Invisible Terror Collection Part 7

4:32 a.m.

Hi, Scotty."

Scott gave a start as he entered his bedroom and fumbled to turn on the light. He saw Becka sitting at his desk in the dark. "What are you doing here?" he asked in surprise.

"My room was getting a little crowded for sleeping."

"What?"

"Never mind. Where have you been? It's 4:30 in the morning."

Scott was exhausted. It had been quite a night ... and morning. First there was that little field trip through the Hawthorne mansion, then the visit to the Bookshop. And finally, for the past few hours he'd been working with Hubert as they dreamed up false info for the Ascension Lady's astrology charts.

"Where have I been?" he echoed. "Let's just say your friend at the bookstore will have a brand-new look the next time you see her."

"My friend ... the Ascension Lady? You've done something to the Ascension Lady?"

"Not me." He smirked. "She'll be doing it to herself. It's all in the stars ... and her computer." He pulled off his jacket and tossed it on the growing pile of clothes in the corner.

"What did you do?" she asked.

He waved her off. "It's a long story, but the lady will definitely be sporting a new 'do the next time you see her." He gave a long, noisy yawn. "Right now I'm bushed." He started peeling off his T-s.h.i.+rt.

Becka had been sitting there for almost an hour trying to think what she should say when he came back. Should she tell him more about her growing doubts? What about the experience in her room? What about her decision to visit the Ascension Lady to try and warn her?

It looked as though she had just wasted her time. Scotty, with his usual male egocentrism, wasn't interested in anything but his own accomplishments ... and, of course, sleep. She got up and started for the door.

He gave another yawn. "What were you saying about your room?"

"Forget it," she answered. She would say nothing more. At least for now. If he was lucky, maybe she'd leave a note on the table, letting him know she'd be at the Bookshop. But as far as anything else, it looked like she'd have to work things out on her own.

"Hey, Beck?"

She stopped in the doorway and turned.

"So what's the deal? Are you going to that seance tomorrow?"

She took a deep breath and slowly let it out. "I don't know, Scotty."

2:10 p.m.

Becka stood outside the Ascension Bookshop. The sign on the door read Closed for Lunch. She peered through the posters and stickers plastered over the window and saw someone rummaging around inside.

"I hope I'm doing the right thing," she sighed as she reached out and rapped on the door. She waited, folding her arms against the cold ... not the cold of the morning, or even the cold of fear.

But the cold of gnawing uncertainty.

She ran through it all again. Was the little girl a demon or Juanita's ghost? The Bible said there are no ghosts. Okay, fine.

If that was true, then why was the girl Becka had seen the same age as Juanita? Why did she look like Juanita would have looked?

Why did she speak Spanish like Juanita surely must have done?

Then there was the question about a Chris tian's "spiritual authority" ... all that stuff in the Bible about beating the devil.

Why wasn't it working for Scotty? Why wasn't it working for her?

Finally, there was the love question. Granted, Juanita wasn't exactly the most likable being, but even in her dream Becka was pretty sure the kid was acting more out of fear and confusion than meanness. And the Ascension Lady was the only one trying to help. Not Becka, not Scott. Only the Ascension Lady was reaching out in love.

That's how Becka saw it, anyway. And that's why she was there. She had to warn the Ascension Lady. No matter how much the woman wanted to help Juanita, who knew what would happen to her if she went through with tonight's seance?

Becka heard the bolt unlock. Then the door to the Bookshop swung open. But it was not the Ascension Lady who greeted her. Or was it?

Instead of the long salt-and-pepper hair, this woman had a closely shaved buzz. And it was tinted red. But that was nothing compared to her breath. A wave of garlic stung Becka's nose, making her eyes instantly water.

The woman broke into a smile. It was the Ascension Lady's smile. And those were her eyes - those same sad, frightened eyes. "Rebecca, please come in." She opened the door wider, and Becka stepped inside.

The Bookshop was not at all what she had expected. Instead of dark, foreboding shelves covered in spiderwebs, and a handful of witches standing around stirring cauldrons, this place was bright and cheery. Suns.h.i.+ne poured through overhead skylights.

The floor was covered in aqua blue carpeting, the shelves were white and inviting, and the books they held looked friendly and colorful.

"Sorry about my breath," the Ascension Lady laughed as she shut the door. "It's all part of my new ident.i.ty."

"Ident.i.ty?" Becka said, trying to blink back the tears.

The woman nodded. "After our rendezvous last night, I realized I had better change my ident.i.ty."

"Rendezvous?"

"Yes, our little get-together in your room." Becka's heart skipped a beat. "You were there? You saw what happened?"

"Of course I was there. Didn't you see me?" Becka was stunned. "But I thought ... I mean ..."

"You thought it was a dream?"

Becka nodded.

The Ascension Lady smiled. "I was astral projecting - leaving my body while I slept. It's not an uncommon practice, not for those of us involved in the deeper secrets of New Age. In a sense, I suppose you could say I was dreaming too. But not really."

"So ... you saw what happened?"

"Oh yes - " the Ascension Lady smiled and rubbed her abdo-men - "and felt it."

Becka could only stare.

The woman crossed toward the counter. "It was all symbolic, of course. But it made clear to me the drastic actions that had to be taken for tonight."

