Amulet of Doom Read Online Free PDF Page B

news to Zenobia. Finally she took a deep breath and headed into the hallway. She had her flashlight in one hand, and Brick tucked under her arm. She was taking the cat along for comfort. She would have preferred to have taken him for protection , but she was well aware he would be useless in any kind of emergency.
    The floor was cold. She wished she had thought to put on slippers.
    The silence seemed to beat at her. It was the silence of an old house, filled with memories, filled with the days and nights of the people who had lived here, a silence that was not quite silence, and not quite safe. At least, that was how it seemed to Marilyn in her overwrought condition.
    She reached Zenobia’s door and knocked softly, then waited, shifting nervously from one foot to the other.
    No answer.
    She knocked again.
    Still no answer.
    â€œAunt Zenobia?”
    She knocked a third time, more loudly still, then dropped Brick to the floor and gently turned the knob.
    The cat let out a bloodcurdling yowl and disappeared down the hallway. Marilyn jumped, almost dropping the flashlight, and cursed under her breath.
    â€œAunt Zenobia!” she hissed. “It’s me—Marilyn. I have to talk to you.”
    Still no answer. She pushed the door open a little farther and shone her light into the room. The feeble beam fell on something that gleamed a dull yellow—a golden chain. Shifting the flashlight just slightly, she felt relief surge through her. The amulet was dangling from Zenobia’s fingers, its great central jewel sparkling in the beam of the flashlight. Zenobia must have come into her room while she slept and retrieved the thing.
    But why?
    â€œAunt Zenobia?”
    She stepped into the room, overcome with curiosity. Her aunt had been willing to wake her the night before. Surely she would not complain if Marilyn did the same thing now.
    â€œAunt Zenobia!” she said more loudly. At the same time she moved the beam of her flashlight up the bed.
    It clattered to the floor, and she clasped her hands over her mouth as a wave of cold horror flooded her body. She felt herself sway. Afraid she was going to faint, she dropped to her knees and leaned forward, resting her forehead against the floor.
    For a long time she could not force herself to move.
    That Zenobia was dead there was no question. But Marilyn had seen dead people before. The sight, while unpleasant, was not enough to drive her to her knees.
    Part of what was hitting her so hard right now was shock, of course. But beyond that, and far more appalling than death itself, was the rictus of fear that had contorted Zenobia’s face in her last moments. It was her open, staring eyes and what could only be a scream of horror frozen on her face that made Marilyn’s insides churn.
    How long she stayed that way, her body quaking, her head pressed against the floor, she could not have said.
    What finally forced her to move was the tiniest bit of doubt. What if her aunt was not dead? What if she had had a heart attack and was still alive, just barely, needing help, needing someone …
    Marilyn forced herself to raise her head from the floor. Zenobia’s arm, dangling over the edge of the bed, the golden chain of the amulet tangled in her fingers, was close enough to touch.
    Slowly she reached forward.
    The flesh of the wrist was still warm.
    But there was not the slightest sign of a pulse.
    Marilyn was silent for a moment, grief engulfing her. She couldn’t bear to look at her aunt. But the image of that contorted face, glimpsed during one brief instant of horror, still burned in her mind.
    She leaned her face against Zenobia’s hand and wept.
    Her tears fell on the amulet. When they touched it, a rough voice, seeming to come from nowhere, growled, “Give that amulet to me!”
    Then, even more terrifying, Marilyn felt her aunt’s fingers tighten around the mysterious ornament. At the same time she sensed power in the room, a crackle