The Open Channel

by Jill Morrow

  “I? Owe you?”

  Stephen straightened, suddenly assailed by an image of his fifty-year-old self standing in a field, armor dented and helmet on backward. Asteroth, it seemed, planned to answer nonverbally as well as in ringing syllables.

  He tore his focus away from the ridiculous picture. “You mean to destroy everything important to me, Asteroth. Surely you owe me something for that.”

  A dark wall of scorn shot up on all sides, surrounding him. Stephen jabbed at it with his sword. Tiny shards of glass shattered at his feet, then vanished into the illusion they’d always been.

  “As if an explanation mattered,” Asteroth said.

  “It matters to me,” Stephen said. “Show yourself. I want to talk to you.”

  The shadow left Kat’s face as the vapor drifted toward him.

  “You wish to see me?” Asteroth sounded amused, but there was something else in his voice as well. He was intrigued.

  “Yes,” Stephen said. “I want to see you.”

  “There are many aspects of my being,” Asteroth said. “I appear in many different guises to many different people. What would you have, sir? Power or nobility? Beauty or intimidation? A picture you long to hold, or a thing so hideous that its visage will remain burned upon your soul for all eternity?”

  “How do you decide which to be?”

  “I choose the form the situation requires.”

  Stephen brushed the words away with a wave of his hand. “Choose, then. I’m tired of your games.”

  “Games?”

  Stephen narrowed his eyes and glared into the heart of the vapor. “Manipulations. You want to terrorize us with ugly images and threats of evil, but you can’t win. You are nothing, Asteroth. There is no image you can present that will frighten me, nothing that will turn me away from the light. Go ahead and give me the worst you can dish out.”

  “What if I choose to entice you, instead?” The words wrapped themselves around him, bringing with them a seductive whiff of perfume. “Once, Stephen Carmichael, I could have made you one of my own. You’d have followed me anywhere in exchange for wealth. My offer remains open.”

  Stephen clenched his jaw. “That door closed long ago. Your offers don’t interest me.”

  Asteroth paused, digesting the words. “Very well, then. You are immune. I shall show you the truth of who I am.”

  An eerie silence descended. Stephen forced his gaze to remain on the vapor. In his peripheral vision, he saw Kat rock back on her heels. She drew in a deep, ragged breath. He hoped she’d regain her equilibrium quickly.

  The vapor began to lift and part, changing in color from black to slate to ashy gray. Then, from its depths, the outline of a man emerged. He was Stephen’s height, with dark hair and green eyes. He wore armor and carried a sword in his left hand.

  Stephen gasped as the figure stepped into the clearing. He rubbed his eyes, then looked again.

  There was no doubt about it.

  He saw himself.

  40

  THE MONSTROUS GIANT HAD TURNED AWAY, BUT KAT DIDN ’T know why. Something must have distracted him. She could think of no other reason he’d have given up at the very moment he might have prevailed.

  There was no time to ponder this. Who knew how long this unseen distraction would last?

  She was exhausted to her core, a bone-weary exhaustion that nailed her to the ground and made her feel as if each limb weighed about five hundred pounds. Still, she knew what must be done. She had to engineer a wall of light so strong and bright that it obliterated all surrounding darkness. Whatever the century, this was still physical reality and, lacking a body, Asteroth could remain present in corporeal form only if fed by darkness. He’d built this hideous man from their own anger and fear. Somehow, she had to cut off every source of negative emotion.

  If only she weren’t so tired.

  “What do you think of me?” Asteroth gave a deep bow.

  “Handsome.” Stephen winced. Hearing Asteroth’s voice resonate from a replica of his own body rattled him.

  “Not really. I’ve presented myself in far worthier forms. But this will do.”

  Stephen rested on his sword, studying the figure before him. It was an uncanny resemblance, right down to the pale scar on its wrist from the bicycle accident he’d had as a teenager. Still, there was a certain vacancy within the representation, a blankness to the features that reminded him of an empty vessel. Perhaps Asteroth could not replicate a life force he did not possess.

