Chapter Thirty-Six

Through the black spaces of her consciousness, Tracy heard voices whispering. They were not evil whispers; they were whispers of concern toward her well-being. “Will she be all right?” said a young woman’s voice, which was quickly answered by an older woman’s voice. “Yes. She’ll be fine.” A third woman was heard saying, “What of the child?” Hesitation and then, “If Orion hasn’t already tainted it, it must be guarded at all costs.”

Tracy opened her tired eyes and looked into the brown eyes of a young woman who was watching over her. Tracy registered the fact that this was the woman she had almost run over with her rented car – and she was a nun. “Rest easy, Child. You’ve had a bad accident,” reassured the nun.

Tracy lifted her head, finding that it was painful to do so, and dropped it back down on the pillow. “Where am I?” she asked and the nun smiled.

“You are at St. Vincent Convent. You were brought immediately here after you ran off the road.” Tracy almost jumped up regardless of how much pain she was in.

“My baby!” she screamed. “I need to get to a hospital.” The nun smiled again and shook her head.

“Your child is safe for the moment. We tried to get you to a hospital, but the storm washed out the main road into town. We have to wait the storm out, I’m afraid.” Tracy studied the young nun closely for any signs of lying. When she found none, she sighed and lay back down on the bed.

“Thank you. I don’t suppose you have a phone around here?” Tracy asked as she glanced around the room. There were no decorations in the room; save for the torch burning next to the door. When the nun shook her head, “When can I meet your Mother Superior?”

The nun lowered her head. Tracy could not make out any features on the woman’s face. “Our Mother Superior is no longer with us. She has long since passed – at least ten years now,” she said.

“I’m very sorry. I didn’t mean to pry,” she began and the nun waved a hand and looked up at Tracy.

“No. She is with our Lord Jesus Christ. She’s in a much better place – better than this damned castle…” she stopped herself when she saw Tracy’s confused expression. “I have said too much. It is I who apologizes,” she began and turned to the door. Once she reached it, she turned her blackened crown to Tracy. “I shall let Sister Catherine know that you have awoken.” And then she turned back and exited the chamber and closed the door.

Tracy could have sworn that she heard the door lock once it closed but her head had been hurting from the cuts on the back to do anything about it at present time. Besides, she doubted that she could get herself up off the bed quickly enough anyway.

* * *

It took Rick most of the night to set up his video and other camera equipment and by the time he had finished, Claudia had left him alone for the night. Before leaving, though, she told him that she would talk to Stan Stevens about meeting him at the castle.

Once he had completed the task of setting everything up, using the battery pack to charge up his electronic equipment took a lot longer than he had expected, so he decided to take a tour around the castle before returning to his little base in the center of the front hall. He grabbed his flashlight and headed off into the darkness.

As he walked he tossed the light beam left and right around the rooms he explored; all the while grazing his fingers across the walls to study the cracks and odd engravings which had appeared throughout the chambers; especially in what appeared to have been a kitchen at one time, and others he found in a bed chamber.

He would have to return to these places during the daytime and take note of all the engravings he could find – perhaps these told the story of King Darvon.

Why was he suddenly obsessed with this king? What was Darvon to him except some dead king who had raped his female enemy? Darvon was nothing to him. He ruled his kingdom long before Rick was even thought of. But, was Darvon calling to him somehow for some reason? No, it’s impossible.

* * *

Sister Catherine opened the door and stepped inside the damp chamber and gave Tracy a warm smile. She crossed the room and sat down next to the young woman and placed a cold wrinkled hand upon Tracy’s. “I’m sorry that you have to stay here with us, but we cannot possibly escort you to the hospital right now,” she began and Tracy nodded.

“Yeah, that’s what Sister…” Tracy paused; she just remembered that she had never caught the young nun’s name.

Sister Catherine smiled again. “Sister Agnes,” she answered. “Yes, Sister Agnes has just informed me that you were concerned with your child.”

Such an odd statement, Tracy thought. Anyone who’s pregnant and had a car crash would instantly be concerned for their child. “Yes, but Sister Agnes told me that everything was still okay,” she began and Sister Catherine looked away from Tracy’s eyes.

