The Open Channel

by Jill Morrow

  Stephen lifted the sword and focused on the column of light. He could see it more clearly from this vantage point. The patch near Julia’s head looked particularly dark and ominous.

  He extended his right hand. Light spilled from his fingertips, dancing in nearly visible particles.

  “Wow,” he said.

  “Yes,” the man answered. “It’s rather marvelous, isn’t it?”

  Stephen glanced up. The man didn’t look nearly as old as he had in the cathedral. His hair glowed in this unearthly light. His skin, so pale only minutes before, shone with a gleam that seemed to emanate from within.

  “Fix the hole fast, Daddy,” Claire said.

  He stared at his daughter, unable to pinpoint why she, too, seemed different. Her hair was the same riot of tousled curls as always, her eyes that same clear green. The change obviously didn’t rest in her appearance. She seemed somehow older here, far more at home in these surroundings than he was.

  “She’s right,” the man said. “There isn’t much time, my friend.”

  Stephen returned his attention to the hole in the force field of light. He raised his hand. Light again poured from his fingers. He imagined it streaming across the open space until it covered the patch of darkness. He wasn’t entirely surprised when it actually did that, looping over and over itself until the hole was closed.

  “Very good,” his companion said. “You are a natural warrior, Stephen. And you need to be. Look.”

  How could he do otherwise? Those within the force field seemed very close to him, now. He could see the rapid rise and fall of Kat’s chest as her breathing quickened. He noted the quick sideways glance the prioress sent the priest.

  “Kat!” he called, but his wife did not turn his way.

  “She can’t hear you,” his companion said. “You have entered a reality she doesn’t see. This is for the best, my friend, for she could never concentrate on protecting those in her care if she saw you now.”

  “Where are we?” Stephen demanded, momentarily forgetting his promise to ask no questions.

  “That doesn’t matter. You have no time to ponder it. Look beyond those you love.”

  Stephen pulled his gaze away from the column of light to see the murky darkness seeping beyond it. He no longer saw the hulking giant that threatened those in physical form. Instead, the oily vapor he knew to be the essence of Asteroth roiled before him, constantly shifting shape and density.

  “My God.” Stephen felt his chest constrict.

  “Don’t study him,” his companion said.

  “But what exactly am I looking at?” The tip of his sword scraped the ground as the triumphant vigor of youth drained from his body. Disillusionment crept through him. He felt old and defeated, unable to fight an enemy he could neither clearly see nor define.

  A strong hand cupped his chin, roughly turning his head from the darkness. He found himself staring into the deep brown eyes of his companion.

  “What are you looking at, Stephen? You are looking at pure evil and its fruits. Despair. Hopelessness. Hate. Look a little closer, and you will sink to the depths of pain and torment. Do not study this. Do not even look at it. Asteroth can use your own fears and choices against you. Do not provide the fodder for his fire.”

  “But how can I fight what I can’t see?”

  The man shook his head. “I forget how physical a being you truly are, my friend. Remember: you no longer operate in physical reality. Your tactics must reflect that.”

  Stephen again turned toward Kat. Her eyes were closed. The hint of a smile brushed her lips.

  A smile? Stephen squinted. What thoughts could allow her to smile under these circumstances?

  It didn’t matter. More than anything, he wanted to gather her into his arms, to rock her against his chest and tell her that he loved her enough to believe that everything would be all right.

  “I don’t know how to do this.” His voice trailed away into emptiness.

  “You’re mistaken, Stephen,” a new voice said. “You know exactly what to do, and so do I.”

  Stephen jerked around to see Francesca before them, sword raised high in her hand.

  37

  “A UNT FRANNIE!” C LAIRE ’S JOYOUS SHOUT FILLED STEPHEN ’S ears. “I knew you’d come!”

  Stephen could not fully interpret the expression that crossed Francesca’s face. She’d always loved his daughters, but emotional display had never been her forte. Now her smile spoke of a love deeper than any hug or kiss could convey.

