Circles of Seven (22 page)

Naamah called out. “If you must leave me, choose the portal on the right. It will take you to your beloved. At least I can die knowing you found happiness.”

Again, he refused to turn. He studied the pit on the right. Clean, sheer walls plunged into blackness. Rocks lined the middle hole’s inner wall, but it was equally black. In the pit on the left, bugs and worms crawled along the walls, but a faint shimmer of light emanated from deep within.

He leaped into the hole on the left, but instead of plummeting, he drifted downward as though sinking into thick liquid. Particles of light erupted from underneath and formed a halo around his body, sending shivers from head to toe. As he sank farther, dazzling brilliance melted away the forest, the ferns, and the freshness of all that was New Eden. In a flash, Billy left it all behind.

A tombstone?” Walter said, crouching over the hewn rock. “What’s a tombstone doing way out here in the trees?”

Ashley planted a knee next to a tree root. “Well, I guess it’s really a memorial stone. It doesn’t look like a body’s buried here.”

Walter read the inscription. “Shiloh Nathanson, beloved—” He looked up at Ashley. “The rest is worn away.”

Ashley shone her penlight beam on the eroded word. “Looks like ‘beloved daughter.’ I can’t read any more after that.” She caressed the top of the stone. “Except down at the bottom it says, ‘Last seen on October 31, 1964.’ That’s exactly forty years ago today. I guess a girl got lost, and her parents just marked the place where they last saw her.” She flicked off her light and shook her head. “So sad!”

Ashley drew her computer up to her eyes. “And here’s something else strange. It looks like Bonnie is now in this exact spot, or at least very close, not more than a few feet away.”

Walter lifted the stone to test its weight, then settled it back in its bed of rotted leaves. “Creepy!”

A beam of light swallowed Ashley’s feeble ray and washed over Walter’s face, blinding him. He fell back on his hands, blinking.

“Walter!” The light jumped to Ashley’s face. “Miss Stalworth!”

Walter jumped up. “Prof! We found you!

The professor jerked his flashlight back toward Walter. “Actually, I believe I found you.”

Walter brushed a clump of leaves from his knee. “Well, we’ve been looking for you. Where’s Mrs. B?”

“I’m right here.” Marilyn stepped to the professor’s side.

Walter pulled Ashley to her feet. “So why did you decide to come here?”

“I was going to ask you the very same question,” the professor replied, making a small circle on Walter’s chest with his light. “I am here because I am aware of a certain local tradition surrounding this tor. This is the eve of Samhaim, and if not for the threatening weather, I would guess that many more pilgrims would be coming to the hill for a midnight visit. According to pagan tradition, the veil between the worlds of life and death is at its thinnest on this night. They believe contact with spirits of the dead is most accessible at this place.”

“So it’s Halloween night, and we’re at Spook Central?” Walter asked.

“In a manner of speaking, yes.”

Ashley rubbed her finger across her rubellite ring. “Do you believe in these . . . uh . . . pagan traditions?”

“Not as they do, Miss Stalworth. I am a Christian of the old school of faith, the faith of my fathers, which is based on revelation and reason. The religions of the earth, on the other hand, whether Celtic or otherwise, are based on experiences with the earth.” He directed his light toward the tower on the hilltop. “I’m confident the locals have seen many strange events here in Glastonbury, but it is their interpretation of those events that actually begets their traditions.” He pulled out his pocket watch and flashed the light on its face. “I, of course, have conflicting interpretations.”

“Does Sir Patrick believe the traditions?” Ashley asked.

The professor snapped his watch closed. “Patrick has always been a mysterious fellow. He has great sympathy for the Druids in this town, though he steadfastly holds to the Christian faith. I believe he was likely once a Druid himself, so he sympathizes with the local legends concerning other worlds.”

“But there is another world,” Ashley protested. “We have empirical evidence.”

