Charon's Crossing

"Matthew, what are you going to do?"

Soft laughter oozed from above them.

Yes, Matthew. What are you going to do? Are you going to face me, or are you too cowardly to confront someone again who is so obviously, in all respects, your better?

Matthew smiled grimly and looked up at the swollen door, pulsing with evil like an obscene, blood-engorged leech.

"It will be a pleasure to kill you again, Waring!"

"No!" Kathryn's voice was shrill with terror. "Matthew, please, I beg you..."

He caught her and kissed her hard on her parted lips.

"Go," he said, and he slipped from her hands, a sudden whirl of silver, streaking up towards the loathsome, swelling door. Kathryn cried out as a lipless mouth opened in the pulsing mass, stretching wider and wider.

"Matthew," she screamed...

The gaping mouth clamped shut.

And then there was only silence.

* * *

Matthew had ordered her to leave, but where would she go if he couldn't be there, too?

Kathryn stumbled back, her breathing ragged. Her legs wouldn't support her. She reached back, groping for the wall. Her hands found its cold, clammy surface and slowly, leaning against it, she sank down to the floor.

She waited. She had no idea how much time passed. All her senses were focused on the door while her imagination focused on what might be happening behind it.

She heard things, or thought she did. Distant sounds. The ring of steel. A man's voice, strident with the challenge of rage.

Then, when her fear had driven her almost to the edge of sanity, the door began to change. The grotesque light brightened, then flickered, then began to dim. The sickening pulsing motion lessened, then stopped.

At last, the door was just a door and when it was, the mist lifted, dissipating like fog over the sea. Sweet, clean air swept over the landing. Kathryn dragged it deep into her lungs. Then she rose to her feet, legs trembling, eyes still locked on the attic.

"Matthew," she whispered, "oh my love, please, please..."

A sob burst from her throat as he materialized before her. There was a cut high on his cheek, another on his bare shoulder, but he was whole and real and she flew towards him and hurled herself into his waiting arms. He held her tight, kissing her hair, her cheeks, her trembling mouth while he thought of what might have happened to her, and the more he thought, the more his rage grew until he suddenly thrust her from him and glared into her flushed face while his fingers bit deep into her shoulders.

"What in hell are you doing here?" he growled. "I told you to leave this place."

Kathryn smiled through her tears. "I know."

"You know. But you chose to disobey."

"Matthew..."

"Perhaps you'd like to tell me what you were doing on the attic stairs in the first place."

"I was looking for you." She reached out, her hand seeking his face, but he jerked his head back.

"You know the attic is a place of evil, dammit!"

"Yes, but Waring said—"

"Dammit, Kathryn, where is your head?"

Kathryn's chin lifted. "Stop shouting at me, Matthew. I know you're upset."