Right Hand of Evil (26 page)

Hypocrites!
she thought bitterly.
They're all a bunch of hypocrites.

"Looks so peaceful, you'd never know what's going on, doesn't it?" Ted asked, seeming to read her mind.

She reached over and slipped her hand into his. "Do you really think it will all blow over?"

"Sure it will." Ted braked the car to a stop. "Maybe when people find out tomorrow that nothing terrible happened to Sandy when she spent the night at our place, things will start dying down." He grinned. "I mean, wouldn't you think if we were such monsters-or even if the house really is haunted-that something awful would happen to her?"

"Don't say that," Janet protested, shuddering. "Don't even think it!"

Yet the words were already spoken, hanging in the air. As she put her key in the lock of the front door, Janet had a terrible premonition about what she might find inside the house.

She pushed the door open and stepped inside, Ted right behind her.

The lights in the entry hall were off.

The house was silent.

Then she heard something.

A door, creaking open.

Her pulse quickened, and a chill passed through her.

Then, as the unseen door creaked once more, the quiet of the house was shattered by a scream.

"Kim?" Janet shouted, switching on the chandelier and flooding the entry hall with light. "KIM!"

There was a silence-a terrifying silence that froze Janet's blood-until she heard her daughter's voice.

"In the library!" Kim called out. "We're watching a movie."

From behind her, Janet heard Ted snicker, and turned to glare at him. "Don't you tell her," she warned. "Not a single word."

"Please?" Ted begged. "You looked so scared."

"And you weren't?" Janet countered.

Ted hesitated, then nodded. "Well, maybe just a little bit," he agreed. "Come on, let's go take a head count and make sure the right number of bodies are here."

Together, they went into the library, where the two girls were stretched out on the floor watching a movie. On the screen, a masked figure held one of the nastiestlooking knives Janet had ever seen, about to plunge it into a terrified victim. "How can you watch that?" she asked. "I'd be scared out of my wits."

"It's fun," Kim told her.

"It's creepy," Sandy declared.

Kim rolled her eyes at her friend's nervousness. "It's only a movie. We can shut it off anytime we want."

Janet glanced pointedly at the clock. "Well, just make sure it's off by midnight, okay?"

Ten minutes later Janet and Ted were in their room. Molly was still sound asleep in her crib, and there'd been no sign of Jared all evening. "See? I told you there was nothing to worry about," Ted said as he slid into bed. "Now, why don't you come join me?"

"Ted! Kim and Sandy are right downstairs!"

"They won't hear a thing," Ted assured her. "Come here."

As Ted wrapped his arms around her and began covering her with kisses, Janet felt the tension of the evening finally slipping away.

"It'll be all right," Ted whispered in her ear. "Don't worry, sweetheart, I'll make it all right."

Then his mouth covered hers, and she gratefully gave in to the pleasures of their bodies.

The touch was as gentle on her skin as the caress of a summer breeze, so light that at first Sandy was hardly even aware of it. All she knew was that a slight thrill had run through her, disappearing so quickly that she wasn't quite sure she'd felt it.

Yet something
had
happened.

Something she wanted more of.

She stretched her body languidly, but didn't open her eyes for fear of losing the last faint vestiges of the elusive pleasure.

The touch came again, as soft and soothing as the fur of a kitten, but now she could hear something, too.

A strange sound, not quite a voice, but not quite music. The sound reached deep within her, resonating inside her.

The touch was stronger now, like gentle fingers against her skin, and once more she stretched her body, as if reaching out to the source of the caress.

The sound-the odd not-quite-music-was forming into a whispered voice, drawing each syllable of her name into a sigh of longing: "Saann… deee…"

Then again: "Saann… deee…"

"Yes," Sandy whispered. "Oh, yes…"

Now, lying in the darkness, the soothing sounds washing over her, she felt soft lips touch her own, and the gentle touch grew more bold.

Hands slipped beneath her blouse, and the nipples on her breasts hardened while at the same time a great lassitude spread over her.

She wanted nothing more than to lie where she was, surrounded by the protective darkness, thrilling to the touch, yet calmed by the soothing sounds.

She shivered with pleasure, straining closer to the touch.

And in the instant she responded to it, it vanished.

Sandy's breath caught, and she felt a terrible sense of disappointment.

Of loss.

"Nooo," she whimpered so softly the word was barely spoken. "Noooo…"

She reached out, searching in the darkness for the source of the touch, silently pleading for its return.

And in the darkness she felt something. Her fingers closed on a strong hand, and a moment later she felt herself being drawn to her feet.

"Come," a whispered voice instructed. "Come with me…"

Sandy let herself be led through the darkness, afraid to open her eyes lest the magical touch and voice prove to be as ephemeral as a dream, vanishing as she came wide-awake.

She had no sense of where she might be going, where the pleasure might lead her, but it didn't matter. All she wanted was to follow.

