by Coleman Luck
He gave Amanda a crafty look. But she didn’t notice. It took all her strength and sweating concentration to creep across the yard and lower herself onto the wagon. Then she lay, holding the baby and panting for air. As Wanderspoon jumped onto the driver’s seat and the cart creaked away, tears streamed down her cheeks. She whispered words so low that only she could hear them, “I’ve failed. I’m gonna die. We’re never gonna get help in time to save me. But please, please, God…if You’re really there…save this little boy.”
She couldn’t see her hands, but she knew that her fingers could no longer move. In fact, they were hardly fingers at all. They looked more like twigs growing from the branches of a small white tree. Too tired to think anymore, Amanda closed her eyes. But if she had kept them open, she would have seen an amazing sight. High up in the sky directly above her, so high that it was barely visible in the darkness, soared a great white eagle. From where it flew, the cart looked like a speck in the moonlight.
Suddenly the bird swooped down. In great spirals it fell until it was right above her. There it hovered on silent wings. If she had opened her eyes, she would have seen it bend its head, and with its beak cut into its own breast. A single drop of blood formed on the white feathers.
Amanda never felt the drop when it landed on her skin. But the baby saw it. With silvery eyes he watched as it disappeared into her body.
The pain eased and she slept.
For a few moments the eagle continued hovering. Then, without a sound, it flew away toward the Mountain and the Crimson Mists.
19
VISIONS
Someone screamed.
Alex’s body slammed against the floor and his eyes jerked open. For a moment he lay without moving, trying to figure out where he was. All around him glimmered dim-red moonlight. His head ached and he was drenched with sweat. Against his cheek he felt a moldy carpet, and a foot from his nose stood the leg of some kind of furniture. He struggled to look up at it.
A bed. Had he fallen out of it?
And who had screamed?
With a great effort he pulled himself up to his knees. But his head swam and he almost fell over. So hot! Why didn’t somebody turn down the heat? It’s sweltering in here! His clothes were plastered to his body. Suddenly he couldn’t bear the feel of his shirt on his skin. He ripped it off. Why couldn’t he wake up? Where in the world was he? It smelled like a garbage dump. And why was the air so thick?
Then terror began to churn in his guts. He knew where he was—he was in the room where the nightmare girl had brought him. He looked up. Towering above his head was a gigantic window, and in it he saw the outlined image of a figure that looked amazingly like himself. And somehow he remembered being up there, flattened, cracked, and broken into a thousand pieces held together by black veins of lead. Blind and deaf, yet feeling the sun getting hotter and hotter as it shone through his transparent body, wanting to shriek, but unable to make a sound. Had he had fallen out of the window? That was insane. None of this could be real.
His arm hurt. That was real. It ached all the way to the bone. Looking down, he saw the golden band that had been poured over the wound where the hell-dog had bitten him. He tried to pull it off, but it was embedded in his skin. Growling like an animal, he tore at it, but all he accomplished was to give himself several deep scratches with his filthy nails and a worse headache. Finally he gave up.
So tired. Exhausted. And the exhaustion made him confused. If only he could really sleep, maybe his mind would clear and he would know what to do. Alex dragged himself up on the bed and flopped down. Instantly billows of mold rose around him.
He jumped up in disgust. What he had taken for a spread was actually a layer of soft gray spores so thick it looked like a quilt of rat fur. He looked down at himself. His sweaty skin was covered with it. When he tried to wipe it off, it smeared into gray slime.
“Oh, yuuuuck!”
But the revulsion cleared his head. Why was he spending one more second in here? He had to get out or he would choke to death. Where was the way out? In the corner he saw the door. But as he rushed toward it, he heard the sound again.
A scream. Coming from far away. Like a terrified child.
It made him remember something. A painting on the wall. Tori! A painting of his little sister! Had he dreamed it? There were the curtains with the drawstring. But they were closed. He had pulled them open, he was sure of it. Rushing over he jerked them apart.