  Kat rose to her feet. She looked pale, but Stephen recognized the stubborn set of her jaw. She would strike back as soon as she’d regained enough strength to do so. He just needed to keep Asteroth occupied.

  “You don’t like resembling me, do you,” he said.

  “I am spirit. This realm is my home. In this realm, I can choose any form I wish.”

  “But you don’t like this one.”

  “No. It is lowly. Unworthy.”

  “Gee,” Stephen said. “Thanks a lot.”

  He watched a smirk cross his own features. “I leave it to the Other to embrace humanity,” Asteroth said. “Most of it is not worthy of my attention.”

  Stephen nodded in agreement. “I want to see you in the form you believe best represents you. Show me your glory, Asteroth.”

  Particles of energy whirled about him, throwing him backward to the ground with their force. A throne shot up before him, extending into the sky until he could not see its end. He recognized a man ensconced within it, but the immensity of both throne and man was so great that he could barely comprehend them. His fingers scrabbled for his sword as he propped himself up on his elbows to stare.

  “My majesty is so much more than you can understand,” Asteroth thundered. “I shall lower myself to a size you can absorb.”

  Immediately, the huge throne shrank back until it sat, large and imposing, atop a marble podium. Hundreds of candles flickered at its base, illuminating the man who sat upon it. He was perhaps eight feet tall, with white-blond hair falling in tangles and braids to his waist. A gold circlet gleamed against his forehead. The rings on his fingers were weighted with gems. His turquoise eyes glittered, and his mouth seemed sculpted into a permanent sneer. He wore a leather loincloth and sandals. The rest of his heavily muscled body glistened with musk oil.

  “Behold my majesty,” Asteroth said. “I share my perfection with few. You should be honored.”

  Stephen slowly stood, dazed by the opulence before him. An unearthly light surrounded the throne. It reminded him of nineteenth-century gaslight, so dim and ill defined did it appear.

  “Am I not magnificent?” A bejeweled goblet appeared in Asteroth’s hand. He drank deeply, then dragged the back of his hand across his mouth. “All this can be yours. Join me. You, too, will grasp perfection.”

  He took another swig from his goblet. Stephen stared, momentarily mesmerized by the sight.

  “The elixir of life,” Asteroth said. Beads of liquid sparkled on his upper lip. “My life. It could bring you the fulfillment of all your desires. Stephen Carmichael, you have always won. You have never joined a losing team. Why start now? I must win. You know this.” He swept an arm back toward Kat, but did not bother to look at her. “This is what remains of their powerful army.”

  Stephen watched as Kat closed her eyes. A faint force field of light jumped before her, then disappeared, leaving only a film behind.

  “Yes,” Asteroth continued, “this is what is left. A sprig of a woman barely able to fend for herself. She cannot conquer me.”

  Stephen licked his lips. “I’m not interested in what you have to offer.”

  Asteroth leaned back against the purple cushions of his throne. “No? Why not? Is it your outdated love for this woman? For if it is, my friend, you are sadly deluded.”

  The light in front of Kat jumped again. It was obviously stronger this time, and more of it stayed behind. Kat, too, seemed aware of her increased strength. Her chin lifted as she crossed her arms against h
er chest. The light increased.

  Asteroth’s brows lowered. He shifted in his throne as if to turn her way.

  “I am not deluded,” Stephen said quickly, trying not to look at Kat. “My wife and I are solid. You’ll have to do better than weak allusions if you want to get my attention.”

  “Why? You know very well that Katerina is more loner than wife, more interested in her own desires than in you.”

  “Weak, Asteroth, very weak.”

  “Can you deny that she has little time for you or for your affairs? She occupies herself with worldly pursuits. You are an afterthought, nothing more than an intrusion in her life. Why not leave her before she leaves you?”

  Stephen shook his head. “This is unimpressive. I expected better from you.”

  Asteroth drew himself up in his throne and fixed Stephen with a sharp stare. “Imagine her rage when, at the height of her worldly success, she finds herself burdened by the birth of your child.”

