Water continued to fall, streaking down his face, and he wiped away a drop that caught on his eyebrow. As he rounded the curve, he heard flapping. A cluster of bats, disturbed by the flame, flew inside the ring of illumination guiding him, then swarmed around his head like gnats.
Zach recoiled, flailing his hands above his head to fight off the onslaught, testing his fragile purchase on the slick cave floor. In seconds, they were gone, repelled by the light, and he stopped for a minute to get a handle on his nerves. Vodka would help.
He was just slipping the flask back into his pocket when he felt it on his skin. Legs, crawling legs, straight out of his nightmares. He turned, his eyes wide with horror, and on the arm supporting the candle, he saw the spider. Big, nearly two inches in diameter, and, by God, he swore he heard it hiss.
"Ugh!" He jerked so violently the candle flew from his hand to land near a puddle on the floor. Reflexively, he divided his attention between cuffing the spider and recovering the candle. The spider flew from his arm at the precise instant the candle rolled into the puddle, sizzled, then went out.
Chapter Seventeen
Black, pure undiluted black, surrounded Zach, heavy with the echoes of his rasping breath. He felt legs crawling all over his body, knew they were imaginary, but that didn't keep him from frantically brushing them away. He lost track of time. Eons, it seemed, passed before he got hold of himself enough to yank the backup candle from his pants pocket and reach for his cigarette lighter.
Tilting the candle, he flicked the lighter on, preparing to ignite it.
There they were again, dozens of them. Big, spiny orb-weavers dangling from swinging strands of web. He instinctively recoiled and the lighter slipped from his fingers. With jumps and starts and gasps that disgusted him, he let go of the second candle. It landed with an explosive thud as he grabbed for the falling lighter.
He missed, and the lighter joined the candle with a reverberating thud of its own. Dropping to his knees and stifling his shudders of revulsion with little success, Zach searched the floor of the cave. Above him were the spiders, looking for dinner. Below him were piles of bones and rotting carcasses that he might join sooner than he thought. And he could see neither.
Not poisonous, he told himself. Orb-weavers were not poisonous. Just spiders. Just the stuff of nightmares, the stuff that had him waking in a sweat nearly every morning. Just spiders, just spiders.
The lighter had to be here somewhere. He'd heard it strike. Or had it hit the wall, to bounce off and land almost anywhere?
He hit an object about the right shape, closed his hand around it, then let go in repulsion. A fucking bone. He had the shakes bad. Real bad. And he struggled to overcome them.
But how the hell would he find these things in total darkness? He wouldn't, he couldn't. He might as well be hunting for a lost toddler at a Katie Perry concert. At least there was help to be found at concerts. But none here.
His hand connected with something slimy, and he jerked it back.
No help. None at all.
Yes, there was.
"Frank!" he shouted. "Frank!" Frank-ank-ank-ank-ank, echoed the walls.
"Frank!"
Another echo, but he kept on calling until he felt a tickle on his neck. Then another tickle. And another. He couldn't move, not an arm, not a hand, not a finger. And he wouldn't scream, wouldn't, wouldn't, wouldn't . . .
Wouldn't.
The echoes of his wordless cry came back to him, again and again, and he joined it, renewed it, and he knew he was slipping into panic, and it would kill him more certainly, more surely, than the spiders crawling on his neck, across his shirt, creeping down his arms. He hated cowardice almost more than spiders, hated it, never gave into it, never, ever. . . .
This was Ankouer's power after all, to turn a man's mind into a mush of terror, to take away his courage and thus his soul.
Suddenly a refrain ran through Zach's mind. A stanza from the prayer Liz had read from the journal. Immediately, he felt his panic let go. Only slightly, way too slightly, but his thoughts weren't quite so jumbled. Not quite.
He forced his lips to move. " 'Power above,' " he mouthed. " 'Power divine, I call to thee. Shine your light upon my soul. . . " His mind went momentarily blank, something that never happened to him. He'd trained himself to remember the smallest detail, the smallest .. .
