The Season Of Passage Part 48

It was dark when he finished the tale. It had not solved any of his problems. It had just made them worse.

When he had first read Jennifer's story, the day of her funeral, he had marveled that a fourteen-year-old girl had written it. Besides the solid quality of the writing, the tale had impressed him as a fascinating metaphor for a number of Biblical concepts. First off there had been Rankar's sacrifice, which paralleled Christ's sacrifice on the cross. Simply by giving up his life, and showing that death was not something to be feared, Rankar had ruined Kratine's curse. Then there was Kratine himself, and Chaneen's Garden. Each bore a striking resemblance to the chapter in Genesis when Satan entered the Garden of Eden. Indeed, Jennifer described Kratine as a serpent, and called him a devil. Finally there was Jennifer's concept of original sin, Janier's betrayal, with Kratine as the tempter.

What made all these parallels so amazing to Terry was that Lauren had never taken Jennifer to church, or read the Bible to her. Of course, it was possible Jennifer had read the Bible on her own - she always had had her nose in a book - but Terry doubted it. She had never mentioned the Bible to him, and she almost always talked about what she was reading.

But now, after his second reading, he realized that was only the beginning of the story's mystery.

Terry owned a copy of a thick book called Words and Their Roots. He was fond of taking old names and words and sprinkling them in his own stories. But Words and Their Roots was a book he kept in the drawer of his desk. He was confident Jennifer had never browsed through it, or even seen it. But Terry had reached for it immediately after reading Jennifer's story - once again, not sure why he did so. The names of her characters - Chaneen and so forth -were not listed under any religious or mythological traditions. Yet the names of her two races, the Sastra and the Asurians, were both in the book. They were Sanskrit words, the oldest language known to man. The definition of 'Sastra' was 'the Vedas - the holy books of India.' 'Asurians' were 'the demons of Vedic literature.'

How had Jennifer stumbled upon such obscure words? But that wasn't all. Professor Ranoth had not told Jennifer where he had got her ring, except to say he had found it while traveling. Of course, a famous archaeologist like James Ranoth had been around the world. Yet Terry remembered Lauren commenting, a few months before they had left for Mars, that Ranoth had gone off to hike in the Himalayas. That fact by no means proved that Ranoth had found the ring in India; nevertheless, it was a curious coincidence. Not knowing where Ranoth had obtained the ring, Jennifer had instinctively used ancient Indian words in her story.

And Jenny said that the ring helped her write her story. The more he studied it, the more disturbing the coincidences in the story kept getting. Jennifer had written of two lands at war eons ago, only revealing toward the end that Asure was actually another world. In fact, it was only in the last pages of her story that she explained how Asure was destroyed by Chaneen's mighty flame.

Another world. Burnt to a crisp. Burnt red.

Mars was red. According to most accepted theories, it had possessed an atmosphere as little as a million years ago. But, the scientists believed, a cosmic catastrophe blew it away. Just wasted the whole f.u.c.king planet, they said.

But Jenny might have known that. She could have worked it into her story. It doesn't mean anything. It's only a story!

The scientists didn't know what the catastrophe had been.

Had Jennifer known?

Terry returned to his word processor and made up a third list. It contained the characteristics Jennifer had given to her Asurians that matched with the qualities on his first list, the one that described Lauren and Gary.

1. Lauren's long nails resembled the Asurian claws.

2. Their foul smell of decay appeared identical.

3. Jennifer repeatedly emphasized the power in Kratine's eyes.

4. Lauren even spoke like Kratine.

Jennifer had mentioned a number of other Asurian characteristics that did not appear, at first glance, to relate to Lauren and Gary. He typed those down next.

1. Kratine could take on the illusion of humanity, his ancient form.

2. Chaneen swore that those possessed by Kratine would be burned by sunlight, that fresh waters would bind their steps, that they would always thirst no matter what they drank.

3. The Asurians wished to live forever.

4. The Asurians feared fire.

5. The Asurians drank human blood.

6. Kratine said his curse would spread when those possessed by his spirit feasted upon the blood of their fellow men, even as the latter slept.

