Invisible Terror Collection (7 page)

The girl turned to her, cocking her head as if she didn’t quite understand.

“What do you want?”

The image shimmered and grew more solid. Now it was possible to clearly see the girl’s face. She was puzzled, confused, and very, very frightened. Remembering the writing on the window, Becka tried again, this time in Spanish,
“ ¿Quién es?
¿Qué
quieres?”

Before the girl could answer, another image suddenly rippled in the air and formed to her left. It seemed to be a handsome woman with long, beautiful hair. She wore an expensive black nightgown. Becka had only seen her once but recognized her immediately. It was Priscilla, the Ascension Lady.

Priscilla looked to Becka with her tired, sad eyes and smiled.

Then, turning her attention toward the girl, she knelt down and reached out her arms. It was an offer of help, of comfort. At first the girl resisted, afraid to come near. But the Ascension Lady waited patiently, making it clear that she was there to help.

At last Juanita took a tentative step toward her. The Ascension Lady smiled broadly. Encouraged, the girl stepped closer. Then closer again. The Ascension Lady continued to smile, waiting.

Another step, and then another. Now the little girl was standing directly in front of the woman. Becka watched as, with great tenderness, the Ascension Lady reached out and wrapped her arms around the helpless child.

There was no missing the gentle affection. The woman looked over to Becka and smiled.

But the smile suddenly froze. Her expression turned from joy to surprise … and then to horror. There was a tearing sound, as if something was ripped. The woman screamed, her voice shrill and agonizing as she grabbed her stomach and fell back from the girl.

The little girl turned to Becka, confused, afraid, and looking very helpless. But in her hands were shredded pieces of the woman’s nightgown.

The Ascension Lady was writhing on the floor, screaming, holding her stomach in agony. Juanita looked down at her with deep pity … and confusion. Then, without warning, she leaped on the woman and began beating her with powerful blows and clawing at her with suddenly razor-sharp fingernails. The woman screamed and tried to protect herself, but she was no match for the child’s superhuman strength and animal-like claws.

Somehow, for a brief second, the Ascension Lady managed to pull herself free from the girl. That’s when her eyes found Becka’s.

They were full of anguished pleading. “Help me,” she gasped, reaching for Becka. “Help — ” Before she could finish, the girl leaped on her again, and again she tore into the woman.

Becka managed to shake herself from her horror. “Stop it!” she screamed. “You’re hurting her!”

The girl did not hear.

“I order you to stop!”

Instead, Juanita reached out and, to Becka’s astonishment, picked up the woman, lifting her as easily as though she were a stuffed doll. She raised the Ascension Lady effortlessly over her head, then flung her across the room. Priscilla hit the back wall hard and slid to the floor in a daze. The girl looked puzzled over what she had done, as though confused at her own powers.

Becka took a step closer and shouted. “You’re hurting her! I command you to stop!”

Juanita paid no attention. She began searching the room, looking for something. Then she found it. The lamp on Becka’s nightstand. In a flash she leaped to it. She grabbed it, ripped off its shade, and bounded back to the Ascension Lady.

For a moment she stood over the groaning woman, looking down at her with pity and compassion. Then slowly, sadly, she raised the lamp high over her head.

Becka understood what was coming. Whether the child knew what she was doing or not, she had to be stopped. Becka was certain that if she didn’t do something, the girl would smash the lamp into the semiconscious woman. She stepped closer and angrily shouted, “Stop it! I command you to stop it and leave my room!”

The little girl turned to her. This time her confusion was mixed with hurt. But hurt feelings or not, she had to be stopped.

“In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth …” Becka faltered. The little girl had started to cry. Becka watched a moment, unsure what to do. Tears streamed down the sad little face, but Becka forced herself to continue. “In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, I command you to go. Leave!”

       The child was sobbing now. Helplessly. Uncontrollably.

Becka bit her lip. What was going on? Was she doing the right thing?

With the lamp still poised over the Ascension Lady, Juanita looked at Becka. Her face was stained with tears; her bottom lip trembled with emotion. Her eyes seemed to plead with Becka, as though she hoped she would give her permission to finish the job.

