by R. L. Stine
Christina’s nostrils filled with the smell of burning fabric and cinnamon. Sweet strawberries and smoking flesh.
“Please,” Aunt Jane gasped. “Please, Christina, I’ll do anything you ask. Help me.”
Christina almost couldn’t bear to look at her aunt’s face. It was swollen and bleeding. Her cheekbones poking through her skin.
Aunt Jane opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out. The hot pie juice squirted into her mouth. She gurgled and choked as the searing juice ran down her throat.
Her eyes rolled back in her head. Then her legs collapsed beneath her. Aunt Jane lay still upon the ground.
Christina began to shake. Her teeth chattered together. Her knees could barely hold her up.
But she could move again. She had been released from the force that held her in place.
When Christina bolted from the yard nothing remained of Aunt Jane but a pile of smoking bone and steaming grease.
Chapter
26
Christina gagged. She raced around to the front of the house. She pulled in deep breaths of the fresh spring air.
What have I done? What have I done?
Nothing, she told herself. You have done nothing. You did not want Aunt Jane to die.
Christina hurried away from the house. Her stomach twisted inside her. There were times when she had wished for Aunt Jane’s death. The day of her father’s funeral she wished Aunt Jane had been the one to die.
But wishing was not the same as truly wanting her aunt dead. And no one deserved the torment her aunt had received.
Christina rounded the corner—and ran straight into Matthew.
“Christina!” Matthew cried. “What on earth are you doing here?”
“I had an errand to run in town,” Christina answered. Should I tell Matthew what has happened?
She decided not to confide in him. Not yet. He could not possibly understand. She did not understand what happened herself. “What are you doing here?” she asked instead.
“The most wonderful thing happened!” Matthew exclaimed. Excitement shone in his dark eyes. “I felt a burst of power, just a moment ago. It could only come from the object I’m seeking. I’m sure it must be very near. I know I will find my family heirloom now.”
“That’s wonderful news, Matthew!” She tried to sound happy. She knew how much the heirloom meant to him. “Can you tell where the heirloom is now?”
Matthew cocked his head to one side, as if he were listening for something. “The burst of power has faded,” he said. Some of the sparkle left his eyes.
“I can no longer tell where the heirloom is,” Matthew continued. “But it’s here, Christina,” he assured her. “It’s somewhere in this village. I know it is. When I find it, we can go away together.”
“Oh, yes, Matthew,” Christina said. She wanted to go far away, where nothing would remind her of Aunt Jane or the Petersons. Where she could start a new life.
Her aunt’s death began to fade from her mind. It didn’t seem quite real to her. Am I still under the influence of the pendant? she wondered.
Then Matthew pulled her to him, and Christina forgot about everything but him. She could feel his heart beating deep inside his chest. He tilted her face up and stared down at her. Then he pressed his lips to hers.
Matthew’s lips felt warm and tender. Matthew, she thought, I love you with all my being. I love you until the end of time.
“It’s been so hard to stay away from you, Christina,” Matthew whispered in her ear. “I’ve thought about you every single day. But I couldn’t come to the farm. I couldn’t allow myself to get distracted. I have to find my family heirloom. Nothing can stand in my way.”
“It is all right, Matthew,” Christina assured him. “I understand.”
He thought about me. Christina’s face broke into a huge smile. Maybe as often as she thought about him.
But what will I do until he finds his heirloom? I can’t stay at the Petersons’. Where will I live? What will I do for food?
Christina felt tears sting her eyes. She hadn’t cried at the Petersons’. Not even when Mistress Peterson had locked her in the cellar. She didn’t want to cry now. In front of Matthew. She pulled away from him.
“Christina! What is it?” Matthew cried.
“The Petersons are horrible, Matthew!” Christina burst out. She could no longer keep the truth to herself. “I know they were kind to you. But they have never been kind to me. Not for one instant. They are not the good people you think they are.”
Matthew shook his head. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say.”