  “Of course I came,” she said. “I see you’ve been in good hands, Stephen.” She pointed in the direction of his companion.

  “You know him?” Stephen managed to ask.

  She nodded. “You do, too. You just don’t recall. You can say good-bye to him now. He’s gotten you here in one piece. What more could we ask?”

  Stephen turned to thank the man, but only Claire stood in the odd gray twilight.

  “You missed him,” she said. “He’s gone. He said to tell you good-bye.”

  “Well, Stephen,” Francesca said. “Are you ready to play white knight?”

  “But…” It was the best he could do. He felt like a ball in a pinball machine, bounced from emotion to idea and back to emotion again without any chance to process all the unfamiliar information thrust his way.

  He stared at the woman before him. This was Francesca, all right, yet not quite Francesca. Her face, smooth and unlined, brimmed with the glow of health and serenity. Her graceful fingers rested around the hilt of a glowing, white-hot sword. She wore something resembling armor, but it sparkled and shimmered so brightly that he couldn’t look at it long enough to make out its design.

  All this, yet when he looked toward the column of light, he saw Francesca’s body lying motionless on the ground.

  Francesca followed his gaze. “That body is only a shell, now,” she said. “This is me, Stephen. This is the Francesca you’ve always known.”

  He shook his head. “You’re more than the Francesca I’ve always known.”

  She stepped before him and placed a gentle hand on his arm. His skin felt warm and tingly where she touched it.

  “I’m simply more than either of us has been able to see,” she said. “And, unfortunately, so is Asteroth.”

  “Don’t look at him,” Stephen warned as Francesca lifted her head to examine the scene. “He’ll suck you in.”

  “I can look at him. I am purely spirit, now. It’s amazing how much easier everything is without the heavy anchor of a body.” She narrowed her eyes, considering. “Just don’t start liking this state too much, Stephen Carmichael. You have much to do yet. We need to get you and your family back home as quickly as possible.”

  He wanted to vehemently second the motion, to tell her that all he wanted was to return to the normal, boring humdrum of everyday existence.

  A low, dull groan from Asteroth’s direction froze the words in his mouth.

  “What was that?” he asked, not daring to look.

  “He’s growing stronger,” Francesca said. “He must be drawing energy from someplace.”

  “It’s mostly Julia’s fault,” Claire said, as if busting her older sister for visiting forbidden chat rooms online. “I know you patched one hole, Daddy, but it looks like another one is starting to form down by her knee. Do you see it?”

  Stephen looked carefully. Sure enough, the force field of light seemed thinner at that spot, almost as if it were a piece of pizza dough stretched too far.

  “She’s got to stop letting that happen,” Francesca said, almost to herself. “Asteroth funnels his energy from fear and doubt. This will only make him stronger.”

  “I don’t understand,” Stephen said. “He seems strong enough on his own.”

  “He’s particularly strong at this moment because he just devoured Isobel’s soul. She gave herself to him of her own free will—the most powerful source of energy darkness can get. But nobody within that column of light is willing to do that. In order
to keep his form in physical reality, Asteroth will need to siphon additional energy from negative emotions…from fear, doubt, anger, hate…”

  Stephen raised a hand to his forehead. “I can’t digest this now, Frannie. I’m sorry. Just tell me what to do, and let’s get it over with. Give Claire some marching orders, too.”

  “I’m already doing something,” Claire said. “I’m talking to Mommy.”

  He gave what he hoped was an encouraging smile. Why contradict her? It was probably good that she thought she could help. It would keep her focused and unafraid.

  But Francesca nodded. “Good, Claire. Tell your mommy that she has to keep the light strong. Let her know that Julia needs strengthening.”

  Claire closed her eyes. Stephen watched as, once again, a small smile appeared on Kat’s face. She wrapped an arm around Julia’s shoulders, then leaned to whisper into the girl’s ear. Almost immediately, the weakening light by Julia’s knee burst into brightness.

  “She meant it,” Stephen murmured beneath his breath. “She’s really talking to Kat.”