“Indeed. Evidence abounds for such a place. The Bible speaks of Hades, but it is shrouded in mystery. What led me to the tor is the fact that Patrick believed at least one of the stories. You see, on Halloween night, a red dragon and a white dragon are supposed to fight in a chasm somewhere beneath the tor, symbolizing the climactic battle between good and evil. The tale, a fable at best, has a strong connection to the King Arthur legend, because the Holy Grail is said to be hidden in a spring near the dragons’ battleground. When it was deposited there, the grail symbolically transformed the spring’s waters into the blood of Christ, giving it restorative powers. I thought perhaps Patrick might have come here in search of a gateway into the battleground, believing Clefspeare would be used to fulfill the battle legend.”

“Maybe. We know there are other ways to get in besides the window at his house.” Ashley pulled her hood out of her pack. “Walter and I used the cloaks and made partial, dimensional crossings in a couple of other places.” She hooked her finger through an eyehole and let the hood dangle. “We saw Billy and Bonnie there, but we couldn’t communicate with them.”

“Were they okay?” Marilyn asked.

“Well . . . they ran into some problems,” Ashley replied, “but they made it through. Barlow’s been watching them through the portal back at Patrick’s house, so last we heard, they’re still okay.”

Ashley pushed the hood back into her pack. “I haven’t tried to contact him for an update lately, because we’ve been busy looking for you two.” She tapped the cell phone on her belt with her fingertip. “I tried to call, but it just buzzes now.”

“Mine as well,” the professor said. “It seems that communication devices are of no use.”

Ashley waved her arm in an arc. “There’s some kind of huge vortex of electromagnetic energy here, almost like a swirling tornado. We’ve seen the pattern on a smaller scale at the places where we entered the other world, so this is probably a bigger portal.” She turned the computer toward the professor. “Have a look. Apollo mapped the energy magnitudes to my computer as we crossed over the tor.”

The professor reached under his jacket for his glasses, fumbling with them as he slipped them over his eyes. “Am I reading it correctly? It looks like the highest readings are near the top of the hill.”

Ashley pointed toward the apex of the tor. “That’s what I thought—up near the top on the steeper side. It’s not so turbulent down where we are right now. It’s sort of like hiding in a ditch to stay out of a windstorm.”

The professor pulled off his glasses and slowly folded them. “Then if I understand Patrick’s stories correctly, there is probably an entry into the circles at the spot indicated on the graph.” He returned his glasses to his inner pocket. “Can you pinpoint that, Miss Stalworth?”

“If we take Apollo up there and walk along the terraces, maybe.”

“Then I shall go at once.” The professor pulled his jacket zipper a few inches higher and extended his hand toward Apollo. “Walter, may I?” he asked, bowing his head. After grasping one of Apollo’s dowels, the professor strode up the dark slope.

Marilyn opened her purse and fished through it. “Ashley, you mentioned contacting Sir Barlow. Is there any way to do that now?”

Ashley shook her hair back. “And check on Billy, right?”

Marilyn withdrew a pair of white barrettes and fastened them into Ashley’s unruly mop. “I’ll fix your hair if you don’t mind.”

Ashley smiled and tilted her head back. “Sure, go ahead, if you don’t mind me talking while you do it. I gotta see if I can get this data to Larry.” She tapped her jaw. “Karen. You got your ears on?”

A voice came through the computer speaker, even more faint than before. “Well . . . sort of. I’m yelling at the microphone through the top panel on Larry’s cooling duct.”

“What’re you doing up there? That’s ten feet off the ground!”

“I’m soldering a connection on Larry’s main I/O board. The lower access panel wouldn’t budge so I had to climb into the upper hatch. I couldn’t find the ladder, so I piled up your boxes of computer magazines on the ottoman and climbed up. When I finally jumped inside, my pile of stuff tipped over, so I’ll have to figure out how to get down when I’m done.”

“Be careful. Remember your leg.”

