Part 1 (1/2)

FORBIDDEN DOORS.

INVISISBLE TERROR COLLECTION.

Bill Myers.

The Haunting.

Therefore put on the full armor of G.o.d, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righ teous ness in place, and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. In addition to all this, take up the s.h.i.+eld of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of G.o.d.

Ephesians 6:13 17.

Chapter 1.

1:36 a.m. WEDNESDAY The cloaked figure stood outside the house. Slowly, reluctantly, she started to climb the porch stairs. At the top she reached for the doorbell, then hesitated.

”No,” she whispered, her voice hoa.r.s.e and pleading. ”It is too late, it is - ”

Suddenly she convulsed, doubling over as though someone had punched her in the gut. She leaned against the wall, gasping. Carefully, almost defiantly, she rose. She was a handsome woman, in her late fifties. Strands of salt-and-pepper hair poked out from under her hood. There was a distinct air of sophistica-tion about her, though her face was filled with pain ... and fear.

Another convulsion hit. Harder, more painful.

She rose again. More slowly, less steadily. This time she would obey.

She stretched her thin, trembling hand toward the doorbell and pressed it. There was no response. She tried again. Nothing.

The doorbell didn't work. Not surprising in this neighborhood.

She opened the screen door, which groaned in protest, then rapped on the door.

Knock-knock-knock-knock.

Rebecca was the first to hear it. She stirred slightly in bed, thinking it was still part of a dream.

The knocking repeated itself, louder, more urgent.

Her eyes opened.

Knock-knock-knock-knock.

She threw off her covers, then staggered out of bed and into the hallway. Scotty's door was shut. No surprise there. He was the world's soundest sleeper (that's the beauty of not having a care in the world). She glanced toward Mom's room, then remembered. Her mother was off at a funeral of some third aunt twice removed.

”I'll only be gone three days,” she'd a.s.sured them. ”I've asked that nice Susan Murdock from church to check in on you. You think you'll be okay for three days?”

Seventeen-year-old Becka and her fifteen-year-old brother figured they'd be okay for three weeks, let alone three days. They tried their best to convince Mom that they didn't need some semistranger from church checking up on them. Of course, it hadn't worked.

”Well, I'll have her drop by, just in case,” Mom had said.

Becka reached the stairs and started down, hanging on to the banister for support. The cast had only been off her leg a few days, and she was still a little shaky. Then there was Muttly, her pup. His bouncing and leaping around her feet didn't help.

”Muttly, get down,” she whispered. ”Get down.” Knock-knock-knock-knock.

Becka reached the bottom of the stairs and crossed to the front door. She snapped on the porch light and looked through the peephole. An older, frail woman stood there. Becka hesitated. The visitor certainly looked harmless enough. And there was something very sad and frightened in her eyes.

Knock-knock-knock - Becka unbolted the door and opened it. It stuck slightly, and she had to give it an extra yank. But even then she only opened it a crack.

”Rebecca Williams?”

”Yes.”

”I am sorry to bother you at this time of evening, but there is someone ...” She trailed off, pulling her cloak tighter as if fighting off a chill. ”There is someone who needs your help.” Becka fidgeted, eyeing the woman carefully.

”Please,” the woman insisted. ”If I may come in for just a moment? It is most urgent.”

Becka's mind raced. The woman hardly looked like a robber or a mugger. If worse came to worst, Becka could always scream and bring Scotty running downstairs. Besides, she couldn't shake the image of those eyes: tired, sad, frightened. It was against her better judgment, but - Becka opened the door. The woman nodded a grateful thank-you and stepped into the entry hall. ”You won't regret this, I a.s.sure you. My name is - ” She broke off at the sound of a harsh little growl.

Becka looked down. Muttly had his hackles up and was doing his best imitation of being ferocious. ”Muttly!” she scolded.

”Stop that!”

The puppy growled again until Becka reached down and gave him a little thwack on the nose. He looked up at her and whined feebly.

”I'm sorry,” Becka said as she turned back to the woman.

”That's not like him at all. He's usually so friendly.”

”It does not surprise me,” the woman answered, keeping a wary eye on the animal. ”I am afraid he senses it too.”

”Senses it?” Becka asked. Normally she would have invited the stranger to have a seat, but at 1:30 in the morning the woman had a little more explaining to do. ”What exactly does my dog sense?”

The woman pulled back her hood and shook out her hair.

It fell past her shoulders, long and beautiful. She extended her hand. ”My name is Priscilla Bantini. We have not met officially, but we have many friends in common. I am the owner of the Ascension Bookshop.”

Becka sucked in her breath. The Ascension Lady! The woman who owned the New Age bookstore, who made the charms for her friends ... who sponsored the kids in the Society. Becka swallowed hard. She wasn't sure how to respond.

The woman watched her carefully. ”I know what you must think; however, I a.s.sure you I had nothing to do with the pranks the children have been playing on you.”

Pranks! Becka thought. I almost get hit by a train, and then I'm kidnapped by satanists. Some pranks!

The woman continued. ”Someone desperately needs our help. They have been calling upon me, begging for my a.s.sistance, but I have neither the strength nor the power.”

”I'm sorry ...” Becka shook her head. ”What are you talking about?”

”Someone needs help.”