Chills & Thrills Paranormal Boxed Set

by Flynn, Connie

  Liz could only pray.

  * * *

  They spent the morning lugging crates to the boat, returning to the clearing, then lugging more. They wouldn't be leaving Quadray Island today, of that Liz was certain. She wasn't going anywhere without her father, but even if she were so inclined, she knew events would conspire to stop them.

  Already the mist was forming into ugly clouds. A wind had picked up, one strong enough to make their travels between the campsite and shore all the more difficult. She suggested that Zach leave the lean-to up in case it started to rain, and after examining the darkening sky he agreed.

  When they were down to the cookstove, butane lantern and a crate that held some food, he said, "We'll eat lunch. After that, we go."

  "Not without Papa and Maddie," she answered calmly, with a certainty that came from knowing her own mind.

  "They've left the island. You know that as well as I do."

  They hadn't left, but why argue, thought Liz. "Even if they have, I don't think the weather's on our side."

  He looked up as if he were just now noticing the approaching storm, ran his fingers wearily through his windswept hair. Soft as a sigh, he said, "A man can always hope," and walked to the food crate.

  Liz moved along with him. "Do you still have Papa's nitroglycerin tablets?" she asked, suddenly remembering he'd never given them back.

  He frowned, patted his pockets, then finally pulled out the vial. "Here they are," he said, giving her a look that implied she was delusional.

  Ignoring his expression, she thanked him, then bent to help take out the utensils. Zach handed her cheese, bread and a couple of apples, and she placed them on a plate, which she set on the ground. She wanted to get the journal before settling down to eat, and she'd left it in the shelter while she'd carried crates to the boat.

  "Don't you think you've spent enough time with that book?" Zach asked curtly when she returned.

  "I have to learn the prayer."

  He snorted.

  "Would you help me? I'm having a hard time memorizing it."

  Considering his attitude, she was taking a wild leap by asking, but if she could just get him involved with the book maybe he'd read more. He gave her a wry look, but his pause indicated he might just agree to what he clearly thought was her insane impulse.

  "Please, Zach. It won't take long."

  "All right. But keep it short."

  They moved to the cliff, leaning against the rock wall, and Zach put the plate of food between them. Liz tore off a hunk of bread, then sliced herself a thick piece of cheese before handing Zach the journal. Since the prayer was written in English, she'd be able to recite while he double-checked her.

  "No," he said after only a few lines, "it's shine your light, not beam your light."

  Liz nibbled on an apple, then on her lower lip. What was wrong with her? She could remember company stock exchange codes and prices after a single glance, but this relatively short poem seemed beyond her.

  After several similar attempts, Zach gave her back the book. "Look," he said, running his fingers down the page. "Except for the last stanza, the lines are almost identical. This prayer is about hate, fear and pain. Just memorize it once, then repeat it by changing those words."

  She saw he was right, and wondered why she hadn't noticed herself. It almost seemed as if something was clouding her mind. A grateful smile crossed her face. "You're pretty smart, know that?"

  "It won't work, Liz."

  "What won't work?" she asked distractedly, still absorbed in the lines of the prayer.

  "Your charm. You're not getting me back in your clutches."

  "My clutches? What bad movies have you been watching?" She slammed the book shut. "This isn't working. Just finish your meal. I'll do it myself."

  "Fine with me."

  Shaking off her irritation with no small effort, Liz worked hard at the memorization, now and then picking up a chunk of bread or slice of cheese. The apple was grainy and didn't have much flavor, but she hardly noticed, and had chewed it nearly to the core when the sprinkles appeared on the pages of the journal.

  Zach let out a stream of curses, then grabbed the lantern and practically ordered her into the lean-to.

  Again ignoring his bad attitude, she chose to get the food crate before she complied.

  The wind picked up, flapping their canvas shelter. The day grew as dark as dusk, even though it was only noontime. Soon after that a downpour came, and Zach was visibly upset by the uncooperative weather.

  Liz continued studying the poem under the light of the butane lantern. Thanks to Zach's astute observation she soon committed the first three stanzas to memory. That left only the final verse.