  Francesca raised an eyebrow, apparently surprised that he’d even questioned it.

  “Does Kat recognize Claire’s voice?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. I doubt it.”

  “But, Frannie, how does Claire know to—”

  Francesca pierced him with a steely stare. “Stop asking questions, Stephen. Listen closely. We need to talk strategy.”

  “I’m doing my best, Mom,” Julia said through chattering teeth. “But I’ve never been so scared in my life!”

  “I know.” Kat brushed a kiss against her daughter’s brow. “I’m right there with you, believe me. But we have to stay strong, Julia. Concentrate.” She gave her a reassuring squeeze and straightened up. Somehow, it seemed intensely important that Julia think only about light. Kat wasn’t completely sure how that would help, but she wasn’t about to question any impulses that came her way.

  “What must we do now?” Alys asked.

  Kat paused before answering, caught by the slight break in the prioress’s voice. Alys, so determined only minutes ago, had gone chalky white. Her left hand trembled. She was afraid. Well, who could blame her?

  Kat’s eyes flickered across the brilliant column of light. She didn’t know how it was made, but that same compelling urge she’d felt only moments ago told her that she needed to keep it bright and whole. No problem. The more instructions, the better. Unfortunately, directives never came until needed, which made it hard to answer Alys’s question. Still, the prioress had to derive some comfort from the presence of this glorious light all around them.

  “Alys, I’m not really sure what happens next but, so far, this light seems strong enough to protect us.”

  Alys knitted her brow. “I see no light,” she said. She clasped her trembling hands firmly in her lap.

  Kat’s shoulders slumped. She’d forgotten that her companions might not see the light that so obviously shielded them. But, of course, that would explain Julia’s intense fear as well.

  “Um…,” she started, at a momentary loss for words, “we are surrounded by light—a whole column of it. It’s very clear, very pure, and apparently very powerful.”

  The huge, manlike figure pivoted to face them. His bulging eyes focused on Alys. A twisted grin crossed his face. Kat wondered how much of Asteroth this representation housed. It seemed almost like a puppet, a huge fortress of a disguise sent to distract them.

  She didn’t like the expression on that ugly face. She’d seen it on opposing counsel dozens of times. Asteroth was planning his next move, and she had the sinking suspicion that it would involve the prioress.

  Alys flinched. Her palms flew to cover her ears, as if she’d heard whispers she didn’t want to hear.

  “Alys?” Gregory peered into her face. “What ails you?”

  Alys lifted her chin. “I see no light,” she repeated.

  Kat had no viable answer to offer. “I know,” she said. “But it’s here, Alys. Believe me. I can describe it to you, if you’d like.”

  “You? You are addled by grief!” Alys said, obviously parroting a suggestion just heard. “How are we to know if what you see is really true? Your visions could kill us all!”

  Kat’s heart flew to her throat as she recognized exactly what Asteroth’s next move was. Hadn’t she herself experienced his mind-twisting so many years ago? He was the master of illusion, the king of taking one’s own fears and hurling them straight back at the intended victim.

  “Alys,” she pleaded, not even trying to keep the urgency from her voice, “please, you must trust me. If you don’t, if you fear, Asteroth will use your thoughts against all of us.”

  Gregory’s head whipped her way. She didn’t know how much the prioress could hear, but the priest was certainly listening. His attention bolstered the resolve she needed to steady her voice.

  “He will try to confuse you,” she continued. “And he gains strength through your confusion. Do you understand?”

  Alys’s eyes widened slightly. Kat could only imagine the distortions Asteroth had handed her. She did not know Alys well enough to know her personal weaknesses.

  “I see no light,” Alys said again through clenched teeth. “I know only that if we sit and do nothing, the demon will kill us all. We must fight.”

  “No.” Kat gripped her arm. “That’s exactly what we must not do. The more fear and anger we provide, the stronger Asteroth will grow. You’ve been brave for so long, Alys. Please, just stay brave a little longer.”

  The creature before them opened its mouth in soundless laughter.

