down there so it will lead us back.”

“But how will you bring Calvin, too? If he’s not wearing the necklace?”

Parker had been walking away from her, but he stopped in his tracks. With his back to her, he answered, “I’ll figure it out. Just find it and get down there. We’ll take care of the rest.” And then he was gone. 

***

The dagger. Why had he wanted it? Calvin couldn’t remember. He could only think of the way Jocelyn had deceived him. The once porcelain skin of a china doll was now pasty looking and thin, showing every vein. Bulging lines of green wrapped around her arms, climbed up her neck, and crept over her cheeks and forehead. Her gown had transformed into ratty rags of thread-like mesh, and her black hair stood wild and gnarled, a mess of greasy twine.

Fear flittered across her dark, shiny eyes. “Take the dagger, my love,” she cooed. “Take it.” She pressed the ivory handle into his palm. The solid feel of the dagger, the hefty weight of it, was hypnotic. He remembered wanting it. Needing it.

“Thank you,” he breathed, grateful to have it within his grasp. Thankful to be kneeling on the altar where he could finish the job. Yet something lingered in the back of his mind, squelching his excitement. What was it? He looked back at her, saw the pendant again, and focused on it as a flood of details poured through his mind. A gripping ache spread throughout his body: the curse, Evie, The Loft, Fiona. Fighting off the mind power for the battle ahead.

The battle–this was it.

His breaths came rapid as the truth of it sank in. How many times had he come to this acknowledgement? He eyed the dagger in his hand, focusing on the truths in his mind. Evie was alive. They’d made it that far. Parker! He’d thrown him into the rocks.

The ache in his body moved, gathered into a concentrated force that pounded in his head as his thoughts became his own; replacing the twisted promptings of the grotesque woman at his side.

“What are you waiting for, Winston?”

Winston? She thought he was Winston. He looked back at the creature, hiding a cringe at the horrid sight. What would she do when she realized he’d broken through her spell? And how would he get her into The Lockdown?

“Winston,” Jocelyn demanded. She brought her body closer to him, swept a rancid hand across his cheek. “It’s time, my love. It’s time.” Her ragged voice softened. “Your life for me you freely give.” She curled his fingers around the smooth ivory base of the dagger.