  Power above, Power divine.

  Heed my call in my hour of need.

  Protect me from evil in this black place.

  Power above, Power divine.

  Heed my call. Heed my call.

  According to her mother's writing, this closing stanza was used only during the guardian's darkest hour.

  Why couldn't it be like the others? When the time came, she'd probably have a hard enough time just remembering those three. How could she hope to dredge this one up during a moment of great terror?

  Zach dozed while she read, or at least he seemed to, but once when she looked over she saw him staring at their makeshift ceiling. How sad and weary he looked. An irregular stubble on his face. New lines appearing around his eyes and mouth. And he was probably frightened. She loved him so and wished—

  No, she couldn't let herself think about what might have been. Not now. Not here. Although she hadn't known it before, fate had directed her life all along. Had she remained in Port Chatre she would probably have died with her mother, and everything in the book she studied confirmed that her absence had served a purpose, keeping her safe for the fated battle ahead that was part of a bigger plan.

  At just that moment, Zach caught her eyes. "Might as well go to sleep," he said. "We're not going anywhere until morning."

  "I still have work to do."

  "Why are you so obsessed with that poem?"

  "You know. You just refuse to accept it." She felt the oddest urge to scoot closer to him and stroke the creases from his face, but she didn't succumb to it. Sometime soon she'd be compelled to march into hell. Alone. With no defender. She was so scared. If she could make him understand, then . . .

  "You didn't ask for this, Zach," she went on, speaking softly. "And if I could change things, I would. But, as much as I wish it weren't so, I am the last guardian. What's more, whatever higher power is in charge of these events has sent you to defend me. I'm preparing for that time and you should too."

  "Oh Liz," he said. He lifted his hand to stroke her cheek. "Either you've really gone bonkers, or you're the best damned conwoman I've ever come across."

  With a slow shake of her head, she said, "Neither."

  His expression softened, allowing yearning to enter his eyes. Slowly, he slid his hand down and closed it over her chin. His lips parted slightly.

  Was he going to kiss her? Oh Lord, it seemed he was. And she wanted him to, wanted to feel his mouth on hers, his body inside her own.

  This might be the last time. Words had not convinced him, and her night of reckoning was near. No guardian defeated Ankouer without a defender, and nothing he'd said or done indicated he'd be by her side during this terrible night. So why couldn't she have just this?

  She could. She would.

  Leaning into him, she parted her own lips.

  A tremble rushed through Zach's body as he gazed at Liz's face. Her closed eyes, her quickening breath, her slightly parted mouth, all invited him to kiss her. If he had an ounce of sense, he'd roll over and slam the door on that invitation. But he hungered for her from the depths of his soul. He wanted her near him, wanted to feel her smooth luscious skin again.

  Even more, he wanted to pretend none of this had happened . . . was happening. . . . If he kissed her, touched her, entered her,
maybe he could wipe it all away. And yet . . .

  He didn't believe she'd gone crazy, no longer even believed her father was crazy. There was some plan behind all these events, and they could only come from a scheming mind. Hers? He didn't want to believe so. But even if she wasn't a mastermind, in the end her father would go to jail, maybe get the chair if he turned out to be more than a henchman. How could he take her in his arms with this intent on his mind? Just as important, how could he consider loving her if there was even a possibility that her actions had brought about his brother's death?

  A soft, eager sound left her lips, and in that instant he knew he was lost. He lowered his head and brushed her mouth with his, gentle as the touch of a kitten. A sigh passed between them. When he broke the kiss, he picked up her hand, put a kiss on her wrist, then took the other and did the same.

  Then, tugging lightly, he led her to lay beside him. This was Liz, his childhood buddy, his teenage girlfriend, his friend, his lover, heart of his heart. He loved her, and somewhere he'd find it in himself to forgive her for whatever she'd done.

  Liz sighed again, waiting for what Zach would do next. With a tenderness she'd never experienced before, he unbuttoned her overalls and slid them down. Next he slipped off her shirt, bending to kiss her nipples. Sensations coursed through her body, a bone-melting languidness that made her feel like she was floating.