Nothing! Just a frame with an empty glass. Why would somebody hang something like that? As he stared at it, he felt cold radiating toward him. He touched the glass. It was like ice. No, it was colder than ice. It was freezing terror. He staggered back. He was going crazy. He had to get out right now. Rushing to the door, he was just reaching for the knob when it swung open hard, jamming his knuckles. He yelled!
And there she stood, just as beautiful as the night before. The girl he had chased through the cathedral. Instantly his fear turned into rage. “I want out of here right now!”
All she did was stare at him.
“Did you hear what I said?”
Grabbing her arm, he dragged her into the hall.
“Please…you’re hurting me.”
He let go. “I can’t breathe. I’ve got to get some air.”
“It’s cooler in my room.” She placed her hand on his bare chest and looked into his eyes. The touch was like an electric shock. Her fingers were so soft. As he stared at her, his mind grew foggy again.
“You could rest on my bed.” She moved closer.
He struggled to think. Why had he wanted to leave? He couldn’t quite remember anymore. All he knew was that the most beautiful girl he had ever seen was inviting him to her bedroom.
“What was your name? I…forgot.”
“Melesh.” Her body was against his. “But you can call me anything you want. Just don’t…hurt me again.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because you’re angry after what I did to you last night.”
“I am?”
“Yes, very angry. Don’t you remember?”
Suddenly everything snapped into razor sharpness. Every detail of his agony slammed into him as though he were living it all again. Heat! Blood! Mold! Darkness! Terror! Her soft, laughing voice! What was wrong with him? How could he have forgotten? This was the filthy little witch who had tricked him, humiliated him, dragged him through the sewer like a dog on a chain, and all of that after he had saved…her…life. The most beautiful girl he had ever seen? He wanted to gag.
And she thought he was angry?
He almost laughed out loud. How about shrieking rage? Hurt her? He wanted to kill her. Hideous images flashed through his mind, but he kept his face icy calm.
“I am angry. Very angry.”
“I know.” She ran her fingers gently on his neck. “Do you remember what I told you last night when I brought you to your room?”
“Tell me again.”
Dropping her eyes, she whispered, “I said I was your slave.”
He stared at her coldly. “Does that mean I can tell you to do anything and you have to do it?”
She nodded.
“Anything?”
She looked straight at him. “Why don’t you find out?”
The soft words scorched through his brain, boiling down into the depths of his belly. How he detested her eyes. Yet how he wanted her—desired her—with a vicious hunger. Find out? That’s exactly what he would do. But not all at once. He would let the acid of his loathing pour over her drop by drop until he had paid her back a thousand times for all she had done to him. Slowly he reached out and ran his fingers through her long black hair. From it came a musky odor that drove him wild.
“If you’re my slave, kiss my feet.”
Instantly she knelt and obeyed.
“Now my hand.”
She bathed it with kisses. Her tongue on his skin turned his blood to fire.
“Your room…let’s go.” He struggled to ge
t the words out.
Rising quickly, she led him down the hall. A short distance away they came to a black door. Opening it, she slipped inside. He followed. He expected a bedroom like the one he had left, but instead he was in a chamber large enough to hold a thousand people, the air was filled with what appeared to be slowly drifting mists of blood. At least that’s what he thought they were until he realized they were only masses of spider webs, thick with mold, shimmering in the red moonlight.
Why was the moon so bright in here?
Looking up, his mouth dropped open. Above him hung a window of staggering size, a single panel of leaded glass that covered the entire ceiling. Suspended in it, executed with breathtaking artistry, was the gigantic form of a girl in crystal. Her arms and legs were outstretched, her gown and hair streaked behind her as though she were falling from a terrible height. Her horrified eyes stared downward, frozen in the last moment before a death-crash. Through the glass of her open mouth fell a silent shriek of crimson light that illuminated the only object in the chamber. Across the room stood a black dais with seven stairs leading up to it. On the top squatted an enclosure shrouded in rotting curtains.
Alex was stunned, all his rage drained away beneath the crushing weirdness. “This is your…bedroom?”