"'W-Wash.' " Yes, that was it. "'Wash over me a love so pure.' "
Pure-ure-ure, echoed the walls.
" 'A love so pure my heart is cleansed of fear.' "
At that instant, the snuffed candle reignited in a glorious blaze. More sounds left Zach's mouth, sounds of relief and joy. Volition returned to his body. He snatched up the candle, then prepared to swat away the spider menace.
They were gone, every one of them. Even the web strands had vanished. He didn't know how this could be, but damned if he'd question it. He'd just collect his lighter and the other candle, then turn back without Frank. The man knew a heap more about caves than he did.
He found the lighter, gleaming brightly red amid a pile of bleached bones. Pocketing it, he then plucked up the other candle, which lay in the middle of the path. After stuffing the items in his pockets, he took a step for the entrance.
He hesitated.
Liz. Liz was waiting out there, worried sick about her father.
Backward or forward?
Liz's face arose in his mind's eye.
Backward or forward?
Grateful, trusting, believing he'd succeed.
"Oh, hell," he muttered.
Hell-ell-ell-ell, echoed the walls. Damn straight, he thought, then marched to meet the sound.
* * *
Liz shifted her weight on the uneven rock she'd sat down on, and plucked her cotton top away from her skin. How could it be so hot with haze covering the sun? Just another puzzle surrounding Quadray Island, or whatever this place was. She glanced down at her watch for the hundredth time. It still said three-twenty-six, the hour it stopped after being flooded with too much water.
How long had it been? Half an hour? An hour? Two? Forever is what it seemed, and she could have sworn Zach had called for help.
Maybe.
Then maybe it had only been the echo of her own voice calling him. She got up and walked to the entrance. The sickly sunlight crept into the cavern, illuminating a pebble-covered floor, then getting lost in a dusky hole directly in front of her. A finger of alarm traced Liz's spine as she realized Zach had entered that narrow space.
An inviting place for those that craved the dark—bats, rats, spiders, snakes. . . . The finger suddenly grated on her nerves like a nail across a blackboard.
Unless he had found her father, he was all alone in there.
Returning to the rock, she climbed up to spy down on the clearing, but couldn't spot Maddie. Was she resting out of sight against the butte wall or simply not there? She'd suspected the woman's motives from the beginning, and had still let Zach go alone. What if her father wasn't even inside? Caves were often a maze of tunnels. What if Zach got lost?
Liz blew out a breath of air that made her curls bounce on her forehead. Brushing them back, she leaped off the boulder. Enough. Taking a candle and match from a pocket, she set it afire, then headed for the entrance to the cave. She was going in after him. He'd been gone too long. Way too long.
* * *
Zach moved slowly, cautiously, through the tunnel. The ceiling had risen, providing relief for his cramped, stooped shoulders, but he wanted to make certain he stepped on nothing slick . . . or rotting. One slip could cost him the candle again. It took awhile before he noticed that the darkness ahead wasn't so complete. Gray now, much like when he'd first entered. Moving forward into ever-paler shades of gray, he realized there was another source of light. Fortified, he picked up his step, curiosity overcoming caution and nearly wiping away his earlier horror.
He heard an echo. Oor-oar—oor-oar.
From a voice? Frank's voice?
He
snuffed the candle, stashed it with the other, and broke into a lope. It was a voice. He was sure it was.
With the way now well lit, he traveled quickly, and soon entered a cave about the size of the one at the entrance. It opened to his right onto an enormous cavern.
Zach stopped a moment, listening.
"Give me the fire stone, phantom!" he heard Frank shout.
No one answered. Wanting to see what would happen next, he slid to the edge of the opening and waited quietly.
"No more!" Frank shouted further. "No more ones will die for you!" His voice softened almost to a plea—"Catherine. My own Ellie. And the other two."—then regained force. "You cannot have my Izzy, no!"
Zach stepped into the cavern, blinking from the bright light, and hazily saw Frank looking over a pool of water that filled most of the cavern.
"She will take the stone far away and trouble you with it no more." The echoes of Frank's shouts blocked out all other sound, and so far the man was clearly unaware of Zach's presence.
