Read The Candlestone Page 20


  Bonnie stayed quiet. She didn’t know how to talk anyway, though changes in her thoughts seemed to alter the ripples in her light pulses. She wondered if he could read her mind by watching the variations in her light patterns. Although his light had drawn a human shape, hers was still disorganized, more like a flashing blob of Play-doh than anything resembling a girl.

  “I, on the other hand,” Devin continued, “plan to escape very soon. The good doctor, you see, knows that all of his plans will crumble if he doesn’t get me out of here. We got close this time. If not for that cursed phantom, I’d be out of here now.”

  The slayer moved even closer, but he stopped suddenly. He took another step only to rebound, as though Bonnie had some kind of shield around her. He stayed still for a moment and then sent another stream of thoughts her way. “I suppose you want to know where your mother is, don’t you?” The slayer’s light moved away. “Follow me, and I’ll show you.”

  Bonnie’s light pulsed like a frenzied strobe. She didn’t trust that liar, not for one second. It was time to search for her mother, and she didn’t need a low-life scoundrel like him pretending to help her.

  She tried to sigh, tried to settle her throbbing light. If she could display a calm, trusting glow, maybe she’d be able to coax some information out of him, ask enough questions to get him to slip. Since she seemed to have a force field protecting her, it was worth a try.

  Bonnie inched forward, careful to keep out of Devin’s reach. It was much easier to move now without her link to the anchor. The slayer led her deeper into the crystal’s mysterious depths, and he stopped abruptly at a place that seemed just a shade brighter. Bonnie kept her distance and waited for him to speak. His glow ing arm extended downward, and part of it disappeared into the blackness. As he pulled his arm back into place, his scratchy static filled her head. “That, my dear, is a crack in the floor, a flaw in the candlestone’s structure. That’s where your mother went.”

  Bonnie sent out her reply, a thought stream of sorts. “Why should I believe you?”

  “Oh, you can talk now. You’re a fast learner.” He laughed, sending a wave of skinny ripples through his body of light. “You should believe me, because it’s in my best interests to help you. This is an exit, the only exit. I use it to send encoded light to speak to your father. Normally, this stone doesn’t allow any encoded light to escape. You see, encoded light, like your body and mine, passes through that black membrane you probably felt when you came in. It gets lodged in this inner core. Fractured light, on the other hand, passes around that membrane and gets arrested and assembled before going through the exit channel that’s right below this crack.

  “The doctor’s messages are encoded, so they come into this core to me. I can read that light and send it back through, encoded with my response, by sending it through this crack. It goes straight to the exit, bypassing the arresting stage.”

  “If that’s a way out, why haven’t you gone through it?”

  “Because the channel would put me out of phase too much. I couldn’t be restored. The good doctor’s little genius, Ashley, hasn’t figured out why yet, but it seems that the encoding of a female is not disturbed when she passes through this part of the structure. She sent both male and female animals in here, and I put them through the channel. Every female survived, and every male was disintegrated. That’s why they always used girls as their divers. If Derrick were ever to lose a diver, she could just go through this crack to get out again. Your mother was in here, but when we learned about the escape route, we were able to send her back out when Dr. Conner was ready with her cure.”

  Bonnie’s light dimmed and then flashed like blinking neon. “I don’t believe you. Ashley would have told me. I know she would have.”

  Devin’s light rippled from the center in tight halos, like rings from a tiny splash in a pond. “Ashley didn’t know,” he replied. “Brilliant or not, she’s as easy to dupe as you are. Dr. Conner and I have been using her for our purposes, and I’ve been speaking to them in your mother’s place ever since she left. Dr. Conner knew all along, but we had to keep Ashley in the dark. I don’t think she would want to help us if she knew what we were really doing.”

  “No, she wouldn’t. That much I do believe.”

  Devin’s light flashed brightly, stripes of energy passing from his head to his toes. “Well, believe this, Witch. I’m telling you this because I need you to dive back in here and get me out. Once you’re out there, I’ll tell you where to find your mother. She’s alive and restored.”

