The Seventh Door

  “And you’re throwing stones at her.”

  Matt’s ears heated up. “Throwing stones? I’m just telling the truth. You didn’t seem to mind giving Stan a few verbal jabs. And I thought you were great. You exposed him for what he is. Shouldn’t we do the same to a prostitute?”

  “Not in this case. Stan was self-deluded. He needed a cold slap in the face to wake him up.” Mom pulled him close, almost nose to nose. Although her cheeks continued to flame, her tone softened. “Matt, Darcy isn’t deluded. She knows what she was, and she knows it’s wrong. She doesn’t need you to shake her chains. I’ve already had long talks with her while you were asleep, and she’s knocking on the door to freedom, but you answered by spitting on her.”

  Matt pulled away, suppressing an emerging growl. “Mom . . . listen. You don’t know Darcy like I do. I saw for myself how devious Semiramis is. Darcy’s her clone. Semiramis helped Listener and pretended to be your friend, but it was all a ploy. You never trusted Semiramis, and you were right. Darcy’s the same. I know from experience. I’ve seen this act too many times before.”

  Mom’s tone sharpened again. “She was your sister!”

  “Yeah, an evil, twisted sister. What do you think we did together? Walk hand in hand through the snow? No! Her idea of winter fun was hanging me out a window by a rope!”

  Mom nodded in a conciliatory way. “She did terrible things to you, but you’ll never reconcile with someone you choose to hate. Hatred is a cancer that will devour you. It consumes its victims like a raging fire. No one can be saved who harbors hatred in his heart, not Darcy, not Semiramis, not even you.”

  “Semiramis?” Matt blinked at her. “Do you think Semiramis can be saved?”

  She set a fist on her hip. “You’re changing the subject.”

  “No. Seriously.” Matt lowered his voice. “You’re trying to get me to trust Darcy, but you never trusted Semiramis. What’s the difference?”

  Mom let out a long sigh. “There’s a big difference between Darcy and Semiramis. Semiramis is a sorceress who is already dead, so she can never turn to the light. Darcy is a living human with a precious soul, and she can change her ways. If you don’t allow her a chance to repent, maybe she never will.”

  “And if we keep trusting her, we’ll end up dead, or at least look like fools when she turns against us.” Matt averted his eyes and stared at the open door. It would sound stupid to give away his suspicions that Darcy might actually be Semiramis in disguise.

  After echoing his mother’s sigh, he looked at her again and continued in a calm tone. “Mom, we have to focus on what we’re doing. Recognize who our enemies are and who our friends are. Tamiel sent us here so you’d get upset about this corrupt church and their stupid self-centered members. He wants to warp your song so the world will get even worse. You need to stay in control and not let him get to you.”

  “It’s not Tamiel who’s getting to me. It’s—”

  The lights flickered again, then stayed dim.

  Mom squinted at Matt and used her thumb to wipe the side of his lips. When she withdrew her hand, purple residue stained her thumb. As she stared at the stain, she whispered, “We need to go.”

  “Where did that purple stuff come from? I didn’t eat any fruit.” Matt tried to lift his legs, but they wouldn’t budge. “What’s going on?”

  “Something evil.” Mom wrapped her arms around Matt’s waist, beat her wings furiously, and zoomed toward the door.

  Matt gasped. His heart raced. He could do nothing but hang on and let her carry him.

  When they burst through the mass of fibers, Darcy came into view in the parking lot. A short, bearded man wearing dirty jeans and a greasy T-shirt held her wrist and pointed a knife at her throat.

  Mom hurtled straight toward the attacker. When they drew close enough, Matt broke free, hit the ground with his feet, and lunged. Lowering his shoulder, he plowed into the man, and they both sprawled backwards. The knife flew from his grip and skidded across the parking lot.

  Matt crawled to the knife and grabbed it. “Stay where you are!”

  The man, a fortysomething tramp, sat up and scowled. “Playing cop, are you boy?”

  “I’m no cop.” Matt pulled his hand back, ready to throw the knife. “But I can embed a blade in a tree from a hundred feet.”

  “Well, goody for you.” The man spat. “Go ahead. Kill me. I don’t have the guts to do it myself.”

