Page 110 of Eldritch

As he sprinted, she saw it in slow motion. No sound.

Another step and sounds had rushed into the void.

The trees rustling, the wind blowing, a traffic horn, a helicopter moving overhead. All returned.

Sybil snapped out of her memory in a blink.

Taggert, though, wasn’t reacting like the boy all those years ago.

Taggert’s mocking expression grew. “What’s a matter, Sybil? It’s one reason you need to come with me. You need to come back to Texas with me, where we both belong. You need to learn how a woman should treat a man.”

Oh, I know how you need to be treated.

Creak. Creak. Creak.

Sybil finally turned. She glanced up. As she’d seen more than once in this mansion, the light fixture moved back and forth. A slight sway that increased when she looked at it. It swung a little stronger. One swing. Two. Three.

Sybil observed the chandelier, listening to the small crystals hanging from it tinkling and sparkling, and she wondered if it would crash down at any moment.

A pulse throbbed in her temples as a headache threatened.

No.

The chandelier came to a stop. As if in suspended animation, none of the crystals moved. Not the slightest.

“Holy shit.” Taggert breathed the words out in a whisper. “Holy shit.”

“There’s nothing holy about it, young man,” Clarice said, her tone light. As if she spoke about a walk in the park or some other inconsequential event.

Sybil glanced at Doug. He remained on the couch, his body appearing almost too relaxed, and his expression formed into granite. His eyes were a chilling glacial pool, but he didn’t look at Sybil. Doug’s gaze centered on Taggert, although his left hand wasn’t too far from the backpack on the floor.

Don’t Doug. Don’t try to draw on him. Not now.

Sybil turned back to Clarice and Taggert.

“Son-of-a-bitch, did you see that?” Taggert asked, still staring at the chandelier. “That’s the freakiest shit I’ve seen in a long time.”

Taggert eased away from the door. Maybe he feared someone sneaking up on him from behind? He took a stance where he could easily see everyone, including Clarice.

What are you going to do? You can generally talk your way out of any situation and can run the proverbial circle around every threat. You’ve done it before.

Taggert swung his weapon toward Doug. His arm straightening as if he intended to take aim and fire.

“No,” Sybil whispered and took a step toward Doug.

“Sybil, don’t.” Doug’s voice snapped like a military command, and she stopped.

Taggert smiled again. He grunted. “Would you look at this? The bitch likes you. Well, I suspected that. That’s one reason I’m here. She’s going to pay for her treason.”

Ice formed around Sybil, and it chilled every sinew. Skin. Bone. A tremor ran through her. What did he plan to do?

Her imagination filled in holes and created each horrible thing Taggert planned for her. For Doug. She shoved the anxiety down far and deep, where it couldn’t cripple her ability to think.

“You wanna help me?” Taggert asked Doug, still aiming right at him. “I mean, if you just let me walk right out of here with Sybil, you’ll never see either of us again. I’ll leave you intact, this old lady and those other bitches upstairs.”

“No.” Doug’s voice was as rigid as his expression.

Taggert snorted. “All right. But it’s your funeral. I mean, I could walk out of here with Sybil anyway, couldn’t I? I could shoot you and be done with it. Then take her.”

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