The girl nodded.
“Where’s your bed?” He was struggling hard to get control of himself, to carry through with his intentions when what he wanted to do was run.
“Over there. Up those steps. What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.”
“Yes, there is. You’re afraid. Don’t be afraid.” She moved toward him.
“I am not afraid.” She thought he was a coward. Gritting his teeth, he rushed across the room to the dais. But when he looked back, she hadn’t followed.
“Well, what are you waiting for?”
She smiled. As she walked toward him, her face was lost in darkness. And as she walked, she began singing in a low, soft voice. Alex couldn’t make out the words, but the sound sent chills through him. “Don’t do that; I don’t like it.”
Silence.
When she was several feet away, she stopped and stared at him. “Well?”
“Well, what?”
“Here I am. What are you going to do?”
“Anything I want.”
“Really?” The girl chuckled. Alex blanched. She was laughing at him again. Grabbing her shoulders, he pulled her body against his. The feel of her took his breath away. His knees almost buckled.
“Remember, don’t hurt me.”
More derision. Her voice reeked with it. Filthy mocking witch! Pulling her head back, he mashed his lips against hers. The response was amazing. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him with a terrible fury. For a long moment they remained locked together. Then suddenly Alex screamed and shoved her away. Staggering across the room, he began choking, his stomach wrenched in dry heaves. As though she didn’t notice, the girl began climbing the stairs toward the bedchamber. And the eerie song began again. But this time the words were clear.
Lips that whisper of mourning,
Eyes that die at the dawn,
Mouth with the honey of sorrow,
Come to my bed, my love.
Death is the pleasure of knowing,
The promise of passion beyond,
A grave is the altar of worship,
Come to my bed, my love.
Come to the place where they laid me,
My beauty asleep in the dust,
Die in the moonlight with me.
Come to my death, my love.
Slowly Alex’s choking and heaving subsided. He turned and stared up at her as though she were a living plague. “Your mouth…what’s wrong with you?”
In answer, the girl pulled back the curtain. “Come and see.”
Inside the enclosure stood a large bed and something was lying on it. As she looked down at him, there were tears in her eyes. What he wanted to do was run, but he couldn’t. There was no choice. He had to see what she wanted to show him.
“What is that up there?”
She didn’t answer. As though drawn by an invisible force, Alex climbed the stairs. When he reached the top, he froze. On the bed lay a nightmare, splayed out on the filthy sheets, a body so old it was mummified. The skin was wrinkled and cracked as though it had been there for a thousand years. Much of it had turned to dust revealing bones. But most awful of all, still attached to the skull was a shroud of long black hair.
“I was so beautiful. Look what they did to me,” the girl whispered. “Soon, only my hair will remain.” Dropping the curtain, she turned toward him. Her eyes held a terrible longing. “Help me, please. It won’t be as bad next time. I promise. In a little while you won’t taste anything at all.”
She tried to touch his chest, but Alex jerked away. As he did so, he stumbled backward down the stairs and sprawled on the floor. The girl began descending toward him.
“Give me back my life and I’ll give you pleasure such as you have never known. A goddess will be your slave.”
Terrified, he jumped up and rushed to the door. Lurching through it, he ran…down one hall after another…trying every door he found. All were locked. But as he ran, he felt himself growing weaker and it became harder to breathe.
And then the fever hit him.
Sweat poured from his body, and he shook as though in a freezing wind. A purple darkness shrouded the edges of his vision, making the hallway look like a tunnel into death. His run slowed to a walk, but still he pushed on, desperate to escape. Then his legs began to go numb. A few more steps and he couldn’t feel them at all. With a groan he crashed to the floor and writhed. His skin was burning. If only he could have a sip of water to wet his smoldering tongue.
Instantly cool hands lifted his head and delicious water dribbled into his mouth. He looked up, but his eyes wouldn’t focus. A vague shadow was giving him a drink from a glistening pitcher. Then he heard the soft voice of Melesh.