  Mom stood with an arm around Darcy. “What were you looking for?”

  “Listen to the winged freak. She can talk.” The man sneered. “You need someone with a machete to slice you into a normal person.”

  “If you need food, we can—”

  “I wasn’t looking for food.” He climbed to his feet and began walking away. “I’m outta here. Go ahead and stab me in the back if that’s how you get your high.”

  Matt lowered his hand. Straining to get his numbed legs to work, he climbed to his feet and staggered toward his mother. “I guess we should get going.”

  “What’s this?” Darcy picked up something leather from the pavement. “It’s that guy’s sheath for his knife.”

  Matt looked it over. Although dirty, it was in pretty good shape. “Well, he’s not getting it back.”

  “No, but . . .” Darcy slid the sheath over the knife, still in Matt’s hand. “Maybe we can use it.”

  Mom angled her head and pointed at Matt’s belt. “The key is glowing.”

  “Good.” Matt lifted the ring, still attached to his loop. The key radiated a bright blue aura. “I guess that means we’re done here.”

  Darcy held the phone out. “It’s already set to the next address.”

  Matt picked it up. “Why did you want it?”

  “To leave a clue.” She showed him a phone with a pink-and-purple cover. “I took this one from that purse, and I copied all the addresses from your phone into it. And I wrote a note about what we’re doing and that the seventh address is missing. I thought we could put it in an easy place to find, you know, in case someone figures out we came here. Since Bonnie can’t risk flying anymore, it’s the only way someone can track us down.”

  Keeping his gaze on Darcy, he picked up the second phone. Her eyes seemed to beg for affirmation, for just a kind word. Distrust of her felt more and more stupid every second. “Yeah. I guess that’s a good idea.”

  “It’s a great idea.” Mom took the phone and flew to the church door. She tore away some of the fibrous material, compressed it into a short rope, and hung the phone from the doorknob. As she hurried back, her wings again boosting her, she smiled. “Let’s pray that helps.”

  Matt opened the front passenger door and gestured for Darcy to enter.

  “Your mother should be next to you.” She opened the rear door, slid onto the backseat, and tossed the empty backpack to the front.

  Matt shrugged and gestured again, this time looking at his mother. “Shall we?”

  Her lips taut, she sidestepped past him, picked up the backpack, and began tucking her wings inside. As she kept her stare on him, her nimble wings helped her hands maneuver the backpack into position. In less than a minute, she looked like a hiker with an overstuffed load.

  She ducked into the front seat and settled in place. “I’m ready, Matt Bannister.”

  Matt blinked. Why the last name all of a sudden?

  Thunder rumbled across the sky. The dark edge of the storm front rushed closer. He closed the door and hurried around to the driver’s side. After settling in his seat, he looked at the mirror. No residue appeared on his lips. Since the fruit disappeared, maybe the stains were all part of a hypnotic image.

  He laid the sheathed knife in the middle console pocket, propped the phone against the dashboard, and started the engine. “At least we have a weapon now. Maybe it’ll help down the road.”

  Darcy picked up the sheath and drew the knife out partway. “It’s serrated. Very sharp.”

  “Ye
ah. Someone could do a lot of damage with it.”

  “I’d rather have my Glock or my shotgun.” She hooked the sheath to her waistband. “But this will do.”

  Matt raised his brow. “You have guns?”

  “I didn’t until I moved to Vegas. I needed protection, so I carried a Glock in my purse and kept a shotgun in my closet. I take them both to the range every chance I get. Actually, I’m a pretty good shot, especially skeet shooting.”

  He smiled. “Okay, your coolness factor just surged.”

  “Coolness is good.” She gave him a thankful smile. “Glad to have your approval.”

  “And Mom,” Matt added, “I loved how you threw that table over. You didn’t even flinch.”

  She nodded. “I saw no reason to fear him.”

  “I wish I had your confidence.” He pushed the stick into gear. “We’d better go. We still have to find a motel, and I’d like to stay in front of that storm.” He pulled out of the parking space and onto the highway, following the phone’s directions.

