Threshold of Destiny (The Mysterium Secret Book 1)

by Linn Chapel

  But Peter tried to call them back. “A psychic ability? That sounds like wishful thinking, Tressa. We can’t spare any time for dead ends.”

  Albert chimed in, saying uncomfortably. “He’s right. I never gained any psychic power from the transition. No vampire ever has.”

  Tressa was in too much of a rush to explain. She ran up the stairs after Holt and together they found Luke’s backpack. She pulled out a white t-shirt and handed it to Holt.

  His eyes closed in concentration. “Nothing,” he said tightly. “I can’t see a thing.”

  Footsteps sounded in the doorway and Tressa looked around to see that Peter and Albert had entered the chamber just in time to hear Holt’s admission of failure.

  Tressa took the folded t-shirt from Holt’s hands, shook it out, and looked it over closely. “I know what’s wrong. This shirt is new. He’s never worn it! Look, there’s a sales tag.”

  Peter crossed the room to join them. “That’s one of the shirts I bought for him when we were in Bath. You know what a slob he is.”

  “We need something else – something that he’s touched and made his own!” Tressa exclaimed. Just inside the backpack she could see the slim black notebook Luke had brought to England for notes and miscellaneous research. She pulled it out.

  It took only a moment for Holt to place the notebook on a small table and spread both of his hands on top. His eyes were closed once more.

  “Much better. I can see dark shapes and outlines,” he told them. “It’s the interior of a car,” he went on, his voice rising with excitement. “I can’t see Luke himself, or the driver of the car, but I can see the highway.”

  Nearby, Peter let out a pent-up breath. “It’s true, then. You have your own psychic ability, Holt. We’ve got something that will help us to find Luke, after all.”

  “Yes, it’s true,” Holt murmured. “Tressa made the discovery earlier today.” His eyes were still tightly closed in concentration. “The car’s headlights show me only the road itself. It’s too dark to recognize any landmarks.” His brow furrowed with strain. “There’s no way to identify which route they’re taking!” He opened his eyes with a groan of angry frustration.

  Tressa touched one of Holt’s hands. “It’s not your fault, Holt. At least you tried.”

  But as her hand rested upon his, a thought came to her. It was a wild and improbable notion, but it was their only chance.

  She placed both of her hands on top of Holt’s, which were still lying flat on the black notebook. “Holt,” she said quickly, “focus again. Luke’s mind is familiar to me, and if I’m able to work through you to find his intentions, then I might be able to find his captor’s intentions, too.”

  Holt drew in a breath of surprise, but he nodded. Peter and Albert edged closer.

  As Tressa closed her eyes and sent her psychic ability downward through her palms, she could feel a faint, humming sensation where her skin made contact with Holt’s hands. She encountered no image of the car’s interior, but that was Holt’s part, she told herself. Nothing appeared before her mind’s eye but a gray void. Her head began to pound with the effort to concentrate, but at last she spotted a dim shape in the distance, floating in the void.

  Elated, she drew closer and closer to it with her psychic sense. It was dull brown and shaped like a shallow, empty bowl. She absorbed the intentions.

  “I’ve just read Luke’s intentions. He has no plans, or almost none. His only intention is to make a token struggle when they arrive at their destination,” she murmured.

  “Bravo, Tressa,” came Peter’s eager voice. “Keep going.”

  Holt spoke close to her ear. “I’ll try to make my own picture larger. Search for another mind, Tressa.”

  Tressa struggled to focus. The shallow brown bowl appeared in her mind’s eye again, and then a few moments later, three other shapes came into her field of inner vision, floating behind the bowl. Two of them were orbs of reddish, lurid light.

  The third was different, for it was made of thick cords that wove in and out like a Gordian knot. She sent her psychic ability closer to it, seeking. When she was near enough, she paused to absorb the inner plans within the knot.

  “There are three other people in the car besides Luke. One of them must be Margot, and I’ve just read her intentions,” Tressa whispered in excitement. “She’s planning to bring Luke to a circle of standing stones.”

