If only it were that simple. But Yvonne knew. A new player had entered the abominable game.
Ryan warmed to his idea. “She brought Heidi back before.”
“Oh Ryan, this is different. You saw her…whoever she was, whatever she was. You heard her. This is different. We have no idea who we’re dealing with now. Is she linked to Quintillus? Cleopatra? Someone else?”
Ryan let Yvonne go. “I can’t simply do nothing.” He slammed his fist into his other hand. “I’m going back to the house. No, I’m moving back to the house. We’re doing no good here. Are you coming with me?”
Yvonne hesitated. Ryan was right. The evil could manifest itself outside of the house but it still emanated from there. If they were to defeat it—if they had any chance of rescuing Heidi, the answer must lie in that building. She nodded and helped Ryan pack.
* * * *
To Yvonne, Villa Dürnstein seemed almost unnaturally quiet. Hushed, as if waiting for something or someone. More than ever, she had the feeling of the very fabric of the building being infested with something so evil it had taken on a life of its own. However hard she tried to push the thought away, it persisted.
The house was watching her. Biding its time.
She shivered.
A door banged. Yvonne looked up, in the direction of the noise. “That came from the top floor.”
Ryan had already started up the stairs. “Stay close,” he said. Yvonne didn’t need telling.
Nearby, a door banged again.
Yvonne’s heart thumped painfully. Hairs rose on the back of her neck. She followed Ryan out. Another door banged.
Then another.
And another.
All along the corridor, doors opened, banged shut, opened and banged shut again. The door behind her banged so hard, the floor vibrated.
“Come on.” Ryan ran along the corridor and back down the stairs, to the first floor. Yvonne was just a few steps behind him. When she put her foot on the floor, the banging stopped.
“What the hell was that all about?” Ryan said.
Yvonne wondered if her face was as white as his. She shook her head.
A child’s cry echoed throughout the house.
“Heidi!” Yvonne did nothing to stop the tears flowing down her cheeks.
“In here.” Ryan threw open Heidi’s bedroom door and saw the devastation inside.
Yvonne and Ryan picked their way through mounds of overturned furniture, the mattress skewed against the wall, toys, dolls and games scattered over the floor and the wardrobe, empty of everything save a few haphazardly swinging clothes hangers.
In the corner of the room, a pile of dark clothes moved.
Yvonne watched mesmerized as it unfurled, took shape, and Quintillus stood before them. His gray, withered face and empty black eye sockets screamed death, but the voice that spoke was alive and saturated in evil, appearing to draw strength from its surroundings.
“Where is she? You cannot hide her from me.”
“She was taken from us,” Yvonne said. But if Quintillus didn’t know where she was, then who had taken her? Strangely, she felt a wave of relief, soon crushed by the reminder that, because of that, they truly didn’t know who they were dealing with. Yet, could anything be worse than this obsessed creature?
A loud crack. In the wall behind the grotesque figure, a deep fissure scythed its way diagonally from one end to the other. Flakes of plaster snowed onto the carpet, adding to the mess already there. Another crack and then another until the wall was a network of fractures, crisscrossing each other. The floor began to vibrate. From far away in the depths of the building, a roar erupted.
Quintillus seemed oblivious to everything except his own obsession. “I need that child. My queen must live.”
Above them, doors continued to slam. The ceiling light swung wildly to and fro.
“We’ve got to get out of here.” Ryan flung the door open.
Yvonne tore herself from Quintillus’s presence. She made it out the door before it slammed behind her.
She and Ryan tore down the staircase, which trembled and threatened to collapse beneath them. The floor of the hallway buckled, marble floor tiles ripped loose and smashed. Deafening roars resounded from the basement.
They scrambled to the door. Ryan grasped the handle and turned it. “It’s locked.” He frantically turned the key. It spun round and round uselessly.
“Kitchen,” he said breathlessly.
