Invisible Terror Collection Part 4

"Remember when Jesus cast those demons out of that guy and into the herd of pigs?"

Becka looked up from her Bible and notes, which she had spread out on the kitchen table. "Yeah, so?"

"Do you know why Jesus sent them into the pigs?" She shrugged.

"Because - " Scott looked down and read: " 'They begged him repeatedly not to order them to go into the Abyss.' "

"The abyss? That's h.e.l.l, isn't it? The 'bottomless pit'?" Scott nodded. "And from what this says, it's so bad even the demons don't want to hang out there. Cool, huh?" Cool wasn't exactly the word Rebecca had in mind. She glanced at her watch. "Look, we've got less than an hour before we go to the mansion. Let's stick to the subject and keep getting ready, all right?"

"This is the subject," he said defensively. "Well ... sort of." She gave him a look, then turned back to her notes. Ever since their first encounter with the Society, she and Scott had started paying a lot more attention to spiritual warfare - jotting down verses from the Bible, sharing information. Now, before they went to the mansion, they'd agreed to review what they'd learned and to spend some time praying.

"Okay," Becka said, then cleared her throat. "First, we know about the armor of G.o.d."

"Check," Scott said. "The s.h.i.+eld of faith, the sword of the spirit, the helmet of ... whatever. We've been through all that already."

Becka hesitated. She wasn't too thrilled by Scott's careless att.i.tude, but she continued. "Second, we know Christ gives us authority over Satan."

Scott leaned back, put his hands on top of his head, and quoted: " 'I have given you authority to trample on snakes and scorpions and to overcome all the power of the enemy; nothing will harm you,' and 'Whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven.' "

Becka was impressed. She looked back at her notes. "Here's one on Satan: 'There is no truth in him. When he lies, he speaks his native language, for he is a liar and the father of lies.' "

"Meaning?"

"Meaning we shouldn't believe what Satan or his little demon creeps say."

Scott nodded.

"Here's another: 'If two of you on earth agree about anything you ask for, it will be done for you by my Father in heaven.' "

"Okay, all right," Scott said, nodding again. "Let's get down to the agreeing part." He closed his Bible with a thump. "Let's do some praying and get going."

Becka glanced at her notes. There were a dozen more verses ... but because of time - and Scott's impatience - they would have to wait. Reluctantly she closed her Bible. Something didn't feel right. She couldn't figure out what, exactly, but it made her nervous.

Very nervous.

"Dear Lord ... ," Scott started, his eyes closed. Becka bowed her head and joined him.

8:03 p.m.

"How're we getting in?" Ryan whispered.

"Don't these old places have coal chutes or something?" Julie asked, s.h.i.+ning her flashlight along the back of the house. "You know, some sort of slide thing that goes into the cellar?" The group huddled together in the thick, dripping fog near the back kitchen entrance of the mansion. They were well out of sight of the street.

"We could always break a window," Krissi suggested.

Scott smirked. "Only if we want the neighbors to call the cops."

"So what do we do?" Julie demanded.

"How 'bout using the door?"

They turned to see Philip effortlessly push open the back kitchen door.

"How'd you pull that off?" Julie asked.

Philip held up a single key. "My dad's the realtor, remember?" The others snapped on their flashlights and stepped through the door into the darkness. Julie led the way, followed by Krissi, Philip, and Ryan. Rebecca and Scott were the last to enter. Scott was scowling hard and rubbing the back of his neck.

"You okay?" Becka asked.

He nodded. "I've got the world's biggest headache."

"From what?"

"I don't know. It came on real sudden, soon as we crossed the street."

"You want to go back, stay in the car?"

"Forget it." He tried to smile and make one of his jokes. "I'm in the mood for kicking a few demons' behinds, aren't you?"

It was Becka's turn to force a smile. Scott wasn't just brag-ging - though he was pretty good at that - he was also speaking from experience. He'd faced demons several times before and come out the winner.

Each time, she and Scott had fought, and each time, thanks to prayer and G.o.d's power, they had won. Barely. But barely was close enough.

But tonight ... tonight something was wrong. She was growing more and more sure of that. Besides the uneasy feeling she couldn't seem to shake, there was also the fact that Scott was feeling sick. Scott hardly ever got sick. And, as far as she knew, he never had headaches. So what was going on? For the time being she said nothing more. But she would keep a careful eye on him.

Once inside, things went pretty much as expected. After the initial goofing off - grabbing and scaring each other - they settled down to exploring the ground floor.

First there was the kitchen. It was ma.s.sive: double ovens, pantry, lots of counter s.p.a.ce, cupboards. Mom would go nuts here, Becka thought.

Next came the dining room, then the music room, then the gla.s.s-enclosed conservatory, and finally the giant entry hall.

"Wow," Philip exclaimed as they shone their lights on the rich mahogany paneling, the towering gilded mirrors, and a floor that was completely covered by thick gray slate.

Everyone was impressed. Everyone but Scott. He was standing off to the side, hunched over and holding his head.

"Hey, Scotty," Ryan asked, "what's wrong?" Scott lowered his hands and tried to smile, but it was more of a grimace. "I don't know. My head ... it's like a herd of elephants tap-dancing inside."

Becka and Ryan exchanged looks.

Krissi was s.h.i.+vering. "I'm cold. Couldn't someone turn up the heat?"

"Uh, I don't think so," Philip chuckled.

"Look at this." Julie was slightly ahead of the group, s.h.i.+ning her light up at a giant crystal chandelier. It was directly over her head and breathtakingly beautiful. But it wasn't the beauty she was referring to. It was the movement of the crystals. They had started to gently clink against each other.