  He rose to kneel beside her, entwining his fingers through hers and pinning her hands above her head. His kisses traveled down, stopping in the valley beneath her breasts, at the slope of her ribs, then down her belly until they touched the apex of her thighs.

  A sharp hiss escaped her lips, and she arched her back. Everything faded except the exquisite effects on her body.

  "I love you, Zach," she whispered.

  He stopped abruptly, then jerkily straightened up.

  "Damn you!" The flickering lamplight emphasized his enraged expression as he glared down at her. "You tell me now? Now? How do you expect me to believe you?"

  "I don't," she answered shakily. "But it's true. I do love you, Zach, I honestly do, and I wanted you to know."

  Such beautiful and seductive sentiments and ones he had forever yearned to hear. Only now they were too hard to accept. Light from the lantern filled their shelter, bouncing off the rough canvas above, off the layer of nylon bags below, only to be broken into geometric shapes by the shadows of their bodies. Zach found himself caught up in the play of light across Liz's body, caught up by her beauty. Those unruly dark curls, feathering out to brush her high cheekbones. Those almond-shaped eyes, glittering like amber. That soft, full mouth waiting for his kisses.

  "Zach?" she said . . . soft, questioning.

  So much to forgive this woman for. Desertions and lies. Possibly murder. Yet even as he urged himself to accept this, the deepest part of him cried out that Liz spoke the truth. Le fantome noir waited in that mountain cave. Ankouer's net was out to drag them in. Nonsense.

  Nonsense.

  Nonsense. If he believed that, he'd have to believe in Liz's insanity, and in his own. He wouldn't. He'd protect them by sticking to reality. He'd protect them from danger, keep them safe by rejecting this otherworldly threat . . . keep them safe, keep her safe.

  With a groan of utter frustration, he leaned forward and pressed her hard against the bedroll, then slid on top of her.

  "God help me," he whispered hoarsely as he drove himself into her waiting, pliant body. "I love you too, Liz. I love you too. With all my heart."

  Liz felt his agony, felt his need to bury himself inside her, so she opened completely to his love, to his fiercely hungry thrusting that was driving her wild.

  She fed it, meeting his ferocity thrust for thrust, tightening her fingers around his until their hands seemed to meld as one. If never again they came together, they'd at least have this night together. This night.

  This night . . .

  For a long time afterward they stayed there, joined as one, holding each other, listening to the falling rain and the sounds of their own breathing. Zach stroked her hair, she kissed the smooth skin of his shoulder. Eventually, she slid from beneath him to snuggle under his arm, and wasn't even sure when she fell asleep. Sometime during her dreams the voice came. Tonight, Guardian. But Zach was beside her, holding her, keeping her warm. She was safe, safe with him, as safe as she could possibly be.

  She ignored the voice and moved closer to Zach. With him by her side, nothing could harm her.

  * * *

  Come forward, Guardian, this is your night of reckoning. Still half-asleep, Liz sat straight up and stared forward. Ankouer had come for her.

  Outside it was still light, but just barely. So heavy was the sky with clouds that only the faintest rays of sunlight made it through. Liz looked over at Zach. Thunder rumbled and the rain made a constant beat on the roof of the lean-to, but he slept peacefully. She ached to wake him up, to draw on the comfort she'd so strongly felt in the dreams. Maybe the dream was an omen, maybe he'd finally believe her.

  No, she knew better. More likely he'd try to keep her from going. And she had to go. This wasn't about Zach, not even about her. So much more was at stake. Other-the-wise, Harris had said, we all go back to the dark—man, woman, child, all fall into dark.

  She shivered nervously as she fumbled into her clothes, carefully avoiding bumping Zach. She'd just leaned for her shoes when a hand came from nowhere and clamped down on her mouth.

  "Izzy," a familiar voice said.

  She jerked around and met the dark, slanted eyes of Maddie Catalon.

