by Rebecca York
"You've got it. I'll secure the scene."
"Thanks."
Hamilton started for the door.
"We'll be right with you," Jack said. When the officer had left, he used her phone to call Ross. The P.I. had already arrived home with Mrs. Anderson and the kids, which was obviously a relief to Jack. They arranged to meet at the Park and Ride in about an hour.
Kathryn locked the front door behind them, thinking that Black Trousers could probably get inside if he wanted to.
Hurrying across the porch, she studiously directed her gaze away from the… ring.
After sliding behind the wheel, she waited while Jack spent several more minutes talking to the officer. By the time he climbed back into the passenger seat, she saw that his skin was flushed.
"You need to rest," she murmured.
She expected him to offer a macho protest, but he only gave a tight nod.
"Are we going to pick up clothing at your house?"
"No, we're getting out of town. Where's the closest ATM?"
"The shopping center a couple of blocks away."
When she pulled up near the machine, he got some money, then started to protest when she did the same.
"Consider this enforced vacation a Dutch treat," she told him. "I'm from the generation where the women pay their own way."
"The Montgomery County P.D. should be treating us," he growled.
"Maybe we can collect later. Right now, where to?"
"A cheap department store—Target, maybe."
"Can you tell me where we're heading after we meet Ross?"
"I've been thinking about that. Somewhere near Harper's Ferry or maybe Shepherdstown. Somewhere rural—but where we can get back to the city pretty easily."
"Do you care which?"
"Take your pick. Just check the rearview mirror—to make sure we've made a clean getaway."
In a few minutes she looked over, and was glad to see that he was dozing. She wanted to get him into a bed, where he could get some real sleep. But she settled for his nodding off in the car while she drove. It looked like they'd made a clean getaway, yet she kept having the feeling they were being followed. Every few minutes, she glanced in the rearview mirror, watching for a car she recognized or a car that stuck with them. When she saw nothing, she ordered herself to relax. By the time she pulled into a shopping plaza about twenty minutes later, she had damped down her fears, but they were glimmering below the surface—small internal prickles like the little electric shocks she'd felt on her skin earlier.
SIMON was calmer now, in complete control. Anger had no real purpose in his life. It only got in the way of effective action.
He had made a mistake going to the hospital. He'd pictured the detective alone and helpless. Too bad that hadn't been the case.
But no harm done. He had learned an important lesson. Overconfidence was dangerous. He must stay calm and steady. Then he would get what he wanted.
He sat in his favorite chair, sipping a glass of Jekel Vineyards chardonnay. Usually one long-stemmed crystal wineglass was his limit. This afternoon he'd allowed himself two, in celebration. He would defeat the demon soon. He knew it. The creature was weakening, expending too much energy fighting him. Soon it would exhaust its resources, and he would bend it to his will.
Meanwhile, he had to deal with Kathryn and Thornton. He closed his eyes, projecting his mind outward, searching for them. It was getting easier now, easier with every passing hour.
They were in a car. In a parking lot. At least that's what he thought he saw. He couldn't be absolutely sure. Not until they dreamed together. Then he would come for them again.
KATHRYN was aware of the moment when Jack's eyes snapped open, and he looked around. "Where are we?"
"The Target in Sykesville."
"As good as any place." He reached for the door handle.
"You just got out of the hospital. Tell me what sizes to buy, and I'll pick up some basic clothing for you."
She saw him hesitate, torn between machismo and fatigue. Fatigue won.
"Okay. Get stuff that's easy to get in and out of. Sweatpants would be good." As he spoke, he dug his wallet out of his pocket.
She wanted to refuse the money, but she'd told him they were going Dutch. So she went inside with a list of items and headed for the men's department. If the circumstances had been different, she would have enjoyed the shopping expedition. It was a pleasure to pick out shirts that she knew would look good on him. She couldn't stop herself from savoring the intimacy of buying items like underwear, shaving cream, and disposable razors. Picturing him in tight, white briefs gave her a sexual jolt. Immediately she told herself to cool it. They weren't going on their honeymoon; they were hiding out from a serial killer. And, as she'd pointed out to him, he was just out of the hospital. He needed rest, not sex.
