Forever: A Novel of Good and Evil, Love and Hope

by Jude Deveraux

  “Stop it!” Adam ordered over his shoulder. Darci, he thought hard but received no answer. Why, oh, why hadn’t they practiced sending thoughts back and forth instead of just from her to him? Now he wanted to shout for her, call her name. He wanted to know where to find her.

  “Which way?” Adam asked as soon as they reached the big room with the vending machines. When he’d been here with Darci just a few days before, this room had seemed almost homey, now it—

  “Even to me this place feels creepy,” Taylor said. “Didn’t Darci say that you two had visited here before?”

  “Yes,” Adam said, “but then it was. . . .”What could he say? That it had been a place of fun? Could he tell them about Darci stuffing candy bars down the front of her cat suit? Could he tell how she’d curled herself into a tiny ball on a shelf?

  “Why is it different now?” he demanded of his sister. When he’d met her, he’d been hostile because he didn’t trust her, but now he was beginning to realize that Darci had been right and he should have trusted this woman who had been through so much. If he had trusted his sister, if he’d told about the mirror that he’d found hidden under a cheap print, maybe they could have looked into it and seen what was going to happen to Darci. Adam had been told that the mirror showed what could happen; the predictions could be altered.

  After they’d left the motel, Adam had driven back to the Grove. He’d skidded into the parking lot and jumped out of the car before the engine stopped. Taylor and Boadicea ran after him, and entered the guest house to see an empty room. But a crash from the bedroom that had been Darci’s made them run to that room. Adam had thrown the bed over and was on his knees pulling up a trapdoor.

  “This place was an icehouse, and a stream flowed under here,” Adam said. “I requested this house because I needed a hiding place.” Reaching into the darkness beneath the trapdoor, he pulled out a hoard of weapons, guns, rifles, pistols.

  “What do you want?” he asked Taylor, looking up at him.

  “I’ve never . . .” Taylor began, looking at the weapons in horror.

  But Boadicea wasn’t shy. She stepped forward, picked up a nine-millimeter Luger from the pile that Adam was bringing up, and chambered a round.

  Both men were looking at her in speechlessness. “She likes anything that can be used to kill,” she explained.”I did not have toys as a child.”

  Adam looked at his sister with respect. For the first time he thought that, possibly, her hatred of this woman was deeper than his.

  “Show him what to do,” Adam commanded his sister as he nodded toward Taylor; then Adam went to his room to pull on a black Lycra running suit that was very much like Darci’s cat suit. Returning to the bedroom, he tossed a similar garment to Boadicea. “Put that on. You’ll be able to move better in that. And do you have something you can put on?” he asked Taylor. The man’s bags were heaped in a corner of the room.

  “Yes,” Taylor answered, and ten minutes later, the three of them were out the door.

  And now they were in the tunnels. They didn’t dare use flashlights but wore the night-vision goggles.

  “Which way?” Adam asked his sister as they stood at the mouth of the three tunnels leading out of the main room.

  “This one,” she said, then led the way down the smallest tunnel. Adam’s running suit fit her sleekly. She had on a wide leather belt that carried pouches of ammunition and three pistols. In her hands was a short rifle that was illegal in the U.S.

  Adam carried the same weapons but, also, concealed inside his shirt was the dagger that he’d taken from the cage.

  They had not gone far when Adam halted them. “I hear something,” he said. Instantly, the three of them stopped and listened, but there was nothing. There was no light at either end of the space, no movement, nothing.

  Adam signaled for them to move forward, but within a few steps, they reached a crossroads, and, once again, he stopped, again listening.

  Adam? he heard.

  For a moment, his eyes blurred with tears. She was alive! Darci’s voice was faint, weak even, but she was alive. Here! Here! he wanted to shout to her, but he couldn’t get a message to her. She just had to trust that he was near, and she had to keep talking.

  “Are you hearing her?” Taylor asked.

  “Yes, barely,” Adam whispered, then leaned back against the wall and listened with all his might. Talk, Darci baby, talk to me, he tried to send her. Let me know where you are.

