Читать книгу Born of Darkness - Rita Vetere - Страница 8

Chapter 3

Tampa, Florida–1988

Lilli snapped awake, gasping for air. They’re back. Fear exploded as she struggled to sit up. Can’t breathe! A heavy weight crushed her chest, making it impossible to move. Breathe, goddamnit, just breathe! The thought raced around her mind like a trapped rat. Gasping for air, she scanned the shadowy corners of her bedroom. Mounting panic quickly replaced the certainty that she was going to die.

Time stopped. She focused her entire being on the simple act of taking a breath. Blackness crept into the edges of her vision, the pressure on her chest enormous; she was suffocating.

Suddenly, the weight lifted from her chest and she gasped, taking air into her lungs in ragged bursts that seared her throat. Calm down, she commanded herself. No longer paralyzed, she bolted from her bed and ran to the hallway, where she sat down on the floor, hugging her knees until her racing heart slowed and her breathing returned to normal.

This was not the first time she had awoken this way in the past months. Rarely did a week go by without one of them arriving in the middle of the night to torment her. Still, each episode brought with it fresh terror. Lilli listened carefully, but the taunting voices she often heard during the visitations were silent. When she regained some composure and her breathing returned to normal, she leaned her head back against the wall and rubbed the taught skin of her enormous belly. Her baby. She had to remain calm. Her baby was due to arrive any day now.

Awkwardly, she got to her feet and walked unsteadily to the kitchen, trailing remnants of her fear. With shaking hands, she poured herself a glass of milk and carried it into the living room. They’re gone. They’re gone, and they’re not coming back. She repeated the mantra over and over, until she almost convinced herself it was true.

In the living room of the house she now shared with Dora, Lilli listened for any indication that they had returned. How she wished Dora was home. She was sorry now she had insisted Dora go out when her friend had called. But poor Dora had spent the past seven months fretting over her like a mother hen, ever since she’d learned Lilli was pregnant following her return home from Morocco. Dora deserved a night out after all she had done.

Lilli had accepted Dora’s invitation—insistence, really—that she return to live with her in their parents’ old house. It should have been a comfortable haven for her while she waited for the baby to arrive, but Lilli had come to understand that no place was safe for her anymore.

She recalled her dismay at Dora’s shocked reaction when she’d confided in her about the unnatural events that had taken place in Marrakesh. Her sister was a practical soul, and Lilli could tell by the look Dora had given her that she did not believe her, even though she had not said so in so many words. Oh, Dora believed Lilli had been raped and her husband murdered, all right. But when she described the phantom-turned-to-flesh being who had appeared, Dora’s first question had been the same as the policeman’s in Marrakesh—she’d asked if they had been doing drugs at the time. When Lilli reminded her that the last time she’d smoked a joint was in high school, Dora’s next reaction had been to press Lilli to seek therapy. Lilli had adamantly refused to do so, and never mentioned the phantom to her sister again. Regardless, Dora had steadfastly stood by her, even after Lilli’s behavior became erratic, bordering finally on the bizarre—especially after the voices began.

She’d not told Dora about the voices, knowing her sister would not believe her, and probably think her delusional. Lilli herself had trouble believing she was being visited by dark spirits. There were times, usually after waking up the way she had tonight, when an insidious voice would steal into her thoughts, telling her that oh yes, she was crazy, had to be. She had imagined everything. The baby was Charlie’s, and what happened in Morocco last year could not possibly have happened. And the voices were nothing but a by-product of trauma, the trauma of having watched Charlie die. Yet, in her heart, she didn’t think so. She didn’t feel crazy. Only alone and afraid of what she knew.

“The baby isn’t due for another week,” she’d told Dora. “There’s no reason you shouldn’t enjoy an evening out. I’ll be perfectly fine on my own for one night.”

But she wasn’t fine at all, not by a long shot.

She turned to study her reflection in the dark window, perturbed at the sight of the haggard face peering back. Her long hair, once silky, hung in limp, greasy strands around her pale face. Puffy eyes, underscored with dark circles, stared back at her. She looked like a ghost, a shadow of the woman she’d once been.

Lilli turned away from her reflection and used the remote to turn on the television. Muting it, she sat back, gazing blankly at the moving pictures on the screen. She missed Charlie. Always, she missed Charlie. Yet she knew even Charlie would not have been able to stop what was happening to her, or help her to protect the baby. The baby she was now quite certain was not his. Her heart began to beat double-time in acknowledgment of the dreadful truth.

