The Candlestone (22 page)
Walter pumped his fist. “All right!”
“Thank God!” Mrs. Bannister placed a trembling hand over her heart and heaved a sigh. “Which way?”
The professor snapped his arm forward. “Straight ahead, Marilyn! And hurry! William is not out of the woods, yet.”
Billy shrank deeper into the shadowy darkness while Ashley walked resolutely toward the panel, her hands behind her back. In her flowing gown, she swept across the floor like a gray ghost, holding something in her hidden hands.
Dr. Conner pulled off his headset. “You can’t be the anchor; you’ve never been trained. It took Derrick three times before he could hang on to anything.”
“He trained with monkeys,” Ashley countered as she stepped up to the control area. “They were scared and tried to pull away.”
Dr. Conner reached out and felt Ashley’s gown. “You’re in an organic robe! Didn’t you bring Karen?”
Ashley hesitated and lowered her head. “No . . . No, I didn’t.”
Dr. Conner glared at her dark silhouette. “What’s going on?”
Ashley kept her hands behind her back. “Nothing,” she replied, gazing at the display. “What’s going on here?”
Dr. Conner tilted his head and looked past her, and Billy followed his eyes to the back of the lab room where an open door led into a brightly lit hallway. Dr. Conner grabbed Ashley’s shoulder. “Where are they?”
Ashley stiffened in his grasp, but her voice was casual, almost indifferent. “I honestly don’t know. Long gone, from what I can tell. Their hats and coats are missing.”
Dr. Conner glanced at his watch. “It can’t be that long. It’s been less than an hour since we went in the cave.” He ran toward the door, passing right by Billy’s hiding place, and grabbed a coat from a hook on the wall. “Devin can wait! Those girls will freeze in this weather.”
He pushed his arms through the coat sleeves and threw open the door. After fishing his keys from his pocket, he flicked on a tiny light hooked to the ring. “Maybe Palin found them and that’s what’s taking him so long. If not, maybe I can track them in the snow.” As the door began to swing shut, he added, “The laser’s still running, and the mike’s on. Just keep an eye on the data and report anything unusual.”
When the door slammed, Billy jerked his head around toward Ashley, who stood staring into the darkness. Billy tried not to breathe. The stately girl’s gaze swept the shadowy cavern like a lighthouse beacon in the fog.
It seemed as though she could make sense out of the shadows, as though she could recognize ghosts in the dancing darkness and discern secret voices amid the humming din. She placed her palm on her chest as though feeling for her own heartbeat or covering it to keep others from hearing it pound.
Ashley cleared her throat and spoke straight into the dim room, her voice haunting, yet sweet. “You can come out now.”
Billy gulped.
Is she talking to me?
He tried to swallow again, but it felt like a grapefruit had suddenly lodged in his throat.
Her voice continued, this time louder and more fervent. “Billy Bannister, my name is Ashley. I’m a friend of Bonnie’s. I know you’re here. Come on out. You can trust me.”
Trust her? Why should I trust her? It looked like she was working with that creep.
Billy stayed low and peeked around the edge of the box. Ashley pulled her hands out from behind her back and held up a notebook.
“This is Bonnie’s journal, Billy. She says that dragons can sense certain presences. They can sense when another dragon is near, and they can sense danger.” She turned directly toward Billy’s hiding place, and it seemed that she spoke right to him, her voice calling like an alluring echo in a faraway valley. “Do you sense danger, Billy Bannister? Am I a threat to you?”
Her questions reached across the black void, grasped his quaking heart, and shook out his fear. His sense of dread, his dragon alarm, had vanished when Dr. Conner shut the door to the dark passageway, but his own fears had remained— his lack of confidence, his knowledge that without his fire he would probably be helpless, and his certainty that the candlestone would strip away his only weapon.
Yes, Ashley was right about the sense of danger. It was gone. How did she know so much? Did Bonnie really write stuff about dragons in her journal? Even if she did, it still didn’t explain how Ashley knew he was there. Billy needed to find out more, and he saw there was only one way to do it. He stood up slowly, his gaze meeting hers through a curtain of shifting darkness.