  Stephen did not have to look at Asteroth to recognize that the demon’s next attack was well under way. Darkness gathered like a fog just outside the column of light. The light flickered in front of the prioress, leaving her fully exposed to darkness for seconds at a time. Worse, the force field seemed thin near Kat as well.

  “What’s happening?” he demanded.

  Francesca did not take her eyes from the scene unfolding before them. “Alys is afraid and doubting, obviously.”

  “Yes, but surely Kat isn’t falling, too. Why is the light so weak around her?”

  “She’s distracted,” Francesca said slowly. “She’s so busy thinking about how to restore Alys that she isn’t maintaining the light. This is bad, Stephen; Asteroth can derive strength from Alys’s fears, but it’s Katerina he wants.”

  Stephen extended his sword and aimed for the gap before Alys. It seemed darker and more ominous than the thinning light near Kat. Once again, light from his sword flashed across the darkness in thousands of dancing particles. He gave a sigh of relief, but it was short-lived. The darkness quickly took over again.

  Francesca’s hand landed on his arm. “It’s too far gone for patchwork,” she said. “Come on. We’ll have to distract him.”

  “Distract him?” That sounded almost playful, as if they were going to drive Asteroth around the block and deposit him at a surprise party in his honor. “Distract him?”

  Francesca’s eyebrows rose. “You have a better idea?”

  Of course he didn’t.

  “Then follow me,” she said, starting toward the mass of dark vapor they knew to be Asteroth.

  She stopped mid-stride and turned to face Claire. “Claire, my darling, you must go back. You can’t be here.”

  “I know,” Claire said. She walked slowly to Francesca and tilted her head up for a kiss. “Good-bye, Aunt Frannie.”

  Francesca cradled the child’s face in her hands, then kissed her gently on the forehead. “God go with you,” she said.

  “Daddy, I’ll see you soon.” Claire slipped through the mist and disappeared before Stephen could ask even one of the myriad questions ringing through his mind.

  38

  KAT DREW BACK, STUNG BY THE EXPRESSION ON THE PRIORESS ’ S face. Alys looked like a thundercloud collecting enough strength to explode into a wrathful storm.

  Gregory gathered Alys into his
arms. “Tell me more,” he said to Kat. “Quickly.”

  Kat shook her head. “It’s hard to understand. I can see why Alys—”

  “There is much in this world that I don’t understand,” he said shortly.

  The prioress shifted against him, turning her head to catch sight of Asteroth. Kat watched as Gregory shielded Alys’s eyes with his hand, pulling her close until he’d blocked her view.

  “Katerina, tell me what I must know,” he repeated.

  Kat complied. “I don’t know why you see the demon but not the light, but the light is here, protecting us. If we doubt, if we fear, we weaken the light and strengthen Asteroth. It’s that simple.”

  “Ah,” Gregory said. “I believe you.”

  Her eyes widened. “You do?”

  He sighed. “Saints and martyrs also tell of visions that only they can see. I do not wish to believe in this monstrosity before us, yet it exists. Tell me what I must do.”

  Kat studied him for a moment, understanding for the first time the grace of faith. Gregory could believe without a constant search for proof. How she longed for that kind of peace!

  “Gregory.” Alys twisted free of his embrace. Her wimple had slid to the back of her head. She reached with a shaky hand to pull it off. Cascades of red-gold hair tumbled about her shoulders, accentuating the glittering gray of her eyes.

  As if of its own accord, Gregory’s hand streaked through the tumbled waves of hair. He cupped Alys’s face in his hands, gaze locked with hers.

  “Gregory…” Her voice trailed away.

  Kat wanted to keep staring at them, to absorb the intensity that flowed between them. She knew that the love she shared with Stephen ran deep and true, but there was something different here, something she longed to catch and keep with her. It seemed to her that her love for Stephen had faded into a backdrop, a comfortable feeling that she knew was always there. Their relationship was never a priority these days, just a state of being that she visited whenever the rest of the world’s demands and distractions allowed it.