Slowly the darkness around her began to change. Her whole being felt suffused with a growing light, and the hands that guided her now lay her gently on a surface so soft it felt as if it must be nothing more than a cloud. Sighing in contentment, Sandy let herself sink into the softness.

The suffusing light brightened into a golden glow swirling with a rainbow of colors, and once again she heard the strange sounds-not quite voices, but not quite music-pulsing in her head, wrapping her whole body in its throbbing rhythms. Then, from somewhere just beneath her consciousness, a voice whispered to her.

"Open your eyes, Sandy. Don't just feel me and hear me. See me, too…"

Obeying the voice, Sandy slowly opened her eyes. She was blinded by the golden luminescence and flow of color, but then an image began to take form.

A face-the most beautiful face she'd ever seen-loomed a few inches above her own. Eyes the color of sapphires gazed into her own; full lips hovered close to hers, smiling. The jaw was strong, the chin slightly cleft. The cheekbones and forehead were high, and framed by waves of chestnut hair.

It was exactly the face that until now she'd seen only in her fantasies, coming to her during the daydreams in which she imagined the man who would someday sweep her into his arms and carry her away.

As if in answer to every craving she'd ever felt, the face above her came closer. She felt the lips brush her own. She tried to raise her arms, to pull herself closer to the object of her dreams, but somehow her limbs refused to obey.

She lay helpless in the vision's thrall, craving every touch, moaning softly.

She felt the tip of a tongue prod gently at her lips, and opened her mouth to accept it. Then, once again, she felt the caressing fingers stroking her body.

The buttons of her blouse opened; her jeans slid down her hips.

The fingers were everywhere now-hundreds of them-tracing intricate patterns on her skin, brushing over her breasts and hips, stroking her thighs.

Her legs spread, and her breath turned ragged as the electricity of the vision's touch streamed through her.

The rhythms of the music intensified; the throbbing grew more urgent.

Sandy felt herself writhing now, straining upward against the bonds that seemed to bind her to the cloud, every nerve in her responding to the magical touch. Her skin felt damp with sweat, and then she felt a tongue-no, dozens of tongues-licking it all away. Her own moans mixed with the pulsing rhythms and she felt as if she might pass out as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her.

"Yes…" she whispered once again. "Oh, God, yes…"

Then, as she gave herself over completely to the sensations of her body, another sound broke through the unearthly music in her head.

It was the sound of laughter-laughter that mocked her.

For an instant she tried to pull away, tried to extricate herself from the maelstrom of pleasure in which she wallowed, but it was far too late.

Moaning one last time, she submitted herself to the pleasure.

And the laughter grew.

No! Not again! Don't let it be happening again!

But instead of instantly passing, leaving her with the eerie feeling that she'd just reexperienced something that had happened before, the deja vu only deepened its grip on Kim.

It was happening all over again.

Once again she was lost in the house, racing through an endless maze of corridors that branched off, then branched again and again, forcing her to make a choice at every juncture.

Once more she could sense some unseen menace closing in on her, toying with her, circling her, never quite visible, but always drawing closer and closer.

When she came to the top of the flight of stairs with the barely visible pinpoint of light at the bottom, she wanted to turn back, knowing what she would find when she finally came to the bottom of the stairs and entered the light.

Jared.

But not Jared.

Someone else, someone who looked like Jared but wasn't.

She tried to turn away from the stairs, but now she could hear the music, too, faintly throbbing rhythms that, though barely audible, insinuated themselves inside her like tentacles wrapping around every nerve in her body, taking over control so that she had no choice but to take that first step down into the abyss.

Kim's heart pounded with terrible anticipation as she descended the endless staircase, and when she finally came to the bottom, it felt as if all the energy had been drained from her body, and along with her energy, her will to resist had been sapped as well.

The music was louder now, and its hold on her stronger. The point of light stood in the darkness like a beacon, and despite her exhaustion, Kim moved toward it. After what seemed an eternity, she stood before the final door.

Don't,
she told herself.
Don't go through the door.

But even as the thought formed in her mind, her hand went to the knob, turned it, and slowly pushed the door open. It swung silently inward on its hinges, moving as easily as if it were floating weightlessly in the air. And as it opened, the strange cathedral appeared before her, its roof soaring so high it was all but invisible. Candles-millions of them-flickered everywhere, suffusing the vast chamber with a shadowless glow, and filling it with a sweet pungency that made Kim feel lightheaded. Straight ahead of her the altar was all but lost in the swirling smoke of the candles, but even from the doors she could see that something-something familiar-lay at the foot of the inverted cross that hung above the altar itself.

As the doors slammed shut behind her, the light of the candles faded into a stark white glare punctuated by pools of darkness, a darkness so black that Kim shivered with visions of the terrors those shadows might hide.

She wanted to turn, wanted to flee, but her will was not her own.