  Stephen blinked. “Excuse me?”

  Asteroth lifted his goblet into the air, a silent toast that Stephen had no desire to join. The goblet vanished, plucked from the demon’s fingertips by some obliging, unseen force.

  “Your wife is with child,” Asteroth said, savoring each word. “Surely you knew this.”

  Stephen rocked back on his heels as if struck. He hazarded a glance toward Kat. The force field of light surrounding her was brighter than before, but he scarcely noticed. He stared at her, amazed. Of course. Why hadn’t he paid attention to how sick she’d been lately? Sure, she had a history of migraines. And yes, the life they’d constructed encouraged exhaustion. But these last episodes of illness and fatigue had been different, far more draining and incapacitating than usual. Kat, who never gave in, had been laid low. And he’d been entirely too self-absorbed to think about anything other than how much time at work he lost when he had to pick up the slack at home.

  He clapped a hand to his forehead. “Jesus,” he groaned. “I am such an idiot.”

  Asteroth gripped the arms of his mighty throne, a twisted smile on his face.

  “Yes,” he said softly, misinterpreting the words. “Imagine her rage. And you are the sole cause of it. She will hate you until the day she dies.”

  Stephen caught a glimpse of the image Asteroth sent. He and Kat were too old to start all over again with an infant. A new baby would bring nothing but chaos to their household. It would flip their ordered days upside down, require more than anyone could expect them to give at this stage of their lives.

  Ordered days. Quite a euphemism for the stilted regimen they now followed simply to complete every task and appointment listed on their daily schedule. He and Kat had become swept into a frenzy of constant motion, onto a treadmill that obscured the truth: they were strongest when together, yet had somehow managed to concentrate on everything except each other.

  He pushed the image of chaos from his mind and remembered instead that afternoon weeks ago when he and Kat had made love in the quiet shadows of a waning autumn day. How soft the sheets had felt against his skin. How luxurious it had seemed to love his wife in a leisurely fashion, blocking out the noise and demands of the world long enough to remind himself how much a part of him she was. He’d propped himself up on one elbow to study her face. She’d studied him right back, eyes wide, hair streaming across the overstuffed pillows of their bed. Even after fifteen years of marriage she was still something of a mystery, this woman who knew him better than did anyone else on earth. He’d known with certainty then that there was a reason they’d been given to each other.

  A spark leapt from the light surrounding Kat. Stephen allowed himself a small smile. She was remarkable, really, brave beyond belief, and in love with him for reasons beyond his comprehension.

  He squared his shoulders and turned to face Asteroth. “Thanks,” he said. “I needed to hear every word you said.”

  A muscle in Asteroth’s neck twitched. This was clearly not the response he’d expected. “Katerina will not enjoy this news nearly as much as you do.”

  Stephen shook his head, still dazed by his recent revelations. “Oh, she’ll be a little shocked, but she’ll get over it. She’s not in this alone, after all. You see, I love my wife.”

  He thought he noticed Asteroth wince at the word “love,” but that seemed too theatrical, a cheesy effect, like a movie vampire who shrieked at the first sign of light. Surely it wasn’t love that threatened this creature of darkness. There had to be more to it.

  But Asteroth’s image did look somewhat less solid, as if part of him had been called elsewhere. The candles at the base of his throne flickered.

  “Katerina will not want this baby,” Asteroth said, his voice nearly a growl. “And she will not want you. If you join me, you will emerge victorious from this abomination.”

  Abomination? It was a baby, for heaven’s sake. Sure, it was life-altering, but it wasn’t some insurmountable disaster, the arrival of some creature who—

  “Oh, my God.” Stephen’s eyes widened as he met Asteroth’s frigid stare. “Tell me the truth. Is this baby the child of light?”

  Asteroth’s image wavered again. He was starting to resemble a hologram, semi-transparent and not completely there. Still, Stephen could make out the furrow of his brow, the downward pull of his mouth.

  “I don’t know.” Asteroth clenched his hands into fists. “I command you to tell me, Stephen Carmichael!”

