CHAPTER 11

Paul came into the studio in an unusually cheerful mood. Unusual, as recording a new album was something he was known to take an almost stone-cold attitude towards. Recording taxed his abilities and he accepted it as the most difficult part of his job. It was a controlled, tedious process, but he welcomed the pressure. It was a chance to have control of a project and shape it the way he saw fit. To do so, he had to concentrate and take the work as seriously as possible. Otherwise, if the atmosphrere became to relaxed, the work was undermined and would not be at the peak of performance as it should have been. Let the fans have the fun listening to the album, Paul thought, but let the band be dead serious in getting that fun across on the albums.

So, to see Paul walking into the studio with a smile on his face and humming to himself was almost odd to those who saw him that day. Yet, he had his reasons. Today was going to be the first day for the four members to get back together after too many months apart working on their solo albums and the movie. Now it was time to get back into the studio and see how the changes over the past few months had affected their styles and creative ideas.

It was just the thought alone of being able to bring new ideas into the band for the new album that excited Paul, and for once he was willing to share that thought with the people around him as he entered a corridor leading to one of the recording booths.

"You can trust your car," he sang audibly as he walked down the hall, "to the man who wears the --"

"Paul," a voice called from behind him.

"What?" He turned and saw Gene, leaning against the corridor's wall.

"Where are you going? We've got an interview to do in the 'yak-box'." Gene gestured toward a plain door across the hallway.

Paul's cheerfulness broke like a sudden cloudburst. He sighed, letting the jacket he had draped over his shoulder fall to the floor. He had forgotten about the interview, and knowing that he would have to wait before hitting the recording studio and getting to work was disappointing to him. Still, as Paul considered it, the interview was to be the last major interview the band would have to do before they really kicked into the sessions for the new album. It was enough to bring some of the sunshine back into Paul's personality. Yet, only a little.

"Sorry. Forgot," Paul mumbled as he turned and followed Gene into the small room. It was a room that had once been considered as an additional office for one of the regular mixers at the studio, but when it was completed none of the employees or regulars would use it due to the size of the room. At the most it could contain one desk, two chairs, a file cabinet and a potted plant -- People optional. Anyone who saw the room normally just shook their head and walked away. For awhile, after there were no takers, the room was used for storage, but even then, there was nothing to store in the room due to its size. Also, with the furnace for the building right behind the room, the heat in the room made it a extremely poor place to store anything of recordable value anyway.

It was finally decided after much yelling and screaming that the room would be used for small meetings or interviews with the musicians done on the premises. The thinking was that, with the uncomfortable nature of the room with its size and the heat, that any meeting would be handled as quickly as possible and everyone would be able to get back to work instead of letting a meeting get out of control and have it turn into a party of some sort, as some meetings in the entertainment industry were apt to do.

It was this room that Paul and Gene walked into, only to find that Ace and Peter were seated at the small table in the room with a woman who was taking notes on a small pad. Although both musicians seemed slightly bored, they were answering her questions at a steady pace, aware that she wrote for one of the major monthly rock magazines. A good notice in it was good for them and good for business as well. Even Ace and Peter knew that it was not a time to get too crazy, for there would be plenty of time for that later on.

The woman was dressed rather conservatively, considering the reputation of the magazine which had sent her to do the interview, but the did not detract from her undeniably beautiful face. That face, and the fact that she was obviously no more than 24 or 25, held the interest of those being interviewed, as her appearance held a bewitching spell over men that none of them could quite explain.

Gene and Paul grabbed the only other chairs in the room and sat down. After some small talk and formal introductions, Paul spoke.

"Sorry about being late, Miss . . . ?"

Paul paused and felt a wave of foolishness come over him. Two seconds after sitting down and he had already forgotten her name.

"Lisa Jameson, but just call me Lisa. It looks better on the written page." She smiled at Paul, who nodded his head in affirmation. Peter's eyes rolled upward. Ace yawned and stretched his legs, knocking them into Gene's legs under the table. Rubbing his shins from Ace's direct hit, Gene cleared his throat to bring the interview back to order.