  Slapping the woman's hand away, Liz put her own finger over her mouth and glanced at Zach. Nodding, Maddie moved back and gave Liz room to get out.

  "Where have you been?" Liz asked in a whisper.

  Without answering, Maddie turned toward the trail to the cave. She appeared agitated, an uncommon occurrence that did little to ease Liz's own anxiety.

  "Wait," Liz said. "We need the lantern."

  Maddie shook her head. "Frank give me his flashlight. Come on now. We must hurry." Maddie pointed toward the cave. "He is bad off. Very bad. He need his medicine. You got it, don't you?"

  "Yes." Liz checked for the vial, then moved on in search of the gris-gris. Its irregular bumps reassured her somewhat, but her heart still pounded all the way to the cave.

  "Hurry," Maddie said, ducking inside as soon as they got there.

  This is it, Liz told herself with a shudder. This was the time to find every ounce of fortitude she possessed. Already she was drenched and cold, and thoughts of what faced her chilled her even further.

  The clouds scudded off the moon, temporarily bathing the clearing in paler than pale light. Taking advantage of it, Liz paused to take out the gris-gris and drop the contents into her hand. She had no idea how to use these items, nor did she even have much faith they'd work. But they were all she had.

  She slipped the packet and stone back into her pocket, rather than into the bag. The voodoo doll she kept in her hand. Raindrops had already streaked its black-painted surface, giving it an eerie reflective quality. Were the moonlight bright enough, she fancied she'd probably see her own face inside the tiny torso.

  Just then, something rustled. She jerked up her head, coming face-to-face with a powdery white mouth bearing a forked tongue and gleaming fangs.

  Half paralyzed, she stared at the large cottonmouth snake, then shoved out a rubbery arm and wiggled the doll. But now what was she supposed to do? What chant was she to utter?

  "Depart!" The word had come from her mouth involuntarily.

  The snake immediately uncoiled and fell to the ground. Astonished but wary, Liz crept closer, never taking her eyes off the creature. Alive. She could see the tongue twitching, see membranes close over the eyes. So still, still as death. The doll had done its magic.

  A giddy laugh bubbled in her throat as she bolted for the cave, viewing it as a haven. The feeling of security died the instant her eyes saw the smaller, black opening. Her m
emory of what would greet her inside was still fresh in her mind. She licked her lips and walked closer, bending to see where Maddie had gone. A stream of light wobbled against glistening walls, and she saw the shadow of a slender figure.

  "Maddie!" she called. "Wait!"

  Her only answer came from the echoes of her own cry.

  * * *

  Heaven had exploded. The storm would take down their flimsy shelter at any second. Naked and shivering, Zach reached out for Liz.

  His hand struck an empty space.

  She's gone to the cave to meet Ankouer.

  No, no, he thought, lurching upright and grabbing for his clothes. His drowsiness was ebbing now, taking his crazy conclusion with it. Liz probably had gone to the cave, all right, but not to meet Ankouer.

  He dressed quickly, then rummaged for some matches in the food crate. After stuffing a back-up handful in his windbreaker pocket, he lit the lantern and left behind the flimsy protection of the lean-to.

  The sky was awash with sounds. Crackling angry lightning. Booming thunder. And though the wind was heavy, rainfall had eased to a knifelike drizzle that fairly sliced his skin.

  As much as he hated that stinking tunnel, he'd have to go through it again. Liz had gone to the cavern to rendezvous with Frank and Maddie, of that he had no doubt. This unpalatable truth weighed heavily on him, but he tried not to think of it as he bent his head against the wind and headed for the trail. The woman was a liar, a consummate actress. Even her animosity toward Mad-die was feigned. He'd already realized it, had already told himself so, so how had he let her fool him into thinking she loved him?

  A chill rushed up and down his spine, brought on by the rapidly dropping temperature. The boulder at the base of the trail provided some protection from the wind and rain, and Zach paused to open his flask and take a sip of liquid heat. Delaying tactics, he realized, but he took yet another moment to light a cigarette. Finally, holding the lantern high in the air for maximum light, he started climbing.