Riverwatch (18 page)

Katelynn did not understand what was going on.

What she doing here?

*** ***

Gabriel watched the Nightshade recover from his attack. The beasts’ tongue flicked out over its teeth, and the Elder knew the end was near. He had exhausted his strength in that last-ditch effort to destroy the Nightshade, and knew he would not survive long at the creature’s hands. That Moloch intended to make him suffer as long as possible was entirely too clear.

Gabriel had no intention of allowing that to happen.

As the beast stalked closer, Gabriel summoned what little strength he had left. He did not have the energy to project another attack at the beast, but there was another way out, one he’d longed to use for centuries.

Moloch moved closer, coming around the side of his bed.

This close, Gabriel could smell the stink of its fetid breath, and hear the rasp of claws on the linoleum floor.

The beast’s long forked tongue flicked out, tasting the air, searching for the fear that should have been coming off its opponent in waves.

Gabriel waited patiently, letting the beast think it had won, letting it gloat in its success, for by doing so he gained another moment to prepare.

He had to be certain he had the strength to succeed with his plan. If he did not, he would be too weak to do anything more. He would be helpless in the hands of his ancient enemy.

He did not want that to happen.

Not even for a few seconds.

*** ***

Katelynn moved closer to the bed, and glanced down as her hands found the safety rail. She was shocked by what she saw. Her hands had changed; had become hideous. They were scaled like a lizard and a dark gray-green in color. Each one had four fingers; three rising together from the top of the palm, the fourth opposing them, much like the talons of a bird. Each finger, in turn, had four swollen, misshapen knuckles the size of walnuts, topped with long inwardly curving claws that shone like ivory in the room’s dim light.

Katelynn’s mind whirled at a frantic pace, trying to explain what her eyes were seeing. Then, like a dash of ice-cold water thrown in her face, her subconscious dragged from its depths the memory of her other dreams, making her accept what was happening.

With a small gasp of horror, she understood.

She was no longer in her own body, but had somehow been transported inside something else and was looking out through their eyes instead of her own!

While she could feel her madly accelerated heartbeat, she could also feel that of the creature in whose body she rode, a heartbeat that was deeper and more powerful than her own, one that beat a much slower rate.

If she concentrated, as she did now, she could dimly perceive the other’s thoughts as well.

A wave of hatred so vile that it made her want to retch rolled out of the form she was inhabiting. That Gabriel knew her in this form was beyond a doubt; there was hatred and recognition in his eyes. As her mind struggled with a thousand questions, she felt herself speak, the voice in her ears like crushed gravel

"Time to die old fool," she said.

*** ***

Leaning close, Moloch opened his mouth to reveal the many rows of scalpel sharp teeth.

Using the last of his strength, Gabriel reached deep inside his body and simply ordered his heart to stop.

He died with a smile on his face, knowing he’d cheated the Nightshade out of the final victory.

*** ***

Katelynn felt her mouth stretching impossibly wide, felt her tongue flickering across the tips of monstrously long teeth as sharp as surgeon’s knives as she leaned closer to Gabriel.

Noooo! she cried mentally, but was helpless to stop the sudden descent of those awful fangs.

As the teeth ripped mercilessly into the fragile flesh of the old man’s neck, Katelynn’s mind mercifully found the strength to flee and she came to herself again, lying on the floor beside the table she’d been working on in the library. A long shrill scream was bursting from her lips. She felt someone grasping her limbs, and fearing that whatever it was had followed her, she thrashed wildly; terrified that she was about to die.

A sudden pain flared on her right cheek, bringing her back to reality. The middle-aged librarian who had administered the slap was crouched beside her, one hand in the air in preparation of delivering a second slap should it prove necessary. Two students were pinning her arms and legs to the floor. The lips of the one at her feet were red and rapidly swelling, and Katelynn realized with shocked sympathy that she must have kicked him in the face during her struggles.

"Settle down," the older woman said. "You’ve had some kind of an attack. Just lie still for a moment. The health team is on its way." The woman smiled at her, but Katelynn could recognize the woman’s fear and apprehension.