"Where were we?" Gene asked innocently.

"Detroit," Peter said. No one responded.

"Well," Ace said, leaning back toward the table. "As a matter of fact, she was asking about this."

He casually tossed his Talisman on the table. It skipped a couple of times and came to rest in front of Lisa.

Paul was too busy staring at the interviewer, but Gene spoke immediately.

"Why are you showing her that?" After asking the question, Gene reeled in his emotions and shot a glance at the woman before lowering his voice. "I mean, it's only a prop from the movie . . . ."

"Yeah," Ace replied. "She'd seen it in the movie and was curious. I just 'happened' to have mine around."

"It's not his fault." Peter came to his friend's defense.

"It's my fault," Lisa said, watching Gene's reaction closely. "I've always had a fondness for talismans, occult objects, things of that nature. It's always been a fascinating subject for me, and when I saw the movie. . .. well, it just caught my interest. I mean, to use such a powerful idea as talismans in a kid's program is very unusual."

Ace gave Gene a look that said "so there."

Gene ignored Ace. "Well, Ms. Jameson, first off, it's not a kid's program. It was a full-length feature film that will be playing in theaters around the world. And, secondly, I'm glad you liked the talisman concept, but it was only a dramatic device used to explain the origin of the four characters' powers. That's it. No black magic or anything like that."

Peter saw where Gene was headed. "Yeah, in fact, we were going on the idea that the Talismans were actually from some kind of space-guy, you know."

"Yeah," Ace agreed, "with sunglasses and --"

Paul spoke rapidly to cut Ace off. "So, talismans are an interest of yours?"

"Definitely." Lisa smiled sweetly and Paul felt as if a hot knife had sliced through his mind as her eyes made contact with his. "I've always felt that such objects are real. In fact, in the example of the NECRONOMICON, there are nine different talisman that, when collected, form one that can be used to summon the powers of the Elder gods. And when . . ."

The four musicians listened with rapt attention. She saw their intense stares and blushed slightly.

"But let's get back tot he interview, shall we?"

Paul wanted to stay on the subject of the talisman -- although he knew better. For some reasons he felt compelled to talk about them with Lisa. He pulled his own small silver star from his pants' pocket. "As a matter of fact, I have my talisman from the movie, too. Since the filming, I've used it as jewelry."

He handed the object to Lisa. A gleam appeared in her eyes, but quickly disappeared.

"This is very beautiful," she whispered.

Gene was anxious to get on with the interview. "Anyhow . . ."

"Oh, yes." She turned back tot he table. "Um . . . can you please wait a minute? I seemed to have left my cassette recorder in the car, and I want to use it for the remainder of the interview since you are all here now."

"Yeah, okay." Paul said, a wave of emotion flooding through him as he looked at her.

Gene parted his hands in a show of reluctant obligment and leaned back in his chair slightly.

As Lisa got up, Ace stood up and tried to maneuver around Gene so that he could hold the door open for Lisa as she walked out.

"I'll be right back."

"We'll be right here," Ace crackled as Lisa walked out. Ace closed the door and sat back down next to Peter.

Peter looked at Ace for a couple of moments.

"That's the best you could come up with, Ace? 'We'll be right here?'"

Ace knew Peter meant his comment as a put-down. "Hey, I was just trying to be nice. Nothing wrong with that."

There was silence in the room. At least, no one was speaking to the others in the room. Peter, however, was making noise by fidgeting in his seat. He mumbled something, but it came out more like a growl than words. Gene looked at him.

"What did you say?"

"I said that I don't like her. She was taking too much interest in the Talismans, if you ask me. I just have this gut feeling about her."

"Ah," Gene smiled, "she's just some flake. I mean, can you believe her with that story about the NECRONOMICON? Anyone that reads that piece of junk knows it's just some stuff put together by some guys who wanted to make some money off of some of the gullibles out there. She can't be serious about that."

"I don't know anything about that, Gene. I just know what I feel." Peter began tapping his fingers on the table as he spoke.

"You're just jealous 'coz she's got a thing for Paul. Right, Paul?"