Before leaving, she made a quick pass through the grocery department, where she stocked up on canned soup, cheese, salsa, corn chips, nuts, pretzels, peanut butter, and jelly. Bread. Mayonnaise, tuna fish. And a selection of drinks—from instant coffee and tea bags to sodas. For fun, she threw in some candy bars and cookies.
In less than half an hour, she was back at the car—stopping short as she saw Jack slumped in the front seat. He looked so vulnerable that she felt her heart squeeze.
She tried to tell herself they had escaped from Black Trousers. But had they? He'd reached out and found them in a dream. What would stop him from finding them again?
Jack sat up with a start when she slipped back into the driver's seat, then blinked. "Finished already?"
"And ready to meet Ross."
"You know the Park and Ride?"
"Yes."
The assurance was all he needed to let himself doze off again. He didn't wake until they pulled into the parking area.
Ross was waiting for them. A large cardboard box sat on the hood of his SUV. He hoisted it up and brought it to the car, where he stowed it in the trunk alongside their clothing.
"The kids are okay?" Jack asked.
"Yes." But he didn't look entirely sure.
"What's wrong?" Jack asked anxiously.
"Nothing. Lily wants to play down by the creek. I told her she has to stay inside."
"Yeah, she's been a handful lately."
"We'll try some tempting indoor activities."
"Tell her I said for her to mind you."
"Will do."
Jack looked torn.
"We could stop and see them before we leave," Kathryn offered.
"No. That's too dangerous," Jack answered immediately. "I don't want them anywhere near us until the bastard is in custody."
She gave a tight nod, knowing how hard this was for him.
Minutes later, they were on the road again.
While he slept beside her, she headed toward Harper's Ferry, then on the spur of the moment veered off to Charles Town, West Virginia.
"Where do you want to stay?" she asked Jack when she saw his eyes had blinked open again.
"A motel on a secondary road. Nothing fancy. The best would be a place with individual cabins—where half the units are empty."
She laughed. "I'll try."
She came close to his requirement about twenty miles outside of town, in a rural, wooded area. A faded sign advertised cabins, and she pulled up a short, rutted driveway to a rustic office.
"I'm kind of conspicuous with this arm in a sling."
"Then I'll register."
"As whom?"
She'd been going to use her real name. Now she stopped and reconsidered.
"As Mr. and Mrs. James Taylor?"
He laughed. "That will do."
Leaving him in the car, she stepped into the office. A heavy woman wearing black stretch pants and a pink sweater with multiple pulls in the weave said they could rent a very nice cabin with a kitchen unit. The price was so low that Kathryn expected to see cockroaches scurrying across the floor. But the one-room cabin was clean and neat, with a charming old quil
t covering the double bed, and a small kitchen area where she stowed the groceries.
The place had a warm, country appeal, and she liked the way she and Jack fit into the picture. She looked up to see him setting his bag down near a battered old dresser, and was struck with a mixture of emotions.
She'd dared to daydream about going off with him to a cabin in the woods—just the two of them. In her imagination, she'd made it a sexy little adventure. She'd gotten her wish—with a twist. They were here to fight for their lives. Against Black Trousers. And… something else, a being from another world who was somehow tangled up with the magician.
Jack looked up and found her watching him. "Your turn to sleep."
"I…"
"Don't argue. I've been sleeping off and on half the day. I'll get you up in a few hours. While you're sleeping, I'll do a little light reading. And eat some of this nice nourishing food you've thoughtfully provided."
"You like my taste in junk food?"
"It's perfect."
He crossed to the kitchen, opened the freezer compartment at the top of the refrigerator, dropped ice cubes into a glass, then added Dr. Pepper. After carrying the drink and a bag of onion and sour cream chips to a table in the corner, he settled into the Morris-style easy chair and started sorting through the box of books Ross had brought.
