Goddess of the Night (19 page)

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He grabbed her
hand.

"Let me
show you, then." He drew her to him, forcing her to look in his
eyes.

His eyes were
startlingly compelling. She tried to pull away. She grabbed the
steering wheel. The car swerved. A car honked and three cars sped
around them.

Against her
will, she felt herself pulled into his memories. She struggled
desperately, trying to resist the terrible force. Then his mind was
in hers, but it wasn't as horrible as she had imagined. He seemed to
be holding back as
if
he were afraid to frighten her. Then his
memories flooded into her, coming so quickly they spun inside her, as
if he had waited a long time to share them with someone. She clutched
his hand tightly. She was afraid that if his hand let go she would
remain lost in his memories. She saw a small blond boy hugging his
grandfather's tombstone. The same boy running after his mother when
she left him in the care of another couple. And the boy waving
good-bye to a man in plate armor riding a prancing black horse. The
sad feelings associated with the memories overwhelmed her. His fear
and grief and

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loneliness.
Then she felt something else. Something she was sure he had wanted
her to see. He had been following her that night a month back, but
not to harm her, he had wanted to warn her. Of what? He had stopped
following her when he felt the shadows of the Atrox watching him.

She could feel
his sudden hesitation now, his need to hide those feelings and
memories from her. Then his hand let go and she was falling into a
deep black hole. She tried to grab the car seat. Her hands swooshed
through empty air. There was nothing but darkness around her.

She had been
deceived so easily. Now she was lost. What had Maggie said? The
Followers had the power to imprison you in their most evil memories.

She tumbled in
the black void.

Then she landed
painfully on a cold rock floor.

She stood.
Behind her milky light fell through a small window in a damp stone
wall. She looked outside. A turret was above her, below a moat. The
rising stench from the moat waters made her gag. She was in a castle.
She must have

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been
transported back in time as well. Is this where they held Catty
captive?

The great hall
behind her filled with a soft whimper. Was it Catty? At least they
would be together.

She followed
the sound to a plank wood door. She pushed against the heavy wood.
The door opened slowly with a soft groan. She peered inside.
Gradually her eyes adjusted to the utter darkness. A small boy sat on
a large bed, crying. He didn't seem aware of her presence. His eyes
held something in the corner of the room.

She stepped to
his bed. Unnatural shadows gathered overhead. Like black thunder
clouds, the shadows surged and grew. Was that the Atrox? Suddenly,
the shadows swept toward the boy. He shrieked and pulled the covers
over his head.

Stanton might
have deceived her and trapped her in another time, but she could
still save this child. She pushed through the frenzied shadows and
grabbed the boy. His body felt cold and thin as bones on an altar.
She held him tight against her and ran.

The dark
shadows swirled in anger, then

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charged after
her with a savage whip of air. She staggered. The boy screamed.

"Don't
cry," she soothed. "I'll find a way to get us out."

She ran from
the room with the crying child down a vast hall. The furor of the
shadows shook the stone walls.

At the end of
the hall she entered a dark stairwell. The steps were twisting,
steep, and narrow. She kept her shoulder against the wall for balance
and plunged downward. The boy sobbed in her neck. His tears ran down
her back.

The shadows
whipped down the stairwell with tumultuous fury, howling like a
squall. She tripped and fell. A force greater than she could have
imagined stripped the child from her arms. She struggled to stand.
Her hands searched frantically in the dark for the boy.

His crying
became farther and farther away. Then he was gone.

A demon-dark
shadow eclipsed the others. She knew instinctively that it was the
Atrox. It seeped into her lungs with complete coldness. She struggled
to breathe.

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A hand reached
through the darkness and grasped hers. It yanked hard.

Suddenly she
was back in the car, clasping Stanton's hand. She gasped for air. Had
she only been lost in his memory? It had felt so real. What would
have happened if he had not pulled her back?