Slowly, inexorably, she began to walk down the aisle.

Like a bride.
The manic thought seemed to come out of nowhere. That thought was followed by another:
If I'm a bride, where is my groom?

And suddenly she saw him.

A tall figure, clad in a flowing robe of scarlet-the only splash of color in the surreal scene-appeared in front of the altar, facing her, one hand outstretched. As she moved down the cathedral's broad aisle, the face of the waiting figure came into focus. His features were strong and even; his eyes seemed to hold her own, drawing her toward him like a moth to a beacon of light.

Then she recognized him.

The figure was Jared.

Jared?
she thought.
It can't be Jared
-
you can't marry your own brother.

The figure drew closer.

No, not Jared. It couldn't be Jared. It had to be someone who looked just like him. Had to be!

The music, a cacophony of discordant shrieking, battered at Kim's ears as she approached the altar. The red-robed figure reached for her hand, and Kim watched helplessly as her own hand seemed to rise against her will to slip into his. Just as their fingers were about to touch, the face before her changed.

The skin, smooth and milky white only a moment before, turned scaly.

Pustules erupted from the suddenly sunken cheeks.

The clear eyes began to run with cloudy mucus, and the mouth opened to reveal a long, sharply pointed tongue that darted toward her, splitting in two, with each of the two points morphing into the twin heads of a pair of serpents whose mouths gaped open as they hung before her, their fangs dripping with venom, their forked tongues lashing out at her.

Her whole body spasming with terror, Kim jerked her hand back, and her fingers closed on the golden cross that still hung suspended on her breast where her great-aunt had placed it.

The face before her contorted with fury, and the figure twisted aside, screaming in rage, phlegm and bile erupting from its gaping mouth.

Sickened, Kim reeled away. As she turned to flee back up the aisle, she saw Luke Roberts.

Naked, he lay before one end of the altar, sprawled atop Sandy Engstrom, whose arms and legs were wrapped around his glistening torso as she writhed ecstatically beneath him. Stunned into frozen immobility, Kim stood rooted to the spot as her brother's best friend and her own twisted and flailed on the floor before the altar. Then, as if feeling her watching him, Luke looked up, and his eyes locked on hers.

He smiled.

Once again Kim saw the face of the demon-eyes running with mucus, skin turned into a reptilian hide erupting with pustules. Now the twin serpents burst forth from his mouth, along with a terrible, high-pitched laugh that crashed against Kim like shattering glass.

Her gorge rising, her throat filling with the burning fire of vomit, Kim turned away from the grotesque scene on the floor, and now the grinning visage of the demon loomed above her once more, both his hands outstretched, his fingers growing into curving talons that dripped with blood. Just as the creature's claws were about to sink into her flesh, she turned one last time and raced back up the aisle of the cathedral. The aisle seemed to stretch away from her as she ran. The taunting laughter she'd heard boiling from Luke's throat was joined now by other cackling voices, the peals striking her back like the stinging tips of a lash, driving her on despite the exhaustion that threatened to overwhelm her.

Finally she came to the doors and burst through, pulling them closed behind her. In an instant she was plunged into darkness, but she bolted ahead and a moment later stumbled headlong into the bottom of the stairs.

Screaming, she threw her hands out to break her fall and-

Kim jerked awake, a scream still rising in her throat. She choked it back just before it could smash the silence of the night, and then she lay still, her heart pounding, her mind reeling as the last fragments of the nightmare faded away.

She became aware of the faint throbbing of music then, and a glowing point of light in the darkness surrounding her.

Oh, God, was she still caught up in the nightmare?

But no-she couldn't be. If she were still in the clutches of the dream, would she even be wondering if it was a dream?

She must be awake!

She willed her pounding heart to slow, and as her pulse eased, so also the terror that gripped her began to ebb. Disoriented, she looked around.

The library! That's where she was! And the glowing point of light was nothing more than the stand-by indicator on the television set!

She sat up. "S-Sandy?" she stammered.

Silence, save for the muted rhythms of the music.

The music from the dream?

She got up and switched on the floor lamp at the end of the sofa on which Sandy Engstrom had been sprawled while they watched the movie.

The sofa was empty; Sandy wasn't there.

The details of the dream loomed once more in her mind, and she whimpered softly as she saw again the vision of her friend, her body glistening in the candlelight, her limbs entwined around-

No!

It hadn't happened! She hadn't seen it! It had only been a dream.

Then where was Sandy?

The question hanging in her mind, Kim moved out of the library and through the living room to the entry hall. The house seemed to have grown in the gloom; the huge rooms appeared more immense than ever. She crossed the entry hall, moved into the parlor and the dining room.

Nothing.

She was passing the door to the basement stairs when she paused. The music-the music she had thought was only another vestige of the nightmare-was louder now.

Her terror mounting once again, and wishing she could just turn away, Kim reached out and pulled open the door.