Kathryn wanted to cross the room, lean over the chair, and wrap her arms around him. Instead, she closed the curtains across the windows, used the bathroom, then pulled off her jeans and crawled into the double bed, wearing just her tee shirt and panties.
She knew Jack was watching her, and she liked that, liked the fact that her legs were long and sleek below the tee shirt.
The lamp behind his chair cast a warm pool of light. She watched him pretend he hadn't been very aware of her, watched him settle back and open the bag of chips. Then reach for a book.
He looked up, saw her regarding him, and smiled. "Sleep."
"I like watching you."
"An old broken-down cop?"
"Stop fishing for compliments. You're not old. And you're not broken-down."
He gestured toward the white sling. "I wouldn't be much good in hand-to-hand combat."
"If you came over here, I'd show you how wrong you are."
"Oh, yeah?"
"Yeah."
A grin flickered on his lips, and she thought for a moment that he might actually come to her. Instead, he said, "Grab some sleep while you have the chance."
She wanted to ask what could happen later. But she tucked that thought away and snuggled down under the sheet and quilt.
When she closed her eyes again, exhaustion took over. She'd been operating on nerves for hours, and letting go was suddenly a luxury.
Quickly she left the world behind and slipped into oblivion.
JACK watched her, wanting to join her in the bed and strip the tee shirt off her. Sure! One-handed would be a little awkward. Resolutely he turned back to the pile of books. There were so many volumes. What should he read?
As he shuffled through them, one felt hot when his fingers touched the cover.
He blinked, pulled his hand away, then gingerly touched the cracked and faded blue leather again. It felt like a stove burner. Only it looked perfectly normal.
The title was Portal to Another Universe. By Jonathan Zacarias, written in 1787. With clumsy fingers, he flipped through the pages. They fell open in his lap to page 28, and he stared down at the old print, his pulse starting to pound.
FOR a short time, rejuvenating slumber cradled Kathryn.
Then she awoke. Well, not awoke, literally. She was there again—in that place of dim light and unbreathable air. The place of fear. The place where a huge, dark presence hovered over her like low, storm clouds bringing the fury of a tempest.
"No," she gasped, struggling to pull herself back to the world. But the land and the being held her captive as surely as if she'd stepped into a steel trap.
Relief flooded through her when she saw the magic wand. Eagerly, she staggered toward the beacon shining in the gloom. But this time when she reached it, there was no sense of relief.
She was on a grassy hill. Under a blue sky. But still her lungs burned.
Then suddenly ropes captured her hands, pulled her backward, bound her to the plastic post that till now had been a symbol of safety.
She saw that faggots of wood were piled around her. And as she watched in terror, flames sprang up, leaping at her, reaching for her flesh.
A tongue of fire licked at her, and she screamed at the burning pain.
"No! Please stop! Why are you doing this to me?"
You ran away.
"No."
Go back where you came from.
"No. We can't. He'll find us."
You think he won't find you here? He wants to enslave me! You must stop him.
The fire receded, and images came to her then—hazy, ghostly. Like at Sugarloaf Mountain. Only now she was seeing the chamber Jack had described. A ceremonial chamber, hung with black. But it wasn't Swinton tied down on the table in the specteral scene. She gasped when she saw it was Heather—unconscious. Wearing a white dress slit down the middle to bare her breasts.
Black Trousers stood over her, chanting, a knife in one hand, his other hand…
She gagged. His other hand was on his erect penis, stroking in time to the words he was chanting.
In a corner of the room, the dark presence hovered. And then interspersed with the scene was another—herself and Jack that first time, he in Roman military garb. She in a sheer white gown.
They were kissing, touching, totally absorbed in each other. And all at once she knew that the scene had flashed into Black Trousers's mind, making the downward stroke of his knife falter.