"You tried
to save me," he whispered. "That was the night the Atrox
took me from my home. You were going to fight the Atrox." His
finger wiped a child's tear from her neck and held it in front of her
eyes as proof.

"I'm sorry
I didn't save you." She kissed the tear on the tip of his
finger.

He seemed
overcome with emotion. He snapped his hand back and tapped the
steering wheel.

"No one
could have saved me anyway." He stared ahead of him, but when he
spoke she saw a quick flicker of doubt cross his eyes. He seemed to
be saying the words to convince himself.

He turned off
the freeway into a dark and dangerous part of town. They were in an
industrial area. Bleak warehouses lined the street.

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"What
happened that night?" she asked.

"That was
the night I lost who I once was." His voice choked. "Now I
can no longer remember the person I used to be."

"But why
did it take you when you were just a boy?"

"My father
was a great prince of western Europe during the thirteenth century.
He'd raised an army to go on a crusade," Stanton said.

"So he
left you alone."

"My father
didn't go on a crusade to the Holy Land. It was a crusade against the
Atrox. The Atrox knew that by taking me, it could stop my father."

Without being
aware of what she was doing, her hand reached out to comfort him. She
held his cold fingers. He looked at her with a different kind of
longing then. Maybe no one had ever tried to comfort him before. He
jerked his hand away as if her pity were too painful for him to
endure. But before his hand left hers, a deeper knowledge seeped into
her fingers. There was a part of him that wanted to escape his dark
destiny.

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"Maybe
there is a way to reclaim your soul," she offered.

"It was my
choice," he insisted.

"You can
make another choice."

"You can't
understand what it means to have lost hope, because you still have
it." He seemed angry now.

"I'm
sorry," she said quietly.

She thought he
was going to cry, but instead he smiled. That was far worse. It was a
sad imitation of a smile, devoid of warmth and joy.

"Party
time." His foot slammed on the accelerator and the car skidded
around the corner.

The new street
was filled with cars and people waiting for the next band to play.
Music blasted from car radios and heart-thumping stereos.
Richter-scale blasts vibrated the cars' exteriors. Girls sat in car
windows, waving and flirting and flaunting their bodies. Guys in low-
crotch jeans and baseball hats with clique initials showed off their
custom cars. Others cruised looking for girls, checking things out.

Stanton parked
the car. He got out, walked around the car, and opened her door. He
put his

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hands around
her waist and lifted her out. Only then did she
realize
how
incredibly strong he was.

He kissed her
then, a surprise, but so gentle and sweet, she let him. She wondered
if Persephone had fallen in love with Hades when he abducted her and
took her to live in the underworld. There must be a way to rescue him
from this, she thought.

He put his arm
around her and shoved through the crowd of kids waiting to go back
inside the warehouse.

At the
entrance, two large security guards frisked boys and opened purses.
They confiscated pencils and pens, anything that could be turned into
a weapon.

"Everything
out of your pockets," a huge security guard said to Stanton.
"Anything I find left in your pockets is mine."

Stanton glared
at the man. "I don't think so."

The security
guard took a stunned step backward as if he had seen something in
Stanton's eyes that made him afraid.

Stanton pushed
around him and he and

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Vanessa entered
the warehouse. It was noisy inside and Vanessa could feel the
impatience rising in the crowd, anxious for the music to start again.

Security guards
righted white metal barriers and set them in front of the stage. A
large sign hung above them: MOSHING AND CROWD SURFING NOT ALLOWED.

Catty stood
between Cassandra and Tymmie. She didn't smile when she saw Vanessa.
She looked quickly away. But not before Tymmie caught her look and
followed it to Vanessa. He nudged Cassandra. The razor cuts on her
chest were now covered with scabs. She looked at Vanessa with a
hungry smile.

How do I
surrender my power?" Vanessa whispered to Stanton as the band
ran onstage. The restless audience screamed and applauded.

"You
don't," Stanton said and stepped away.

"I thought
we were going to trade."

Sorry.

"For
what?" she asked.

I lied,"
he said simply.