“Ashley, I broke it almost a year ago. Give it a rest.” The sound of banging metal clanked through the speaker. “And if this works, Larry will be as fit as a fiddle and back to his ornery self in a few minutes.”

“Great work!” Ashley called.

Marilyn snapped a barrette closed. “That ought to do it.”

Walter interlocked his fingers and cracked his knuckles. “Karen’s really handy with the tools, isn’t she?”

Ashley grinned. “She’s talented all right, but don’t go getting any ideas. She’s too young.”

Walter frowned. “Hey! I wasn’t thinking—”

Ashley punched his arm. “It was a joke, Walter. I’m just trying to lighten up. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“Well, yeah. But—”

“Never mind. I’m calling Sir Barlow now.” She lifted the computer close to her lips. “Sir Barlow, can you hear me?”

“Yes, Miss. I’m so glad you called. I heard you earlier, but I was a bit distracted. I was unable to answer.”

“Distracted? What happened?”

“Three dastardly men in black garb accosted me. They insisted on speaking to you. Naturally, I refused to divulge your whereabouts, and they became a bit agitated . . . Well, more than a bit, I’m afraid. They drew swords and attacked. Fortunately, I was armed, not with my best sword, mind you, but a serviceable one. I dispatched two of the villains with ease, but the third was a stellar swordsman. He used a fake and advance I have never seen and tripped me with a sweep of his leg. With the point of his sword at my throat, he insisted that I, as he put it, spill my guts.”

“That’s terrible! What did you tell him?”

“Well, I wasn’t quite sure what he meant, and I wanted to keep my guts intact, so I just stayed quiet. That’s when your call came. He seemed pleased to hear your words.”

“Uh-oh. Did I give away our position?”

“Yes, Miss. He laughed and said something about sparing such a great fighter, for which I was thankful, but he knew I would pursue him, so he slashed my lower leg before running from the room like a cowardly cur. While I was bandaging the wound with my sweater, I shouted into this computer, and I’m afraid I called it some unpleasant names in the process, but I couldn’t get you to answer.”

Ashley’s eyes darted back and forth. “It’s okay, Barlow. At least we know he’s coming. Is the injury very bad?”

“It is merely a flesh wound, Miss. I am able to walk, but chasing the scoundrel was out of the question. I wish he had taken his trash with him. Now I have to dispose of these two hooded hacks.”

“Have you been able to watch the screen?” Ashley asked.

“It was difficult to watch while engaging in mortal combat, but I did see William speaking to a young lady, a splendidly beautiful lass, if you will forgive me for saying so.”

“Go on.”

“She seemed to be making romantic advances, but I can’t be sure. She drew close to the camera, so my view was dark much of the time. After the intruder left, I was able to continue my surveillance.”

“And . . .”

“Allow me to check again.” Ashley, Walter, and Marilyn waited through several seconds of crackling static, each one fidgeting in the cold darkness. Finally, Barlow’s voice erupted from the speaker again. “William is now standing next to a chasm filled with fire.”

Chapter 16

Something Wicked

Billy rubbed his eyes. The forest and ferns had vanished. Naamah was gone. The brink of a deep chasm lay a few feet away, and a river of flaming lava crept slowly by at the bottom. A field of barren rock spread out behind him, a stark contrast to New Eden’s glory. Now, instead of hidden fountains spraying refreshing mists, lava pots spewed orange glops of superheated ash. Slithering snakes replaced purring predators, and the only green he could see was the skin of a hissing lizard perched on a rock, proudly extending his purple dewlap. Rather than the intoxicating aroma of Naamah’s silky hair, the air smelled of ozone and coated Billy’s lips with a bitter film.

On the other side of the chasm, a lush forest lined the rim, looking almost like a postcard photo from New Eden. Was he now in another part of circle number four, or had he moved to number five? Could this chasm be the gap between the two circles?

A girl dressed in white strolled out of the forest and stood at the opposite edge of the gulf, her head turned downward. She gazed into the gorge, slowly rocking back and forth until she let her body tip forward and fall.