She walked toward him, holding out the journal, her light brown eyes soft and warm. She placed the journal in Billy’s hands. “We have work to do,” her gentle tone matched her eyes, “but there’s something here you have to read first.”
Yielding to Ashley’s serious, formal manner, Billy reined in his suspicion and bowed his head. “If Bonnie wrote it, then I’m sure it’s worth reading.”
She placed a hand on his shoulder, motioning upward with her head, her voice still quiet. “Did you see any girls up there, a redheaded teenager and three younger girls?”
Ashley’s fingers kneaded his back. He understood her feelings—she was scared and trying not to show it, wanting to draw close and find comfort. He wanted to trust her—to have an ally to confide in, a source of comfort of his own. The blinking lights reflected in her dark wide pupils. He nodded. “Yeah, I saw them.”
Ashley pressed closer, so close he could smell a hint of toothpaste on her breath. Her nearness brought a strange sensation, like she was drawing warmth from his body, the same way it felt whenever Bonnie touched him. It was almost like she was trying to read his mind by extracting his thoughts through his skin.
Her voice grew a notch louder. “Were they okay?”
Billy pulled back a little to keep his own breath from singeing her lips. “Yeah, they were heading to a farmhouse that Karen knows. They might be there by now. I don’t know if Dr. Conner will follow them or not when he sees what happened up there.”
Ashley released his shoulder, allowing him to edge another step back. “What happened? How did you find your way down here?”
Billy shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Well, that’s a long story, but basically, I dispatched the guy who brought me here.”
Ashley drew her head back and replied in a loud whisper. “You killed him?”
Billy studied the floor and nodded. When Ashley didn’t say anything, he gazed into her face. Sadness clouded her expression, and the corners of her lips wilted. She opened the notebook in Billy’s hands, flipped a few pages, and tapped her finger on the words. “It starts here. You’ll know when it’s finished.” With tears now forming in her eyes, Ashley pulled aside Billy’s coat and fingered the hem of his shirt. “Is it cotton?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“Good. I already saw your jeans. They should work fine, but I’ll get a robe and a cotton belt for you anyway. If you have any metal fasteners, they’ll be gone when you’re restored.” She turned her gaze to the middle of the room and gestured toward the pedestal. “You were listening in on Doc’s conversation. Do you understand what’s going on?”
Billy took a step closer to the center, and a familiar surge of nausea flooded his stomach. He nodded and waved his finger toward the candlestone. “I think I figured it out. I’m supposed to go in there somehow and get Bonnie.”
“That’s right. I’ll explain how in a little while.” She pointed toward the girls’ dorm. “There’s a light in that hallway. Why don’t you go there to read? I have to pay someone a visit. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Billy held up his hand, bidding her to come back. “How did Bonnie get in there? And how do I go in? Can Devin hurt her? And what was that about losing brain function?”
Ashley stepped back and put a gentle hand on the side of Billy’s head. “Hold your questions and be patient. I’ll tell you a little at a time. Too much information can make your brain choke.”
Ashley smiled again before turning away. She took a step toward the glowing red candlestone and reached for the panel, turning off the laser and the microphone. She then walked to a door that was similar to the one she had pointed out for Billy, a closed door on the opposite side of the huge room. She used a key to unlock it and went inside, shutting it behind her.
With his finger lodged in the pages, Billy tucked the notebook under his arm and marched straight to the light. He placed the notebook on the floor, pulled off his coat, and sat on the tile floor just inside the hallway. He took a deep breath and settled down to read.
Ashley knocked on the first door on the left inside the boy’s dorm. “Daddy? Are you there?”
She waited. There was no answer. She tapped again, this time with a bit more force.
“Daddy? It’s Ashley.”
Still no answer.
Ashley reached for the doorknob and turned it slowly. She swung the door open, and a push of warm, stuffy air fanned her face as she stuck her head into the dim room.
Next to a bed, a single lamp pitched a slender ray of light on a man’s sleeping form, the dim yellow beam shining from a miserably inadequate bulb. A single fly buzzed around the lamp’s black shade in lazy, elliptical orbits. Ashley stepped inside and watched it for a moment. How had a fly found its way deep into the heart of this mountain in the dead of winter? For that matter, why would anyone choose to live in a dark cave, far from life and love?
