Amulet of Doom by Bruce Coville Page B

there were a Coke bottle wedged in it.
    Then she heard the voice—the same rough voice she had heard before, first speaking through Brick, and then through Zenobia’s corpse.
    Only now it was whispering.
    And it was saying what she longed to say.
    Help!
    The word blossomed in her mind, where none of the others could hear it, and she thought her heart would break, for it sounded like nothing so much as the cry of a lost child.
    A teardrop trickled down the amulet.
    Help me , whispered the voice in her mind. Please, help me .
    Marilyn had never heard such sorrow, such longing. It made her think of a warm night the previous summer, when she had been lying in the grass behind her house, staring at the stars, and had suddenly started to weep because she wanted so desperately to reach out and touch them. She had actually raised her hands toward the sky, stretching toward the stars. But they were too far, hopelessly far away. She had felt very small then—small, and trapped, and infinitely sad.
    She had felt the way this voice sounded.
    Help me , it pleaded again.
    And for Marilyn, who was so softhearted she had been known to walk out of her way to avoid stepping on bugs, there was only one possible answer:
    â€œYes,” she whispered. “I’ll help you.”
    A flood of elation seemed to envelop her body. A pleasant warmth surrounded her.
    But somewhere in the distance she heard a horrible sound. After a moment she realized it was Kyle, screaming.
    â€œShe’s on fire! Help her, she’s on fire!”
    As the words pierced her consciousness, she became more aware of the heat around her.
    â€œMarilyn!”
    Zenobia’s voice was the final jolt. She tore her gaze from the amulet. Immediately all the screams that had been pent up in her from the time she first saw the eye came tearing out of her, propelled by a new horror.
    Her body was surrounded by leaping, crackling flames.
    Don’t be afraid , whispered the voice in her mind. I will keep you safe .
    The reassurance did no good. She buried her face in her hands and screamed over and over—until suddenly she realized that, despite the flame, she felt no pain at all.
    She was being held in arms of fire, arms that were enclosing her, taking her someplace she had never been before. Someplace where she was desperately needed.
    Are you ready? asked the voice.
    â€œYes,” she whispered, before she could even think of what she might be doing.
    The sense of heat increased.
    Now! cried the voice.
    Marilyn felt herself begin to fade.
    â€œGrab her!” cried Zenobia at the same instant.
    Marilyn whirled away from the others, saw them spin into the darkness. She felt a hand clutch at her heel. Then everything went black, and it seemed to stay that way for a long, long time.
    When Marilyn came to, she found herself lying on a cold, smooth floor. She brought herself to her knees and shook her head, trying to remember what had happened, how she had gotten here.
    She looked up. In the distance she could see windows—huge windows, so wide an eagle could fly through them without brushing its wings on either side.
    The amulet was still in her hand.
    She rolled over and whimpered, pulling her knees against her chest to make herself into a small ball.
    Where was she?
    She looked up again. How could the windows be so far away? How big was this place?
    And where was it?
    She noticed something and put her hand on the floor, next to her face. The smooth stone beneath her fingers was pitted and scorched, as if something incredibly caustic had fallen upon it.
    A cold wind blew over her. She shivered, huddling into herself for warmth.
    We’re here!
    She didn’t know if she was glad the voice was still with her or not.
    The thought was interrupted by a low moan from somewhere nearby.
    She turned in the direction of the sound.
    â€œKyle!”
    He lay sprawled on the floor about ten feet to her left. At the sound of her voice he shook his head