  Adam? Are you there? came the words to him, if possible, even more faintly.

  “This way,” Adam said. “I think she’s this way.”

  But Boadicea put her arm on his and stopped him. “That is not the way. Something is wrong. That is not the way to the chamber where she performs the sacrifices.”

  “Don’t say that word again!” Adam snapped. “I heard Darci’s voice and she’s this way. Are you with me or not?”

  For a long moment, Boadicea seemed to consider that question. “I want her reign of terror to end,” she said. “And only Darci can do that.”

  Adam, I’m here. Can you hear me?

  “Darci is talking to me,” he whispered, then started walking faster.

  Adam, come to me. I’m afraid.

  “Something is wrong,” Boadicea said from behind them. “Something is very wrong.”

  Adam stood still while he made a decision he knew would affect several lives. On one hand he didn’t trust this tall woman, but on the other, he tried to imagine the hatred she must have inside her. “Lead us,” he said at last, but his eyes held warning of what he’d do if she was lying to them.

  Boadicea didn’t hesitate as she led them through the tunnels, moving swiftly, never looking back to see if the two men were following her.

  “She memorized the way,” Taylor said to Adam when they paused for a moment to wait for Boadicea to see if a corridor was clear. “She’s lived this escape in her mind for years and her belief in this escape—and us—is what’s kept her from giving up hope.”

  When Boadicea motioned for them to follow her, Adam followed her, Taylor behind him. But he came up short when Boadicea stopped abruptly before a dark doorway. “I do not understand,” she whispered. “This is the chamber. This is where they should be.”

  “Looks like she knew you were lying to her,” Adam said, “and she did some lying of her own.”

  “But the mirror showed me that . . .” she began, but trailed off, puzzled.

  “Didn’t you tell me that the mirror shows what could happen and not necessarily what does happen?” Taylor asked as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette lighter. There was a candle on a brass holder attached to the wall. He lifted it and lit the candle, holding the torch in front of him as he walked through the doorway, Boadicea and Adam behind him. “Is it just me or does it seem strange to anyone else that these tunnels are empty of people? There aren’t even any guards here.”

  “She has done something unexpected,” Boadicea said as she stayed close behind Taylor.

  He lit a couple more candles, enough to see the room they were in. Along the walls in the hollowed-out room had been placed tall, carved stone panels. Holding the candle aloft, Taylor examined one of them. “Someone has robbed some crypts. First century, I’d say.”

  “Yes. Many thieves work for her,” Boadicea said, then turned back toward the doorway after only a moment’s glance at the stone altar that stood in the middle of the room. The mirror had shown her what that altar had been used for, and she knew what had caused the dark stains on it.

  Taylor followed Boadicea out of the room, but Adam hesitated as he stared at the altar in fascination. He remembered having seen a hideous pile of stone like this one.He remembered....

  “Come, brother,” Boadicea said softly as she held out her hand to take his. She well knew what he was on the verge of remembering, for the mirror had shown her what had been done to her brother when he was a child.

  Once they were outside the chamber, the three of t
hem looked at each other. The question Now what? passed among them.

  Boadicea shifted the heavy rifle she carried.

  “How do we find where Darci is being held?” Taylor asked, and there was a bit of a tremble in his voice. He turned to Adam. “Can you hear her?”

  “No,” Adam said, his jaw rigid. “Her voice is silent.”

  “Or has been silenced,” Boadicea said, but stopped when Adam glared at her.

  “If we could find the mirror,” Adam said, “it would tell us where she is.”

  Boadicea straightened her back. “The mirror would no longer be of use to us.”

  “But you could see—”

  “No,” she said. “I could not see. I am no longer a virgin.”

  All Adam could do was look at her in astonishment; then, slowly, he turned to look at Taylor.

  For a moment Taylor didn’t look up at Adam, and when he did, there was guilt in his eyes. “I thought Darci could see into the mirror when we found it. I—”

  Adam wanted to blast the both of them, but there wasn’t time. What was done was done. He took a deep, calming breath, then looked at his sister. “Didn’t you say that she got other readers to check up on you? Maybe she has one of those readers with the mirror now.”