Billy shouted, “Noooo!”

The white form shrank as it tumbled downward, head over heels in a haphazard cartwheel. In a silent splash, she disappeared in the river of fire.

Billy yanked the front of his shirt up to his mouth, biting his thumb through the material. Was it Naamah? Why did she do it? Was she despondent over his rejection of her? Had she given up hope of ever finding her beloved?

Billy leaned over the edge, gazing into the fire, searching the clumps of ash for signs of body parts in the glowing gorge. Suddenly, a huge shape burst from the river, a giant red bat zooming up parallel to the sheer rock face. Billy lunged backwards just before it could ram his chest. He spun a one-eighty arc, whipped out Excalibur, and held it in ready position, scanning the crystal blue skies for the winged rat.

He spotted it high in the air to his left, darting around like an angry hornet. The bat suddenly plummeted, its scarlet wings beating furiously and its razor teeth snapping. It swiped by Billy’s neck just as he hacked with his sword. He sliced across its claw-barbed wing, shearing off the outer third. The claw tumbled to the ground and writhed on the hot stone like a decapitated snake. The bat careened, flying in an awkward circle before it crashed and rolled between two bubbling lava pools.

Billy dashed to the creature and raised his sword, ready to hew it to pieces, but it didn’t move. The wings shrank, morphing into human arms, one with a missing hand. The red, leathery skin faded to white and transformed into a silky dress. The hideous face softened to the creamy complexion of young, unspoiled beauty—Naamah’s face, sad and still.

Billy dropped to his knees, gasping. He laid Excalibur across her torso and grabbed her wounded arm. Blood poured to the ground, but there were no rhythmic spurts of red that would indicate a beating heart. As he caressed Naamah’s cold skin, he noticed something strange, a bluish mark on her arm. He snatched Excalibur and held it close to the mangled limb, waving it over her skin from her shattered wrist to her bruised elbow. The mark shone like a beacon.
A letter M!

Billy shot to his feet and backed away. With trembling hands he slid Excalibur into its scabbard. A New Table knight? If they could take the form of a beautiful girl or a raging bat, how could he ever hope to tell who they were?

He kicked a pebble and watched it bounce across the barren rock. So what should he do now? With New Table knights popping up everywhere, he felt like the rules had changed in the middle of the game. It was like playing basketball, and the other team suddenly added five extra guys . . . and they were all ten feet tall!

He was alone in a vast expanse of desert. A young woman’s body lay crumpled in bloody carnage, the sleeve of her white gown soaking up the red pool under her arm. Billy gritted his teeth. He had to forget about Naamah. He had to find Bonnie. But where was she in this layered maze? Maybe back at number three, but how could he get there?

He scanned the bare, stony ground.
I’ve gotta find this circle’s rock and read the next poem. Maybe it’ll help me figure out what to do.
Except for the pebble he had just kicked, this barren place didn’t even have any loose rocks.

Billy snapped his fingers. He sprinted to the last place he had seen the little stone bouncing across the hardened lava field and found it lying at the base of a three-foot-high spatter cone. Droplets of molten rock splashed all around, like a Fourth of July sparkler’s fiery shower. To avoid the splattering lava, he kicked the pebble away from the cone, but he wasn’t quick enough. Several drops rained down on his pants cuff but just rolled off without even scorching it.

The marble-sized white pebble came to rest next to a sheer mountain face. Billy snatched it up and held it close to his eyes. Words wrapped around its smooth surface in a spiral. He turned it as he read the tiny words out loud.

A shore afar is circle five;

A captive waits in chains of greed.

Each bite conceals the toxic lust

And veils the demon’s bread and mead.

Billy dropped the pebble into his pocket.
A shore afar? Okay, that makes sense. I’m at the edge of a gulf, so that’s a shore. But it doesn’t tell me what to do next. There’s no captive here.

