The Amulet of Power - Mike Resnick [108]
She tried to get up, but he threw himself on her and began pummeling her with both hands.
It hurts! she thought, surprised. I thought I was invulnerable.
You are immortal, said the voice within her head. You cannot be killed, but that is all.
“Great!” she muttered. “So I could spend the next five thousand years in a wheelchair!” And if Malcolm hadn’t aimed those shots at vital areas, I’d have three bullet wounds now.
She tried to push Oliver off, but he was fighting with an energy born of madness, and he kept smashing his fists into her, right, left, right, left.
And then, suddenly, he was lifted high in the air and hurled against a wall of the tiny church.
Lara got to her feet and saw three of the huge, shambling sand creatures, the same that she had seen in the desert, approaching Oliver. He seemed to come out of his madness as they closed in on him, and began screaming in terror.
Two of the sand creatures grabbed his arms, and the third reached out a huge hand and closed it around his head. They each pulled, and his arms and head came away from his body.
Lara turned away in disgust, then realized that she was alone in the church with three supernatural beings that had just killed her friend. She looked to the door, but one of the creatures stood directly in front of it. There was only one window, and it was too small and too high for her to climb through it before they caught her.
She knew from past experience that bullets wouldn’t stop the creatures. Maybe the wind might, but there was no wind inside the church. She had once thought water would be effective against them, but there wasn’t any water either.
The three sand creatures approached to within ten feet of her, then eight, then five.
She pulled the Scalpel of Isis out of her boot, prepared to sell her life as dearly as possible.
“Come on!” she grated. “I’m ready for you!”
But instead of attacking her, the three creatures knelt down in front of her.
They are the Servants of the Amulet, said a voice deep inside her head. As they did with this man, so will they do with all our enemies.
“There are a lot of Mahdists the world could do without,” she said softly. “Not to mention the Silent Ones.” And then, she added mentally, we’ll go after the murderers, the rapists, the child molesters. Then the terrorist states. And then . . .
“Hold everything!” she said aloud. “You’ve got me thinking like you now!”
We are bound together, you and I. My power is your power. My servants are your servants, bound to do your bidding.
“Wait a minute,” said Lara slowly. “Are you saying that I could have called these creatures off before they killed poor Malcolm?”
Yes.
“I could have saved him,” she said dully. “He didn’t bargain on being exposed to your power. He only came along to protect me, and that’s what he got for his trouble. And now I’m deciding which thousand of my enemies to kill first! Omar was right—no one can help being corrupted by you!”
She held the Amulet up and began uttering the eight words Omar had given to her.
NO! cried the silent voice.
By the fifth word, the sand creatures were rushing toward her, reaching out for the Amulet, but she dove behind the altar and got the last three words out just as one of the creatures’ hand was inches from her face.
And suddenly the creatures were gone, replaced by three piles of sand, and in her hand, instead of the Amulet, was a fistful of ashes—and as she stared at them, even the ashes vanished.
Then came the onerous task of burying what was left of Malcolm Oliver. She dug a shallow grave with her hands, and tried not to retch as she put the various parts into it. After she had covered it up, she took the cross from the back wall of the church and planted it on the fresh mound of earth.
I’ve had it, she