As she pulled a sweatshirt from a drawer and started to draw it over her head, he slid through the crack in the door and hurried to catch her while her arms and head were still muffled in the heavy cloth. Grasping the sweatshirt, he pulled it off her head behind her, tangling her arms in it before he threw her facedown onto the bed. Landing astraddle of her back, he whipped a bit of cord from his back pocket and secured her wrists behind her before serving her ankles in the same way. When she recovered from her surprise enough to begin screeching, he snatched a pillow and stripped it of its case. In less than a second, he had it over her head and pressed her face firmly down into the pillow as he sat atop her, feeling her struggles grow weaker by the minute. When she lost consciousness, he moved off her enough to roll her over and slid the pillowcase from her head, gazing at her lovely features, distorted both by the heavy makeup she wore and the effects of her struggle for breath. Now that she was unconscious, they were slowly smoothing out to show the girl he had once loved, or someone very like her, anyway.
He ripped the pillowcase into wide strips and fashioning a gag from it, slipped a large knot of it into her mouth before he secured its ends behind her neck. Only then did he leave her to get a wet cloth from the bathroom and return to scrub most of the makeup from her face. While he was thus occupied, her eyes fluttered open, registering alarm as she struggled in vain against her bonds.
His eyes slid lovingly from her face to her toes, taking in every lovely inch of her and he wished for just a moment that they could live in one of these worlds as man and wife, just as they had planned. He frowned as his eyes settled on the unflattering bra and in a sudden fit of rage; he drew a large clasp knife from his pocket and slipped its blade under the front of the bra, unmindful of the look of alarm on her face. With a jerk, the cloth parted and he transferred his attention to the shoulder straps and savagely pulled the now useless bit of elastic and cloth from under her body. Tossing it to the side, he smiled at her.
"Now, isn’t that better? You’re much prettier without one of those things, anyway. If you have to wear one; why not wear one that does something for your figure? You know that any one of us that you encounter will always like you better in attractive clothes."
She finally stopped her struggles and lay quiet, but trembling in fear as he gazed down at her. After a while, he decided that he wanted her to be able to answer his questions and put a hand to the gag.
"Do you promise not to scream if I take this thing off?"
She nodded her head, but her knitted brow made him believe that she was lying to him in an effort to get a chance at finding succor. As a precaution, he grabbed a handful of the pillow and moved it closer to her head in case he had to shove it over her face in a hurry. Removing the gag, he waited for her to work her jaw back and forth to relieve the cramping pressure the gag had caused.
She asked, "What do you want? I’ve never done anything to you. Not me. That was another of the Lisa doubles. There’s no reason for you to hurt me."
Shaking his head, he said, "You’re all alike; faithless, disloyal, lying sluts. I can’t have revenge on the one I’m looking for until I’ve killed all of you. How can I ever be sure that I’ve got her if I don’t kill all of you?"
With wide eyes, she could only stare at him, realizing that there was no way for her to convince him to leave her alone. All but hopeless, she snatched at the one thing that might give her a bargaining chip.
"The one you’re after is in the next world! She sent that world’s Brian here to retrieve this world’s Lisa. His died and he wanted her back. If you go there today when the sun goes down, you can have her! She’s working that world as a gypsy, in this very storefront! You don’t have to kill all of us! She’s the one you want and if you move on tonight, you can have her! She thinks that the Brian she sent here will distract you long enough for her to move on! Go tonight and you will have her before she can move to the next world! I know how she thinks! Only, leave me alone!"
Her voice had risen while she spoke and as her last words reached a wailing scream; his hand moved the pillow over her face and pressed it down despite her struggles. As her body jerked and bucked, he leaned over her, holding her down with his own body until her struggles slowly quieted again due to lack of air. Once she was out again, he removed the pillow and replaced the gag.