Probably thinks I’m ready for the psycho ward, Katelynn thought to herself.

With growing dismay she realized that the woman could be right.

Suddenly, she desperately wanted to get out of there, and assuring her rescuers that she was fine, got to her feet, quickly gathered her books and went out into the night, ignoring their protests.

Her nightmares from previous evenings crowded in on her, spurring her fear. She knew that they were more than simple nightmares now, knew that the connection she had made while in that twilight realm had followed her into the real world.

Lord only knew what might happen next.

*** ***

As he realized that his enemy had taken his own life before he could enact his vengeance, Moloch lost control. He tore into the fresh corpse, ripping the limbs from the body in his frenzy; delighting in the way his claws sliced into the weak flesh as if it were butter. He shrieked his rage and frustration, uncaring if any of the humans heard him now. If they were foolish enough to investigate, then he would tear them apart as well.

Later, once his anger was spent and the corpse was barely recognizable as having once been human, Moloch left the way that he had entered; leaving the sliding glass doors open behind him as he soared off the balcony into the night.

As he returned to his roost, slipping easily through the night’s inky blackness, he pondered the evening’s events.

Just before he had killed the Elder, he’d felt the presence of another being there in the room with them.

Yet he was positive the room had been empty with the exception of the Elder and himself.

So how did he explain the sensation that someone had been watching them? Or the scream he had heard as his teeth had ripped out the old fool’s throat?

He didn’t know.

But he was determined to find out.

For now though, he could wait. With his hunger sated, Moloch felt heavy, bloated, full. The quiet oblivion of sleep and his own sweet dreams beckoned to him. He decided he would rest before he sought the answers to those questions.

After all, with his oldest enemy now dead, what did he have to fear? He was once again ruler of the night, and nothing stood in his way. The human fools would again learn to fear the darkness, and he would rule over them in his rightful place as King.

And, oh, how much fun he was going to have, the beast thought gleefully as he winged his way home.

Chapter Twenty-Two: A Message from Beyond

Around seven o’clock that night, Jake sat in Sam’s apartment waiting for his friend to finish dressing. Sam had swapped shifts with a co-worker earlier in the week so that he could go to a celebration being held for Dana Sandings, one of his friends, and Jake had reluctantly agreed to come along. While sitting around with a bunch of literary types might not be Jake’s first choice for a night out, it certainly beat being home alone.

The party was in full swing when they arrived, with people filling the apartment and spilling out onto the deck in back. Jake slipped through the crowd in search of the bar, while Sam grabbed a Pepsi from a passing tray, said hello to those he knew, and spent some time mingling with those he didn’t.

After a while he felt someone come up behind him and punch him lightly on the shoulder. He turned to find Jake standing there.

"Come on, you’ve got to see this," his friend said.

Jake headed back into the crowd, making his way toward one of the back rooms. They reached a closed door, which Jake opened softly, gesturing for Sam to precede him through the door.

The room they entered was almost completely dark, four candles being the only source of illumination. By their soft light, Sam could see five or six people seated in a loose semi-circle on the floor in the middle of the room, facing two others. These two in turn sat facing each other with some kind of game board between them.

It took Sam a minute to realize it was a Ouija board.

Will you look at this? he thought to himself. He’d always wanted to try a Ouija board but had never had the chance. He moved closer.

In the dim light, Sam recognized one of those in the group as Dana, their hostess. That wasn’t surprising. Sam knew she practiced such things as spirit-trances, fortune telling, palm reading, and what she described as communication with the dead; all a result of having a Romanian gypsy for a mother, she’d say.

While he watched, Dana began speaking.

"The spirits are everywhere, they see and know everything. They are always around us; in the air we breathe, in the smoke from the candles, in the light of the flames, forever present but cut off from us due to our skepticism in their existence. One must overcome this if a message is to be received."

