Amulet of Doom by Bruce Coville Page A

stomach knotting in fear, she watched one corner of her pillow lift itself up, moving as if pulled by an invisible hand.
    Zenobia’s amulet came sliding out from under the pillow.
    The dream-Marilyn thrashed about on her bed, her sleep growing more restless.
    The amulet floated across the room. Then the door opened, and the amulet was gone.
    The scene of the dream changed abruptly, and she found herself in Zenobia’s room.
    Not merely in Zenobia’s room. She was in Zenobia, seeing through Zenobia’s eyes.
    Her heart—Zenobia’s heart—was pounding with terror.
    It was the same night. The night of Zenobia’s death.
    Zenobia, and Marilyn with her, sat in bed, waiting. Somehow she knew something dreadful was approaching.
    Before long, it arrived.
    As Marilyn/Zenobia watched, body rigid, hands clamped like vises against her thighs, the door swung slowly open. And now, looking through Zenobia’s eyes, Marilyn saw what she could not have seen with her eyes alone.
    She saw the creature that had taken the amulet.
    Skin crawling, she recoiled in horror from the monstrosity that approached the bed. It walked with a shuffling crouch, now like an ape, now like a man. Oddly, the claws of its feet made no sound on the hardwood floor.
    The amulet dangled from its scaly fingers.
    â€œTake it!” rasped the creature.
    He extended a scaly, four-clawed hand. The amulet, catching a fragment of light from a nearby streetlamp, glittered in the darkness of the room.
    â€œTake it!” he repeated. “You tried to thwart me, to hide it. It won’t work. Take the amulet—so you can give it to me!”
    Zenobia’s hand reached forward and snatched the amulet from the creature.
    â€œNow give it back!”
    Marilyn would never have believed her aunt could be so frightened. But then, she would never have believed the world contained anything this frightful.
    Zenobia’s body trembled like a leaf in the wind. The creature leaned over her, its eyes blazing.
    â€œGive me the amulet. Give it to me!”
    In her dream Marilyn could feel Zenobia’s heart—or was it her own?—pounding like a long-distance runner’s.
    The creature leaned closer. Its eyes were yellow and red, flickering like the fires of hell. Scaly skin, a dark red tinged with black, covered a body rippling with powerful muscles. Where its nose should have been were two pointed slits, a fringe of membrane rustling at their edges. Its snout jutted forward, curved fangs thrusting up from the lower jaw.
    Leaning over the bed, the creature placed a powerful arm on either side of Zenobia’s frail body, then said once more, “Give … me … the … amulet!”
    And if Marilyn had been amazed at how frightened her aunt had been, she was even more astonished now at her bravery. With terror coursing through her veins, with a living nightmare leaning over her demanding the amulet, she tightened her grip on the golden chain and said, simply but firmly: “No.”
    Fire leaped in the creature’s eyes. A look of rage contorted its hideous face.
    â€œThe amulet!” it roared. Its slash of a mouth drew open, and it lowered its face as though it were about to bite into Zenobia’s neck.
    Marilyn wanted to die.
    Zenobia did die. The terror was finally too much, and her heart simply stopped beating.

7
    GRAVE CONVERSATIONS
    With a cry of horror Marilyn wrenched herself out of the dream. She sat up in bed, her heart pounding. If that raging monster—jaws open, ready to bite—was the last thing Zenobia ever saw, then it was no wonder her face had been so twisted with fear.
    â€œNow you know what happened that night,” said a soft, familiar voice.
    Marilyn gasped as Zenobia shimmered into sight at the foot of her bed.
    â€œPlease!” said Zenobia, her voice desperate. “Please, Marilyn, don’t be frightened. I need your help. You have to get that amulet out of my