Gene glanced over at Paul and his smile faded.

Ace was slumped over in his chair, and Paul's eyes were becoming glassy as the eyelids closed -- although it was obvious to Gene that Paul was trying to fight the physical movement. Gene leaned over the table and looked into Paul's eyes.

"What's wrong?"

Paul was having a hard time collecting his thoughts. "The Talismans . . . power draining . . . I can't explain . . . ."

Peter leaped out of his chair so violently that the chair bounced up into the air with him, hit the wall behind him and banged into the back of his legs.

"The Talismans! Ace's and Paul's Talismans are gone!"

Gene's face grew savage as he raced from the room to the lobby of the studio. He stopped as he hit the sidewalk outside, Peter almost colliding into the back of him. They watched as Lisa pulled out of the parking lot. She smiled and waved, the Talismans in her hand.

Peter ran toward the vehicle and lept into the air. He landed on all fours in the gravel along the side of the main road as the car sped away, missing him by inches. Gene rushed over to Peter's side as the girl disappeared around the corner.

"Ouch. Ouch. Pain. Pain," Peter muttered as he picked the sharp pieces of gravel from his palms. He looked up at Gene. "I'm not used to doing things like that."

Gene stared down the street, his fists clenched.

They hurried back tot he studio and reentered the reception area. A small brunette girl sat behind an office desk. Gene addressed her.

"Excuse me, the interviewer who just left . . . ?"

"What?" the girl asked, confused.

"Do you know anything about the woman who just left?" Gene asked, his voice rising.

"N-no . . ." the girl answered nervously.

"Did she give a home address?" Gene was becoming impatient, and the girl was frightened by his menacing glare.

"I-I don't know who you're talking about."

"She had to check in! I'm talking about the interviewer from --"

"Forget it, Gene," Peter said quietly.

"Why?" Gene turned and stared at Peter.

"It's just like what happened with Deveraux. She doesn't remember."

Gene sneered at the shaken receptionist for a moment, then turned and slowly walked back down the hall.

"Damn."

* * *

It was two hours before Ace and Paul recovered. Both still felt as though they were going to be sick at any moment. They were still in the interview room, the studio-day blown. Paul was trying to explain what happened.

"I don't know," he said. "When she looked at me, I couldn't think. Like she was hypnotizing me."

"Yeah," Ace exclaimed. "I felt the same thing!"

Gene nodded. "Which is why you gave her the Talismans. She wanted you to. She just made the suggestion in such a way that you did not take any notice of it. Neither did we, for that matter."

Peter looked over at Paul. "But how? Your powers should have been able to counter hers."

"I was confused, Peter. I've never had anyone use that sort of things against me before. I didn't know how to defend myself."

Gene was disgusted. "That's because none of us know how to really use these powers. It's all guesswork. The only thing I can figure out is that the powers were -- are -- still active within us and, once the Talismans were gone, we reacted as if we had suddenly lost a lot of physical strength."

"Great, just great." Paul felt the same way as Gene, although for a different reason. "So now you're saying that we're having withdrawal symptoms? Like we're junkies? Another nice trait to have with these stupid Talismans."

Ace felt insulted by Paul's remark. "Hey, the guy gave us these powers to help out mankind."

"Yeah?" Paul almost laughed. "How? He didn't tell us what to do with them, what they were for, who we are to protect or even how to turn the powers on. A lot of good he did."

"Look," Peter spoke up to try and regain some order to the conversation. "This is getting us nowhere. There's no point in yelling about it. We've got to get those Talismans back. If we don't, who knows what she and whoever she's working for can do with them."

"How, Peter?" Gene inquired. "We don't know who she is or where she's from."

"What about the magazine," Paul asked. "Don't they --"

"I already called them. Never heard of her."

"Uh, guys," Peter mumbled.

"And I doubt Jameson is her real name," Gene continued.

"Guys?" Peter was holding up a white business card and smiling. "I thought you might be interested in this. There was a whole stack of them in her purse, and I snatched one while she wasn't looking."

He started to hand the card to Paul, but Gene grabbed it.

