by R. L. Stine
Christina put her hand on the door. I can’t just pretend I didn’t hear anything. I’ve got to find out what’s going on!
“Don’t go in there!” a voice behind her shrieked.
Christina spun around. Emily glared at her from the top of the stairs.
Christina heard the moan again.
If Emily is out here—who is that moaning in her room?
Chapter
18
Emily rushed down the hall toward Christina. “Get away from there!” she screeched. “That’s my room. You can never go inside. Ever.”
What does she have in there? Christina wondered. Is a person locked in there? Who was moaning?
Emily shoved Christina out of the way. She pulled the door open a crack and quickly slipped through it. Christina couldn’t see a thing before Emily slammed the door behind her.
The moaning stopped. Christina stood frozen in the hallway. She didn’t know what to do.
What’s really in there? she wondered. What is Emily Peterson doing? Heart pounding in fear, Christina remembered all the horrible rumors she’d heard in the village.
Rumors that the Petersons practiced the dark arts. That they captured people and tortured them. Is Emily torturing someone now? Is that what she was doing in her room?
Christina remembered a conversation she once heard while doing the shopping for Aunt Jane.
“I hear they eat people alive,” Mistress Tucker said.
“I hear they boil them and then eat them,” Mistress Brown answered.
“And I hear,” Mistress Dennison spoke up, her voice no more than a whisper, “that they drain their victims’ blood and drink it while it’s still warm.”
I can’t just walk away, Christina thought. Not if Emily’s holding somebody prisoner in there. I have to find out what is going on.
She reached for Emily’s doorlatch.
“Stay away,” a voice behind the door whispered.
“Christina Davis, stay away! Or I will make you very sorry.”
Christina turned and picked up her bucket. Then she ran down the stairs as fast as she could. She didn’t even stop to mop up the water she spilled in the hall. Mistress Peterson might not give her any breakfast. But Christina didn’t care anymore.
All she cared about was getting away from Emily’s room and its deadly secrets.
Mistress Peterson studied Christina from head to foot as she lugged the bucket into the kitchen. Then she nodded as if satisfied.
She likes my fear, Christina thought. She wants me to be afraid.
“You can throw that dirty water out into the yard,” Mistress Peterson said. “And that room upstairs better be spotless when I check it later.”
Christina nodded. “Yes, ma’am,” she said as she headed out the kitchen door.
Silently, she made a vow to clean up the water she had spilled as soon as she finished eating. When she returned to the kitchen, Mistress Peterson gave her a meager breakfast of thin gruel and cold potatoes. Then she put Christina to work again.
Work.
Work.
Work.
Christina’s days slipped into a dismal pattern. She arose at first light. She worked all day. She fell into her bed exhausted each night. After what felt like moments, Mistress Peterson shook her awake. Forcing her to begin another day.
Sometimes while Christina cleaned, she allowed herself to daydream about Matthew. About the day he would come back for her.
Emily did no work at all, as far as Christina could tell. She stayed upstairs in her bedroom most of the time. Except for her trips into the woods.
Every day Emily went to the woods with a basket over her arm. When she came back, things inside the basket cried and wriggled.
Christina never had a chance to see what Emily brought home from the woods. Emily always took the basket straight upstairs to her room.
And Christina stayed away from Emily’s room. She felt too frightened to go near it. But she could still hear the moans whenever she was upstairs.
Then, one day, Christina woke up before Mistress Peterson came for her. She couldn’t figure out why—until she realized the moans had stopped. An unnatural silence filled the house.
Christina quickly dressed and tiptoed down the hall.
She pressed her ear to the door of Emily’s room.
I know it is forbidden. But I must see what is inside. If I can find out what she is doing, maybe I can stop it. And maybe I can find a way to escape from here.
“Christina Davis! Get down here this instant!” Mistress Peterson’s voice shot up the stairs.
Christina jumped. She jerked away from Emily’s bedroom. I will get my chance. Someday, she promised herself.
“There you are!” Mistress Peterson exclaimed as Christina hurried into the sitting room. “You’re late. You’ll get no breakfast. Start your chores right away.”
Christina’s stomach growled. I’m so hungry, she thought. If I eat any less, I’ll die.
“Emily and I are going out this morning,” Mistress Peterson informed Christina. “We are going to the village. You are going to stay here and clean the sitting room walls.”
Something is happening, Christina thought. Something is wrong.
The Petersons rarely went to town. They knew they were not welcome there.
“Christina!” Mistress Peterson’s sharp voice cut through Christina’s thoughts. “Are you listening to me?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Christina answered. “You want me to clean the sitting room walls.”
Mistress Peterson gave a satisfied sniff. “That’s very good, Christina. I’m pleased to see you’re learning how to behave. It doesn’t do to have too much pride, you know. Particularly not in your situation.”
Emily giggled from the doorway.
Hot color flooded Christina’s face. She could feel her cheeks begin to burn.