He took that opportunity to drink in the details around him.
Frank's line of sight was directed toward a high, shallow ledge that curved down and widened until it joined the level in front of the pool. Sunlight bathed the cavern through a round hole directly above and clearly illuminated the opal that rested on the narrowest part of the ledge. At least Zach thought it was the opal. Almost fist-sized—large for such a gem—and from his vantage point it looked much like an uncut geode except for the spidery striations and color splotches that marked it as the fire stone.
So it was here, and Frank had come for it. Or brought it. But why? And who was responding to his words? The cavern's walls were smooth, not a nook or cranny anywhere. Except for the opal, the ledge was empty.
There was only one way to get his questions answered. And not for the first time, he wished he'd brought his weapon when he'd made that trip to the Deverauxs in Richard's rented boat.
"Who are you talking to?" he asked, walking forward. Frank swung away from the pool and met Zach's gaze with tortured eyes.
"Zacharie . . . Why are you here? Leave, leave this unholy place."
"I need answers, partner."
"How long you been standing there?"
"Long enough. Answer me. Who are you talking to and where is he?"
Frank darted his eyes wildly around the cavern. "Le fantome noir," he said, the name coming out as a whisper. "Not always can you see him. He some of the time have to be sensed. Now I sense him. Do you not?"
Zach shook his head, partly in answer to the question, and partly from his own dismay. Frank obviously believed he was speaking with Ankouer, but just as obviously, no one else was in the cave. Delusional. Homicidally so? Zach shook his head again. He'd never guessed that by coming to Port Chatre he'd learn that Liz's father had killed his brother. Not Frank Deveraux, not the same man who'd once strung his fishing line and pulled stickers out of his feet. Yet the nonsense coming from the man's own mouth couldn't be ignored. Sadly, Doc Allain appeared to be on to something.
"You know what happened to my brother, don't you?" Zach asked.
Frank's broad shoulders slumped, the hands with strength enough to break a grown man's neck fell to his sides. He was a mess—a mirror image of himself, Zach supposed. His torn shirt hung from his shoulder. Spiderwebs and scraps of leaves clung to his hair and clothing. And his deeply shadowed, wild eyes added fuel to Zach's suspicions of insanity.
"Oui, I do. And the other homme, the one who run."
"The prisoner?"
Frank nodded uncertainly. "I send him to Quadray Island."
"What about Jed?"
"He came looking for the one that escape." Frank looked away, staring into the clear pool. "I tell him where to look, is all."
"And Ellie."
"Le fantome come for her. Nothing I could do. Ankouer take their souls, all of them, and I can do nothing."
Sad, and the sadness of it weighed Zach down. A good man finally cracking and taking the lives of other good people. It was the only rational explanation.
"Did you kill them, partner?"
Frank shook his head fiercely. "Non! Non! Ankouer, he suck away their life. Le fantome noir, not me."
Zach stepped forward, one hand outstretched. "We're going out now." He kept his voice low and soothing, and put his hand on Frank's slack arm. "I'm sorry about this, sir, but I have to take you back for questioning about the murders of Jedediah Allen Fortier, Phillip John Surette, and possibly Eleanor Jean Deveraux. Even though I'm not a cop, it's only fair I tell you that anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."
Surprisingly, Frank didn't protest, in fact he didn't say a word, so Zach continued reading his rights. Nice, neat, legal, and he didn't know if his heart could withstand the pain.
When he turned to lead Frank out, he saw the reason for his prisoner's silence.
"Bastard!" Liz hissed with a venom he'd never ever heard from her. "You filthy, rotten bastard!"
* * *
Maddie waited for them at the bottom of the trail, and Liz's rage boiled anew when the woman rushed into her father's arms.
"Frank," she murmured fervidly. "Thank God, you is safe."
"Oui, cher, I am safe. Zacharie care good for me."
Liz exploded. "Good? He accused you of murder! He arrested you!"
"Murder?" Maddie repeated.
"He does what he got to, that's all," Frank said.