Turning slowly, her head rolled to the side until he could see one eye, its lashes tangled in the shroud of hair that had fallen from its tight bun at the back of her head and fallen over her face. He waited till she was awake again and, unbuckling his belt, whipped it, snapping, from the belt loops. A quick movement sent its end slapping against her flesh and he grinned as she bucked and plunged on the bed. She had given him the information he needed without his asking and he decided that he would reward her with a quick death. But first, he wanted to sample her body again. After all, she was his Lisa’s double; if there was any difference between them, it would be infinitesimal.
* * *
Madam Petra felt faint as she made her way to the kitchen and grasped at the door to her bedroom to keep from falling. Just as she began to feel stronger, a horripilating sensation swept over her, making gooseflesh on her arms and she could swear that the skin on the back of her neck was actually moving of its own accord. Turning back, she groped her way through the dimness and sat on one of the chairs grouped around the little table. Clutching her elbows, she rocked back and forth as a little moan escaped her lips.
This was what it felt like when one of her doubles died, but stronger than most. Brian was getting very close now; maybe as close as the next world. The world where she had sent this world’s Brian. Had it been that world’s Lisa that died? No. This was too strong; it could only have been one of her nomadic doubles; one of the women who had gained a facility for traveling between the worlds. That facility strengthened their auras, causing them to create a space of strength and stability wherever they went. This death, being so close, would mean that Brian was aware that the nomads were helping the more stable doubles and he meant to take that support away so he could kill them all more easily. How many nomads had she encountered? Ten. Or was it twelve? She found that she had lost count since she had taken to traversing the worlds two at a time. If she could have traversed a dozen at once, she would have, but she just wasn’t strong enough; crossing through two was bad enough to force her to rest for weeks. She had once been able to cross two at a time for two or three days without rest, but no more. Her last crossing, the one that had brought her here, had taken so much out of her that she still wasn’t strong enough to cross to even one world. If she tried, she was afraid that she would be forced to open her eyes between worlds and if she did, she would fall into the veil between the worlds. Could anyone escape that twisted space? She shuddered as it occurred to her that she may be forced to fall into the veils in order to escape Brian if he came here, and he would. She knew he would never give up his pursuit of her.
Slowly, she began to feel stronger, but not strong enough to make the crossing. With this death of her nomadic double, she was sure that he would arrive here before she was strong enough to essay a crossing. Suddenly making up her mind, she rose and made her way back to the bedroom. Stuffing a change of clothing into a shoulder-bag, she thrust her gold bangles in amongst the clothing to prevent them from clinking and shoved the Khyber knife that she used in ceremonies for the gullible in after them.
Stopping on her way to the door, she glanced at her image in the mirror behind the bedroom door and gasped at her appearance. Her eyes had a hunted look about them and while she was dressed too heavily for the weather, an error she had thought to correct earlier, but failed to remember; the jeans, sweatshirt and athletic shoes would suffice to keep her warm in a crossing. That she intended the crossing to be aborted midway through meant that she might be subject to the freezing wind for quite a time. As added insurance, she clutched at the heavy jacket she kept hanging beside the door and shrugged into it.
She glan
ced at her watch and yelped audibly. There was no more time. Rushing from the room, she darted across the outer room and spared only enough time to glance out the window to make certain that Brian wasn’t waiting for her outside. Swinging the door wide, she ran from it through the long shadows cast by the surrounding buildings till she could see the horizon and stopped at the edge of the sidewalk a half-block from her storefront. There were no moving cars or pedestrians in sight and she spun till she faced the setting sun. The edge was only just touching the horizon and she cried out involuntarily as she saw that she was just in time.