I’ll discover your secret, Emily, she thought. You won’t do so much laughing then.
“What a pity you can’t come to the village with us, Christina,” Emily said. “What a shame you’re only a servant and have to stay at home. But I’m sure Matthew will understand the reason you can’t see him.”
Matthew! Christina thought. Are they going to visit Matthew?
Emily smiled when she noticed Christina’s upset expression. Her teeth were sharp and pointed, like a cat’s.
Oh, Matthew, Christina thought. Don’t be fooled by Emily’s beauty. Remember your promise to me.
“I expect this room to be perfect by the time we return, Christina,” Mistress Peterson said. She drew on her cloak. Tenderly, she wrapped Emily up against the chill spring air.
“Yes, ma’am,” Christina answered once again. She followed the Petersons into the yard and drew a bucket of water from the well.
“Come along, Emily,” Mistress Peterson commanded as she climbed into the wagon. “We’ve wasted enough time.”
Emily marched past Christina with a swirl of pale blue skirts. Her golden hair glowed in the sun. Christina fought down an impulse to toss the bucket of water over Emily’s head.
Mistress Peterson clicked her tongue to the horse. The wagon rumbled out of the yard. Christina returned to the sitting room. When she could no longer hear the wagon, she picked up the bucket and threw it against the sitting room wall.
The bucket burst with the force of Christina’s throw. Dirty water streaked down the walls.
I hate you both! she thought. I will be so happy the day I leave this house forever!
Christina dashed up to Emily’s room. Taking the steps two at a time.
She pressed her ear against the door. Complete silence.
Her hand crept toward the doorlatch.
I shouldn’t do this, Christina thought. Emily told me to stay out. She warned me to stay away.
But her hand kept moving, in spite of Emily’s warning. Christina swung the door open—and stuck her head inside.
Huge faces stared back at Christina. Their mouths open wide.
She slowly stood, then cautiously inched back to Emily’s door. Still perfectly quiet. Christina peeked inside.
Mirrors! Mirrors covered all the walls—and the ceiling. I was frightened by my own reflection!
Christina stepped into Emily’s room. It’s like a shrine, she thought. A shrine to her incredible beauty.
The thought made Christina feel sick.
Holding her breath, Christina crept forward. Her mirror images crept with her. Halfway across the room, she saw it.
A human hand.
Christina gagged and covered her mouth. All around her, the mirror images did the same.
The hand sat on a shelf above Emily’s bed. The wrist had been nailed to a block of wood. The fingers extended upward into the air. They appeared black and withered.
Merciful heavens! Christina thought. What kind of evil is this? Her eyes ran across the shelf. A jar of spiders. A jar of rat tails. A jar of round white balls with darkened centers.
Eyeballs! Christina thought.
And then the moaning began.
Christina covered her ears to block out the horrible sound. A thousand panicked Christinas did the same in the mirrors all around her. Christina could see their eyes staring in terror. Their mouths gaping wide open.
Christina followed the moaning sound to a clay jar on the shelf. Nothing can make me look into that jar, she thought. Nothing. Not even if it will make the moaning stop.
The moaning grew louder. “Christina. Christinaaaaaaa. ”
The thing in the jar is calling my name!
It knows my name!
Christina turned to run.
I’ve got to get out of here! I’ve got to run away and never come back. This is an evil, unnatural place.
She stumbled to the doorway. The door slammed shut in her face.
“No!” Christina gasped. Her knees felt weak. Her whole body too heavy to move.
The moaning filled her head. Jabs of pain shot out from the center of her brain. She couldn’t think.
“What do you want? What do you want from me?” she screeched.
Then she caught sight of a tall, narrow bookcase. Its shelves were filled with tiny vials. Christina took a step toward it.
The moaning stopped abruptly. Christina moved closer to the bookcase and stared at the vials.
They were empty. A rust-colored sediment stained their sides. Each vial had been carefully labeled with a name.
Christina noticed a full vial behind the others—with her name neatly printed on the label.
Christina snatched the vial up. It was filled with bright red liquid. Christina knew at once what it was.
Blood, she thought. My blood!
Chapter
19
Christina hurled the vial to the floor.
Her blood ran out in a thin, red stream. It stained the floor of Emily’s room.
No, Emily! You are not going to use my blood for your evil. And you can clean it up yourself. I’m leaving this horrible place.
Then she turned and bolted to the door.
The door would not budge. She couldn’t move it at all.
I’ve got to get out of here! Away from this evil. If I don’t, my heart will surely explode!
Heat spread over her chest. The skin growing hotter and hotter.
Christina’s breath rasped inside her throat. She tugged on her bodice.
Tight! It’s too tight!
Her fingers found something round and hot. Christina pulled it out.
The silver pendant.
It glittered in the dim light. The blue stones sparkled so brightly Christina could hardly bear to look at them.
Dazzled by the blue stones, Christina turned the pendant over. For the first time she realized that an inscription covered the back.