  In the backseat, Darcy remained quiet. The urge to glance at her in the mirror seemed overwhelming, but he resisted. No matter her posture, no matter her expression, his distrust, even hatred, would boil again, and Mom would notice. She always noticed. And that would further break down her song.

  Darcy whispered from the back. “I’m sorry, Matt.”

  He tensed. “Sorry for what?”

  “When you thought I was stealing, I said some awful things about you in my mind, so . . . I’m sorry. I’m trying to change, but it’s hard, so I hope you’ll be patient with me.”

  He looked at her in the mirror. She rubbed her ring finger again, probably a nervous habit. “You’re right to think that way,” she continued. “That I might be a thief, I mean. No one should trust someone like me. No one. I’m not worth a nickel.”

  “Not worth a nickel?” Matt said. “Where did that come from?”

  “It’s something one of my bosses used to say whenever I made a mistake. I guess I picked it up. But it’s true.”

  “Well . . .” Matt glanced at his mother. She stared straight ahead, her lips moving silently, probably praying for this actress who continued playing her pity-inducing role flawlessly. Even though showing Darcy a bit of compassion felt like petting a rabid dog, he could grit his teeth and bear it, for Mom’s sake.

  He exhaled. “I’m sorry, too. I guess I misjudged you. You really came up with a great idea.”

  After a moment or two of silence, Darcy extended her hand over the seat. “Friends?” Her hand seemed to hover in place. How could he refuse? Rejecting a peace offering would make him look like the most vindictive person on Earth.

  Twisting in his seat, he grasped her hand and interlocked their thumbs. “Friends.”

  As Matt drew his hand back, Mom cocked her head and looked straight at him but said nothing.

  He shifted uneasily. Mom was smart, probably too smart to be fooled by his apparent quick change of heart. “Is everything all right?”

  “I’m just trying to read you. You’re a puzzle sometimes.”

  “Sorry. I guess that comes with the territory. You know, being separated from you all these years.”

  “Maybe. I just want to be sure you’re ready for the second door.”

  “Uh . . . sure. I think so.” He blinked at her. “Do you think I might not be?”

  “Hard to say.” She turned and looked forward. “I’ve got a feeling that Tamiel started us out with an easy one. The second door is likely to be a far bigger challenge than the first.”

  Chapter 6

  WHEN IT RAINS

  Walter sat up in the cornfield. Everything swirled in the midst of driving wind and rain. Ashley lay next to him, a hand over her eyes, while Gabriel stood nearby bending over Billy’s tracking device. Although his wings protected the tracker from the rain, water dripped from his hair to the screen.

  “Where’s the chopper?” Walter called loudly enough to be heard over the storm.

  “Oh! You’re awake.” Gabriel strolled closer and pointed into the field as he stared at the tracker. “Billy’s signal stopped about a mile to the north. They’ve been there maybe twenty minutes.”

  Ashley rose to a sitting position and clutched Walter’s hand. “Feeling all right?”

  “I feel like I plugged myself into a hydroelectric plant. It’s the only explanation for being fried and soaked at the same time.”

  “I guess you should know,” Gabriel said. “You’ve done that before.”

  Ashley slowly pulled her hand away. “I sense a new presence. Someone’s coming this way.”

  “Friendly?”

  “Not likely.” Ashley looked toward the north. “Four . . . no, five people. Searching. Getting closer.”

  “I haven’t found the weapons duffle, so we don’t have a gun.” Gabriel slid the tracker into his pocket. “We’re sitting ducks.”

  “Then we have only one option.” Walter climbed to his feet, helped Ashley up, and pushed her toward Gabriel. “Take her and get out of here.”

  “What?” Ashley shook her head hard, slinging hair and water. “I’m not about to leave you.”

  “Don’t let emotions cloud your thinking,” Walter said. “I’m too weak to run. Gabriel can’t carry both of us. And if I’m captured, I’ll probably be with Billy, so you can still track us. If we’re all captured, we’ve got nothing.”

  Her eyes wide, she whispered, “I need to be with you. I . . . I . . .”

  “I love you.” He kissed her and pushed wet hair from her eyes. “With Billy and me back together, we’ll figure out a way to mess up their plans.”