Her eyes followed the light back to the bed and her peaceful grandfather. An open book rode the tide of his rhythmic wheezing, its pages lying facedown on the man’s thick belly.
Ashley knelt at his bedside, tenderly pushing a strand of hair from his forehead and then stroking his thin, silvery mane.
“Daddy,” she whispered. “It’s Ashley. Can you hear me?”
His open pajama top exposed a forest of white hair and a wide, red scar, evidence of his heart surgery years ago.
Ashley put her head on his once strengthening chest, now sunken and so much weaker than just a few days ago. She began crying, her heart ripping open in despair. “Oh, Daddy! I’m so sorry! I . . . I tried to make the receptors work . . . I really tried. But I failed you. I’m so sorry!”
She listened to his labored heartbeats as she cried on and on, tears rolling down her cheeks and wetting his pajama top. She leaned up and kissed him on the forehead. It was all right; she would take care of his shirt for him, just like she had a hundred times before.
Just a few months earlier she’d thought she would never have to be his nurse again. Now she didn’t care if she had to wash him or change his clothes. She just wanted her Daddy. She pushed the book away, draping her arm over his waist, hugging him close as her gaze fell across his chest. She watched the complimentary colors of injury and decay, the angry red scar and the white mat of hair, as they rose and fell in time with his labored breaths.
Still on her knees, and with her head resting on her Daddy’s chest, she tried to speak again, anguish filling her squeaking, faltering voice. “Re . . . red will be made whi . . . white . . . Red will be—”
She squeezed her eyes shut, her mouth opening in a silent wail.
When she finally settled herself, something brushed against her hair. Was it that fly? She raised her hand to shoo it away, but her fingers swiped against flesh. A hand! She grabbed it eagerly and popped her head up. Her grandfather smiled and stroked her hand.
“Ashley,” he said softly, “I’m sorry you have to see me like this.”
Ashley caressed his hand and kissed it. “Oh, Daddy!” New tears flooded her eyes, and her voice cracked. “It’s . . . it’s all my fault. I couldn’t get the photoreceptors to work, and now you’re . . . you’re—”
“Dying?”
Ashley kept her eyes focused on their clasping hands and nodded.
“I know you wanted me to live so we could be together, Ashley. I wanted it, too. But I guess God has other ideas.” He tried to lift himself up on his pillow, and his voice deepened.
“Don’t worry about me. I’m ready to face my maker. Remember? Amazing grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me.”
She nodded again, her eyes still on their hands. “I remember.”
He sighed and lifted her hand to his lips, kissing it softly. “Maybe someday you’ll sing it with me . . . even if it’s in heaven.”
Ashley gazed into his face. His eyes and gentle smile melted away her anguish. She wanted to sing with him, to join his happy bass and cry out, “I once was lost, but now am found; was blind, but now I see.” But she couldn’t. . . . She couldn’t.
A soft breeze whispered through her tangled, flyaway hair—a ceiling fan lazily paddling through the room’s thick warmth. She wanted to stay like this forever, to squeeze out every possible moment in his presence. But she knew she didn’t have much time left. Doc would be back soon, and she had to get some information, the story her grandfather had never been willing to tell before. She gazed into his pale gray eyes and pushed her fingers through his wispy hair. “Daddy, what really happened to my mom and dad? Something’s come up, and I really need to know.”
Her grandfather shifted on his bed and looked at the wall for a moment before fixing his eyes on hers again. “I guess I’d better tell you before I die. Are you sure you can take a surprise, I mean, a real shock?”
Ashley wiped her wet cheeks with her free hand. “After what I’ve seen, I think I’m ready for anything.”
Chapter 16
Bonnie looked high above into the candlestone’s upper walls—dark crystalline planes that created an angled, bending sky. A stream of white light poured into the gem’s stratosphere like a perpetual shooting star, striking the inner core and streaming around its black skin. Then, like sparkling dew rolling off polished obsidian, it spilled into a channel that disappeared into a blazing horizon—a waterfall of dancing sparkles splashing into a distant river of light.