The words were in Latin. Christina could just make them out.
Dominatio per malum.
What does that mean? Christina wondered.
Her father had been a scholar. He had taught her some Latin.
Think! You know those words! Christina thought. You know what they mean!
Dominatio.
Dominatio meant power.
Malum.
Malum meant evil.
Dominatio per malum. Power through evil.
Piercing pain lanced through Christina. She felt as if she had taken a bolt of lightning straight to the head.
Fire roared all around her.
For an instant, a grinning skull appeared in the flames.
It’s the pendant, she thought. I’ve got to put down the pendant.
But she couldn’t do it. Her fingers were locked around it.
Christina swayed on her feet. The room around her went black.
PART THREE
Revenue
Chapter
20
The Old World Britain, A.D. 50
Fieran choked on the black smoke that poured from the head of the Roman leader. He sat up, gasping and sputtering.
I did it! he thought. I released the full power of the head. And I’m still alive!
He staggered to his feet. The black smoke swirled around his ankles.
He stared over at the head. It still sat on its spit above the brazier. No flesh remained on it. The bones gleamed, clean and white.
But the eyes sockets.
They glowed green. An unearthly green.
What have I done? Fieran asked himself. Have I brought some evil to life? What if I do not have the strength to control it?
A voice filled Fieran’s head.
Why have you summoned me?
Fieran screamed. He pressed his hands against his temples. The voice repeated the question over and over. Pain slammed through Fieran’s head.
I must bear this, he thought. I must become the master of this pain. This is the first step toward achieving my power. I must be able to answer when the head speaks.
Fieran forced himself to take his hands away from his head. He lowered them to his sides. His hands clenched into fists—as if that could help him control the pain.
“Power,” he said in a low voice. “I want all the power you have.”
What kind of power?
“The power of revenge,” Fieran answered.
The head laughed. The sound reverberated through the stone chamber. The black smoke swirled up from the floor.
Fieran cried out. Every sound the head made shot agony through him.
I will give you these things. But I must have payment.
“Anything!” Fieran cried, ignoring the pain.
Lightning flashed through the cave.
A creature that was half-man and half-bird flew through the opening. It snatched Fieran up in one of its sharp claws.
Fieran screamed in terror. How could such a creature exist?
A vision, Fieran told himself. The Roman leader has sent me a vision.
The bird-creature uttered a high, shrill scream as it flew out of the cave. It carried Fieran up into the night sky. Higher and higher until he could not see the ground.
Fieran forced himself to keep his eyes open. He must not miss one clue the vision would give him.
The cold air burned his face. His fingers grew numb.
The bird-creature closed its black wings. It fell straight down. Gaining speed with every moment.
Fieran heard himself moan low in his throat. A vision, he told himself. A vision.
The bird-creature released Fieran—and rose back into the sky.
Fieran fell through the darkness. His heart pounding in his ears was the only sound he heard.
He landed on something hard and felt warm blood trickle down the back of his head.
Fieran slowly pushed himself upright. He sat on a round slab of dull gray stone.
Smaller stones rested on top of it. Glistening blue stones.
Is this a pla
ce of good or evil? Fieran asked himself. He climbed down. The stone is an altar, he realized.
Carved in the stone were the words Dominatio per malum. He knew the words were in the language of the Romans, but he was unsure what they meant.
The words were stained with red. Blood, he realized. This is a place of sacrifice.
Fieran shivered. Suddenly he remembered his father warning him about the high price of power.
He turned his attention to the glittering blue stones. Before his eyes, each stone burst into a column of flame.
“Such power,” Fieran whispered. He forced him. I self to step closer. And saw faces in the flames. Faces screaming and crying. Faces twisted in torment.
The flames grew stronger. The columns joined together. They formed a wall in front of Fieran.
He spun around.
Flames formed a circle around him. And moved closer. Tighter.
Fieran screamed as they engulfed him.
He screamed again—and realized he was back in his cave. Staring at his own fire.
Pulling in deep, ragged breaths he sank to the ground. The vision was so powerful, so real. He glanced down at himself to make sure he was unharmed.
And saw a strange object clutched in his left hand. An amulet on a silver chain.
Fieran’s hand trembled as he studied the silver disc. The front had a silver bird’s claw clutching glittering stones. Blue stones.
And Latin words were carved on the back. Dominatio per malum.
Power through evil. The deep voice of the Roman head boomed.
As long as your family lasts, so will this amulet. So will the power of your revenge.
Fieran wanted to throw the amulet on the ground and run. Run to a place where no one knew him. Where he could start a new life.
This power was evil. Pure evil. Could he use it without becoming evil himself?
Then Fieran thought of Conn. He remembered how Conn had cheated him out of becoming the chief.
I allowed Conn to live on the battlefield, Fieran thought. I will not show him mercy a second time.
“Revenge,” Fieran whispered. “Revenge,” he repeated, his voice stronger.