Terry turned off his word processor. He was getting sick of his lists. They were beginning to describe vampires. He did not believe in vampires. Major Thompson developing a sudden inexplicable allergy to the sun did not mean there were G.o.dd.a.m.n vampires.

Of course, she had been a vampire on Halloween. You remember that now, don't you, you old drunk? She had wanted to be a vampire. She liked being one. Halloween was just practice for things to come.

Why had he blocked out her type of costume? He would have a.s.sumed his subconscious had been trying to spare him if it hadn't brought up the memory of Halloween in the first place. What the h.e.l.l, he could remember that night now, and how it had ended. At the last house on the last block they had gone to, they had knocked on the door. The lights had been out. No one had answered. They had been about to walk away when Jennifer had noticed an unlit jack-o'-lantern sitting in the dark corner of the dusty porch. Naturally she had wanted to light the candle, and when she had done so, they had turned to leave. Just then the front door had burst open and an old woman had started screaming at them. She had looked like such a stereotypical movie hag that at first Terry thought she wearing a costume of her own.

But such was not the case. She was just ugly and mean. She had been upset that Jennifer was trying to burn down her house. Lauren had interrupted quickly and pointed out that there was no need to be nasty, that Jennifer had simply relit a candle that the woman herself had set out along with her pumpkin. Hearing that, the old woman had hissed angrily. Pointing a long bony finger at Jennifer, she had said: 'There is no candle in that pumpkin.'

But the jack-o'-lantern had been grinning with fire between his teeth. A mystery, to say the least. Lauren had stepped across the porch and peeked inside. Being a Halloween vampire, she had a ton of white makeup on her face. Yet the instant she looked inside the pumpkin, she turned even whiter. She didn't say a thing, though. She tried to blow out the light, and when it didn't go out right away, she grabbed Jennifer by the arm and quickly led the three of them away.

Lauren never did tell him what she saw inside the pumpkin, nor did Jennifer explain. But Terry thought he knew now what the jack-o'-lantern had been holding.

A flame burning without a wick. Without a candle. All by itself.

'I see you brought the fire, the heart of the worlds.' Now he was getting down to the nitty gritty.

Did he believe that Jennifer's story was more than a story? That it was in fact an accurate account of events that had occurred millions of years ago? That was the biggest question so far today. He would have congratulated himself for asking it if he had the answer to it.

It's all bulls.h.i.+t, it has to be. If it was true, Chaneen would be here. She promised to come back. If there's no Chaneen, there's no Kratine. I have to go back to the drawing board. Lauren hates me because I couldn't give the multiple o.r.g.a.s.ms that Gary can. It all comes back to Freud.

He hoped.

What about an even bigger question?

What if Jennifer had been Chaneen?

Terry turned away from the empty screen of his computer and stared out the dark window. Jennifer had been an unusual child. Most people who came near her were affected in a positive way. People were happy around her - he always had been. As Lauren had said in her letter, Jennifer was like a bright light. She would walk into a crowded room and heads would automatically turn. Often in her innocence she appeared younger than other girls her age, yet, at the same time, she frequently gave the impression of deep wisdom. She was sensitive. She could fix someone with her clear blue eyes and know exactly what they were thinking. Her physical beauty was extraordinary. Of course, she'd suffered from nightmares - a lot of kids did. But even those nightmares had been unusual. They only came every couple of years.

Yeah, the more Terry thought about it, her nightmares had been as remarkable as her beautiful face. They came every two years...

Every time Earth came into conjunction with Mars.

Then there was her uncanny ability to hold her hands in the middle of a fire and not get burned. And her power to light the inside of pumpkins that should never have been lit.

Stop it! She was just a little girl. She could get burned. She burned to death.