Becka shook her head. “No. I command you to leave! Leave my room, now!”

Juanita’s expression dropped even lower. She turned as if to leave, then suddenly raised the lamp and brought it crashing down on the woman’s chest.

“Nooo!” Becka screamed. “I command you to leave! Leave my room!
Now — !”

Rebecca shot up in bed, wide awake. Another dream! A dream within a dream.

She quickly reached for the lamp on her nightstand. It was time to flood the room with light, with reality.

But the lamp was not there.

She threw off the covers and raced to the wall switch by the door. She snapped it on and squinted as the overhead light glared into the room, replacing the darkness with bright, cleans-ing light. The brightness hurt her eyes, but it was a small price to pay.

Until the light revealed something across the room, near the corner. It was hard to make it out at first, since it had been broken and the shade ripped off. But after a second, Becka realized she was staring at the shattered lamp from her nightstand.

Chapter 6

4:32 a.m.

Hi, Scotty.”

Scott gave a start as he entered his bedroom and fumbled to turn on the light. He saw Becka sitting at his desk in the dark. “What are you doing here?” he asked in surprise.

“My room was getting a little crowded for sleeping.”

“What?”

“Never mind. Where have you been? It’s 4:30 in the morning.”

Scott was exhausted. It had been quite a night … and morning. First there was that little field trip through the Hawthorne mansion, then the visit to the Bookshop. And finally, for the past few hours he’d been working with Hubert as they dreamed up false info for the Ascension Lady’s astrology charts.

“Where have I been?” he echoed. “Let’s just say your friend at the bookstore will have a brand-new look the next time you see her.”

“My friend … the Ascension Lady? You’ve done something to the Ascension Lady?”

       “Not me.” He smirked. “She’ll be doing it to herself. It’s all in the stars … and her computer.” He pulled off his jacket and tossed it on the growing pile of clothes in the corner.

“What did you do?” she asked.

He waved her off. “It’s a long story, but the lady will definitely be sporting a new ’do the next time you see her.” He gave a long, noisy yawn. “Right now I’m bushed.” He started peeling off his T-shirt.

Becka had been sitting there for almost an hour trying to think what she should say when he came back. Should she tell him more about her growing doubts? What about the experience in her room? What about her decision to visit the Ascension Lady to try and warn her?

It looked as though she had just wasted her time. Scotty, with his usual male egocentrism, wasn’t interested in anything but his own accomplishments … and, of course, sleep. She got up and started for the door.

He gave another yawn. “What were you saying about your room?”

“Forget it,” she answered. She would say nothing more. At least for now. If he was lucky, maybe she’d leave a note on the table, letting him know she’d be at the Bookshop. But as far as anything else, it looked like she’d have to work things out on her own.

“Hey, Beck?”

She stopped in the doorway and turned.

“So what’s the deal? Are you going to that séance tomorrow?”

She took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “I don’t know, Scotty.”

**********

2:10 p.m.

Becka stood outside the Ascension Bookshop. The sign on the door read Closed for Lunch. She peered through the posters and stickers plastered over the window and saw someone rummaging around inside.

“I hope I’m doing the right thing,” she sighed as she reached out and rapped on the door. She waited, folding her arms against the cold … not the cold of the morning, or even the cold of fear.

But the cold of gnawing uncertainty.

She ran through it all again. Was the little girl a demon or Juanita’s ghost? The Bible said there are no ghosts. Okay, fine.

If that was true, then why was the girl Becka had seen the same age as Juanita? Why did she look like Juanita would have looked?

Why did she speak Spanish like Juanita surely must have done?

Then there was the question about a Chris tian’s “spiritual authority” … all that stuff in the Bible about beating the devil.

Why wasn’t it working for Scotty? Why wasn’t it working for her?

Finally, there was the love question. Granted, Juanita wasn’t exactly the most likable being, but even in her dream Becka was pretty sure the kid was acting more out of fear and confusion than meanness. And the Ascension Lady was the only one trying to help. Not Becka, not Scott. Only the Ascension Lady was reaching out in love.