Yvonne struggled to walk over a floor that kept warping away from her. She sank to her hands and knees and crawled, aware Ryan was doing the same. The noise of the house shifting on its foundations filled her ears. Creaks, rumbles, thumps, banging doors, and the plaster dust that coated everything, themselves included.
In the kitchen, the fridge had fallen diagonally against the door, blocking it—removing their last hope of access to the outside world.
A cry sounded over the chaos. A child’s cry.
“It’s coming from the basement,” Ryan said.
Yvonne crawled over broken crockery, ignoring the cuts to her hands and legs from the shards of shattered china and glass.
The basement door stood wide open. Yvonne and Ryan clambered toward it. The moment they crossed the threshold, it slammed behind them, thrusting them into darkness. It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust but finally Yvonne could make out a source of light coming from the old kitchen. It wasn’t much, but as long as she clung to the handrail and searched around for the next step with her toe, she managed.
At the bottom of the stairs, she and Ryan stopped and listened. Another cry. Fainter this time.
Then a roar galvanized them into action.
Yvonne led the way, steered by the faint light seeping through the windows. When that ran out and they hit the dark corridor, they felt along the wall.
A bright light flashed on.
They had made it into the room with the hieroglyphics. At first, Yvonne couldn’t make out the source of the brilliant white light. She blinked rapidly a few times and then she saw it.
All around the portrait on the wall, an aura of light shone, illuminating the room and the figures standing in it.
On one side stood the god Set, staff in one hand and ankh in the other. Quintillus stood next to him.
Facing them stood the woman who had taken Heidi, and the goddess Sekhmet in all her leonine beauty.
“My queen,” Quintillus said.
“Never yours,” the woman said.
“Cleopatra,” Yvonne breathed and it gave her a feeling almost of hope. Cleopatra had been a mother. Surely she wouldn’t harm a child. Especially when she clearly hated Quintillus. Her lip had curled into a snarl when she addressed him.
From behind the queen a small figure emerged.
“Heidi!” Yvonne ran to her, only to be repulsed by the same force field as before.
Heidi’s bright blue eyes shone with confidence. She stood quietly next to the ancient queen whose strong yet charismatic features were echoed by the strident tone of her voice. “Without this girl your wish can never be fulfilled, Quintillus, and you have seen the gods will not allow it. Each time you tried with this child they freed her. They have freed her again and, in so doing, have freed me. You have kept me apart from the one I love for too long. I have fought you every time. Innocent lives have been lost, young women you and my sister forced to do your bidding; to provide an empty shell into which you thrust me. You have tried and failed many times. This time will be your last. And once again you will fail.”
Quintillus staggered forward. He seemed to have difficulty moving and speaking. “My…queen…I have always been…faithful to you alone.”
The queen threw back her head and laughed. “Foolish man. I never asked for your faithfulness. I have no need of it. Set has deserted you. Sekhmet has left your side. This
child is under her protection and, lioness that she is, she will kill to protect her charge.”
“You…cannot kill…that…which is…already dead.”
“You are wrong, Quintillus. Sekhmet can kill your immortal soul. Without that you will never cross the desert. You will never find peace in the otherworld. There is no place for you there. All these years you believed the gods were there to do your bidding. Now your arrogance will be your final undoing.”
To Yvonne’s eyes, Quintillus looked defeated. Cleopatra’s next words only served to reinforce that feeling.
“I summon my protector, the goddess Isis, whom I served all my earthly life, to take me to my rest. To reunite me with the man I have always loved and watch over me so that no one may ever again abuse my spirit.”
Quintillus’s face darkened as a powerful beam shone down from above, further illuminating a space directly between the queen and himself.
A beautiful woman in gleaming white and gold floated a few inches above the floor. She spread her arms wide and her aura encompassed Cleopatra and Heidi.
“Please give me back my daughter,” Yvonne said. Cleopatra looked at her but said nothing, and her expression gave nothing away.