“For the moment, yes. However,” She stood up and began pacing the floor. “We believe that you are further along than you think. We believe that it seems to want out of your womb.”

Tracy stood up off the bed and walked over to the old woman. There was something very familiar about this old nun. Tracy couldn’t put her finger on it, but she swore that she knew her. “Would you mind explaining to me what you meant by that?” Mixed emotions crowded her mind. Confusion defeated most of the emotions at present time.

Sister Catherine stopped, turned and faced Tracy with an icy gaze. “I am not the one to explain prophecies, my dear Child. Soon – very soon – you shall hear it from our Queen Mother.” She did not wait for Tracy to protest; instead, she turned quickly and walked out of the room and closed the door behind her, locking it once it was closed.

Tracy cursed herself for falling into this trap. You shall hear it from our Queen Mother. She didn’t say that Tracy should hear it. It was as if these nuns had been planning her arrival and maybe even had something to do with the crash. If what everything she has been told is true, then Sister Agnes was ordered to stand in Tracy’s path, causing her to run off the road. But why? Why would someone risk their own life for me?

Irate, Tracy went back over to the bed and sat down once again and thought over what both Sister Agnes and Sister Catherine had told her. Sister Agnes had let slip that they were in a castle, probably converted into a convent so many years ago, so perhaps there truly is a queen of which Sister Catherine talked of. And what of Sister Catherine? Why did she look so damned familiar?

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Then it hit her. “Why the hell is my old school nurse here?” But as she recalled the image of a younger Sister Catherine – she even remembered how they had had a conversation right after Conner Barker killed himself; or rather, when he was killed by the Dreamkillers. The memories of Dave Straub and then her sister Laura flooded into her head all at once and it made her weep. Then she recalled Bolan giving her injections right before her memory failure. He must have had something to do with it.

She shook her head as anger tried to creep its way into her soul and the questions pertaining to Sister Catherine were all forgotten. She tried to focus her memories on Laura now that she could remember.

But none of this justified locking her in this damp moldy cell with nothing to look at but a torch which burned beside her door.

Then she thought of something – the torch. It had not extinguished itself nor had it been extinguished by someone else. Standing back up this time was more of a challenge; her child had suddenly become more uncomfortable since yesterday on the plane. She placed one hand firmly on her stomach and the other on the bed for balance as she hoisted her body up into a standing position.

Tracy walked across the room and up to the burning torch. As she drew closer, she did not feel any warmer; and when she reached out her hand to the flame, she felt no pain. Instead, as she ran her hand through the flame several times, she could have sworn she felt a chill.

* * *

Rick went back to his small camp – his little center of the world. He checked his video camera and saw that it was fully charged and saw, too, that it had been filming for a little over an hour. Satisfied, Rick dropped his body down onto the hard stone floor and placed his head down on his large bag.

It felt as if he had his eyes closed for only a second before a loud blood-curdling scream bounced off the walls of the castle. Rick grabbed his flashlight and quickly jumped to his feet. He directed the light in the direction of the scream and began running down a corridor to his left, down a narrow staircase, and pushed open a door at the base of the steps.

He noticed that this passageway was not as long but more narrow than the ones upstairs.

Rick ran almost to the end of the corridor before arriving at a door he felt the scream come from. He pushed it open and entered the chamber. He noticed the stone altar in the centre of the room; he knew it to be the same altar he was haunted by so many years ago when he was just a child of fifteen; the year he had fallen in love with Tracy’s sister Laura, and the same year he had given his own hand to save his life. His head began swimming as he tried to piece it together – Orion’s altar and this altar. He turned and became nauseated when he saw the large fireplace and the chair.

The dark room was empty thank goodness. He ran the flashlight around the room and learned his mistake when he cast his light on the back wall again. His hands began shaking at the sight. And he could not tear his eyes away.

“Richard, help us,” cried his lovely wife, Emily who was bleeding about her stomach and down to her thighs. She reached out and he saw that she held a fetus in her arms – they were still attached to one another. “He says he can make the pain stop,” Emily continued and glanced down at the babe.

A part of Rick knew that this was not happening; that Emily was safe in America where he longed to be right now. But the other part, the one that did not think rationally, almost leaped forward with his hand out. “How?”