“Come back with me, Matthew,” Christina begged. “Come back with me to the Peterson farm. Then you’ll see what they are really like. They won’t be able to hide the truth this time.”
“Very well,” Matthew agreed. “If the Petersons mistreat you, I can’t let you stay with them. I want to search the area. Maybe I’ll feel the power again. Then we can ride to the Petersons’ on Thunder.”
Matthew led Christina to his horse and helped her mount up. Together, they set off for the Peterson farm.
♦ ♦ ♦
Christina could hear Emily screaming as they rode up to the farm that night.
“I went into her room,” she admitted to Matthew in a low voice. “I saw the evil things she hides there . . . and I destroyed them. Now she wants to punish me for it.”
“Don’t worry,” Matthew said. “I’m not going to leave you alone with her for one moment.” He jumped off Thunder. Then he swung Christina out of the saddle and gently placed her on the ground.
Christina knew she would have to face Emily any moment. But she did not feel fearful. Matthew loved her. Their love would survive. It would triumph over Emily’s evil.
Emily ran out the front door. Her cheeks flushed with anger. “Christina Davis, there you are!” she cried.
Christina stood up straight and stared Emily in the eye. “I’ve seen what’s in your room, Emily. I know what you are. I know that you practice the dark arts.”
Emily uttered a high-pitched laugh. She sounds hysterical, Christina thought.
“You stupid fool,” she exclaimed. “You can’t even begin to know what I am.”
There’s something different about her, Christina thought. Something wrong. Her face has changed. But how?
“You went into my room without permission. You destroyed my property!” she cried.
“Emily, I don’t—” Matthew began.
“Stay out of this,” Emily snapped, her eyes locked on Christina. “You have no idea what you are dealing with.”
Emily rushed at Christina. Her hands curled into deadly claws.
Christina sidestepped quickly. She ran around Thunder so the horse stood between her and Emily.
Emily screamed and reached out to scratch Christina’s face. Thunder shied and jerked his head up. Matthew grasped the bridle and tried to calm the horse.
Emily squealed in frustration. She darted forward and bit the horse on the flank.
She is insane, Christina thought.
Thunder pulled his lips back over his powerful teeth. He reared up on his hind legs. His razor-sharp front hooves flailed in the air.
Emily ducked under the horse and grabbed Christina by the hair.
Thunder bolted, pulling Matthew along with him.
Christina jerked her head back and forth, fighting to free herself. I can’t let Emily take me! I can’t go back inside the Peterson house. If I do, I’ll never come out again.
But Emily was stronger than Christina. Inch by inch, she dragged Christina across the yard. “Noooo,” Christina moaned, her voice filled with pain.
Christina turned and twisted, trying to loosen Emily’s grip. Emily yanked Christina’s head so hard Christina saw stars.
“Oh, no, Christina Davis,” Emily muttered. “You’re not going to get away from me.”
Bump. Bump. Bump.
Emily pulled Christina up the front steps. She kicked open th
e farmhouse door and pulled Christina across the threshold. She released Christina’s hair and gave her a shove that sent Christina sprawling. Christina crawled across the floor. Then she staggered to her feet and faced Emily across the dismal sitting room.
Blood dripped down from Emily Peterson’s chin. It stained the front of her snowy white collar. “You stole from me,” Emily shouted. “And now I am going to make you pay.”
“Oh, no you’re not,” Christina shouted back. Her scalp throbbed where Emily pulled her hair. “You stole from me! My blood is not your property, Emily,” Christina yelled. “You have no right to use it for your evil deeds.”
“But I need it,” Emily shrieked. “I must maintain my beauty. I must have your blood.”
Christina’s whole body began to tingle. I know what is different, she thought. Emily’s beauty. It’s fading.
Before Christina’s eyes, wrinkles spread over Emily’s face. Brown spots appeared on her soft white hands. Her back curved over—forcing Emily into a stoop.
Emily screeched. “Give me blood. I need your blood.” Her teeth turned yellow, then black. One by one, they began to fall out.