"Go ahead, Gene. I didn't want to see it," Paul said curtly.

Gene ignored him and read the card out loud. "Mary J. Robinson, designer. Apartments decorated. Houses restyled. In the business of turning heads. Business address . . . home address . . . ."

Gene raised his eyebrows and glowered at the smiling Peter. "Why didn't you show us this before?"

Peter realized his band mate was not happy. "I'm sorry. I was worried about Ace and Paul, and it slipped my mind . . . . Jeez."

"Sorry," Gene said, not too convincingly.

"Well," Paul interjected. "Shall we go?"

"Yeah!" Ace stood up and curled his right hand into a hitch-hiker's position.

Nothing happened.

"Uh, let's grab a cab," he muttered as he walked slowly out of the home.

* * *

Night had already fallen as they stood in the shadows outside the Manhattan high-rise where Miss Robinson lived. Ace stepped into the light of a street lamp and placed his hands on his hips.

"Okay, men. Now what?"

Gene spoke, a dark metallic voice filling the blackness where the shadows of the night covered his features.

"Peter and I will go in ahead of you two, just to be on the safe side."

Peter turned to Gene, his head tilted slightly as if to catch any sounds that would warn him of danger. "Hey, c'mon. It's an apartment building. Expecting the maintenance man to give us a fight?"

"I don't know what to expect," Gene sighed. "If she had enough power to control Paul and Ace, who knows what else she can do."

Peter agreed by staying silent and moving towards the building.

Following Peter's move up the front steps, Gene was first at the building's doors and moved quietly to the inside staircase. Paul looked up to say something and saw that, now in the light, Gene's demon makeup had appeared on his face. Startled, he turned to Peter and saw the same thing had happened to him. The image of the makeup with their normal street clothes would have been almost comical if Paul had not known that less than two minutes before no makeup had been on the two members' faces.

"Peter?"

"What?"

" . . . Nothing."

They climbed the stairs to the seventh floor, Peter and Gene padding silently to the door of Mary Robinson's apartment. Gene stood to one side as Peter knelt in front of the door and looked up.

"Do we knock?"

Before the question could be answered, the door clicked and slowly swung open. Peter scurried over to the wall and motioned for Paul and Ace to come forward. They left the staircase and approached quietly as Gene started toward the entrance.

"It could be a trap," Paul whispered.

Gene turned back, an evil grin on his face.

"Good."

Gene entered the room and froze as the lights suddenly came on. He gazed around and saw a huge room filled with antiques and paintings that were probably worth a fortune. There was also a brightly lit hallway at the far right-hand corner of the room that lead back into the apartment. The others followed him into the apartment.

"Nice place," Ace said.

"I don't like this," Peter growled. His body was tensed to explode at the slightest provocation.

"Is she here?" Paul asked Gene.

"I don't know," he answered, still studying his surroundings.

"Are the Talismans here?" Ace asked.

"They are," Paul said. "I can feel them. They're calling." He moved across the carpet in a trance.

Ace followed him nervously. "Be careful, Paul. We're still not sure --"

"They're in here." Paul pointed into the room at the end of the hallway. He stepped in the hall and towards the room as Ace tugged on his sleeve to hold him back.

"Paul!" Ace said as they entered the room together. "Snap out of it!"

The door slammed behind them, and the room went black.

Gene and Peter started toward the room, then heard the front door slam as well. When they turned, they saw Robinson standing against the door. She was wearing the same clothes as from earlier in the day, but her face had changed. A bizarre conglomeration of Ace's and Paul's makeup designs now covered her pretty features. She began laughing as they stared in disbelief.

"Ouch!" Ace yelped, feeling his way along one wall of the room. "Darn it! There's got to be a light switch around here somewhere. Ah!"

He pulled the switch and light flooded the room. "Now, where are the Talismans, Paul?"

Ace saw Paul standing in the middle of the room. Besides the two of them, there was nothing else in the room except a small safe that Paul was standing in front of. On the floor of the room was a strange painted symbol, encircling the safe and Paul.

"So," Robinson said, her voice taking on a disconcerting quality, as if two people were speaking in unison. "You want to do a follow-up on the interview?"