Tears ran down her face and she looked down at her child once again. “Let him teach you. Then you’ll learn how to make the pain go away.” Then she looked into her husband’s eyes. “Please, Richard. Do it for us.”

Rick violently turned his head from the scene and buried it in the bend of his arm as he slammed it against the wall. He knew that if he stayed in the room any longer he would break down in tears. He knew that he could not give in that easily.

He sighed and regained his composure. He walked out of the room and closed the door. With his hand still enclosing the iron handle, he pressed his head against the door and then burst into tears.

* * *

They were cackling with laughter as they sat near a fire. Bolan glanced up at his master with a sparkle in his eyes he had not had since he had attended medical school. “Now we’re getting somewhere,” he laughed and Orion nodded.

“This is only the beginning. When I’m through with Richard Hopman, he will be my puppet to control.”

Bolan ceased laughing and formed a questionable look. “Sir, why are you still trying to turn him into a Dreamkiller? And after all these years, too.”

Bolan heard Orion sigh beneath his darkened hood. “Let me tell you of feelings…” He stopped and turned to look at the fire. “When I was a young man, it was almost orgasmic to have the ability to turn someone into a Dreamkiller – especially against their will. But, after centuries, it became a bore. There was no joy in it.”

Bolan nodded; feeling his head wobble and grabbed it before it rolled off his neck. Loneliness was something he knew about – none of his peers at the hospital believed in any of his theories, or more importantly, his methods of practice when it came to extracting the dreams of children.

“And then came Richard Hopman. All he was, was Tracy Kingston’s protector. Nothing more. But I saw something in this boy – I’m sure he doesn’t even see it. The fact that he defies me makes it that much more enjoyable. I’m not doing it to gain a new army – my Dreamkillers are even now waiting for my signal to surface – I’m doing it for sport.”

Bolan listened attentively and when his master ended, he had a thought that made him cautious of this venture. “What about Whitaker? From what you’ve told me, he has the ability to stop us,” he brought up. He was concerned at how Orion might take his prying.

Orion simply nodded. “Stop us, perhaps. Destroy us? I highly doubt he has that ability…or the nerve.” He stood up and walked away from the flames. Bolan instantly followed like an obedient dog. “I’m getting tired, Bolan.”

This was not what he had expected to hear. They stopped walking and turned to face one another; Orion towered above Bolan. “I’ve come to accept the fact that I might never get my bible back – that I may not enjoy the knowledge of Eden. I feel as if the fight is out of me these days,” Orion began and Bolan threw him an amazed expression which must have flattered Orion.

“After more than four hundred years, you’d probably start feeling the wear and tear, too.” He coughed out a chuckle and then turned and walked away from Bolan. This time, Bolan did not follow his master. Instead, he just stood pondering his own place in the larger scheme.

* * *

Frederick felt the disturbance just as Tracy felt the cold flame dancing on her palm. Cold fire. What does it mean? And then he sensed the nuns. How he was getting this clear sight, he had no idea. He was trying to see if she was still all right, and instead began channeling everything around her.

What he did not know was Tracy’s location. He saw that she was in some sort of stone cell – perhaps a castle or cave.

He cleared his thoughts for a moment to begin packing his suitcase once again but then a scream from Richard exploded in his head. The pain from Richard drove Frederick to the floor beside his bed. “Dear God,” he exclaimed through clenched teeth. He grabbed the bed skirt and squeezed it.

Who comes first? The one with cold fire or the one with the agonized scream? Frederick chose to find Richard first and aid him anyway he could. After all, they were at least in the same country.

Just as he had connected with Tracy, he had felt all the pain that Rick was enduring. Rick not only thought of his wife, the immediate source of the pain, but he also formed memories of a time long ago. Memories that Frederick remembered all too well. He saw Laura as clearly as if she were standing right in front of him in the flesh.

He had at one time thought that by giving Laura the book, the Whitaker curse might be broken. Laura would still be alive today if he had kept the damned book. Prophesies, however, have a funny way of unfolding. Laura may still be alive, but Tracy was destined to be a Dream Crusader. So, maybe Laura would have ended up fighting in the Great War.