  Boadicea gave a bit of a smile at her brother, obviously glad for his having thought of this. “There is a place where she goes to be private. Perhaps she has not had time to put the mirror in another hiding place. Come with me.” With that, she turned and started running down the dimly lit corridor to their left, Taylor behind her, Adam in the rear.

  Adam couldn’t help but think about what he’d been told. When had it happened that Boadicea was no longer a virgin? Adam had slept for hours. Had Taylor and Boadicea stayed awake? Did they think that Darci was in the bathroom all those hours? Or perhaps the darkness of the room made them believe Darci was in bed, asleep beside a sleeping Adam.

  Adam stepped close behind Taylor. “‘You take her anywhere without marrying her first, and I will kill you,’” he said quietly, quoting what Taylor had said about Darci.

  Taylor looked back with a smile, thinking Adam was teasing, but there was no laughter on Adam’s face; he was dead serious. Taylor nodded, then hurried ahead to catch up with Boadicea.

  She led them to an elaborately carved oak door that didn’t appear to have a handle or lock on it. Boadicea touched the door in three places: on the left eye of an ugly little creature, on a leaf, and in the center of a carved medallion, and the door swung open.

  Boadicea led the way inside and looked about for the mirror, but Taylor and Adam, holding their weapons at the ready, couldn’t resist looking at the room. This room was as elaborate as the rooms in the house where they’d found Boadicea were barren. Here was an ornately carved bed that looked as though it should be in a museum. There were tables of carved and gilded wood. The walls and ceiling were covered with what looked to be acres of rich brocades and heavy silks—all of it in shades of red.

  The magic mirror was on top of a mahogany dresser, in plain sight. Boadicea grabbed it, glanced into it, and looked at Adam. “Nothing,” she whispered, and there was pain in her voice.

  Adam didn’t like to think of the connection she must have had with the mirror since she’d had a lifetime of looking into it.”Why the hell couldn’t you two have waited?” he said as he snatched the mirror out of his sister’s hands and tossed it onto the bed. “I can’t even figure out when—”

  “You have never been deprived in your life,” Boadicea said angrily, taking a step toward him, as though she meant to fight him. “You have had everything given to you; nothing has been taken from you.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about. I lost everything. You have no idea what my life has been like. You know nothing of—”

  “There she is,” Taylor said softly. While they had been arguing, he’d stepped toward the bed to look at the mirror that he’d read so much about.

  Adam didn’t pay attention to what Taylor said, but Boadicea turned to look at him.

  Taylor was holding the mirror up and looking at it in wonder. “I see them,” he said in a whisper. “I see a room and people. Here, look.” He held out the mirror, but when Adam and Boadicea looked into it, they saw nothing, not even their own reflections.

  “What do you see?” Boadicea asked. “Describe it to me.”

  “The room is dark; I can’t see much. There are people there, all of them wearing black robes. Their faces are covered, so I can’t see who anyone is. I don’t see Darci, and I don’t see anyone who might be the leader.” There was awe in his voice, and his eyes were wide as he looked at the mirror.

  “Do any of the people have on jewelry?” Boadicea asked.

  “What the hell does that matter?” Adam asked but quieted when Boadicea put up her hand.

  “Yes. I see a wedding ring on a hand. It’s a man’s hand, and he’s older, as the hand has age spots on it. And I can see a birthmark on a man’s throat.” He looked up at Boadicea in wonder.

  Boadicea turned to her brother. “He can see more clearly than I did. What I saw was hazy, with the details obscured. But he is not a virgin.”

  “I don’t understand this,” Taylor said. “In my family only the females have any powers of the occult. None of the men have ever had any power.”

  When Boadicea looked at him, her eyes were warm, caressing. “Perhaps God saw inside your heart and has given you what you deserve.”

  “Where is Darci?” Adam asked impatiently.

  Taylor looked back at the mirror. “I don’t know. I don’t see her. I just see people walking about. The angle is from the back of the crowd. I can’t see what’s going on in the front.”