  Holt spoke up urgently beside her. “Which one? Surely not Stonehenge. Too many tourists pass the spot, even at night.”

  Tressa strove as hard as she could to learn more from the Gordian knot but all she could pick up was a strong intention to take Luke to an ancient stone circle. “I can’t read any details,” she nearly sobbed in despair. “I never can – I don’t have the power!”

  “Keep trying,” Holt said firmly as they leaned over the notebook together.

  Tressa was about to perform another reading when a smaller intention emerged from the knot to hover above it like a wispy bit of cloud. It moved and shifted, light and fleeting, a mere tissue of thought.

  But there was enough of an intention within that gossamer wisp for Tressa to absorb it. Then the wisp was gone, and only the Gordian knot remained.

  “I did it! Margot’s planning to have her driver park near a grove of trees. They’re large trees with pale, gray trunks. Beyond the trees, there’s a stone circle at the top of a grassy hill. I could see it all, just for an instant. Margot must have been there before.”

  “Gray trunks – the trees are beeches, then. It’s the Devil’s Dance,” said Holt in a brisk voice. He removed his hands from the notebook. “I know the spot. It’s northeast of Langley.”

  “But Margot’s had such a head start,” cried Tressa.

  “Peter and I will take the estate car and I’ll drive as quickly as the roads allow. My night vision is still good.” Holt stood up swiftly.

  Peter was already at the door. “What about weapons?” he asked Holt.

  “Hugh keeps a rifle at Arbor Cottage.”

  Tressa gasped and rose to her feet, but they left so quickly that her speech about taking precautions and making some kind of provision for their own safety died on her lips.

  She ran down the stairs and outside into the garden. Albert followed in her wake, and together they ran up the dark lane. Soon the lights of Arbor Cottage came into view and she spotted Hugh standing just outside the cottage door, listening closely to Holt. The old caretaker glanced in Tressa’s direction and gave Holt a nod of his head.

  Then Holt disappeared into the cottage and emerged a moment later with a hunting rifle in his arms. He rounded the corner of the dwelling with Peter at his heels, and they were just entering the estate car when Tressa arrived in the driveway with Albert close behind.

  Holt rolled down the driver’s window, his eyes flashing with impatience. “Stay here, Tressa,” he called out to her. “I’ve told Hugh to watch over you.”

  Tressa ran up to his window. “Let me come with you! What if Luke requires medical attention? My nursing skills could be needed.”

  Her eyes ran worriedly over Holt, then her gaze jumped to Peter in the passenger seat. And what if something happens to Peter – or to you?

  “It’s too dangerous,” Holt shot back. “Besides, you’re wearing a white dress tonight. You’d be an easy target.”

  “Then I’ll change into something dark!”

  “There’s no time, Tressa.” Holt backed into the little lane, and then the estate car sped over the stone bridge and disappeared into the dark trees.

  She turned swiftly to Albert. In the light from the cottage windows, she could just make out his face. Wordlessly, he stared back at her. Then he gave her a nod.

  She nodded back.

  Together, they ran down the lane to Cup Cottage. “There’s a road map in my room,” she said in between panting breaths.

  “Don’t forget to change into dark clothing.” As they swept inside the cottage, Albert began to dig through his
own luggage.

  Tressa raced up the stairs to her bedchamber where she found the map and quickly unfolded it.

  Peering closely at the network of country roads, she scanned the area northeast of Langley. Her eyes landed on a small symbol used for Stone Age sites. Below it ran a name in tiny print.

  The Devil’s Dance.

  Tressa studied the route to the stone circle, and then she quickly refolded the map and found a pair of dark blue jeans. She had no dark jackets or sweaters of her own, so she made a hasty search among Peter’s clothes in the other bedroom. With relief, she found a black hooded sweatshirt that covered her hair and upper body completely when she slipped it on. She couldn’t be better prepared for hiding in the shadows.

  Downstairs, she rejoined Albert just as he finished shrugging on a dark blue sweatshirt. Together they exited the cottage.

