Read Online Ancient Eyes by David Niall Wilson - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: David Niall Wilson
Tags: Horror
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her gaze.
"What happened?" she asked.
"I had a nightmare," he answered. "It was worse than before, and not like anything I've ever experienced."
"Who was on the phone?" she asked, still not getting too close to him.
"I have no idea," he sighed. "Whoever it was didn't say a thing. It was probably just a wrong number, but I guess it freaked me out after waking up like that. I mean, who would call us at this hour?"
He saw from the way she watched him that she only half believed him. Abraham raised himself slowly, fluffed his pillow behind his back and held out his arms to her. She watched him for a moment, and then slid onto the bed and into his arms. Once they made contact, she was suddenly pressed tightly to his side, and he curled her into a tight embrace. Her hair tickled his nose and chin, and he buried his face in it. They stayed that way a long time, then, very suddenly, she pulled back—not out of his embrace, but far enough to pound her fist hard on his chest. She hit him again and was rearing back for a third shot when he grabbed her wrist and stopped her.
"You promised," she said. Her voice was hoarse, and he knew she was fighting back tears. "You promised you would never keep secrets from me, but you are. These dreams—that letter that came today—the phone call. You know what all of it is about."
She wasn't asking, and Abe knew better than to try and slip past her guard. He nodded slowly.
"I'm not sure where to start," he said. "I've never talked to anyone about any of this, and I thought I'd left it all far enough behind me that I'd never have to. It isn't that I was keeping secrets, Kat," he stroked her hair and pulled her close again, though she was a little stiffer in his arms, particularly at this last. He continued as if he hadn't noticed, determined to get through it now that he'd started. "It's that I hoped it would just go away, like the bad dreams. And it did, even the dreams were gone, but now they're back."
Abe reached down and lifted the leather thong with its dangling, equal-armed cross pendant. He fingered it absently, and feeling the motion, Katrina glanced up and watched him.
"Your father gave you that," she said.
Abe nodded. "This and a lot of other things, including some that I didn't want. He gave me the dreams, and unless I'm wrong about all of this, it's because of him that it's all come back to haunt me now."
"But," Kat lifted her head from his chest and stared at him, "you told me your father was dead."
"He is," Abe nodded, still fingering the medallion. "He died before I left the mountain. My mother is still there." He hesitated, still staring at the medallion and turning it over and over in his hands. "I wasn't sure of that until I got the letter."
He held the small cross still, its rough, hand-molded contours catching the light from the bedside lamp and glittering softly. Abe turned to face Kat.
"My father wore this until the day he died. My mother gave it to me after his funeral. She told me he wanted me to have it—that I needed it, but she didn't tell me why. Not then. In fact, she didn't tell me until just before I left the mountain for good."
"You shouldn't have to have a reason for owning something of your father's," she chided him softly.
"I have other things of my father's," Abe replied. "This isn't a gift, it's an anchor. It's like wearing a big psychic weight around my neck, and every time I turn in any direction but toward that mountain, I feel it drawing me back. I've taken it off dozens of times. I even had it in an envelope once, ready to mail it to her and forget about it forever, but something always happened to distract me, or to change my mind. In the early days, holding this and praying was the only way I could escape the dreams."
"You've never been back?" she asked. "You haven't called and talked to your mother?"
"There are only about half a dozen phones on the entire mountain," he laughed. "My mother would have no way to
"What happened?" she asked.
"I had a nightmare," he answered. "It was worse than before, and not like anything I've ever experienced."
"Who was on the phone?" she asked, still not getting too close to him.
"I have no idea," he sighed. "Whoever it was didn't say a thing. It was probably just a wrong number, but I guess it freaked me out after waking up like that. I mean, who would call us at this hour?"
He saw from the way she watched him that she only half believed him. Abraham raised himself slowly, fluffed his pillow behind his back and held out his arms to her. She watched him for a moment, and then slid onto the bed and into his arms. Once they made contact, she was suddenly pressed tightly to his side, and he curled her into a tight embrace. Her hair tickled his nose and chin, and he buried his face in it. They stayed that way a long time, then, very suddenly, she pulled back—not out of his embrace, but far enough to pound her fist hard on his chest. She hit him again and was rearing back for a third shot when he grabbed her wrist and stopped her.
"You promised," she said. Her voice was hoarse, and he knew she was fighting back tears. "You promised you would never keep secrets from me, but you are. These dreams—that letter that came today—the phone call. You know what all of it is about."
She wasn't asking, and Abe knew better than to try and slip past her guard. He nodded slowly.
"I'm not sure where to start," he said. "I've never talked to anyone about any of this, and I thought I'd left it all far enough behind me that I'd never have to. It isn't that I was keeping secrets, Kat," he stroked her hair and pulled her close again, though she was a little stiffer in his arms, particularly at this last. He continued as if he hadn't noticed, determined to get through it now that he'd started. "It's that I hoped it would just go away, like the bad dreams. And it did, even the dreams were gone, but now they're back."
Abe reached down and lifted the leather thong with its dangling, equal-armed cross pendant. He fingered it absently, and feeling the motion, Katrina glanced up and watched him.
"Your father gave you that," she said.
Abe nodded. "This and a lot of other things, including some that I didn't want. He gave me the dreams, and unless I'm wrong about all of this, it's because of him that it's all come back to haunt me now."
"But," Kat lifted her head from his chest and stared at him, "you told me your father was dead."
"He is," Abe nodded, still fingering the medallion. "He died before I left the mountain. My mother is still there." He hesitated, still staring at the medallion and turning it over and over in his hands. "I wasn't sure of that until I got the letter."
He held the small cross still, its rough, hand-molded contours catching the light from the bedside lamp and glittering softly. Abe turned to face Kat.
"My father wore this until the day he died. My mother gave it to me after his funeral. She told me he wanted me to have it—that I needed it, but she didn't tell me why. Not then. In fact, she didn't tell me until just before I left the mountain for good."
"You shouldn't have to have a reason for owning something of your father's," she chided him softly.
"I have other things of my father's," Abe replied. "This isn't a gift, it's an anchor. It's like wearing a big psychic weight around my neck, and every time I turn in any direction but toward that mountain, I feel it drawing me back. I've taken it off dozens of times. I even had it in an envelope once, ready to mail it to her and forget about it forever, but something always happened to distract me, or to change my mind. In the early days, holding this and praying was the only way I could escape the dreams."
"You've never been back?" she asked. "You haven't called and talked to your mother?"
"There are only about half a dozen phones on the entire mountain," he laughed. "My mother would have no way to
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