"Must be wind," Ryan offered, but he didn't sound too convinced. He turned back to Scott and Becka. "You were the last ones in. Did you guys shut the door?"

"Yeah," Becka answered softly, "we shut it." The clinking grew louder as the chandelier started to sway almost imperceptibly.

"Well, now." Julie tried to sound glib. "I think maybe we should be moving on. Don't you?"

The group voiced agreement and continued forward, keeping a wary eye on the chandelier and going out of their way to avoid walking directly under it.

They arrived at the stairway. It was ma.s.sive, sweeping up and above their heads. They stood a moment, looking in awe. Finally, Julie asked the inevitable. "Okay, troops ... who's going first?" Everyone exchanged glances, but no one answered. Philip looked over his shoulder and smiled mischievously. "Becka?

Scott? This is your guys' department, right?" There were a couple of nervous snickers. Philip kept looking at them, waiting for an answer. "Well?"

Scott finally stepped forward, doing one of his hokey super-hero imitations. "You're right, earthling. Step aside. This is no job for mere mortals." The group chuckled as Philip happily obliged.

Becka was a little more reluctant, but she also moved forward to join her brother. She hated it when he played Mr.

Macho - especially when it involved her life (or death). "What about your head?" she whispered.

"Hey - " he forced another smile - "we're the good guys, remember?"

"Scotty - "

"Come on." He motioned for her. "Let's show your friends some ol'-fas.h.i.+oned ghostbustin'."

"Scotty ..."

Without a word, he started for the stairs. Becka stared after him a moment, then gave a heavy sigh and followed.

The banister was made of dark wood with intricately carved designs. Elaborate stained-gla.s.s windows towered to the right, along with rich curtains trimmed in gold braid. The group had only traveled three or four steps before they noticed the breeze.

It was faint at first but seemed to increase with every step they took.

To relieve the tension, someone began whistling the theme from The Twilight Zone. "Knock it off," Julie ordered. They did.

"Philip ..." Krissi was somewhere in the back whining again.

"Philip, I'm cold."

But instead of answering her, Philip said, "Listen! Do you hear that?"

It was a low whistling, the same one they'd heard from the chimney the day before. As the wind grew stronger, the sound grew louder. Becka threw a nervous glance at Scott. He was squinting and grimacing, trying his best to hold back what appeared to be intolerable pain. Beads of sweat were forming on his forehead. "Scott," she whispered, "Scott, are you okay?"

"We've beaten these things before," he answered. "If we've got the faith, there's no reason we can't beat them now." Becka had no answer. He was right - but something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

They were halfway up the stairway. The breeze increased.

The whistling grew louder, its low drone sounding more and more human.

"I'm so cold." Krissi s.h.i.+vered. "Isn't anybody cold?"

"It's just your nerves," Julie said.

Philip shook his head. "I don't think so."

"Me neither," Ryan said. "Check it out." He held the flashlight up to his mouth and blew. They could all see his breath.

"Let's go back!" Krissi shuddered. "We've seen enough."

"We're practically there," Philip insisted. "Let's go on." Becka and Scott resumed the climb. The wind blew harder, tugging at their clothes and hair. Becka looked back to her brother.

He was also s.h.i.+vering. Violently. But it wasn't from the cold; she knew that. It was from something else. Maybe the pain. She leaned over to him. "Scotty, we don't have to go any further if - "

"Be quiet," he hissed through gritted teeth.

She pulled back a little surprised. "What?"

"The Bible says we've got authority, so we've got authority. If you don't have the faith, fine. But don't pull me down with you." Becka could only stare. This wasn't like him. Not at all.

The eerie droning grew louder, sounding more and more like a m.u.f.fled cry - as if someone was trying to scream but was being smothered.

At last they reached the landing, Becka and Scott first, followed by the others. They stood silently on top. To their right was a dust-covered window; to the left was the hallway. All eyes moved down the hall to the last door, the one they had seen on the videotape.

The cry broke into a shriek - a bloodcurdling, heart-stopping shriek. Long and continuous.

"Let's get out of here!" someone shouted.

They turned to race back down the stairs when, suddenly, the door at the end of the hall flew open, cras.h.i.+ng loudly into the wall. The group froze. But it wasn't the wind that had thrown open the door. It was a shadow. A dark shadowy creature, looking very much like the little girl. It exploded out of the room and flew down the hall at them.

Krissi screamed. Others joined in as they scrambled for the stairs. Everyone but Scott. Instead of running, Scott spun around to confront the shadow. From past experiences, he knew what to do. He raised his hand and, despite the throbbing in his head, he shouted, "In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, I command you to - "

He said no more. The shadow smashed into him, directly into the center of his chest. He gasped and reeled backward until he hit the wall beside the window and slowly slid to the floor.

"Scotty!" Becka raced to him.

Others stood staring, dumbfounded.

"Scotty!" Becka dropped to his side. "Scotty, are you all right?" The shadow girl was gone, but the wind was still shrieking, and she had to shout to be heard. "Scotty!" His eyes fluttered, then opened. He looked dazed and confused. "What ... what happened?"

That's what Becka wanted to know. She brushed the hair out of his eyes, searching his face for clues. She reached for his arm to help him up. "Come on, let's get you out of - " He looked down at his chest, and suddenly his eyes widened in horror. "Get them off!" he shouted. He started slapping and hitting his chest. "Get them off!"

"What?"

"Get them off!"

"Get what off?"

"The flies!" He began to writhe and kick, all the time beating and slapping at his chest. "Get them off! Get them off!" Becka was at a loss. "Scotty, there are no - "

"Get them off!" He was screaming. "Get them off!"

"Scotty!"