But Terry couldn't stop it. He felt as if he were on fire. The thoughts flared in his brain like the sparks coming off a pool of boiling lava. He couldn't block out Jennifer's story. It was as if the tale resonated with his soul, and awoke a deeply buried primeval fear. Kratine had predicted that a time would come when humans would come to his world, and be possessed. An uncannily accurate prediction in light of what Lauren had said in her letter about the devils on Mars, and how she now looked and behaved.

You're talking about Lauren. You're not talking about the harlot who's supposed to give birth to the Anti-Christ. You can't talk about stuff like that to anybody. You'll sound as bad as Herb. You don't want to end up like Herb, do you? Afraid of the dark.

Suddenly the lamp on Terry's desk went off.

He leaned over and tried to turn it back on.

It wouldn't go on.

The light must have burned out.

He sat alone in the dark, listening to his heart.

And he thought of Lauren trying to blow out the jack-o'-lantern. The vampire trying to extinguish the fire and being unable to. He thought of the vampire kissing him later that night, loving him, with her fangs sitting on the nightstand beside them, just waiting for the day she would put them back in her mouth, and bite him.

All these things, he thought in the dark.

The phone on his desk began to ring.

He went to pick it up. Then he hesitated.

'Do you want me to tell her that you called?' Just the thought of the vampire.

It was enough to bring the madness.

The barrage of images came out of the ceiling and down through the crown of his skull. They soaked his brain with purple vapors. They came without warning. They overwhelmed. They were as bad as before. They were as good. What was wrong with him? Didn't he know a good thing when it crawled up his leg and chewed on his d.i.c.k? So there was a little pinch, a little pain. In the end it would all be sweet. The blood would flow down his leg. It would drip on the floor, and the serpents could lick it up. Pick up the phone and let me lick you. It's Halloween, Terry.

He reached for the phone. Sure, he tried not to. He resisted with every cell in his body. But not too hard. You see, he wanted to talk to her. He wanted her treats, even her tricks, in the worst way.

He picked up the phone and pressed it close to his ear.

'h.e.l.lo?' he said.

No one spoke. She didn't have to. He knew she was there, and she knew everything else. Still, it might just be the phone company calling to say h.e.l.lo.

'h.e.l.lo?' he repeated.

Hints of breathing. Thick heavy hints. That were more gusts of stinking wind in his face than obscene pants.

'Lauren?' he said. 'Is that you?'

Then it started, a deep husky laugh. It climbed swiftly in volume until it roared in his head, and all he could think of was a roaring red river, pouring out from the bowels of the Earth, and into the black of deep s.p.a.ce, a river of blood draining the last life out of every living creature on Earth. It was not good as he had been promised. It was really very bad.

But it made a believer out of him.

'Chaneen!' Terry cried.

The laughter ceased, the spell broke. Terry slammed down the phone and ran for the door. Behind him, almost immediately, the phone began to ring again. Terry kept running. He ran until he reached the street. Only then did he let out a loud scream of horror.

THIRTY-NINE.

When Terry was a kid it had not been unusual for him to sit in the library until nine o'clock at night with a book in hands. Nine o'clock was when the lights would begin to flicker overhead, indicating it was time to go home. Even as a kid he had known the only thing he wanted to do with his life was write stories to be put on the shelf with all the other stories. He had thought that would be the most wonderful of all things. The library had always seemed to him a holy place.

The lights were flickering as Terry finished scanning the occult section of Houston's largest community library. He had already selected a pile of books; he could have easily selected another dozen. Esoteric literature was in vogue; the occult section took up two aisles. Carrying his books, Terry walked to the front desk.

A plump teenager with a terrible case of acne regarded his selection with a look of contempt: The Search for Dracula, The Golden Bough, History of Vampires, German Folk Tales, The Succubus, Monster of Dusseldorf, Werewolf, A Case History of Possession, Astrology and the Red Planet.

'How can you read stuff like this?' she asked, taking his library card. 'Doesn't it give you nightmares?'

'Sometimes,' Terry said.

'My minister said books like these should be destroyed.' She began to stamp the return dates on the inside sleeves.

'Really?'

'Are you born again?' the girl asked.