Ordering her mind, she closed her eyes and took a step forward. As the chill wind began to howl around her, she tried desperately against her own wishes to keep her eyes closed and failed. As they fluttered open, she saw only a swirling mist with a hazy light glowing through it before she fell some feet, landing on her hands and knees with the wind whipping her hair in front of her face. As she landed, she felt one of her black contacts, squeezed by her eyelid, pop from her eye. She could only just make out that she was kneeling on a rough, stone surface of some sort. Something like a deep voice seemed to be calling ‘ho-ho-ho-ho’, and she swallowed the bile that rose in her throat, causing her ears to pop and make the sound come clear. It resolved itself into a bonging sound like a huge bell being rung. The wind died suddenly, leaving her in the mist that seemed to cling to her and, raising a hand, she saw a sheen of moisture on it, as though she had spent hours standing in a fog.
Something loomed to one side of her like a huge man carrying a staff and as his footsteps rang on the stone, the end of the staff tapped in time to the steps. As the man’s form came out of the mist, she thrust a hand into her mouth to stop the scream that threatened to rip from her throat. The figure extended a hand to grasp at her and it was then that she lost consciousness, falling flat on the stone.
Chapter Four
As they ran from the car, Lisa’s legs crumpled under her and, clutching her hand, Brian found himself dragging her several feet through the tall grass. The stalks and blades bent under her weight, leaving a clear path for anyone to follow. He reasoned that they would be gone before anyone tracked them to the pasture, and so didn’t worry about it. He did stop and scoop her up in his arms, cradling her against his chest as he ran. Arriving under the trees, he spun to face the setting sun and saw that less than a hand’s-breadth separated it from the horizon. He wished he had spent more time talking to the gypsy or the psychic, or both, he knew he had to take a step backwards, but didn’t know if Lisa would accompany him if he carried her. Lowering her to the ground beside the stream, he supported her weight as she tried to get her breath back.
"What happened? What’s wrong, Lisa?"
Gasping, she said, "I-I got dizzy all of a sudden. Even though I was running, I felt like I was falling. And-and, it felt like someone had died."
Clutching at his arm, she gasped, "I’m sure it was me, Brian! Or, one of the doubles you say we have. You don’t think he’s killed one of my doubles, do you?"
Shaking his head helplessly, he said, "There’s only you here, Lisa. If he’s here, he couldn’t have killed one of your doubles. Unless somebody else killed my double and he’s not here after all."
"Ohh, Brian! I’ll feel safer once we’re gone!"
Turning her head to look at the sunset, she asked, "How soon?"
For answer, he pulled her up to stand beside him and clutched her hand in his.
"Now, Lisa. Close your eyes, think of me and this place and take a step backward. On the count of three."
They closed their eyes. "One!"
They thought of each other and the happy times spent in the pasture. "Two!"
And, lifting a foot, each said, "Three!" and took a step backward.
They felt the winds rise around them, chilling them to the bone and before his foot touched the ground behind him, Brian felt Lisa’s hand slip from his as she tumbled away, wailing like a lost soul. Opening his eyes in that instant with his foot still in the air, he was met with a mist that seemed to swirl past him and he looked wildly around him for her. An impossible fifty feet away, a girl huddled on the ground, almost hidden by the mist that seemed thicker closer to the ground; like the mist he remembered from horror movies. The wind was still swirling around him and his foot slipped on the wet stone he stood on. Spying a length of wood, like a branch or something, denuded of its bark and leaves, he stooped to pick it up and heard a bell ringing somewhere in the distance. As he walked, his dress shoes rang dully on the stone and he tapped the staff he carried on the stone, in time with his steps, as though testing the surface for solidity. Despite the mist and fog, that seemed to thicken as he walked, the sounds of his steps and the tapping of the staff rang and echoed.
Reaching the girl, he bent, extending his hand to help her to her feet. With a shock, he recognized the gypsy woman just as a muffled scream rang out and she collapsed on the stone, her legs splaying out behind her. Worriedly, he knelt beside her, lifting her upper body to cradle it against him, and was shocked at her lightness. She wasn’t any bigger than Lisa and in the dim light, where the effect of her heavy makeup was lessened; she hardly seemed any older than his lover. Chafing her hand, he tried to wake her and was rewarded by seeing her eyes flutter open a couple of times. She started away from him when she came to herself and only stopped when she recognized him.