Quintillus sank to the floor. His screams—torments from hell itself. He shrank, contorted, like an abused rag doll. His jacket disintegrated. Gray flesh flaked off, exposing white bone. The bones transformed, decomposed, turned to dust and scattered across the floor.
Isis enfolded Cleopatra and Heidi in a loving embrace.
Yvonne wept. “No, please. Bring her back to us. Please don’t take her.”
Cleopatra’s mouth moved in a ghost of a smile. Maybe it was to reassure her, but all Yvonne could feel was despair and confusion. Quintillus had wanted Heidi as a vessel for the Egyptian queen. Cleopatra, aided by Isis, had stopped him. Surely the price for that couldn’t be Heidi’s life.
“Give her back!” Ryan’s voice cracked. He reached out again, but the force field held.
Heidi smiled at her parents. She seemed suddenly so much older than her nine years. “Don’t worry. They will look after me.”
“Heidi!” Yvonne screamed. “Please. Give her back to us. Give her back…” Yvonne sank to her knees as Isis rose up, taking Cleopatra and Heidi with her.
“No!” Ryan roared, slamming himself against the invisible barrier.
“Don’t worry, Dad. Everything will be all right now. I know what is happening.” Heidi gave a slight wave, her eyes glittering and catlike, echoing Sekhmet’s. The vision of the goddess, the queen and their daughter shimmered and faded.
Only Sekhmet remained. Impassive. Magnificent. She raised her staff. Above them, a mighty rumble.
“We’ve got to get out,” Ryan said. “The house is coming down!”
All Yvonne wanted to do was remain there, at the last place she had seen her daughter, but Ryan wasn’t allowing it. Some primal need for survival had taken hold of him and he dragged her out as the light faded in the room. They made their uncertain way back to the closed door to the kitchen. As they got closer, the noise became almost deafening.
“Come on,” Ryan said. “We’ve got to make it.”
As they approached, the door flew open. The floor had settled. Broken, ruined laminate exposed old timbers.
“We’ll have to smash a window in the library,” Ryan said.
Yvonne prayed the house hadn’t locked itself to prevent them.
Ryan turned the handle and opened the library door. Inside, great cracks ran the length and breadth of the wall. Painted plaster flaked off in a constant shower. The scene had become unrecognizable—its beauty destroyed beyond repair.
Ryan urged her on. “There’s no time left. The whole place could come down at any minute. We have to get out of here.”
He picked up a heavy chair and hurled it at the window, smashing it. Warm air rushed in, along with a strong smell of burning. Yvonne hurried to the wrecked window frame and Ryan helped her through. A distant siren wailed. Out in the garden, Yvonne watched as flames shot high into the air. The whole place burned as if it was in a tremendous hurry. “Can a building commit suicide?” she asked.
“I wondered the same thing.”
“It’s as if the house had taken on its own life force.”
“And now it’s spent.”
Where was Heidi right now? In some other world? Or watching them, conscious of everything or nothing?
The sirens sounded close by. Yvonne suddenly realized neither she nor Ryan had even thought to call the fire brigade. Let it burn. But someone must have raised the alarm. Those flames were shooting high into the night sky. They must be visible for some distance and, with typical Austrian efficiency, the fire service was on the scene within minutes. Male voices called to each other. Doors slammed. The sound of running, boot-clad feet pounded toward them.
Fire officers bundled them out of the garden and onto the street where a small crowd had gathered to watch the conflagration.
Yvonne and Ryan joined them, watching the once beautiful building engulfed. Windows smashed, the sound of splintering glass every few seconds. The crowd gasped as a massive crash heralded the sight of a flame, perhaps thirty feet high, shooting up into the sky.
Hours later, the house still burned but the flames had died down. Smoke and steam continued to billow but that too began to lessen as Ryan spoke with the police and Yvonne wondered how much he would tell them. Judging by the expression on the police officer’s face, not a great deal.