  Bonnie moved closer to the crack, but she kept her distance from the slayer. As she approached, she noticed a change in the blackness, a slight gray streak in what appeared to be a floor-like structure, a fault in one of the jewel’s inner planes.

  Devin continued, and Bonnie felt his voice come across in softer tones. “The candlestone is still on the pedestal outside, so if you decide to go in, you’ll go straight to the restoration process.” Devin drifted away. “I’ll move out of sight. Take your time. Your mother didn’t take long to decide, though. She hates dark places.”

  A few seconds later, Devin was gone, his light vanishing more quickly than Bonnie thought possible. Did this place have secret passages or walls he could hide behind?

  Bonnie slowly approached the gray streak, skirting close enough to get a glimpse into the jagged fissure. It opened into a chasm, and way below, at the bottom of a glassy gorge, a stream of soft, white light poured through. It looked like a gentle river flowing in a peaceful valley, but she couldn’t see where it went.

  She felt a pull, like the candlestone’s light-drawing power was somehow stronger in the lower area. If she went in, there would probably be no way to get back up. She replayed the slayer’s explanation in her mind, piecing together the candlestone’s flow channels, and imagining this stream of light as a passage to the outside.

  With all her senses focused on the newly found chasm, Bonnie heard faint voices from far away. Though she didn’t recognize the words, she could tell they were mournful, lamenting a sad existence, as though ghosts whispered eternal chants from haunted halls. If only she could understand. Were they calling her in? Was it a warning?

  She pulled back and turned toward the blackness, resting her shining body and allowing her rapidly pulsating energy to settle down. As she gazed at her light, in stark contrast to the black surroundings, she thought about how much easier it would be if everything would get brighter so she could see clearly.

  Months ago, when she was moving from foster home to foster home, she remembered crying in her bed at night, worrying about what the next day would bring. Every night, darkness covered her with a blanket of sorrow, but morning always brought new hope with the rising sun. Light was sort of like truth. It always showed a liar for what he really was. And when someone gave a word of encouragement, it was like the sun rising, showing her that things weren’t really as bad as they seemed.

  She peeked again at the chasm and listened to the voices, soft and dreary, one or two counterpoint solos tangled in the melancholy chorus. As they droned on, she heard a familiar call, the call she had heard all the way back in West Virginia, her name floating into her mind the same way her mother used to call at the end of a summer day. She rushed to the edge of the crack and peered down. “Mama! Mama, is that you?”

  There was no answer. The sad drone played on.

  Bonnie floated away from the crack. Her light diminished as the blackness swallowed the edges of her body. This became her new way to cry, letting the dark oppression creep into her dimming soul and lay her energy to waste, as though allowing a black predator to consume her bit by bit.

  “Mama!” she cried out. “Where are you?” With her waning soul quaking, her pulsing light failing with each beat, Bonnie wept, her words seeping out in tormented thoughts.

  As the darkness gnawed away at her sanity, Bonnie shivered. If she gave in to sadness now, how could she help her mother? Putting her sorrowful thoughts away, she lif
ted her soul in song, streaming the words into the darkness with trembling quivers of light.

  Whither shall I go from thy spirit?

  Or whither shall I flee from thy presence?

  If I ascend up into heaven, thou art there:

  If I make my bed in hell, behold, thou art there.

  If I take the wings of the morning,

  and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea;

  Even there shall thy hand lead me,

  and thy right hand shall hold me.

  If I say, Surely the darkness shall cover me;

  even the night shall be light about me.

  Yea, the darkness hideth not from thee;

  but the night shineth as the day:

  The darkness and the light are both alike to thee.

  With each uttered word, with each phrase of truth, Bonnie’s light increased, clearing her mind and refreshing her soul. When she finished, the darkness crawled away like a wounded shadow, and for the first time, she could see more clearly, as though her own body illuminated the maze of dark walls that bordered the gem’s center. Then, as though whispered into her ear by a close friend, a stream of words flowed into her mind. Everyone who is of the truth hears my voice. No lie is of the truth.