"Was cutting your hair part of that drastic action?" The woman ran her fingers over her shaved head. There was a trace of sadness to her voice. "It really wasn't my decision." She picked up a clove of garlic on the counter and popped it into her mouth, between her gum and teeth. She winced as it burned, yet she continued to suck and chew. "But it all made sense after this morning's forecast."

"Forecast?"

"My astrological forecast. Great things are going to happen to me tonight, but I must keep my ident.i.ty hidden. In fact, the charts have never been more specific - they even said I should shave my hair, and dye it - I shaved my eyebrows too; did you notice?"

As Becka stared, a faint bell sounded in her head. Scott had said something about the Ascension Lady sporting "a new 'do."

"And, of course, these garlic cloves - " the woman fanned her mouth, indicating how much they burned - "they are to help me alter my normal olfactory signature."

"Your what?"

"My scent. That way I won't be recognized by my scent either."

Becka continued to stare, wondering if the woman had any idea how foolish she looked, or sounded ... or smelled.

"In all my years I've never encountered an astrological forecast like this one. But when I read it on the computer this morning, I knew something was happening."

Becka closed her eyes. Computer, astrological forecast, shaved head. She knew what was "happening." Or who. Scott.

This woman's absurd looks and crazy actions were all Scott's doing.

Rebecca cleared her throat and tried to change the subject.

"So you're, uh, you're still going tonight, even after all that happened in my room?"

"Juanita's just confused," the Ascension Lady explained.

"She just misunderstood my actions. But with a new ident.i.ty we'll be able to start over, and I'll be able to reach her." The woman turned and looked directly into Becka's eyes. There was no missing her sincerity. "She needs us, Rebecca. You know that now. You have seen it yourself."

Becka glanced away.

The Ascension Lady approached. Her voice was full of understanding and compa.s.sion. "I know you're frightened. I know you're starting to have doubts about your beliefs." Becka bit her lip. It was as if the woman had read her mind.

The Ascension Lady reached out and gently touched Rebecca's arm. Becka's eyes met the older woman's gaze.

"It's alright to feel as you do. Supernatural experiences often help expand our too-limited views of G.o.d." Becka tensed. What was she saying? That her doubts were right? That the Bible couldn't be trusted? That G.o.d wasn't who he said he was? No! This was wrong! And yet ...

"Please," the woman continued, "I know it is unnerving, but search the Christ within you, and see if he would not have you reach out to this little girl in his love." Becka continued to look into the woman's eyes.

"Join with me. We are not enemies. We are coworkers. We are on the same side. The side of love."

The woman was making more and more sense. "But what ..." Becka cleared her throat, trying to find her voice. "But what about Juanita's powers? Aren't you afraid of them?" The Ascension Lady laughed gently. "Of course I am. I am terrified. That is why I need you at my side. We both saw how you were able to help me last night. She may attack again, only more violently."

"And you'll go, even if I don't?"

"I must. She needs me. She needs us."

"Becka?" A voice spoke from the door.

Becka turned to see Ryan. He looked puzzled and concerned.

"Ryan," she exclaimed, "how'd you know I was here?"

"I called your brother. He read your note." Ryan continued checking out the situation and the woman. "Listen, we need to talk. There's something at the library you need to see." For a moment Becka was torn. For a moment she actually didn't want to leave the Ascension Lady.

"Now," he said firmly.

"Oh ... yeah, sure." She started toward the door.

"Rebecca?"

Becka turned.

"I will be starting at eight. Your friends are also invited." Becka looked at her and nodded.

3:34 p.m.

"I still don't get why you were there," Ryan said as he slipped a microfilm into the machine and snapped on the switch. The light came on and the fan whirred quietly. "You're the one who said she was evil."

"I ... I might have been wrong," Becka answered. "She's only trying to help. When you think about it, aren't we really both fighting on the same side? For the little girl?" Ryan looked up at her from the machine. His expression made it clear that he had his doubts. Come to think of it, so did she.

Without a word he directed his attention back to the screen, and then started to adjust the microfilm as he said, "The more I've been thinking about what you said about the Bible, the more this whole thing's been bugging me."

Becka looked on, waiting.

"I mean, you're right. Either the Bible's true or it isn't. So I got here early this morning and started going through the newspa-pers again." At last he had the microfilm lined up. "Take a look at this."

Becka leaned over and read the headline: "Hawthorne Hill: Site of Holy Rituals."

She glanced to Ryan, who nodded for her to continue reading. It was a 1988 interview with an older Native American from the area. He spoke of having hunted and fished in various loca-tions that were now parts of the city. A few paragraphs later he spoke of Hawthorne Hill, the location of the mansion: "It had always been a sacred place. Our grandfathers, our great-grandfathers, and their fathers before them practiced their magic on that hill. It was a place of strong power.

Spirits frequently appeared. Even as children we knew this was no place to play."

Becka came to a stop. She did not have to read further.

Ryan spoke quietly. "There were things happening on that hill long before Juanita was ever murdered there. Probably centuries before."

Becka nodded.

Ryan continued, "So what we saw in that house ..." Becka finished the phrase for him: "... may not have been the girl's ghost, but one of those evil spirits." Ryan looked at her a long moment and then slowly nodded.

Chapter 7.