He kicked the side of the mountain, sending a shower of grit onto his feet. He shook the sand from his shoes, too much, really, for the feeble tap he’d given the sheer wall. He scratched the back of his head. There had to be more to this mountain than met the eye.

Placing his hand on the face of the massive rock, he pushed his fingers into the loose sand. His index finger sank in more than an inch.
Bingo!

Using both hands, he scraped away the sandy mask. Soon, he detected a pattern, block letters standing more than a foot tall. He cleared away more dirt in the lower rows, then planted his feet in the excavated letters to reach the upper rows. Finally, he could read the entire message.

Not all applaud the king’s brave quest

To rescue men from savage chains,

Yet still he foils the raven’s plot

With tables turned from food to flames.

When weapons fail and faith survives,

In sacrifice the king expires,

But rising from his river grave,

His flame revives to kindle fire.

Billy set his hands on his hips.
Well that certainly makes it all clear.
He kicked the mountain again.
As clear as mud!

Bonnie covered her mouth with her hand, then spread her fingers to speak. “He was dead? What did you do, drag him away and bury him?”

Shiloh drew a line in the dust with the barrel stave. “No. His body was gone the next day. But I’m sure he was dead. He wasn’t breathing, and he laid there like a log for hours.”

“Any idea what happened to him?”

“Nope. Not a clue for almost forty years.” Shiloh tossed the cooled stave into the barrel. “Anyway, that’s why I never tried the main door. It’s deadly.” She stooped less than a foot from the entry, staring into the electromagnetic field. “But sometimes I wondered if I should try it anyway. Could dying be worse than living here?” She tilted her head up toward Bonnie. “You can’t imagine how lonely it’s been. The sun rises, and I crawl out of my nest of crates. I try to talk to Bat, but he never answers.” She rose again and half-sat on the barrel, gripping the rim with her hands. “Sometimes I hold out a handful of beads for Frankie and ask him to play a game of marbles with me, but he never stops. He never even answers. He just plucks out his silver dollar and carries his flowers away like I’m not even there, and I draw a circle in the dirt and play marbles by myself.” Her voice faltered, lowering to a sad whimper. “But . . . after a few years . . . I couldn’t come up with any new games. No matter what I played, I always won . . . and lost.”

Shiloh stood and sniffed in a deep breath. “Then I go to the statue and pump the water to wash my face and arms and eat the plant. After my cramps, I wander around until the sun sets and the air turns cold. I make my nest again and curl up in the alley until I fall asleep.”

She bowed her head, and a tear dripped to the porch. She hugged herself with both arms, and her voice quaked. “But . . . but I have all I really need.”

Bonnie placed a gentle hand on Shiloh’s back and glanced around the feed store’s porch. “If only I could find a board, something flat and solid.” She reached up and grabbed the hanging sign, lifting her full weight and dangling with it. The frayed support rope snapped, and with a quick flap of her wings, she landed softly with the sign in hand. “I have an idea.” She propped the sign on end. “Have you ever tried to block the light in the doorway?”

Shiloh wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Sure. You saw what it did to the stave. It kicks like a mule.”

“Does it make a gap in the energy field?”

“Uh-huh. But since the field always yanks anything out of my hand, the gap only lasts a second. I never could see anything on the other side.” She rubbed the heel of her hand with her fingers. “The jolt hurts so much, it gets pretty discouraging. I just quit trying.”

Bonnie patted the top edge of the sign with her hand. “How about if I push this in while you try to look through the gap? I’m willing to take a jolt.”

Shiloh shook her head. “Not like this one. The shock will make your split ends have split ends.”

Bonnie curled her fingers into a ball. “I’ve been crushed inside the fist of an electric monster. I doubt anything could be worse than that.”

“An electric monster?”

Bonnie laid the sign on its longer edge. “I’ll explain later. I’m going to slide this through, so you’ll have to get on your knees to look. If it’s as bad as you say, we may have only a second or two before this thing gets kicked out of my hands.”