  The booming words did not register right away.

  “Are you serious?” Stephen finally whispered. “You really don’t know? How can that be?”

  Asteroth pushed himself up from his throne, rising until he towered above Stephen. Stephen straightened, willing himself to stay firmly planted in his spot. A chill spiral of wind emanated from behind the throne, snuffing half of the candles.

  “I know the prophecy,” Asteroth said.

  “What prophecy?” Stephen demanded. “Where is this prophecy written? What does it say?”

  “That is unimportant. You and Katerina were destined to conceive the child of light. I tried years ago to sway you to my side. Had you joined me then, the child could not have been created. I tried to end Katerina’s life before she could come to you. That, too, failed. Now, I command you: identify the child of light. Tell me what you know!”

  Stephen shook his head, bewildered. “You’re supposed to have all this power. If you don’t know who the child of light is, how am I supposed to know?”

  “You lie!” Asteroth thundered, but Stephen detected an edge of doubt in his voice, a slowly dawning recognition that the words he heard were true.

  “I don’t lie,” Stephen said quietly. “I don’t know which of my children is the child of light.”

  “But I do,” a new voice said, and Asteroth grew slightly more transparent as Francesca’s warm hand rested on Stephen’s shoulder.

  41

  FOR A SECOND, K AT THOUGHT SHE HEARD THE GROUND RUM -ble in a mild earthquake. Then she realized that the rumble came not from the earth, but from the huge figure still hulking before them. She stared at the behemoth from behind the curtains of light now shining all around her. As she watched, spiderweb cracks raced through his remaining hand. His fingers crumbled. The entire hand broke away, falling to the ground in a little pile of stones.

  “What is this?” Gregory asked in a low voice.

  Alys lifted her head from his chest, narrowing her eyes as she glanced toward the creature.

  “Don’t look too closely,” Kat warned. “We’re doing so well. Whatever you’re thinking, whatever you’re doing—it’s working. Don’t stop.”

  As if in response, another crack reverberated through the clearing. This time, the creature’s ear fell off.

  Julia actually laughed as the ear shattered into pieces on the ground. Kat turned just in time to see the light brighten around her daughter.

  “I’m sorry, Mom,” Julia said. “I know it’s not funny, but—”

  “No.” Kat forced a smil
e. It almost hurt to start it, but she had to admit that she felt better once she’d done it. “Laugh all you want, Julia. The light gets stronger when you do.”

  Alys gasped. “I saw it!” she cried. “A flicker of flame before me…I think I saw this light you speak of!”

  “Maybe you’ll see more soon,” Kat said, sincerely hoping that this was true. “Picture it, Alys. The stronger we make our light, the weaker this creature becomes.”

  “Yes.” Gregory squeezed Alys’s hand. “Soon there will remain only a pile of rocks where this evil stands, and we will have won.”

  The smile left Kat’s face. She wanted to agree with the priest, she really did. But she knew that Asteroth was essentially spirit. They could perhaps banish him from physical reality, but she doubted that they could make much impact on the spiritual realm where he dwelt. Surely his evil would continue to exist there, even if they managed to obliterate this manifestation.

  She saw no point in sharing that information with the others. She looked from Julia to Gregory to Alys. There was something in each of their faces that she hadn’t seen before. They were finally confident, certain that they could overcome darkness and win this battle. And, in reaction to this newfound assurance, the intensity of the force field increased until it was so bright that she could barely see through it.

  She heard the next minor rockslide rather than saw it, and wondered which part of the monster had fallen away due to lack of an energy source.

  Stephen watched as the huge throne wavered, then faded completely away. Asteroth didn’t seem to care. He stood as still as a statue, even when his own image began to waver as well.

  “So, Francesca,” Asteroth said. Stephen took a step backward as he caught the jagged edge of ice in his voice. “You think yourself impressive indeed. Do you hope to meet me spirit to spirit, force to force?”

  Francesca’s hand dropped from Stephen’s shoulder. “Your energy is draining away, Asteroth. Are you sending it elsewhere?”