Liz's head jerked toward Zach. "You had to do this? Papa wouldn't murder Mama or Jed. That's crazy. He loved them." She looked back at her father. "Tell him, Papa, tell him you didn't do it."
"Liz," Zach said. "I didn't arrest Frank. I don't have that power. I'm just taking him back for formal questioning." He went for his windbreaker, which he'd left by the supply crates before entering the cave, and pulled two small clear envelopes from a pocket. "I have evidence. I found Jed's card case, a scrap of prison uniform . . . behind your parents' cabin." He waved the envelopes near her face, but she refused to look.
Her father was still talking, too, talking just as crazy as Zach. "That not what count, Izzy—"
"Evidence, Liz. And I heard him talking to someone—"
"What count is you leaving the island before Ankouer—"
"Stop it! Stop these fairy tales, both of you! There is no Ankouer. There is no curse. And you're not a killer. Zach has just accused you of murder. Defend yourself, for God's sake." She whirled toward Zach. "And nothing you say, nothing, will convince me my father is a killer!"
Zach's only response was to say her name again, softly, sadly.
Her father said they'd talk later. "Alone, without the lawman near. He read me my rights, so meantime I got nothing to say."
Zach became all business. "How did you get here, Frank?"
"My fishing boat."
Clearly annoyed by the terse answer, Zach barked, "Where'd you leave it?"
"It be anchored on the east shore."
"We'll pack up and go right away. It's early enough we can make the Port before dark."
"So you can put Papa in jail?" Liz asked caustically.
"No gas," Maddie said.
Zach ignored Liz's question. Giving Maddie a doubtful glance, he turned to Frank. "You didn't bring extra cans?"
"I did, oui, but raccoons throw it overboard while I unload."
"Raccoons?" Liz and Zach asked in tandem. He caught her gaze for just an instant, but she quickly averted her eyes. Damned if she'd share even this with him.
Frank nodded. "Most of them cans sink to the bottom, but I seen the neck of one sticking up near the shore. Them damn animals wouldn't let me get near it. Middle of the day, too."
"So that's what happened to our pirogue," Zach murmured, then asked, "Is one can enough to get us back?"
"Non."
Zach sighed wearily. "Guess I'll have to dive for the rest. But I'm eating first."
Under other circumstances, Liz would have felt sorry for him. Under
any other circumstances. But she did go to the crates and rummage for food, finding dried meat and canned fruit, and the loaf of bread she'd seen earlier. As soon as the food was out, she went to the rock wall beside her father, leaning against it to gulp down her meal and ignoring Zach, who sat on a small boulder a distance away.
Distance . . . precisely what she wanted from him. But even as she ignored him, even as she ate, her eyes repeatedly glanced in his direction. When Zach finished eating, he stood up, taking a minute to close his flask
"I'll dive for those cans now."
"Good plan." She wanted him away from camp for a while. "Take Maddie with you."
Maddie objected. "I will stay with Frank."
"Zach needs someone to watch for alligators and cotton mouths."
"You go then!"
"Absolutely not!" Liz snapped.
"Go with Zacharie, Maddie," her father said quietly.
Liz saw the woman's mouth open to protest again, but she hesitated, then changed her mind. "Okay."
While Zach and Maddie emptied crates to carry the cans back in, Liz picked up a pan of water she'd set on the camp stove to boil, and left the alcove in search of a relatively private place to wash. She felt sticky and grimy from head to toe, and she stripped down to her underwear to tackle the dirt as best she could. She'd never get truly clean anyway, and what she'd really needed was a place to think.
More than anything, she wanted her father to say he hadn't murdered anyone. Of course, he hadn't, but she needed the denial from his own lips. How hateful to have even this small doubt, but she couldn't deny his actions suggested he was losing his grip on reality.
What if he had? No, that was absurd. The possibility wouldn't have entered her mind if not for Zach's reputation as a thorough investigator. Why had she read up on him anyway? His company wasn't even public. But she had, and the information she'd uncovered confirmed he wouldn't have accused her father without reason.
Chills & Thrills Paranormal Boxed Set Page 17