That’s how Becka saw it, anyway. And that’s why she was there. She had to warn the Ascension Lady. No matter how much the woman wanted to help Juanita, who knew what would happen to her if she went through with tonight’s séance?

Becka heard the bolt unlock. Then the door to the Bookshop swung open. But it was not the Ascension Lady who greeted her. Or was it?

Instead of the long salt-and-pepper hair, this woman had a closely shaved buzz. And it was tinted red. But that was nothing compared to her breath. A wave of garlic stung Becka’s nose, making her eyes instantly water.

The woman broke into a smile. It was the Ascension Lady’s smile. And those were her eyes — those same sad, frightened eyes. “Rebecca, please come in.” She opened the door wider, and Becka stepped inside.

The Bookshop was not at all what she had expected. Instead of dark, foreboding shelves covered in spiderwebs, and a handful of witches standing around stirring cauldrons, this place was bright and cheery. Sunshine poured through overhead skylights.

The floor was covered in aqua blue carpeting, the shelves were white and inviting, and the books they held looked friendly and colorful.

“Sorry about my breath,” the Ascension Lady laughed as she shut the door. “It’s all part of my new identity.”

“Identity?” Becka said, trying to blink back the tears.

The woman nodded. “After our rendezvous last night, I realized I had better change my identity.”

“Rendezvous?”

“Yes, our little get-together in your room.” Becka’s heart skipped a beat. “You were there? You saw what happened?”

“Of course I was there. Didn’t you see me?” Becka was stunned. “But I thought … I mean …”

“You thought it was a dream?”

Becka nodded.

The Ascension Lady smiled. “I was astral projecting — leaving my body while I slept. It’s not an uncommon practice, not for those of us involved in the deeper secrets of New Age. In a sense, I suppose you could say I was dreaming too. But not really.”

“So … you saw what happened?”

“Oh yes — ” the Ascension Lady smiled and rubbed her abdo-men — “and felt it.”

Becka could only stare.

       The woman crossed toward the counter. “It was all symbolic, of course. But it made clear to me the drastic actions that had to be taken for tonight.”

“Was cutting your hair part of that drastic action?” The woman ran her fingers over her shaved head. There was a trace of sadness to her voice. “It really wasn’t my decision.” She picked up a clove of garlic on the counter and popped it into her mouth, between her gum and teeth. She winced as it burned, yet she continued to suck and chew. “But it all made sense after this morning’s forecast.”

“Forecast?”

“My astrological forecast. Great things are going to happen to me tonight, but I must keep my identity hidden. In fact, the charts have never been more specific — they even said I should shave my hair, and dye it — I shaved my eyebrows too; did you notice?”

As Becka stared, a faint bell sounded in her head. Scott had said something about the Ascension Lady sporting “a new ’do.”

“And, of course, these garlic cloves — ” the woman fanned her mouth, indicating how much they burned — “they are to help me alter my normal olfactory signature.”

“Your what?”

“My scent. That way I won’t be recognized by my scent either.”

Becka continued to stare, wondering if the woman had any idea how foolish she looked, or sounded … or smelled.

“In all my years I’ve never encountered an astrological forecast like this one. But when I read it on the computer this morning, I knew something was happening.”

Becka closed her eyes. Computer, astrological forecast, shaved head. She knew what was “happening.” Or who. Scott.

This woman’s absurd looks and crazy actions were all Scott’s doing.

Rebecca cleared her throat and tried to change the subject.

       “So you’re, uh, you’re still going tonight, even after all that happened in my room?”

“Juanita’s just confused,” the Ascension Lady explained.

“She just misunderstood my actions. But with a new identity we’ll be able to start over, and I’ll be able to reach her.” The woman turned and looked directly into Becka’s eyes. There was no missing her sincerity. “She needs us, Rebecca. You know that now. You have seen it yourself.”

Becka glanced away.

The Ascension Lady approached. Her voice was full of understanding and compassion. “I know you’re frightened. I know you’re starting to have doubts about your beliefs.” Becka bit her lip. It was as if the woman had read her mind.

The Ascension Lady reached out and gently touched Rebecca’s arm. Becka’s eyes met the older woman’s gaze.