Through the dark hours, she had grown accustomed to her sunless, moonless prison, a domain where gloom held sway over the remnants of light that lived and moved within. The slayer lurked. She had seen his angry sparks, sometimes peering around hidden planes, sometimes slowly approaching and then backing away.
It didn’t take long for Bonnie to figure out that her singing kept the slayer at bay. With each musical phrase her shimmering light created a faint dome of luminescence that built her confidence and made the protective glow persist. Adding to her unearthly light, her ring’s dark red radiance pulsed like a beating heart, resonating in time with her song.
During a quiet moment, as excited particles from the laboratory lights continued to flow, Bonnie once again sensed the slayer’s growing presence, an increase in staccato flashes and fleeing shadows. She released a stream of song, but this time he didn’t retreat.
He crept across the glass floor, as though testing his barriers, and stopped at a safe distance. “I have been speaking to your father.” His static-crusted voice wasn’t as irritating as usual. “It seems that your half-breed boyfriend is in hand. My old friend, Palin, was able to capture him, as I expected.”
Bonnie ended her song abruptly. “He has nothing to do with this. Why don’t you just leave him alone?”
“How little you know! Or should I say, how much you pretend not to know?” Devin drew closer, bending Bonnie’s shield until it halted his progress. “The boy will dive in here to get you, and we will attach to him and ride out to freedom.”
“Not if I can help it,” Bonnie said, backing away. “You can’t even come close to me anymore. I’ll go with him alone, and we’ll leave you behind.”
Devin let out a spiteful snort. “Oh, really? Do you know where a diver enters? I’ll see him first. He knows nothing about creating shields, so I’ll be able to attach to him, and we’ll leave you here in this nice cozy prison.”
Bonnie’s light pulsated rapidly, and her ring glowed like a flashing red beacon. “He’ll find a way! Even if you do go without me, he’ll come back!”
“Not so fast, my dear. There’s something else you don’t know. There’s another reason why they always send females in here. The male animals they tested couldn’t be restored properly; they always lost brain function, making them simpletons, or worse.” A flash of light erupted from one side of his electric body, like a long electrostatic finger, and he held it out in front of him. “I saved that part of the conversation for you. Listen.”
The flash sparked and flowed into Bonnie’s mind like an echo from the past. It was her father’s voice.
“But the male chimp came back as a blithering idiot. All the males lost more than half their brain function during restoration.”
The flash died away, and Devin’s energy field throbbed, as if laughing with delight. “Your sweetheart will turn into a gentle rutabaga. He won’t care about diving back in to fetch you out; he’ll be dribbling from sippy cups and soiling baby diapers for the rest of his life.”
Bonnie’s light flashed like a strobe and then dissipated as the vivid image of Billy that the slayer had painted penetrated her mind. The horrible vision lingered, and her protective dome faded. Devin slithered closer.
She wanted to sing but couldn’t think of the words. She tried to battle; she tried to think through the turmoil of doubts and fears that waged war with her courage.
Could it be true? How could Devin conjure up a recording like that?
Bonnie finally managed to hum, the familiar tune trickling out on trembling light waves. After a few seconds, the words flowed to her mind and then into the glowing stream.
If I make my bed in hell, behold, thou art there. If I take—
“Don’t sing that blasted song again!” Devin shouted. “No ancient Bible ditty will do you any good in this hellhole.” His light-filled body floated back and forth in Bonnie’s field of vision, like a man pacing in anger. “God isn’t here. I should know. I’ve been in this forsaken place for weeks, and there’s nothing but gloom and despair. There is no salvation within these walls.”
Devin paused, and his voice softened, flowing into her mind like a gentle shower, smooth, yet dripping with malevolence. “But you can still save your boyfriend and yourself if you’re willing to make a deal.”
Bonnie’s light flashed again and sparked. “I don’t make deals with the devil!”
Devin took a step back, but his voice remained calm. “Fair enough. I know you don’t trust me, but you heard your father’s unguarded words for yourself. It might help if I explain why he’s correct. Males don’t translate well. Rather than adapt to their transluminated state, their bodies fight against it. It isn’t an act of the will; it’s just the way they’re built. I can see it in their light patterns when they come in; they’re all twisted and shaky. They don’t have enough time in here to settle down. When the system tries to restore them, it can’t translate the agitated state of their minds, and their brains aren’t reconstructed properly. A few have even died.”