“Little boy from far away, it won’t do any good to run. Don’t you understand? You belong to us now.”
The water stopped, and he felt her lips press against his. Once more he tasted the sickly sweet rot of death. But he was too weak to pull away or even to gag. All he could do was cry.
Alex drifted in and out of consciousness. What followed seemed like endless nights of burning fever, thrashing in a moldy bed interspersed with endless days hanging blind and flattened in the scorching sun. At dusk he would crash to the bed and roll off on the floor. There he would lie too weak to move until the girl came and dragged him up to begin a new night of horror. Through it all she sat beside him, chanting in a low, soft voice with red moonlight in her eyes. And as she chanted, Alex would dream.
First came nightmares. Gashes and wounds of memory. Home. Sisters. Mother. Father. Screaming. Divorce. These were mingled with jittering cuts and freeze-frames of all the horrors he had seen, one image after another retching across his brain like a movie slash-edited by an axe murderer. On and on it went, for what seemed like a thousand lifetimes. But somewhere in the endless dreaming, the images changed. The chanting became a lilt. Gone was the movie from hell. As the girl whisper-sang, his eyes seemed to open; he lifted out of his body and soared high in the air.
Light! Wind! He was free!
If this was death, he didn’t care. All he knew was that his body didn’t hurt anymore and he was gone from the sweat-reeking bed in the Cathedral of Horror. He sailed through misty clouds. Alex had never believed in heaven, but what he was experiencing now made him change his mind. He wondered if he would meet some angels. He looked over his shoulder—no wings, which was confusing. He thought everybody in heaven had wings. Then he looked down and almost cried.
Below him was a breathtaking garden-world laced with rivers of liquid light. Dazzling waterfalls poured into shimmering streams that rushed through forests with trees so tall they were crowned with clouds. In them lived thousands of iridescent birds that soared i
nto the air, then swooped and swirled like rushing rainbows. Laughing with joy, he tried to fly with them.
But then came more chanting and the vision changed.
He found himself above broad plains where millions of animals raced madly in gigantic herds for nothing more than the joy of running. Each species was a different tint and hue, some gaudy, others soft and gentle. They rushed toward each other, but instead of crashing, they converged and flowed, blending into chaotic torrents of rippling hide that surged, then parted, and raced on again. Alex had never seen anything so wonderful. He realized that he was flying above a masterpiece, the work of an Artist greater than any other in the universe who had turned a planet into a canvas and painted it with joy.
And then he saw cities built on mountains.
He had never seen beautiful cities before. In his world there was always darkness in them, slums next to skyscrapers, for every mansion a thousand hovels. But these shone like star-clusters draped across the mountain cliffs. Their buildings were of burnished stone, and in the sunlight, they glistened with soft fire. And the people of the cities—how beautiful they were. They walked the quiet streets without rushing desperation, without exhausted fear. They laughed and talked as though they had nothing better to do in all the world. Alex tried to fly down to join them. But when he got close, the vision disappeared.
Then, as though from far away, he heard the girl chanting.
Instantly he was back in the Cathedral. But no longer was it a place of horror. Gone were the darkness and the mold. The halls were filled with sunlight and laughing children. He followed as they raced from room to room and out the open doors to pick fruit in the gardens, then back to dance in the chapels and splash in the reflecting pools.
Finally the chanting drew him into the Great Sanctuary. Ten thousand voices were singing with such joy that he couldn’t hold back the tears. The massive doors were thrown open, and an endless river of people was flowing up from the valley. Families brought their children for blessing. The aged raised their hands in praise. Every inch of the gigantic room was filled with rejoicing. And all were reaching toward the amazing loveliness at the front. The painting towered above them, and out of it rushed the colors of heaven in a waterfall that sprayed glowing mist into the farthest corners of the room. The touch of the tiniest drop brought ecstasy. Walking among the people were the Beings that Alex had seen in the windows, but how differently they looked now; they were majestic, like gods, yet their eyes were soft with love. They reached out to everyone around them touching and blessing wherever they went.