  “Ask the mirror,” Boadicea said. “You must ask for what you want to see.”

  “Where is Darci?” Taylor asked; then with panic in his voice he said, “It’s gone blank!”

  “Wait,” Boadicea said patiently, “but do not be disappointed. That creature has a mind of its own. It shows what it wants to.”

  In the next second, Taylor’s body relaxed and, sitting down on the bed, he gazed into the mirror. “I see a woman. She isn’t wearing robes. She has on a . . .”

  “What?!” Adam asked, impatient. “Who is she? Where is she? Is Darci with her? Is she the witch?”

  “I . . .”Taylor said, looking hard into the mirror.”I don’t see Darci. I just see this woman. She has her back to me. She has on a short, white coat and black leggings, but the coat has a hood. She— Wait! She’s pushing the hood back. She has—”

  Taylor leaned back from the mirror and gaped at it, his face registering shock. “It’s....”

  “Who?” Adam and Boadicea asked in unison.

  Taylor took a deep breath. “This woman has long blonde hair,” he said softly, “and I’ve seen her only once before.”

  “Who is she?” Boadicea asked.

  “Darci’s mother,” Taylor answered, looking up at Adam. For a moment, Adam could only blink at him. “Jerlene? But she’s in Putnam.”

  “Why would the mother not come if her daughter needs her?” Boadicea said in dismissal of the two men’s shock. “What else do you see? Is there an altar there?”

  “Show me the place this woman is in,” Taylor commanded the mirror, then his eyes widened as the “camera” drew back and he could see that Jerlene Monroe was standing in front of what looked to be a stone altar.”Yes, an altar is there,” Taylor said softly.

  “Are there markings in the stone?” Boadicea asked quickly.

  “Yes.They . . . look like. . . .”Taylor looked up at her.”Ithink they’re Egyptian hieroglyphics.”

  “I know where they are,” Boadicea said as she started for the door. “Come. And bring that thing!” she ordered, already running.

  Adam ran after her; Taylor put the mirror in his backpack and followed them. But the moment the men stepped outside the door, they were hit hard on the head and went down.

  When Adam awoke, his he
ad hurt, and when he tried to move his hand, he couldn’t. Turning, he saw that both his wrists were chained to a wall, as were his ankles. He was immobile.

  He was in a small underground room, and he was facing a heavy wooden door bound by iron. On the walls, on little shelves and stuck in niches, were hundreds of white candles. There was a small oak table in front of him, and on it was the dagger he’d taken from the storage room. Adam turned his attention to the iron cuffs around his wrists. If he could get one hand out....

  “Good evening,” said a voice that made him turn. “Or should I say good morning? Oh, but no, it is not yet midnight, for I do believe your little one is still alive.”

  Blinking against the pain that roared inside his head— and with his arms raised, his ribs were excruciating— Adam looked at the woman in front of him. Since she was wearing a long dark robe that had been embroidered heavily with gold thread that glowed in the light of the many candles in the underground room, it took him a minute to recognize her.

  “Sally,” he said at last.

  “That’s one of my names, but, yes, I was once your waitress.” This seemed to amuse her for a moment, but then her face turned serious. “I’ve worked at that demeaning job for nearly five years while I’ve waited for her to arrive.” She spat the word her out as though it sickened her. “I knew her the moment she walked in the door. After all, I’ve had some practice looking for her, haven’t I?” she said, smiling in a nasty way.

  It seemed that Adam could see insanity in her eyes. Or was he just imagining what he saw? Did all evil people have to be insane? This woman had kept control of a growing empire of evilness for many years.

  “Where is she?” Adam asked.

  “Waiting for her hero to rescue her.” Again, the woman seemed to be amused.

  She walked toward Adam. They were alone in the room, just him and this woman. If he had been free, he could have broken her in half with one hand. Now, as she walked closer to him, he saw that she was older than he’d realized. There were tiny scars above her eyelids. In his research he’d found out that this coven in Camwell had been in existence for a long time, and since it was said that one woman had been its ruler from the beginning, he had been looking for someone older. But this woman had had the ultimate disguise: a face-lift.