The clock on the mantle ticked away like a bomb in the silent room. Almost one-thirty in the morning. Dora would be home soon, and they didn’t like to make themselves known to others. Usually, they arrived when she was alone, or in the early morning hours when Dora was sound asleep. She’d be safe once Dora got back. She wrapped her arms protectively around her belly and watched the silent screen.

Minutes later, her head snapped up. The soft sound of a whispered voice floated toward her. “No… please,” she moaned. She placed her hands over her ears and began to slowly rock back and forth. Hot tears spilled onto her cheeks. She felt flushed, fevered. The baby kicked inside her, as if in warning. “Go away,” she whispered into the empty room.

Other menacing voices chimed in, whispering sly words she could not make out. Soon, the subtle, sinister sounds surrounded her. She closed her eyes and tried to will them away, but it did no good. Suddenly, the hushed voices turned loud, making the hair at the nape of her neck stand up. A trickle of sweat rolled down her back. As the angry voices rose in unison, terror engulfed her all over again.

Invisible hands began to prod and poke at her. Phantom fingers brushed against her face and hair. Soon the slapping sensations on her arms and around her head would begin. Lilli sat helplessly on the couch, shielding herself against what she knew was coming. When the first blows struck, she jumped up and tried to fight them off, but her fists encountered only air.

As she tried to defend herself against the phantasms, something she saw on the side table caused her to freeze in shock. She stood perfectly still, the blood in her veins turning to sludge, no longer aware of the unseen hands pushing and slapping at her. “That’s impossible,” she whispered to herself. She stared in disbelief. The pendant. The one she had thrown away in Morocco. It can’t be. But there it sat anyway, glittering malignantly. A bolt of dread shot through her. Somehow, the awful thing had found its way back to her.

“Charlie, please,” she whispered, “if you can hear me, help me.” She backed away slowly from the table.

At that instant, another voice spoke. It was different from the others, deep and sensuous, but she detected the underlying cruelty, a voice that made her think of velvet over steel.

“You seek help from one who no longer exists,” the voice said. “He could not help you when he was alive, how can he possibly help you now? It is my child who grows within you. Still you refuse to acknowledge me.”

Lilli remained silent, but her fear grew huge as the voice continued to speak.

“Submit to me, Lillian, and you will share in the joy of our child’s life. Resist, and you will not live to see it take its first breath.” A wispy, silvery mist appeared out of nowhere and drifted through the room.

Lilli’s eyes lit up with feral hatred when they latched onto the form taking shape before her, rising out of the mist.

She exploded in anger. “Fuck you!” she cried. “Stay away from me! Stay away from my baby!”

* * * *

Ahriman glanced at his reflection in the mirror over the fireplace mantle as he made his entry. Seeing his image was something he was unable to do in the spiritual realm. As he caught sight of the darkly handsome and imposing form he inhabited in the mortal world, he swelled with pride.

What was the matter with this woman? The stupid mortal seemed unaware of the privilege he’d bestowed on her by impregnating her. He caught the look of disdain on the perfectly chiseled features of his face reflected in the glass and immediately masked it with a more appropriate one as he moved toward the ungrateful woman.

“The baby will live,” he whispered close to her ear, as the spirits yanked Lilli off the ground, suspending her in mid-air. “And what of you? Choose.”

The voices of his faithful spirits chanted all around him. “Kill her—kill her, Ahriman.”

When the woman said nothing, but only continued to avoid his gaze with her rebellious eyes, Ahriman did not bother to disguise his deadly intent when he uttered his next words. “Do you think I would hesitate to put an end to your life? You are nothing. Less than nothing!”

Still he saw no sign of submission in her, only defiance. “So be it,” he hissed. “Die, then. The child is mine.”

With the slightest motion of his hand, he signaled to the chanting spirits. He regretted the fact that the woman could not see the grotesque souls. The sight of them would have served to increase her terror. He watched as the dark ones pummeled the woman, and laughed at her feeble attempts to fight off her unseen attackers. When she began to sputter and gasp, Ahriman picked up the handset of the telephone next to him and depressed three buttons. Then he placed the open line next to the woman, who was now making hideous gurgling noises, and waited.

Moments later, the sound of a screaming siren cut through the night, and he gave the final order. “Finish her. Quickly.”