  Albert’s rental car was still standing where he had parked it near the cottage gate. Moments later, they were bumping up the lane. Hugh must have heard the engine, for he burst from the front door of Arbor Cottage and waved agitatedly for them to stop.

  Albert braked in confusion.

  “There’s no time to explain,” Tressa told him quickly. “Just keep on driving.”

  Holt swung the estate car around a curve so quickly that Peter had to grip his armrest for support. The narrow country road wound onward, rising and falling with the hills as it passed through a dark landscape that was barely visible to Peter. At least Holt could see where they were going.

  About twenty minutes had passed when Peter gave voice to his worries. “The two accomplices that are traveling with Margot could be altered vampires.”

  Holt glanced his way. “That would make our business with Margot much more difficult. Would bullets work?” He nodded his head at the rifle that was lying behind them, in the rear seat.

  “I don’t know. If they’re stalled halfway in the transition between vampire and human, there’s no way of telling.”

  Holt whipped the car around another tight bend in the road. “Would they still feel an urge to prey upon Luke?”

  “Yes, but Margot must have a way of controlling them. She’d never want them to receive another dose of half-Mysterium blood from Luke, because that would only push the transition to completion.”

  “But Margot could always order them to kill Luke by some other means.”

  Peter shuddered uneasily. “That’s what I’m worried about. And maybe she’s already given the order.”

  Holt was silent. He drove on at breakneck speed and it wasn’t long before he turned off the highway to rumble down a smaller, unpaved lane. Soon he parked near a hedgerow. Peter emerged from the car as Holt retrieved the rifle from the rear seat. They met each other in front of the vehicle.

  Together they sprinted silently along the grassy shoulder of the narrow lane, slowing only when they spotted a vehicle in the darkness ahead, parked in a turnout.

  Holt slipped closer, his black clothing making him invisible. He returned to Peter’s side in a moment.

  “It’s the car I saw in my vision,” he whispered.

  Holt turned and led the way to a footpath. Peter followed, and soon they were passing through a grove of trees with gray trunks, moving soundlessly.

  When they reached the edge of the woodland, Holt pressed himself up against one of the broad trunks. As Peter joined him behind the tree, an unexpected sensation churned in the pit of his stomach.

  Ignoring it, he peered around the side of the trunk. Bands of clouds raced across the nighttime sky, blown by a strong wind. The bands parted, and suddenly moonlight poured down over the land.

  Not far away, an ancient stone circle stood on a windswept hilltop. A few of the massive slabs had fallen to the ground, but Peter judged that there were still about a dozen standing.

  In the moonlight, the faces of the stones stood up bone-white against the night sky. Deep shadows spread outward from the stones like pools of black ink on the hilltop.

  Above the stone circle, the clouds flew steadily across the night sky. Between their long, ghostly streamers the moon shone down, three-quarters full.

  Then Peter’s attention was caught by a movement within the stone circle. “There they are, in the center. I can see four figures. That means Luke must still be alive,” he whispered to Holt.

  Holt murmured back, “But why did Margot come here, of all places? If we knew that, we’d have a better chance of upsetting her plans. Listen, Peter. I hear a voice.”

  Over the sighing of the wind, the sound of Margot’s voice could be heard issuing a series of steady commands, although none of the words were audible.

  Suddenly the clouds swept across the moon and the land went dark.

  Peter whispered in a strained voice, “She’s not just giving orders. She seems to be training her accomplices.”

  “Yes, the same thing occurred to me.”

  “Holt, there’s something else. I’ve been feeling queasy and my muscles are starting to weaken. I’ve had problems like this ever since I was a teenager, when something bad happened to me. There’s a paranormal aura very close to us, and a nasty one. I think it’s spreading outward from the stone circle.”

  “Is Margot creating this aura?”

  “No, it’s more like a residue left over from some past event.”

  As the clouds swept on and cold moonlight shone down again, Peter spotted a figure descending the slope. It was a tall, agile male, carrying a spade.