"Why are you doing this?" Peter asked. With Gene slightly pushing on Peter's shoulder, the two split up and began circling the room, approaching the woman slowly.

"Why?" she laughed. "Because you do not deserve this. You don't understand the powers inside you. I understand. I can control them. I can control more than one, in fact. Just as I told them I could! And with the Talismans I can control Blackwell! I can control the Elder!"

"What are you talking about?" Gene said as he moved ever more closely.

Although Robinson noticed their movements, she did nothing to protect her position. "You don't understand because you are ignorant of the powers! I shall prove myself to my leader, and when he does not expect it, I will destroy him!"

Peter lept toward her. A dark light shot from her both her eyes and struck him down. He crashed into a glass coffee table as Gene looked on silently.

"And I will destroy you as a gift to him," she hissed.

"Paul, snap out of it, will you?"

Ace shook Paul's shoulders violently. Finally, Paul's eyes focused on Ace.

"What happened," Paul stumbled on the word, confused.

"Man, it was weird! It's like you were drawn to this room. And when we got inside the door closed. We can't get out."

Paul looked down at the safe. Ace followed his gaze. "Are the Talismans . . . ?"

". . . in there?" Paul finished. "Yes."

Peter rose from amidst the wreckage as Gene spoke.

"You'll never win," he said coldly. His words cut through he silence like a knife.

"You forget, Demon . . . ." Her voice fluttered on the last word. "I have the power of two of the Talismans. Nothing can stop me. Certainly not you and that animal."

Peer snarled as he got to his feet.

"And then I'll have the pleasure of cutting your friends' throats at my leisure," she purred.

"Never!" Peter ran toward her and again, the dark beams caught him full force, knocking him to the floor.

Robinson felt a hand on her shoulder and spun around to see Gene looming over her. A small stream of blood oozed from between his lips as he bared his teeth. His right hand curled into a fist and drew back.

"You should have been paying attention, Miss Robinson."

Peter shook his head and looked up, only to duck his head in order to miss the flying figure of Robinson. With a thud she crumpled to the floor near the bewildered Peter.

As she struggled to stand, Gene stomped toward her.

"Gene?" Peter raised a hand to get Gene's attention, which went unnoticed.

"Gene!"

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

Ace had his ear against the safe's door, his right hand turning the combination lock as he listened.

"Hey, c'mon!" He grinned as he held up his hands for inspection. "With these hands, I could -- dare I say it? -- rule the world!"

He crackled as Paul lowered his head.

"Hoo boy. Sorry I asked," Paul mumbled as Ace began humming the theme from MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE.

"Gene?" Peter gasped, crawling out of the pieces of broken furniture. "Is she alright?"

Gene stopped, turning to Peter and looking at him as if it was for the very first time in his life. "Alright? She threatens our lives and you ask if she's alright?"

Suddenly, his legs were kicked out from under him and he landed with a crack as his head hit the corner of a table. His eyes focused on Robinson's shadowy figure above him, blood dripped from her face onto Gene's clothes.

"You should have been paying attention, Mr. Simmons."

As she brought her hands forward, two fiery lazers blasted Gene's body.

"What the Hell was that?" Paul left Ace's side and stared at the door.

"Can't you tell?" Ace said, still fiddling with the safe's combination. "There's a fight going on in the next room."

"How do you know?"

"Let's say I have a hunch."

Paul moved back to Ace and crouched next to him. He pounded his fist against the safe, rattling Ace with the noise.

"Well, hurry it up. We need to get out there and help them."

Ace paused for a moment, sticking a finger in his ear as if to poke the deafening noise from Paul's fist out of his head. "What are you worried about? Gene and Peter still have their powers. They've gotta have whoever it is on the run. Right?"

Paul shook his head.

"That was Gene screaming."

She could feel the power as it flowed through her fingers and caused Gene's body to shudder intensely on the ground. She could feel him dying at her feet.

So absorbed was she in her ecstasy that she did not see the Cat stalking toward her. Approaching cautiously this time, Peter suddenly and swiftly kicked his boot into her face.

