Free Amulet of Doom by Bruce Coville Page B

had formed even as her image disappeared. And, it seemed to Marilyn, they left her no choice.
    â€œI’m counting on you,” she had said.
    Marilyn looked around at the empty room. Brick was still on her lap, but he had risen to his feet, and his back was arched like a cat in a Halloween picture. Suddenly she realized he had sunk his claws into her leg. She cried out in pain and swatted at him. He turned and hissed at her, then jumped off her lap and ran under the bed.
    She rubbed her leg, wondering how she had ignored the pain until now.
    Forget it , she ordered herself. You’ve got work to do .
    She slipped into her jeans and a sweatshirt, dug her sneakers from under the bed, then went to her nightstand and took out her flashlight.
    This was going to be dark work. She hoped she wouldn’t have an attack of her nightfrights.
    Glancing nervously around her room, she tried to convince herself to give up the whole crazy idea. But she had promised her aunt. And if she wanted to grow up to be the kind of person Zenobia had been, she couldn’t wimp out now.
    With a sigh, she stepped through the door.
    Save for the distant rumble of her father’s snoring, the house was quiet. She turned on her flashlight and walked carefully down the hallway, moving as silently as possible.
    A few moments later she stood on the front porch. She felt a twinge of sorrow as she remembered Zenobia standing there, smoking her cigar and telling outrageous stories.
    She started down the steps and almost tripped over Brick, who had slipped out the door with her.
    â€œWatch out, stupid,” she hissed as the cat wound himself between her feet. He bared his little teeth at her and bounded down the steps.
    The night was cooler now, and very still, except for the breeze, which continued to blow gently through the town, carrying the fragrance of a dozen different kinds of flowers that had come into bloom that week.
    The sky was clear, moonless but filled with glittering stars.
    It was almost too perfect and Marilyn felt a sudden surge of affection for this little corner of the world that she had so often found unbearably boring. After the last few days she was beginning to think that boring wasn’t such a bad thing.
    Looking around now at the simple, familiar surroundings, it was hard to believe she was on her way to a funeral home to steal an amulet from the chest of a corpse.
    Panic gripped her. She wanted to turn back.
    â€œI’m counting on you,” echoed a voice in her memory.
    She squared her shoulders and started down the walk.
    When she reached the corner, a figure glided from the shadows beneath one of the street’s old oak trees.
    Making no sound, it followed her into the night.

9
    MIDNIGHT MOVES
    Flannigan’s Funeral Home was some fifteen blocks from Marilyn’s house. Streetlamps stood at most of the corners, but there were patches of darkness in between. Marilyn focused on the pools of light and set them as goals while she walked through the dark areas. Her old fear of the dark kept trying to rise within, and her heart fluttered against her breastbone like a trapped bird.
    Just as she was beginning to think the trip would take forever, she reached the last block before Flannigan’s—at which point she realized she was actually going to arrive much too quickly for her taste. She suddenly wished the funeral home were still miles away.
    She glanced around and noticed a car traveling slowly in her direction. As she had twice before during the trip, Marilyn stepped back from the sidewalk. The people who roamed the streets at night frightened her.
    Hypocrite , she thought. You’re out roaming the streets, too . She smiled in spite of herself. Geez, given what I’m up to, whoever’s in that car is probably more normal than I am!
    She began to catalog the possibilities: a tired mother on her way home from her second shift job; some crazed party animal who lived by night; or (getting