  The voice was soft, pure, and whisper-quiet.

  After a few seconds, the slayer’s words came back to her, his static-filled voice grinding into her mind like a power drill. She hates dark places.

  When everything fell silent again, Bonnie sat still and pondered the voices. She hates dark places? But that can’t be true. Mama used to turn all the lights off just to tell me stories in the dark.

  She looked again into the crevice and saw a whole new world. The river of light was still there, but she also saw a swirling mass of ghostly phantoms at the river’s edge, barely visible, yet she could see expressions of sadness, regret, remorse, the pain of lost opportunity, never to be found again. Were these human beings? Did each dim pulse in that forsaken chasm represent a soul trapped in a lost netherworld?

  Bonnie hurried to the far side of her crystal prison. That’s what the slayer really wanted, for her to cast herself into that hell. But is that really what happened to her mother? Was she fooled by Devin? Was she one of those poor, tormented souls?

  And now there seemed to be no way out. Even if Karen could dive back into the candlestone, Ashley said she would probably be out of phase. It took someone with dragon blood to search the depths of this dungeon, and there was only one person she knew who could possibly do it.

  It was time to pray. The light of truth had sparked new, robust energy, and she knew that her best friend needed to find the same power. It was time to pray for Billy.

  CHAPTER 14

  SEEING RED

  Billy slammed against the side of the trunk as the car roared away, and at each careening turn his arms pinched against cold steel. He squirmed to his side and felt around with his fingers, searching for something sharp near his back, anything with a metal edge to cut the strangling tape on his wrists. But the tape contracted with every move, numbing his fingers. He knew he was in a mess, and he felt that familiar boiling rage in his belly. Billy flopped to his stomach and rested his cheek against the rough, gas-scented carpet.

  Okay, get a grip and just relax. I don’t want to be spewing sparks in here! There’s got to be some good news. My throat’s been slit, but I haven’t bled to death yet. That’s good news. This gag’s about to cave my mouth in and scratch my lips off, but it feels like it might be starting to slip.

  He pressed his lips against the rag as hard as he could, and it budged downward just a hair.

  Okay, it moves. That’s even better news. It’ll take a while to get it off, but it does move.

  While Billy worked on the gag, the car’s engine settled into a high-pitched drone, and the road straightened out.

  We must be on a main highway now. I wonder how far we have to go. If the exhaust doesn’t knock me out, the gas fumes will. And it’s freezing in here. My hands are so numb I can hardly feel them. But I have to keep working. If I don’t get this rag off, I’ll be dead meat when he comes back to get me.

  Once more twisting to his side, Billy pulled his knees to his chest, lowered his head, and rubbed the scratchy cloth against his jeans. Each fiber felt like sharp nails digging into his bleeding lips, but he kept working the gag downward.

  As long as he could stay conscious, he had to keep working on an escape plan. Palin was a slayer in his own right, so Billy had expected to get sliced into a spiral ham. What could be the reason for tossing him in this icebox trunk instead? This was no joyride. Was the slayer hauling him to where they kept Bonnie? That was some comfort, to be by her side even if it meant torture or death. Maybe by some twist of fate he could figure out a way to save her, to have just one second with his mouth free to send the slayers to a fiery hell . . . even if he died trying.

  Oh, well. Dying bravely beats just letting that maniac do whatever he wants to Bonnie.

  But would he really die for her? His loyalty was strong, but that strong?

  It was a no-brainer. He would definitely die if he could save her. There was no one else like her, no one else he’d lay down his life for. Well, he would for Walter, but that was different. He and Walter would fight together, battling enemies with everything they had until they either conquered their foes or fell in combat.

  But Bonnie was different . . . special . . . like . . . well, she was just special.