'Huh?' Terry glanced toward the exit. Almost everyone had already left. He didn't want to walk to his car alone.

'Are you a Christian?' the girl asked. 'A Christian shouldn't be reading books like these.'

'I'm a Catholic'

'You study this.' The girl slipped a pamphlet inside his copy of The Succubus. 'A Catholic can become a Christian.'

Terry removed the pamphlet and tore it several times over. He gave the pieces back to the girl. 'You caught me at a bad time,' he said, gathering his books.

Outside, before getting in his car, Terry checked the back seat twice, the trunk once. There was an all-night coffee shop two blocks from the library, a place where he could study his books and be around people.

Once at the coffee shop, he took a table in a corner, far from the windows. The place was old but clean. He ordered coffee and a danish. The food and drink came and he finished them off without realizing it. In the background, truck drivers talked with the waitresses about the lack of morality in day care centers. Every now and then his tall red-headed waitress swung by and refilled his cup. He read for three solid hours, skimming mainly, not taking notes. At the end of the three hours he sat back and stretched. He decided he was wasting his time. Well, he hadn't expected the key to Martian possession to rest on the shelf of a Houston library.

On the other hand, he had uncovered a few interesting points. In almost every culture throughout history there had been legends of vampires. They were usually described the same way. It was as if mankind had a genetic nightmare about a monster that came out at night and drank human blood, a thing that also had the ability to transform its victims into beings like itself, if it so desired.

He had also been surprised to discover that vampires generally disliked - beside the usual garlic and crucifixes -white roses and running water. The latter was interesting insofar as Chaneen had said that running water would bind the Asurians.

Terry had gone for the books because he remembered Jennifer had been studying Dracula before Lauren had taken it from her. Yet he suspected Jennifer's study had been of a superficial nature. Fire was only occasionally mentioned in the books as a weapon that could be used against vampires. But what did the authors know anyway? They might have tracked down isolated supernatural happenings all over the world, but they had never been to Mars and back. Lauren wasn't a vampire; he had already decided that much. Most legends were simply distorted by-products of historical facts. If Jennifer's story was an accurate account of ancient events, then he already knew what had been distorted. According to Jennifer, all he needed was a flame thrower and he would be all set to meet with Lauren and Gary.

Yet Terry had to admit part of his cynicism with the books was that they gave him no hope. They all said a vampire could be destroyed, but not saved. As far as they were concerned, vampires were dead. And even Chaneen had not been able to bring back the dead.

You're thinking of Chaneen as if she once was a real person. You do believe in her.

That was not exactly true. He was remembering the long walks he had taken with Jennifer during the months before Lauren had awoken in orbit above Mars. Yet the two thoughts, of the powerful Queen and the frail Princess, blurred together in his mind, and became difficult to tell apart. It made him wonder all the more. But not whether old age had brought on Major Thompson's heart attack, instead of a sudden loss of blood. Lauren's last phone call had convinced him once and for all that he wasn't going to stumble upon a reasonable explanation for her behavior.

Terry suddenly remembered that he had forgotten to call Herbert Fry. He still had Herb's number in his pocket. Terry went to the coffee shop phone and dialed the motel where Herb was staying. A gruff-voiced woman put him through to Herb's room. But the phone just rang and rang. Terry immediately began to worry. He couldn't imagine Herb out late, wandering the dark streets. Herb had specifically told him that he didn't know anybody in Houston. Terry, hung up, dialed the motel again. The motel phone had no video. The woman at the desk answered. She sounded annoyed when she heard it was him again.

'I just put you through to his room,' she said.

'But no one answered.'

'So what?' the woman asked. 'Maybe he just stepped out.'

'Would you know if he had?'

'Listen, bud, I just hand out the keys and take the money. What people do is their own business. I've got enough problems of my own.'

'This guy's a friend of mine. He hasn't been feeling well. I doubt he would be out this late. Could you please just check his room and see that he's OK? He's in number 204.'

'If you're so worried about your friend, you check on him. I don't make house calls.'