Amulet of Doom (11 page)

“Yes,” said Zenobia with a scowl. “If I ever catch up with him, I swear …”

Marilyn caught her breath as a second form shimmered into sight beside Zenobia. “Don't!” it said sharply. “Don't swear to anything, Zenobia. You have no idea how binding an oath is for someone in our condition.”

Marilyn had seen Zenobia angry before. She had seen her, in the last week, frightened. But she had never seen her quite this surprised.

“Eldred Cooley!”

The figure standing before them was a small, dapper-looking man. He was slightly overweight, slightly balding, and somewhere, Marilyn guessed, slightly over the age of fifty. Or at least, he had been when he died.

“What is going on here?” asked Kyle. Marilyn squeezed his hand. He sounded like a little kid who had lost his mother in a department store.

Nobody answered him. The two ghosts were looking at each other with an expression Marilyn could not decipher, though it seemed to contain elements of respect, anger, and longing in equal measure.

“Well, what are
you
doing here, Eldred?” asked Zenobia at last.

“The same thing you are,” answered Cooley. “Trying to make up for past mistakes.”

Marilyn felt Brick rubbing about her legs. She reached down to pick him up and suddenly felt the hair on the back of her neck begin to rise. She sat up straight, the cat still in her hands, and said, “Danger!”

Even as the word left her lips, a searing heat burst against her leg. The amulet had blazed into life again.

Eldred Cooley shouted something in a language that sounded unlike any she had ever heard before. It was too late. Whatever had been started was in motion. There was no stopping it now.

Marilyn leaped to her feet, dumping Brick to the floor. She fumbled desperately for the amulet and finally drew it from her pocket by its chain. Holding it before her, she looked at it and cried out in horror.

The amulet was looking back at her. A single eye, round and red, seemed to be staring into her very soul.

12

“HELP ME!”

Despite the horror of it, Marilyn couldn't tear her own eyes from the gaze of the eye in the amulet. She had a feeling that the amulet had become a bridge of some kind, between her world and this other place, the place from which the eye was looking at her.

This other place filled her with dread. Something spoke to her through the fiery gaze, spoke without words, lashing into her soul with a message that told of thousands of years of waiting, of sorrow, and of anger.

Dimly she could hear the others calling her name. She tried to answer, but could not force her lips to form the words. Frustration began to boil within her, causing her chest to feel painfully full, as if there were a balloon swelling inside.

Once, when she was five or six, Kyle and Geoff had tied her up while they were playing some stupid game. Being unable to move her arms or legs terrified her, and after only a few seconds she had begun to scream.

She had the same sensation now, only it was worse because there was nothing binding her—nothing but the blazing eye of the amulet. She wanted to scream. She wanted to throw the amulet as far from her as possible. She wanted to grab Kyle by the hand and run from this place, fleeing the terror they had found here.

But she couldn't. She couldn't even move her lips to ask for help. Her breathing had become short and shallow, and her throat felt as though there were a Coke bottle wedged in it.

Then she heard the voice—the same rough voice she had heard before, first speaking through Brick, and then through Zenobia's corpse.

Only now it was whispering.

And it was saying what
she
longed to say.

Help!

The word blossomed in her mind, where none of the others could hear it, and she thought her heart would break, for it sounded like nothing so much as the cry of a lost child.

A teardrop trickled down the amulet.

Help me
, whispered the voice in her mind.
Please, help me
.

Marilyn had never heard such sorrow, such longing. It made her think of a warm night the previous summer, when she had been lying in the grass behind her house, staring at the stars, and had suddenly started to weep because she wanted so desperately to reach out and touch them. She had actually raised her hands toward the sky, stretching toward the stars. But they were too far, hopelessly far away. She had felt very small then—small, and trapped, and infinitely sad.

She had felt the way this voice sounded.

Help me
, it pleaded again.

And for Marilyn, who was so softhearted she had been known to walk out of her way to avoid stepping on bugs, there was only one possible answer:

“Yes,” she whispered. “I'll help you.”

A flood of elation seemed to envelop her body. A pleasant warmth surrounded her.

But somewhere in the distance she heard a horrible sound. After a moment she realized it was Kyle, screaming.

“She's on fire! Help her, she's on fire!”

As the words pierced her consciousness, she became more aware of the heat around her.

“Marilyn!”

Zenobia's voice was the final jolt. She tore her gaze from the amulet. Immediately all the screams that had been pent up in her from the time she first saw the eye came tearing out of her, propelled by a new horror.

Her body was surrounded by leaping, crackling flames.

Don't be afraid
, whispered the voice in her mind.
I will keep you safe
.

The reassurance did no good. She buried her face in her hands and screamed over and over—until suddenly she realized that, despite the flame, she felt no pain at all.

She was being held in arms of fire, arms that were enclosing her, taking her someplace she had never been before. Someplace where she was desperately needed.

Are you ready?
asked the voice.

“Yes,” she whispered, before she could even think of what she might be doing.

The sense of heat increased.

Now!
cried the voice.

Marilyn felt herself begin to fade.

“Grab her!” cried Zenobia at the same instant.

Marilyn whirled away from the others, saw them spin into the darkness. She felt a hand clutch at her heel. Then everything went black, and it seemed to stay that way for a long, long time.

When Marilyn came to, she found herself lying on a cold, smooth floor. She brought herself to her knees and shook her head, trying to remember what had happened, how she had gotten here.

She looked up. In the distance she could see windows—huge windows, so wide an eagle could fly through them without brushing its wings on either side.

The amulet was still in her hand.

She rolled over and whimpered, pulling her knees against her chest to make herself into a small ball.

Where was she?

She looked up again. How could the windows be so far away? How big was this place?

And
where
was it?