  In his mind he could see her staring up at him with her trusting eyes, could feel her gentle hand in his. On the mountain after their airplane crashed, she’d been braver than anyone he knew, stronger than he’d imagined possible, with her wings extended, more beautiful than—

  Billy lay still. He didn’t want to think about it any further. If he wanted to survive, he needed to work on that gag.

  “I’m cold,” little Monique complained, her tiny voice muffled by the falling snow.

  Karen lowered her coat’s white hood so she could hear better, and a dusting of snowflakes quickly covered her head. She stooped and grabbed a pair of purple mittens, whispering as she put them back on Monique’s hands. “Well, it’s no wonder. Your hands are like ice.” Karen stripped off her own gloves and set them on a five-foot-high boulder she had chosen to shelter the girls from the whistling wind and to screen them from view.

  Monique’s shrill voice cut through the wind. “When are we going inside, Red? This isn’t fun anymore.”

  After shaking the snow out of her mop of red hair, Karen put her hood back up and tied it in place with the white drawstring. “We can’t go back, Pebbles, not yet. We have to get to that house out near the highway. Remember? The old man with the friendly horse?”

  Monique nodded, but shivered.

  “We’d get lost if we tried to get there in this storm though. If the snow doesn’t let up soon, we’ll go back to the stairs. I promise.” Karen knelt and tightened Monique’s hood, brushing away a little snowcap from the top. “Don’t worry; I won’t let you freeze.” Karen grabbed her own gloves and slowly put them back on, covering her stiffening fingers and sighing. If I don’t freeze first. We have a long way to go.

  A few minutes later, Karen heard a distant roar and lowered her hood again, tilting her head to keep the wind out of her ears. “It’s a car!” she whispered urgently, pushing Monique’s head lower. “Everyone duck and be quiet!”

  With the three younger girls safely hidden, Karen stood on her tiptoes and peered cautiously over the boulder. A faded blue car, a late-model Grand Marquis, toiled up the snowy incline, sliding and spinning, but managing to navigate the final turn into the narrow driveway toward the stones that bordered the lab’s entrance.

  Karen watched it zip past their hiding place, less than a snowball’s throw from the stairway door. It parked at least thirty feet behind Doc’s SUV, and the driver jumped out and hurried to the rear of the car, brandishing a pistol in one hand.

  Karen gasped and pushed
the other girls’ heads even lower. Would he see their footprints? The snow had fallen heavily since they had come outside, but she couldn’t tell if it had covered their tracks completely. The man paced behind the car as if he didn’t quite know what to do. Finally, he yelled right at the car’s trunk.

  “I’ve got a gun, kid. Do you think your breath’s quicker than my trigger finger? Maybe that gag’s still on, and maybe it’s not, but I’ll bet a bullet would discourage you real quick, either way.”

  The man lifted the car’s remote locking device and pointed the gun at the trunk. His arm shook, and he shifted his weight from left to right, shivering in the bitter breeze. After what seemed like a full minute, he lowered the weapon and let out a string of obscenities, giving a hefty kick to the rear bumper.

  “Don’t make a sound. If you try to escape, I’ll blow your brains out. I’m not the one who wants to keep you alive, you know.”

  The man stalked toward the stairway door and jerked it open. After glaring back at the car for a brief second, he disappeared into the mountain.

  Billy managed to slip the gag down enough to open his mouth. He positioned his head to blast Palin at the first sign of light, to fry that creep quicker than he could aim and fire. He pictured the dark knight burning in agony, and the satisfaction of sweet revenge swelled his heart. In his imagination, Palin cooked down to a dirty pile of soot, and Billy kicked the remains and scattered them in the dust.

  A hard lump grew in Billy’s throat, but he swallowed it away. It’s okay. Palin deserves to die. He’s a dragon slayer, and he wants to kill both Bonnie and me.

  Billy had heard Palin yelling about having a gun, but now there was no sound at all. Did he leave? Was he waiting for help? Did he go to get another weapon?