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The music
started with a piercing scream. The crowd crushed forward, knocking
over two barriers. Stanton jumped back as the crowd surged toward the
stage.

Vanessa was
squished into the mob. Then she saw Catty. She struggled around
bobbing bodies over to her.

"You
shouldn't have come," Catty yelled. "Now they'll have you,
too!"

Vanessa looked
at the faces of the kids around them. Most of them were ordinary
moshers, ravers, and punkers, but then she saw the angry faces of
Cassandra, Tymmie, and Karyl staring back at her. Too late, she
realized the plan had always been to destroy them both. It was so
obvious now. Stanton had betrayed her. But why shouldn't he? What had
made her trust him? Maggie had warned her.

Cassandra and
Karyl pressed closer. She could feel their thoughts invade her mind,
a spectacle of swirling terrifying pictures.

"Don't
look in their eyes," Catty warned, and yanked her away.

The band went
full speed into punk rock.

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The crowd
around them exploded into thrashing fists and jumping bodies,
knocking Cassandra and Karyl away.

Security guards
ran to the slam pit and tried to stop the hitting and shoving and
head butting, but it was like trying to stop a train.

Vanessa grabbed
Catty's hand as the fury of the crowd shoved them deeper into the
mosh pit away from the Followers. A boy tore off his T-shirt and
climbed on the shoulders of his friends. Hands grabbed him, held,
touched, and pulled him across the heads of the audience, crowd
surfing.

A girl climbed
onto the stage, struggled around the security guards, and jumped into
the crowd. Vanessa ducked as the girl landed on the sea of hands.
Catty ducked too late. The girl's boot thumped Catty hard in the
forehead.

Surrender,
Goddess.
The thought hit Vanessa with the sharp strike of a
headache. She turned quickly. Cassandra, Karyl, and Tymmie were back.
Karyl's eyes caught her and seemed to expand. She had a sudden mental
image of Catty crushed beneath jumping feet. Karyl smiled, his eyes
deep

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and mocking.
Had he done that? She winced and the trance broke.

The music
became a clash of air-ripping tones and head-splintering beats. The
thrum of guitars and drums pulsated in Vanessa's head, but it was the
other pounding inside her mind that frightened her. Karyl and Tymmie
and Cassandra pushed into her thoughts.
Turn. Come back.
She
crawled on the sticky floor through jumping, kicking bodies. She was
only three feet from Catty now, an impossible distance.

Cassandra's
thoughts grabbed Vanessa and twisted into her mind.
You're mine
now, Goddess.
Cassandra sent the words screaming through
Vanessa's head. She looked at Vanessa and smiled, her pale face and
garish makeup looked hellish in the flash of the strobe light,
Vanessa tried to laugh. What had Maggie said about water on a flame?
But she couldn't make her mind focus. She looked in Cassandra's blank
eyes and saw tiny images of herself imprisoned in the black pupils. A
cold electric feeling invaded her mind like tiny metal worms. Her
fears and worries suddenly fell away. Only Cassandra's eyes and
Vanessa's need to obey her remained.

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Someone bumped
into them and the two moon amulets hanging around Vanessa's neck slid
against each other. Silver sparks flew from the metals, and
Cassandra's eyes flashed with white fire as bright sparks burned into
her skin. Vanessa blinked. The spell was broken. Her fear returned.
She yanked away, lost her balance, and sprawled on top of Catty. She
tried to protect Catty from the hammering feet.

A heavy metal
guy in a black T-shirt and silver chains saw their trouble and
attempted to help them up, but Karyl appeared from nowhere and
head-butted him. The boy staggered back, clutching his forehead.

The music
became louder and sent the audience into renewed frenzy. Girls
unbuttoned their blouses and flashed the band.

Vanessa reached
for Catty's hand. Maybe she could make them both invisible. She tried
to concentrate but each kick sent new pain racking through her.

So much for the
warrior, she thought and gave in to the hurricane of trampling feet.