seymoure

Chapter 35
“Skirmish”

The image of his uncle’s face brought the pistol hand of Emilio Sanchez to full attention. He didn’t even think about it, he just aimed.

Then there was a hand on his sleeve. He turned and saw a sight that, under other circumstances would have been comical.

Tito Vaskania stood there with a piece of cloth draped over his head. Luckily Emilio recognized the figure before he had turned the gun on him. It might have been the ring on his finger. It was as ornate a piece of gold and silver as anyone had ever worn on his finger. The two had talked once about the ring, and the Baron was slightly nonplussed about it. “It is a family heirloom. My grandfather gave it to me and told me it came from our ancestor, the famous Prestor John.”

“You might destroy the thing,” Vaskania whispered to his friend, “But you would not save the girl.”

The nobleman moved along side the young warrior, “What he is taking from her is her very essence. Without it she cannot survive.”

“What can we do?” Sanchez asked, with the anger only slightly held back.

“I must give her the chance of saving herself.”

“How?”

“I will let her know what I know, and then she must make the choice of returning to us or letting herself fade away. The world that the thing is offering is unbelievably seductive.”

The face of the Baron’s first wife appeared on the surface of the mound of slime, but Vaskania did not see it. He saw only the truth.

Vaskania walked past the bubbling horror and leaned down to Harriett Dante.

With the gentility of a parent reaching for their child, the Baron lifted Dante’s hand. He then began to talk, in gentle, low, musical tones, to her.

“This is not real. This is a dream created by our enemy. He wants your soul, but he cannot take it. His only hope is to make you surrender it.”

Nothing happened.

“Refuse to give up. See the truth. Nothing has ever been more important to you than the truth, you have fought all your life to bring the truth out into the light. Do not give in to this lie.”

Only the breathing of those in the room could be heard.

“It is lying to you, and too the world. It will use you to lie to all the world. It will make you lie to yourself and all those who depend on you for the truth," The Baron pushed with all his heart, searching for what would reach the girl.

Still, nothing happened.

“What would your father do?” The Baron demanded.

Harriett moved as though hit by an electric shock. She then began to shiver.

The creature groaned, and then it screamed.

It was like nothing Emilio Sanchez had ever heard. He had heard KGB agents being tortured by cannibals in the dense Philippine jungles. He had heard Yeti bellowing their death wail around the body of a fellow.

He had never heard anything like this.

Then he looked at the woman sitting at the table. It was as if she were growing before his eyes. She had become emaciated before, and now she was returning to her former healthy source.

At the same time the creature was turning from a bright green to something closer to a dark green lump with a black outline. It was shrinking, but the screaming didn’t seem to lessen.

After seven minutes, the tentacles fell away, and the thing was quiet.

Harriett Dante began to stand, fell and was caught by Baron Vaskania.

There was a slimy film on the chair that had faced the detective, but it too was evaporating.

After he helped the girl back into her chair he looked across the table and found a handkerchief that lay there. He handed it to Harriett, and she put it in her coat pocket.

Vaskania took the veil off his head.

Sanchez put the gun back in his holster.

Aubrey Stillwell bounded up the stairs, and said, “I heard there was a problem with the young lady?”

“Heard?” said the always distrusting Sanchez.

“Security cameras,” Stillwell pointed up to the ceiling. It was the first time any of them noticed that the power was back on. “She seemed to be in distress.”

“Get out!” Harriett said to Aubrey.

“I’m sorry?” The librarian questioned, a bit hurt.

“Just get out,” the exhausted woman said.

Sanchez nodded at him and the confused young man slowly turned and went away.

The Baron took the wrinkled handkerchief the girl was holding, and gave her his own silk handkerchief. She did not cry.

Vaskania took out his cell phone and dialed.

After a short wait, he spoke saying, “Sebastian? I have good news. We have won our first skirmish with the enemy. So far he had won every time, but this one is ours.”

“I am glad to hear that,” the less-than-glad voice came over the phone, “But we have lost a skirmish also.”

“What?”

“Even with all our protection, the enemy found a way to get to us. He almost killed Screed. We thought we had lost him until a moment ago.”

“How is he now?”

“He is in a coma.”