The force of the blow knocked her backward, but she recovered and flipped into the air, landing unsteadily on her feet. Peter was on her immediately, driving his boot into her stomach and grabbing her hair as she doubled over in pain.

In doing so, she could feel a force in her head. The terror. The gnawing in the pit of her stomach as well as in her mind. The power that had fed through her hands just a few seconds ago was now leaving her exhausted. She was losing. She was lost.

"No!" she screamed, wrenching free of Peter's grip. He clutched her left shoulder, his fingers digging into her skin. She raised her right hand and screamed again.

"NO!"

Power surged through her open palm and hit Peter squarely in the chest. His body was flung through the air as he and Robinson cried out in unison.

Waiting for the impact that was to follow, Peter landed on a pure white couch in the room with barely a sound.

"W-what?" he stammered quietly. She must of done something wrong, he thought. The jolt should have hit him hard enough to knock him through a wall, but it was as though she was holding back . . . or losing power.

He spotted her huddling in the corner of the room, blood flowing from the open wound on her shoulder. At the moment was when he noticed the warm, wet sensation in his hand.

He did not want to look down. He knew what he would find, and he did not want to see it. Yet, his eyes were drawn to it. He stared.

" . . . oh my god . . . ."

Crimson liquid smeared the snow white upholstery beneath his fingers.

"I think I got it," Ace said, leaning back and tugging on the handle of the safe.

The door creaked open and the two men peered inside. The Talismans lay there, softly glowing and pulsing.

"Mr. Frehley," Paul said with a smile, "go to the head of the class."

Peter sat motionless, staring at his hands with fear and repulsion. He could hear Gene's heavy footsteps as Gene got to his feet and headed for Robinson.

" . . . it is lost . . . ." Robinson muttered, rolling herself in a ball. She held her wounded shoulder, trying to control the pain. "It's all gone . . . ."

"Why you slimy piece of --" Gene sneered, reaching down and grabbing her by the throat.

Peter looked up and saw Gene lifting the woman with one hand. She did not struggle.

"Gene! Stop!"

"You're not stopping me this time, Cat!"

Gene began to tighten his grip. There was a slight release of air from her throat that blew against Gene's face. Gene's expression grew darker from the personal touch of her breath and he spat blood in her face.

Peter jumped up from the couch and ran to Gene's side.

"Stop, man! You'll kill her!"

"That's what she wanted for us. An eye for an eye!"

"Gene, she's not responding! She's giving up! It's over!" Peter's voice was pleading, his eyes ping-ponging back and forth between Gene and Robinson.

Gene chuckled.

Peter reached up and ripped Gene's hand away from Robinson. The woman fell to the floor as Peter grabbed the surprised Gene by the shirt and flung him against a wall.

"Goddammit, Gene! I said, STOP!"

No one moved. Robinson had once again curled into a fetal position and was murmuring to herself.

Peter searched for the right words. "Gene . . . I . . . I . . . ."

The moment had been lost, and Peter could not find the words to say. Instead, he felt sick. He could still feel the anger, the frustration. He knew. If the situation had been reversed, he would have shared Gene's blood lust. He would have been driven to repay Robinson with the same fate she had intended for him. Knowing this, Peter felt betrayal. Not to the Talismans, or to the group, or even Gene.

"P-Peter?" Gene asked.

Gene was cut off from saying anything further as a bluish-white glow filled the room. The two men watched in silence as Robinson was enveloped and disappeared in the glow just as several had done so long ago. The room returned to normal, and the men remained silent.

Immediately, the door to the room at the end of the hall crashed open, it's hinges shattering. Paul and Ace, now in makeup, stormed through the doorway and into the room.

"Okay," Ace said. "What's going on?"

Peter faced Ace for several seconds, then turned to Gene. A knowledge of their shared horror was clear in both men's eyes. Peter lowered his gaze and turned away from the others, walking toward the door.

"What happened in here?" Paul asked Gene as he noticed the blood on his friend's clothes.

"Nothing," Gene answered. "Let's get out of here. It's over."

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