“So what about you? Won’t you lose brain function if you leave?”
“I’ve adapted. I felt my brain fighting it at first, but over time I’ve gotten it under control. It took a few weeks, but now my light patterns are smooth and even, so I’m not in an agitated state. Your mongrel friend, however, will be fully agitated. I wager that he’ll come in here ready for a fight. His heart is full of rage.”
He paused again, and his light began swirling like a pinwheel in a soft breeze. A thin stream of light oozed from Bonnie’s glow as if pulled by Devin’s bright whirlpool. His soft voice continued, rising slightly with the victorious tone of discovery. “And you know that, don’t you? Perhaps better than I?”
Bonnie edged away. Devin knew. Somehow her thoughts had spilled into the open, and the truth was out. She redoubled the guard on her mind. “So what kind of deal were you thinking about?”
Devin returned to his human form and grinned, the expression of a riverboat gambler gathering his winnings. “I figured out that I can’t get close to you because of all that infernal singing you do. I can’t attach unless you let your defenses down, so for your part, you’ll have to stop singing. And for my part, I’ll show Billy the secret to leaving with his brain intact.”
He waited for a moment, his flashing lips stretching out into a thin line. “You’re a smart girl,” he added. “That’s why I’ve never been able to defeat you. I’m sure you’ll figure out that you have to trust me on this one.”
Bonnie’s light sparked and sputtered.
Trust him? Ha! Now that’s a laugh!
She glared at him, watchful of his mind reading trick. What was he up to? Obviously he wanted to get out, and the key was through attachment. But couldn’t he just try to attach to Billy like he had said? Why did he want to attach to her? No, she didn’t trust him, but she wanted to know his secret, the way to protect Billy’s brain from damage. She couldn’t just ask him to tell her. That would be silly. If he really had a secret, he wouldn’t hand it over free of charge. He wouldn’t have anything left to bargain with. So what could she do to discover it? Let him attach? The thought sent bursts of shivering light across her body. Here she was, a glittering pebble in a twisting black kaleidoscope, confused in a surreal existence and having to deal with a silky-tongued liar. Maybe there was another way. Maybe she could find that friendly light again and ask him. He had helped her before.
“I’ll think about it.” She turned and hurried away.
Billy leaned over the neat, flowing script, the shadow of his head dimming the page. He heaved a deep sigh, mentally preparing himself for the words in his lap. He knew Bonnie was a gifted writer, possessing a dragon-inspired talent far beyond that of a normal girl, but remembering Ashley’s manner when she gave him the journal made him think this entry might be more than he could handle.
His gaze focused on the top line. It was a prayer, and though Billy didn’t know much about praying, he guessed he should read it with reverence.
M
Y
P
RAYER FOR
B
ILLY
Dearest Heavenly Father, my heart longs for your presence, for you to sit by my side and whisper in my ear. Grant me counsel, the deep wisdom that listens to my heart and understands my pain in the midst of my groanings.
I have a friend who stands as close as a brother, a brave soul. Yet, you know him better than I. He is Billy Bannister, the son of Clefspeare, a dragon. I have seen in him the heart of a warrior, a knight’s squire who follows the code, ready to die if need be to slay the forces of evil and rescue vulnerable maidens, brokenhearted widows, and grieving orphans. He is gallant, loyal, and true, sacrificing his esteem, forfeiting his comfort, even spilling his blood. But, what color is his soul?
Tell me, Father, holy and true, I have borne in my heart this ache for so long! My dear friend has a desperate need, and I have seen it. How can I be his accuser, condemning the one who has gladly poured out his blood in my stead? But shall I deny my witness? There is a darkness, a gnawing void behind those eyes of steel. And even in those placid pools, I see turmoil, uncertainty, even pride. Oh, how can love and vexation so violently mix, a brew of man and beast stirred in a cauldron of scales and flesh?