  She nodded. “I know you will.”

  “Keep track of us.” He patted Gabriel on the shoulder. “Go!”

  Gabriel wrapped his arms around Ashley from behind. With a burst of flapping wings, he lifted her into the air. As they ascended, Ashley cried out, “I love you, Walter! I will always love you!”

  He blew her a kiss. Gabriel zoomed away to the south and flew low over the bending cornstalks. In seconds, he and Ashley were out of sight.

  Walter turned toward the north and straightened his body. Numbness in his fingers and toes proved that the electric shock still lingered, but he couldn’t let potential captors know about it. Confidence had been a great ally for years, always a useful stalling device. Maybe Gabriel and Ashley could get far away before anyone would bother to look for them.

  A stout man in a wet soldier’s uniform broke into the clearing and aimed an M16 rifle at Walter. “Hands up.”

  Walter raised his hands. “If you’re here to steal corn, you’re a bit late for the harvest.”

  “Shut up!”

  “Oh, I get it. You don’t want corn. You’re just stalking me. Well, I understand that. My mother always said I was outstanding in my field.”

  The soldier lifted the rifle to his shoulder. “I said shut up!”

  “Whoa! There must have been a kernel of truth in my comment for you to get so—”

  “This’ll keep you quiet.” The soldier turned the rifle and belted Walter across the cheek with the butt.

  Walter staggered backwards but quickly regained his balance. Although pain ripped through his skull, he refused to touch the wound. At least the distraction worked. The soldier hadn’t bothered to look for the obvious signs that other people had been here.

  As rain continued to pound the field, four more men tromped into the clearing. Three soldiers carried rifles, and a short, thin man dressed in black held an umbrella over his head. Tamiel. No one could mistake that demon’s sinister mug.

  Tamiel brushed a dark boot along a depression where Roxil had rested. “Where are the others?” he asked without a hint of emotion.

  Walter blinked innocently. “What others?”

  Tamiel’s lip twitched. “Your fellow travelers and the dragon.”

  “A dragon?” Walter laughed under his breath. “Mister, my pla
ne just crashed, and I’m kind of woozy, but . . . a dragon?”

  Tamiel pointed at Walter’s legs. “Shoot his kneecap.”

  “Wait a second!” As the first soldier aimed, Walter backed away. “If you shoot me, you’ll have to carry me to—”

  The soldier fired. The bullet ripped across Walter’s knee, tearing his pants and skin. As pain roared, he dropped to the carpet of wet stalks and curled on his side, clutching his knee. He bit his lip hard to keep from crying out. Blood trickled between his fingers. Warmth coated his cold skin. Although the torture was awful, it seemed that the bullet hadn’t broken the cap, maybe just grazed the knee.

  “Now,” Tamiel said as he stepped closer, “where are the dragon and your traveling companions?”

  Walter rolled to his back and spoke through clenched teeth. “I don’t know, you cowardly snake! And even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”

  “So be it.” Tamiel withdrew a handgun from his jacket and aimed it at Walter. “You are worthless to us.” He fired. The bullet slammed into Walter’s chest just below his shoulder.

  Walter gasped. Pain throttled his mind. Blood poured from the wound. As the world grew darker, Tamiel and company marched into the cornstalks. Seconds later, everything faded to blackness.

  * * *

  Lauren kept her head low and her wet hands tight around Roxil’s spine. Sheets of rain swept across the gap between their flight level and the ground, which seemed to shift like a bucking bronco about a hundred feet below. Lightning streaked by and crashed into a tall pine. An earsplitting boom shook the air itself.

  Lauren strained her eyes. Every building appeared fuzzy, impossible to identify. With these terrible conditions, who could hope to find anything, especially a specific location that some blogger mentioned on the Internet? Even though Lois had read the post to Roxil word for word, that didn’t help much. Supposedly, a mugger with a knife accosted a trio that included a winged woman, but the only helpful detail was that it occurred in a parking lot next to a church with a cocoon spun around it. At least a cocoon would be hard to miss if they happened to fly directly over it, but with only the closest town’s name to go by, they had to search a huge area.