Sam realized suddenly that Jake had sat down on the outskirts of the circle and moved to join him. The others noted their presence but did not speak to them. No one wanted to interrupt Dana.

"In order for us to contact someone on the other side, we must all wipe our minds clean of doubt. The spirits are constantly trying to communicate with us on this plane, with our help, they will be able to. If you can’t believe but wish to stay and witness their presence among us, you must wipe your mind of all negative thoughts. Think only positive thoughts. It doesn’t matter what they are, just as long as they are happy thoughts. The spirits will use the energy you produce to help them break through the barrier to our side."

"Whom should we talk to?" asked a dark-haired man.

Dana asked, "Are there any particular requests?"

A number of names were called out: John F. Kennedy, Jim Morrison, Ben Franklin, Adolf Hitler, Ted Bundy. Dana held up her hands for silence, and when she got it, looked over at Sam. "Choose someone," she said.

Sam was at a sudden loss. Who did he want to talk to?

Jake spoke up. "What about that Jesuit who supposedly haunts the library on the Benton University campus, Father Castelli?"

Sam agreed. He was as good as anyone else.

"Okay. Father Castelli it is." Dana turned her attention to Jake. "Why don’t you come over here and help me work the board?" she asked.

Jake was about to decline when Sam elbowed him sharply. "He’d love to," Sam replied for him.

Jake got up and crossed the room, sitting Indian-style in front of Dana with the Ouija board between them.

"Have you ever done this before?" she asked.

Jake shook his head. Sam could see he was doing his best to stifle a grin.

"Okay, then. Rest your fingers on the planchette. No, that’s too heavy. Do it lightly, so that you’re just barely touching it." As Jake complied, Dana said, "Good. That’s much better." She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. Sam glanced around and saw everyone else staring intently at the board. He exchanged a humor-filled glance with Jake and was about to follow the others’ lead when Dana said, "Sam, why don’t you come over here and take my place? I don’t have to be using the board in order to provide a spirit channel for them to work through. I know you and your friend are most likely skeptics. This way neither of you can claim I was moving the planchette myself."

Sam enthusiastically agreed.

"Do I have your word that neither of you will consciously move the planchette?"

"Sure," said Jake.

Sam nodded as well.

"Okay. Everyone close your eyes. Clear your minds of all extraneous thoughts; let the outside world wash away. Pretend your mind is a television set and the only thing you are receiving is static. When you feel you’ve reached the proper state of awareness, you can open your eyes again. Casey, why don’t you read out the letters as the planchette lands on them?"

The woman seated to Sam’s left agreed.

Sam let his eyes slide shut and tried to follow Dana’s instructions, a little thrill of excitement growing in his stomach. Imagine if we really manage to contact someone, he thought to himself. Wouldn’t that be something?

Someone gave a small gasp, and Sam opened his eyes to find Jake and everyone else in the room staring in Dana’s direction.

Sam followed suit.

Dana’s eyes had rolled back in their sockets, so all that was visible were the whites of her eyeballs.

Neat trick, Sam thought, a bit disappointed at the theatrics.

Voices murmured somewhere on the edge of the room.

"Silence," Dana hissed, and quiet instantly returned. In a soft voice that was oddly lilting, she began speaking. "Is anyone out there? Can anyone hear me?"

Sam started to close his eyes again. As he did so, he caught a glimpse of the clock on the wall and noted in the back of his mind that it was one minute to twelve.

"Is anyone out there? We are trying to reach Father Castelli. Can you hear me, Father?"

Suddenly Sam felt two things happen at once. Across from him, Jake stiffened, and the planchette twitched beneath their fingers. Sam glanced up at Jake, but his head was lowered and he wouldn’t meet his gaze. Did Jake move this thing?

"Is anyone out…" Dana paused, and in a whisper spoke to the group. "I can feel the spirits. They are all around us, clamoring to speak to us. I sense a great urgency among them. Everyone concentrate on reaching out to Father Castelli. Let him know we wish to speak to him. Casey, would you please read the letters off the board once contact is made?"