Yes, there is violence, a rage that does not rest, for he battles in the fields of his mind, resolutely standing his ground, his faith in the old ways, the ways of the code, the ways of the dragon, the ways of his father. Yet, his father has left him an orphan, a squire without a knight, and the cruelty of his passing has never ceased to consume his standing as he guzzles from the old wineskins on which he relies.
It is not a slayer who haunts his thoughts and dreams. Dare I ask it? Shall I be so bold? Is it you, my father, the pursuer of men’s hearts, who brings war to his battlefield? Are you the fire that will purge his pride, his reliance on things of this world, honorable deeds, yet filthy rags in your sight? Will you teach him what pleases you? Will you tell him about weapons from above, the sword of truth and the shield of faith? Will you give him new wineskins, pouring into his heart the wine from above, the blood of the sacred covenant? Will you make him a knight, dressed in holy raiment, fit to take a seat at your table?
I fear the battle, Lord, lest you slay him with penetrating light, driving your two-edged sword deep into his fragile bosom, and searching out the dark recesses of his heart. For who can stand when your word declares judgment? How will he survive unless someone takes him to wash in the river, the wellspring of eternal life?
Who am I? How can I take him to your fountain? You know him far better than I, yet I feel I know his heart as well as my own. From dragon to dragon, I feel when he is near, as though his heart pounds in my own breast. When he touches me, the heat of his passion and the fire of his breath spread warming flames all around this cold orphan’s crying soul. Yet I am not his counselor, nor his judge. I stand as one who bears a gift but knows not how to give it, for though I am emboldened in my closet, in his presence I melt like wax.
Dear Father, I confess. I confess that I love him. Yet how little I understand these words. We are bound by prophecy, destined for oneness, and this virgin’s heart quakes at the thought. My heart longs for his, yet I know we cannot be one until the sun chases away his shadows, for light and darkness can have no fellowship.
Oh, Father! Whisper now in my ear. Shall I tell him of your saving grace? If I do, will he respond to you or to his passions? Would my feminine voice distract him from hearing yours? Would my face be his vision, or would he see the face of Christ? Oh, Father! Should such a maiden take this duty, to tell a heroic soldier that his scarlet soul needs to be made white?
And now, Heavenly Father, I ask you to take my entreaty and use it as you will. Whether in a whisper, a shout, or a song, let my voice be yours. Let my words be your balm. Use them to soften his heart, that you may inscribe your name there with indelible blood. Enlighten his mind, that truth may reside there forever. Cleanse his soul with fire and water, burning away the old and washing away the scarlet stain, that your spirit may indwell, empower, and preserve. Whatever must be done, whatever pain you must bring to make red into white, I pray that you will make the mortal squire into a holy knight.
Billy closed the notebook and hugged it close to his chest. His body trembled, ten thousand pounds of pressure building up inside and ready to burst out.
First one tear made its way to his eyes, then another. He looked up and sniffed, trying to blink away the tears and focus on the blank wall across the corridor— focus on anything but all his failures. Through the blur, a vision of Bonnie coalesced on the wall, her wings spread in full flight. She begged him to take something from her hands, but her gift was fuzzy, unfocused. He leaned closer until the object sharpened into a magnificent sword, the one and only Excalibur. The image was the portrait he had worked on in his studio, now complete and brought to life, and Excalibur’s shining blade pierced his heart.
What were the professor’s words that day? “It was bestowed to you as a gift from above. It was meant for you to wield in battle.”
Billy had refused the sword. He had rejected a precious gift, a weapon of righteousness.
And now look at the mess everyone is in.
His inner rage was real, and Bonnie knew it well. Even Palin with his sneering accusation could see his private darkness. “You’re just like me, boy.” Billy had killed his accuser. He had scrapped his training, the professor’s words of wisdom he was supposed to keep locked tightly in his heart. He refused to oppose his enemy face-to-face. Cries of “murderer” came from all around, like a lynch mob demanding his death, and Billy tried to swat them away. Oh, how he longed for freedom, for innocence, the purity he had always seen in Bonnie! But she couldn’t bestow her integrity; she couldn’t let him borrow her virtue, not even a slice of her righteousness that had always kept her in lasting peace.