She noticed something and put her hand on the floor, next to her face. The smooth stone beneath her fingers was pitted and scorched, as if something incredibly caustic had fallen upon it.

A cold wind blew over her. She shivered, huddling into herself for warmth.

We're here!

She didn't know if she was glad the voice was still with her or not.

The thought was interrupted by a low moan from somewhere nearby.

She turned in the direction of the sound.

“Kyle!”

He lay sprawled on the floor about ten feet to her left. At the sound of her voice he shook his head and pushed himself to his elbows. A bump the size of a small egg protruded from his forehead.

Raising his fingers, he gingerly touched the lump. “Ouch!” he whispered, making a face. As he did, he seemed to become aware of the room around him. A look of shock crossed his face as he took in the monumental size of the place.

“Where are we?” he asked in a very small voice.

In the Hall of the Kings
, replied the voice.

When Kyle made no response, Marilyn realized that the voice was speaking only in her mind. So she repeated the words aloud.

Kyle looked at her. “What's the Hall of the Kings? And how do you know that's what this place is called?”

Marilyn smiled nervously. “A voice in my head told me.”

Kyle was still probing at the lump on his forehead. “Are you all right?” he asked, his voice filled with concern.

“No, I'm not all right! I've been attacked by a corpse, swallowed by fire, kidnapped to who knows where by who knows what, and I've got a voice in my head. How can you say ‘Are you all right?' I'm going out of my mind!”

“Calm down,” said Kyle and the voice in her mind simultaneously.

“I can't stand it!” she screamed. “You! Whatever you are, get out of my head!”

I'm not in your head
, answered the voice.
I'm just talking to you that way
.

“Well, why can't I see you?”

I don't think you want to
.

“Why not?”

I'm not very pretty
.

“I'm not feeling very pretty myself right now,” said Marilyn, somewhat irrelevantly.

She received no words in response, only a sense of puzzlement from whatever was talking to her.

“Listen, I don't care
what
you look like. I'd still rather see you if I have to talk to you.”

For a moment the voice stayed silent. Marilyn glanced over at Kyle, who was staring at her in astonishment.

“Well?” she cried at last.

I'm afraid
, said the voice.

“Of what?” she asked impatiently.

Of frightening you. I need your help, and
—

“Look, if you want my help, let me see you!”

You'll scream
.

“In about ten seconds I'm going to scream anyway!”

Kyle had crawled over and was sitting beside her. He pressed his hand against the inside of her elbow.

The creature materialized in front of them.

Marilyn began to scream. Kyle shouted in terror.

The creature vanished abruptly.

I knew you would scream
, said the voice petulantly.

“You killed my aunt Zenobia!” cried Marilyn. “I saw you. I saw you in my dreams! You killed her!”

She could feel his chagrin.
That was an accident. I didn't want her to die. I just wanted her to give the amulet back!

“You killed her!”

Kyle's arms folded around her.

She felt a stony silence in her mind.

“What was
that
?” asked Kyle at last, his voice a mere whisper. She turned to him. His face was etched with lines of fear, and his eyes were deeply troubled. “What's going on?” he asked, sounding so much like a frightened little boy that she could have wept.

“I don't know. I told the voice in my head I wanted to see it.”

Kyle shuddered. “You mean that …
thing
is what you've been talking to?”

“I guess so. The worst part is, I've seen it before.”

“Where?”

“In a dream.”

“What did you mean when you said it had killed Zenobia? I thought she died of a heart attack.”

“She did. But what
caused
the heart attack was that thing we just saw. It scared her to death.” Marilyn paused. “Actually, that's just what I saw in my dream. But it seemed so real, I assumed it was what happened.” She gave him a weak smile. “Considering what's going on, I guess it makes as much sense to believe in dreams as anything.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” said Kyle numbly. He stood to look around and gave a low whistle. “Where are we, anyway? Yeah, I know—we're in the Hall of the Kings. But what does that mean? And how did we get here?”

“I know how I got here,” said Marilyn. “That creature brought me.” She couldn't suppress a shudder when she thought of it. “What I don't understand is how
you
got here.”

“I came with you. When you started to disappear, Zenobia screamed for me to grab you. I lunged for you and just managed to catch your heel before you disappeared completely. The next thing I knew, I was lying on this floor, nursing a goose egg.” He shook his head and touched the discolored lump. “I can't believe I used to think you were boring.”

“I'm beginning to think boring's not so bad,” replied Marilyn.

Kyle stretched out his hand to help her to her feet. Once up, she linked her arm through his and pulled herself close.

Why does this make me feel better?
she wondered.
I know there's nothing he could do if that monster decides to attack us
.

She looked up at Kyle, who was studying the room—looking for a way out, she assumed. Almost reluctantly she turned her face from his and followed his gaze. For the first time the full extent of the place sank in on her.

It was enormous.

Kyle gave another low whistle. “I was in the Astrodome once. That was like a family rumpus room compared to this.”

They turned in a slow circle. On three sides the polished stone floor swept away for hundreds of feet before coming to a wall. The walls themselves appeared to be carved with some sort of pictures, though Marilyn couldn't make them out from where she stood. The carvings were separated by high, peaked windows. The only thing Marilyn could see through them was clouds.

The walls soared up some forty or fifty feet before the roof took over and continued the upward swing. Kyle guessed out loud that the arch of the ceiling peaked at about a hundred feet above the center of the hall.

The fourth wall was not far from them. Centered against it was a huge throne, mounted on a platform.

Marilyn swallowed uneasily. “Do you think anyone actually sat in that?” she whispered.

“I don't know. If he did, I sure hope he's not around now.”

Taking her hand, he led her up the steps of the platform. The seat of the throne—covered with a plush, scarlet material somewhat like velvet, yet different than anything Marilyn had ever seen, or felt—was about shoulder height.