“My beauty!” Emily sobbed, clawing at her face. “You took my beauty away.”
Mistress Peterson dashed into the sitting room. She set a lighted candle down on a table. Then she took Emily into her arms.
“Now, mother,” she crooned, glaring at Christina. “Don’t worry. We’ll get your beauty back. But first, you’ve got to calm down.”
“Mother?” Christina gasped. “Emily is your mother?”
“Yes!” Mistress Peterson cried. “She is my mother. I would do anything for her. For years, we’ve been happy. People may have suspected us of practicing the dark arts. But they could never prove anything.”
“My beauty,” Emily wailed. “My beauty.”
“I never should have brought you here,” Mistress Peterson snarled. “I thought you would be another easy victim. But I was wrong.”
Christina’s stomach turned over. Now she knew what had happened to the other girls from the village. Emily used their blood to stay young and beautiful. She drained them dry.
“I am glad I destroyed everything in your room,” Christina cried out. “You are even more evil than I thought you were.”
With a cry of rage, Emily jerked away from Mistress Peterson. She leaped over to Christina and raked her nails across Christina’s cheek.
Christina grabbed Emily’s wrists. Her muscles trembled as she fought to keep Emily away from her.
“Destroy you. Destroy your beauty,” Emily moaned. She broke free and wrapped her hands around Christina’s throat.
“Matthew!” Christina cried out. “Help me.” She heard Matthew’s feet on the front porch.
He burst into the sitting room. He grabbed Christina by the shoulders and yanked her away from Emily.
Rriiipp!
The bodice of Christina’s dress tore open. Pieces of the fabric dangling from Emily’s hands.
Flash! The candlelight flashed across the silver pendant around Christina’s neck.
“That is the Fier amulet!” Matthew cried. “My family’s heirloom. That is what I’ve been searching for!”
PART FOUR
The Curse of Fear
Chapter
27
The Old World Britain, A.D. 50
Fieran held the silver amulet up in front of him. You are beautiful, Fieran thought. And you will give me my revenge. A revenge that will last for all eternity.
Dominatio per malum. Power through evil.
If I can’t have love, I will have power. I will take it any way I can.
Fieran stirred up the coals in the iron brazier. Sparks shot up into the air. Above the fire, the white skull of the Roman soldier glowed. But the eye sockets were still dark. They would not burn with their green fire until Fieran performed his deadly ceremony.
They would not burn green until Brianna’s blood flowed.
Fieran moved to the sleeping pallet and stared down at her. Oh yes, you are powerful, my beautiful Brianna, he thought. But you are as false as you are lovely. And you must pay for your treachery. Your power will not save you this time.
This time, it will not be strong enough.
At last, I will have my revenge.
He slipped the amulet around his neck, and bent low over the sleeping figure of his wife. “Brianna,” he called gently. “Beloved, arise!”
Brianna stirred at the sound of Fieran’s voice. She opened her eyes. “Fieran, what is it?” she asked. “Is something the matter? It is not yet dawn.”
She sounds so concerned. So sweet and innocent. But Fieran knew better. She would not fool him again.
“Nothing is wrong,” Fieran assured her. He kept his voice low and soothing. “But there is something that we must do. We must perform a special ceremony, beloved. Now, before the rising of the sun.”
“What ceremony?” Brianna asked.
“The ceremony of complete power,” Fieran answered. Brianna sat up quickly.
“You would share the power of the head with me?” she exclaimed.
Fieran almost laughed at her eagerness.
Oh, Brianna, he thought. Your desire for power is so strong. If only you desired me even half so much. We might have been happy.
“Of course I wish to share the power of the head with you, Brianna,” he answered. “You are my wife. I wish to share everything with you.”
“Oh, Fieran!” Brianna threw her arms around his neck. Fieran could feel her heart racing.
“Come,” he said. “We must begin the ceremony. It is almost dawn.”