He climaxed then, his seed spewing onto the table—even as he cried out in rage. And she understood the ceremony had failed.
Then the flames leaped around her once more. And she screamed in pain and terror, screamed again, then struggled against the force clamping her in place.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
« ^ »
"KATHRYN! KATHRYN!"
"No! Don't! Please don't! Oh, God, please stop," she gasped, trying to wrench away from the force that held her.
"Kathryn, it's just a dream. You're all right. You're with me. With Jack."
Finally, the words penetrated the horror and the terror. Her lids blinked open, and she found herself staring up into his worried eyes. It was his hand on her shoulder, holding her down.
As soon as he saw that she recognized him, he eased up the pressure. She blinked, her eyes filling with tears, and she clutched at his shoulders. When he grimaced, she realized she must be hurting him, and relaxed her grasp. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't mean to hurt you."
"I'm okay. What happened? One minute you looked like you were sleeping peacefully. Then you were flailing around, moaning. It was another one of the dreams, wasn't it? Another one by yourself," he said between gritted teeth.
She nodded, her mind spinning back to the dream. There were so many things she needed to say.
"A magic ceremony," she gasped out. "I saw a magic ceremony. Like you did when you were driving. Only it wasn't Swinton strapped down to the table. It was Heather. It was like up at Sugarloaf. I could see them. But they were ghostly." A sob escaped her lips as she recalled that picture.
Jack reached for her, folded her close. "I'm so sorry."
She nodded against his shoulder, wanting to wipe the terrifying image from her mind, yet knowing that it was important. All of the dream was important.
"You don't have to tell me any more."
"Yes I do. I have to tell you the rest. It's the key to what's been happening, I think. It wasn't just the ceremony. And I saw us, too."
"Us? In his clutches? He's going to get us?"
"Oh, Lord, I hope not. No. That's not what I mean. I saw us… from that first dream in the painting. Remember, you stopped kissing me because you thought s
omething was happening?"
"Yes."
"Well, I think I know what it was. I… I… think the magician saw us while we were there. And seeing us messed up the ceremony for him." She knew she was babbling, knew she must barely be making sense, but she couldn't stop. "But that wasn't all of the dream. He was punishing me. That's how I know…"
Jack interrupted her, his voice urgent. "Who was punishing you? Black Trousers? Or was it the demon?"
Her eyes widened. "What demon? What are you talking about?"
"The creature. That's what it is. Well, not one of Satan's minions, if that's what you mean by a demon. It's what you've been telling me—a being from another universe."
She gasped. "How… how do you know? I thought I was alone in the dream. Except for that thing."
He turned and gestured toward a book that lay splayed open on the floor. "While you were dreaming, I was reading about it in A Portal to Another Universe, by Jonathan Zacarias. One of the books from Ross. I was shuffling through them, trying to decide what to read, and that one felt like a hot brick."
She sucked in a sharp breath before telling him the rest of it. "Hot. Right. I was hot, too. In the dream. I was tied up at a stake—burning. And the stake was the magic wand."
"Jesus! That bastard!"
Fearfully, she held up her hand, inspecting the flesh. It was whole, unburned. "At least it didn't carry over into the real world this time. I guess he just wanted to give me a warning."
"A warning about what?" Jack asked, his voice grim.
"He…" She stopped, readjusted her thinking. "The demon thing was angry. He told me to go back home. He wants us to save him from Black Trousers."
She waited for Jack to make some objection.
Instead, he looked toward the book he'd dropped on the floor.
"Yeah. I was reading about it."
"You were?"
"It's hard to make sense of the text. The writing is pretty convoluted. But it was talking about a magician trying to enslave a demon with a magic ceremony."
She took a gulping breath as the pieces of the puzzle fell into place in her mind. "I think it's what I told you. I saw him doing the ceremony. Black Trousers. He had Heather strapped down on a table. He was going to kill her, and at the same time he was…" She stopped, gulped again. "He was masturbating."