“Well . . . if you’re sure.” Shiloh dropped to her knees, bending over until her nose nearly touched the dusty wooden planks. “I’m ready. Don’t let it smack me on the head!”

Bonnie pushed the sign up to the edge of the doorway. “I’ll brace the side with my foot so it doesn’t kick back. Be ready to duck, just in case.”

“Okay.”

Bonnie gripped the sign with both hands. With a quick thrust, she slid the sign forward, blocking the bottom third of the doorway’s light field. Immediately, a tremendous rush of energy surged through her body. She gritted her teeth and held on, but the sign kicked up and banged against her head. She fell backwards and landed on the porch with a loud grunt.

Shiloh rushed to her side. “Are you okay?”

Bonnie propped herself on one elbow and rubbed her forehead. “I think so.” She brought her fingers down to check for blood. “That’s the second time I’ve been smacked there today.” She sat up, rubbing her head again. “Did you see anything?”

Shiloh’s face had turned pale, and she nodded slowly, her eyes glazed. “I saw my tree.”

“Your tree?”

She nodded again. “It’s an oak tree I used to climb at home near a big hill. It looks a little different now, but I’d never forget my tree. It’s where we were having my birthday party when ‘Morticia’ and her gang kidnapped me.”

Bonnie grabbed Shiloh’s hand. “So this
is
the way home for you!”

A man reading a newspaper passed by and disappeared through the door. Shiloh pulled her hand away from Bonnie’s. “A lot of good it does me. I can’t get there from here.”

“What if I—” Bonnie clutched her chest.

“What’s wrong?”

“My heart. It’s beating funny.” She gasped, taking in short, quick breaths.

“Must’ve been that jolt. I told you it was a brute.”

Bonnie took a deeper breath. “Whew! It’s better now.” She braced herself with her hands and stood up, holding her palm on her head again. “I’m dizzy, too. I felt like I was back in that monster’s fist.” She picked up the sign and propped it on its short end. “As I was about to say, what if I hold the board up there vertically? That’ll open it enough for you to jump through.”

“Maybe. But it’ll put you closer to the field. It might knock you clear across the street!”

Bonnie tapped her shoe on the porch floor. “You’ve been here forty years. Don’t you want to go home?”

“Part of me does. I miss my mum and dad, but what if they’re dead? What if everyone I know is dead? And will I still be fifteen if I go home? Or will I be over fifty?” She turned and faced the street as two policemen passed by, swinging batons on thin ropes. “Part of me just wants to stay here. You may not believe it, but I’ve actually gotten used to it.”

Bonnie put a hand on her hip. “You’re right. I don’t believe it. I saw you crying.”

Shiloh spun back, her face glowing red. “Living in the other world was no picnic, either!” She let out a long breath and laid her hand on the edge of the sign. “Look, my father was always hiding, always running from something. We moved all over England, and I hated it. One day, I heard him and Mum talking, and I figured out they were running away to protect me.” She sniffed, and a tear emerged as her voice cracked. “I prayed and prayed that God would just take me someplace no one would ever find me, that He would somehow show me how to stop whoever was chasing us.” She wiped away the tear and sniffed again, letting out an uneasy laugh. “I guess I got my wish, didn’t I?”

“But why was someone chasing you?”

Shiloh looked out at the street again. “Well . . . I’m different.”

“Different? How?”

Shiloh propped her elbow on the sign and shook her head. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Me? Not understand ‘different’?” Bonnie laughed. “Listen, sister. I’ve been hiding dragon wings in a backpack for years. I know about ‘different.’”

Shiloh lowered her head. “And I guess kids laugh at the scales on your face, right? That must be awful.”

Bonnie’s heart fluttered, and a tingling sensation ran up her spine. “Yeah. . . . The scales.”

The two policemen passed by again followed by a man carrying a bucket. The trailing man looked at Bonnie and quickly turned his face away.

Bonnie’s mouth dropped open.