Together, Fieran and Brianna crossed to the brazier. Fieran threw a handful of peat upon the coals. Instantly, the flames leapt up. They surrounded the Roman head. It sat grinning upon its spit.
Fieran took the amulet from around his neck. He hung it around the Roman head. It dangled down toward the flames. The silver shimmered in the firelight.
At the sight of the amulet, Fieran heard Brianna catch her breath.
You want that, don’t you, Brianna? That is very good. Keep on wanting it, Brianna. Let your desire cloud your judgment.
From the belt of his tunic, Fieran took out a black-handled knife. He chanted over it. Then he thrust the blade into the flames.
A low moaning filled the cavern. The eye sockets of the Roman head gave off the faintest green glow.
Now Fieran took up a silver goblet. He poured three drops of water into the flames. Each place the water touched, tiny blue flames sprouted up. The blue stones in the amulet blazed.
Next Fieran took out a long, black feather. When she saw it, Brianna gave a low moan. It was a feather from a crow, the bird of bad omen. Just looking at it could bring bad luck.
“Are you afraid, Brianna?” Fieran asked. “Do you want me to stop?”
Brianna’s green eyes were wide. She stared at him as if she had never seen him before.
“I am not afraid,” she answered. But he heard her voice tremble a little. “Continue with the ceremony, Fieran.”
The blood pounded in Fieran’s head as he pushed the crow’s feather into the center of the fire. So close. I am so very close now.
The sharp scent of scorched feather filled the cave and stung Fieran’s nostrils. He held his breath and blinked his eyes. A column of black smoke curled up from the feather. Around it danced the three blue flames.
With his right hand, Fieran reached out and retrieved the knife. He held his left hand above the brazier, palm open. He took a deep breath.
My hand must be steady. I must not let my courage fail me. Not now.
Fieran breathed out quickly through his nose. He brought the knife blade down in one swift stroke. The hot tip of the knife slashed across his palm.
Pain shot up Fieran’s arm. Blood from the cut dripped down into the fire. The eye sockets of the Roman head blazed a little brighter. Fieran clenched his fist, squeezing out as much blood as possible. Then he turned t
o Brianna.
“Your turn now, Brianna,” Fieran told her.
Brianna stepped up to the brazier. Slowly, she raised her palm. She held it over the fire, just as Fieran had done before her.
Fieran’s heart beat so hard his whole arm trembled.
Now! his heartbeats urged. Do it now! Rid yourself of this traitor. Take your revenge.
He lifted the blade above Brianna’s palm. Then brought it down. But he didn’t aim it at her palm.
He brought it straight down at Brianna’s unprotected heart.
Chapter
28
“Traitor!” Fieran screamed. The blade plunged toward Brianna. “You lied and betrayed me. For that, you must die.”
Brianna raised her arm at the very last second, blocking his. Crack! Their wrist bones smashed together. The knife stopped inches from Brianna’s chest.
“No, Fieran,” Brianna said. “Conn was right. You are stupid and weak. And it is you who are going to die.”
Fieran howled in outrage. With all his strength, he tried to force the knife point down. But Brianna’s arm held steady. Her brilliant green eyes locked onto his.
Look away! Fieran thought. She can cast a spell with a look. Don’t stare into her eyes!
Too late. Fieran could feel the muscles in his arms begin to tremble. Then his whole body shook. A great weariness came over him. He wanted to lie down and sleep. That’s all he wanted. Sleep.
Using his last ounce of strength, Fieran tore his gaze away from Brianna’s. “No!” he panted. “I won’t allow you to do this to me, Brianna. No!”
Brianna laughed. “You are as weak as a baby. You will never be able to kill me, Fieran. I am too strong for you. I always have been. I always will be. You underestimated me—as all the others did.”
With one sudden motion, Brianna jerked her arm up. Fieran’s grip on the knife weakened. Brianna swept it from his hand.
She brought the hilt down upon his head. Fieran sank to his knees, black dots exploding in front of his eyes.