  Peter pressed himself against the backside of the tree. Holt edged closer to him, holding the rifle. The long barrel rested hard and snug against Peter’s shoulder. Together they waited, completely motionless and breathing very, very lightly. The accomplice strode steadily downward, coming closer and closer to the spot where the footpath entered the woodland only an arm’s length away from their hiding place.

  But the tall figure veered at the bottom of the hill and skirted the edge of the trees, coming to a stop some distance away. There, in the thick undergrowth, he plunged the spade into the ground and began to dig.

  His movements were fast and untiring. Beside him, a mound of earth grew with unnatural speed.

  Straightening after a few minutes, he turned and retraced his path to the top of the hill, where he rejoined the others in the center of the stone circle.

  “Our worst fears are true,” whispered Peter hoarsely. “Her accomplices are half-turned vampires.”

  “Undoubtedly you are correct,” breathed Holt in that icy tone he used when he was angry and upset.

  “But Holt, why did he make that large pit in the ground?”

  There was a short silence. When Holt answered, his voice was even icier than before. “Obviously, it’s meant to serve as a grave for Luke.”

  Peter clenched his fists and tried not to think of his brother’s dead body being buried in that pit. It didn’t help that the nausea churning in his stomach was slowly growing.

  If only the strange, paranormal residue weren’t weakening him. But then he suddenly realized that such an atmosphere could be part of Margot’s master plan.

  “Holt, I think I know why Margot picked this spot. Her subjects must still have a bit of their old power to mesmerize. It’s a psychic effect – you’d know that, Holt, having generated it yourself. But a strong paranormal atmosphere can interfere with psychic effects, even cancel them.”

  “That could be useful. Margot wouldn’t want their old habits to surface,” said Holt. “She’d want them to be docile.”

  “Docile and predictable, so that she could train them more easily. She must have done a bit of research and found a local site where someone had recently staged an attempt at spellcasting or some other occult activity.”

  Holt murmured unhappily, “She must be teaching them to kill on command.”

  “You’re right. With Luke, she can train them to kill a living target, and eliminate him at the same time. Then she’ll probably come after the rest of us. Her half-turned vampires will be ready to
repeat her orders on command.” Peter’s stomach churned, still troubled by the nauseous sensation.

  Holt lifted the rifle and sighted along its length. Then he lowered it. “I can’t shoot from here, Peter, for your brother is in the way. Those strange beings might not succumb to the bullets, anyway. We must go closer and try to eliminate one of these changelings without alerting the second.”

  “That sounds impossible.”

  “Difficult but not impossible, Peter. You’ll provide the distraction – I’ll come up from behind.”

  “And use the neck pinch? Would that even work on one of these changelings?”

  “It must, for it halts the circulation to the brain. Even they can’t be immune to such an effect. My only fear is that I may not have enough strength in my fingers, now that I’m human.”

  “We’ll have to try,” replied Peter. “But, Holt, there’s another problem.”

  “What is it, Peter?”

  “I’m going to be even weaker near the center of the circle than I am now. Not much of a partner.”

  Holt gripped Peter’s shoulder. “You’re still a man to be reckoned with, my friend. Take the rifle. I must keep my hands free to work the trick.”

  Peter hesitated. “I’ve only shot tranq guns before now. This can kill.”

  “Take it,” insisted Holt, pressing the rifle into Peter’s hands.

  Peter gripped the rifle as the wind whipped through the branches overhead. In the night sky above the stone circle, another band of clouds swept across the moon. A sudden darkness fell over the land.

  Holt spoke up nearby. “Here’s our chance. Meet me at the leftmost standing stone.” Holt must have darted forward then, but Peter never saw him in the darkness.

  Peter stepped from behind the trunk with the rifle. He could just make out the circle of standing stones in the dimness. Fixing his gaze on the leftmost stone, he ran quickly up the sloping hillside.

  Thirty-six

  Tressa was the first to spot the small, weathered marker at the entrance to a footpath. Leaning closer, she read the words by moonlight.