"You!"
More worried about Lisa than the gypsy, Brian said, "We were trying to cross to my world when something happened. Lisa must have opened her eyes or something. I know I opened mine when I felt her turn loose of my hand, and found myself here. How did you get here?"
Barely able to register all that he was saying, she said, "If she’s here, then she’s as safe from him as I am."
Brian didn’t understand what she meant by her remark, but asked, "What are you doing here? What is this place?"
Sighing, she said, "This is the space between the worlds. Nothing lives here. The Chronicles say that there is only emptiness here."
He waved his hand through the mist and drifting fog, causing it to swirl around his hand and said, "Well, there’s moisture here, if nothing else. Do you know how to get back to my world?"
"Something called the Ring of Fidelity is the only way. The Chronicles say that ‘if one would pass to his own world, he must come through the Ring of Fidelity and he and its bearer will pass’. I don’t know exactly what it means; anyone who goes through the Ring of Fidelity must be the bearer. But the Chronicles make it sound as though someone carries it. If it’s small enough for someone to carry; how then can it be large enough for someone to pass through?" Annoyed, she flipped one hand in a dismissive gesture. "The Chronicles are always vague and mysterious."
Lifting her from the stone, he set her on her feet, holding onto her in case it was necessary to steady her, but she seemed strong enough now to stand on her own.
He said, "Great. All we need to do is find someone in this soup and ask them how to use this ring. First, I want to find Lisa."
Petra sighed and contemplated briefly the wisdom of revealing her identity to him, but discarded the thought. She had escaped his double in her world and wasn’t anxious to renew their acquaintance. Not until she found the version of him that suited her; this version was still too single-minded in his quest. She wanted a version of Brian that would allow her to have her own life without clinging to her every minute of the day. In her travels, she had found that every version of him was obsessed with her in one way or another.
"How long a time passed between the time you lost her and the time you opened your eyes?"
"Less than a second. But she seemed to be pulled away from me when she turned loose of my hand."
Unwilling to admit to him that she simply didn’t know how to find his Lisa, she said, "She could be miles away. I’ve never been here before, but she can’t be so very far. Show me where you arrived."
Turning, he paced back to the approximate spot he had occupied when he
opened his eyes and turned to face her. Casting about, he made out an oddly shaped stone that he remembered from his arrival.
"Here. I was facing in this direction."
"On which side was she standing?"
Lifting his left hand, he stared expectantly at her.
She sighed again, and pointed to his left and behind him.
"She should be in that direction. Without landmarks, I’m not sure how we will walk in a straight line, but if we go in that direction, we should find her."
Turning in the direction she indicated, it was his turn to sigh now and squaring his shoulders, he began to pace in that direction with her trailing him.
As she walked, she glanced once or twice at his back and thought of things that might have been; if only she had been able to accept a submissive role in her relationship with her world’s Brian.
* * *
Awaking, Lisa pushed herself up on her hands, feeling them slide a little on the damp stone, and wondered what place she had arrived in. This couldn’t be the world that Brian had come from; he had said that it was the same as her own. She swiveled her head from side to side, trying to spy something that would give some indication of where she was. Finding nothing, she gathered her legs under her and pushed herself up to rise lithely to her feet. Only then did she find that she had lost a shoe. Casting about, she was unable to find it and slipped the other off so that she could walk normally. She turned in place, the slimy-wet stone feeling slick under her feet and still found no visible landmarks to help her orient herself. She began walking in what she thought was the direction she had been facing when she awoke. Her sundress had grown sodden as she lay on the wet stone and it clung to her wetly. The light breeze that blew through this place chilled her in her wet garment while doing nothing to clear the mist away, and she crossed her arms over her breasts to keep warm, one hand still clutching her single shoe.
It Happens Every Day Page 6