Anton had arrived about an hour after Ryan called him. He looked scared. His would be the task of breaking the news to Fräulein von Dürnstein. Still, at least she had only lost property. The insurance would see her right. Try to replace a beloved daughter. No insurance could cover that loss. Yvonne’s tears flowed freely. Agonizing physical pain wracked her body. The pain of loss. Ryan returned to her side, leaving Anton to have his turn with the police.
“I told them we had no idea how the fire started. We became aware of it and evacuated the building.”
“You didn’t tell them about Heidi?”
Ryan shook his head. “I didn’t know how to. We know she’s not there.”
Yvonne nodded. How could she have any more tears? But still they poured down her cheeks. She had failed. They both had. They would never see their bright, beautiful child grow into the vibrant young woman she was meant to be.
Yvonne held onto Ryan and wept on his chest. His body heaved with gut-wrenching sobs.
* * * *
Later, with only the clothes they stood up in, Ryan and Yvonne checked back into the hotel. The concierge looked after them with great care, providing them with everything they needed for the night and ushering them into the best suite.
Yvonne showered, letting the warm water soothe her. Once in bed, she fell asleep almost immediately but awoke to the sound of her cell phone ringing. In that blissful split second between sleep and wakefulness, she imagined Heidi asleep in the other bedroom. Then reality brought her up sharp and the tears flowed unheeded.
Still the phone rang. Surely it should have gone to voicemail by now?
She sat up and picked it up off the bedside table. Next to her, Ryan stirred.
“Who is it?” he asked.
“Private number,” Yvonne replied, answering it. “Hello?”
Was that someone breathing? It sounded distant and echoey. “Hello?” she repeated.
“Mu…Mum?”
It couldn’t be…
“Heidi? Is that really you?”
Ryan shot out of bed and started dragging on his smoke-stained jeans.
“Where are you? I can hardly hear you.”
“I don’t… I don’t know. At the house. It’s…dark. Everywhere’s so wet.”
“We’re coming, baby,” Ryan called. “Hang in there. Stay on the phone.”
“The…phone? I don’t have a…”
“Sorry, love, I can hardly hear you,” Yvonne said. “Can you talk a little louder? Can you see which room you’re in?”
“It’s difficult. There’s more than one room here. I can see…some of the library. Books…bits of the painting.” Her voice took on more urgency. “Mum, I think…there’s someone else here.”
The line went dead.
“Heidi. Heidi. Talk to me. Don’t go.”
* * * *
Ryan popped the car door locks. “Return the call.”
Yvonne scrambled into the car. “I can’t. I told you. It’s a private number.”
“Then whose phone is she using?”
It couldn’t be either of theirs and she didn’t have one of her own yet.
Yvonne sat with the phone in her lap, willing the traffic lights to turn to green. A few minutes later they arrived outside the ruin that had been briefly their home.
Ryan ripped off the police cordon and they clambered over charred timbers, some still faintly smoking.
They called her name. Ryan frantically pulled aside demolished timber, unrecognizable debris and all manner of detritus.
Yvonne tugged at ruined fabric, pushed aside smoldering furniture. “Ryan, I’ve found some books.”
Ryan clambered over to her and helped her shift heaps of ruined, sodden, leather-bound volumes.
“Heidi!” Yvonne called.
An indistinct cry renewed her strength. She flung books aside as she and Ryan dug deeper.
The cries grew louder. With one massive effort, Ryan and Yvonne tossed aside a broken bookcase. Underneath, a pair of vivid blue eyes blinked at them. They threw more debris aside and Ryan reached down. Heidi’s filthy arms thrust up to meet his. He dragged her out.
Mercifully, she didn’t appear harmed. Just frightened and dirty.
Yvonne put her arms around them both and the three clung to each other.
“I thought I’d lost you,” Yvonne said, her tears now welcome.
“I don’t know where I was,” Heidi said. “I had a strange dream and then I woke up there.”
“You said there was someone with you. Who was it? Where are they now? Are they trapped down there too?”
Damned by the Ancients Page 21