“In a way, it’s a bit like the Multiverse’s equivalent of the back of the sofa: all sorts of stuff gets lost down there, some of it sticky and unpleasant. But it’s also a place where things hide, things that aren’t supposed to be hanging around between dimensions but should be locked up nice and safe in dimensions of their own. The problem is that there are weak points in the Multiverse, and your experiments with Colliders and dark matter and dark energy have turned those weaknesses into actual holes. That was how the Great Malevolence nearly got through the first time, and it’s how the Shadows are trying to get in this time.”
“Shadows?” said Professor Hilbert.
Crudford pointed a stubby finger at the sky.
They looked up. More and more stars were vanishing, and darkness swirled in their place. To Maria, it felt like they were trapped inside one of those glass domes that are usually filled with water and imitation snow and a village scene, and beyond the glass the world was filled with smoke. As they watched, the darkness assumed a face. It was a face unlike any that they could have imagined, a face constructed by a presence that had only heard stories of faces, but never actually seen one. The mouth was askew, and the chin too long, and one pointed ear set lower than the other. Only the eyes were missing.
“The Shadows,” said Crudford. “A little of their essence has already managed to get through, otherwise none of this would be happening, but it’s the difference between smelling the monster’s breath and feeling its teeth ripping into your flesh. They won’t be kept out for long, and once they get in here the whole Multiverse will be at risk. Biddlecombe has been turned into a gateway, a bridge between the Kingdom of Shadows and your universe. But all universes are connected, if only by threads, and once the Shadows infect one universe then the Multiverse is doomed. They’ll turn it black, and everything in it will suffocate and die, or be turned to Shadow.”
“And the Great Malevolence doesn’t want this to happen,” said Maria, “because it doesn’t want the Shadows to have the Earth, or the Multiverse. If anyone is going to destroy all life, it’s going to be your master, right?”
“Absolutely,” said Crudford. “It’s the whole point of its existence. Without it, it’d just be bored.”
“But why is this happening now?” said Maria.
“Someone built the engine that allowed Biddlecombe to be shifted,” said Crudford. “But it had to be powered up, and that power came from elsewhere, from outside. It came from Hell and, if I’m not mistaken, it took the form of a beating heart. Furthermore, the Shadows are blind. They had to be led to Biddlecombe, and the only way that could happen was with sound. They followed the heartbeats. Can’t you hear them? The heart is close, very close.”
But try as they might, they could hear nothing.
“That shop is the core of the engine,” said Crudford. “We have to get in there and switch it off before it’s too late, and move that beating heart out of this universe.”
“But whose heart is it?” asked Maria. “Whose heart could be capable of powering an occult engine, and leading a legion of Shadows to Biddlecombe?”
“Mrs. Abernathy’s,” said Crudford, and he sounded almost apologetic. “The heart of Ba’al.”
• • •
In the Mountain of Despair, the Great Malevolence brooded.
Before he had traveled to Biddlecombe, Crudford had popped back to Hell for long enough to let his master know what appeared to be happening on Earth. The Great Malevolence had not been happy to hear about it. In its anger it threw a couple of demons at walls, and tossed a passing imp on the fire. The imp didn’t mind too much about the flames as it had fireproof skin, but it had been on its way to do something very important and had now completely forgotten what the important thing was.56 With nothing else to do, it found a nice patch of hot ash and settled down for a nap.
“She has betrayed us,” said the Great Malevolence to the Watcher. “She has betrayed me.”
The Watcher, as was its way, said nothing, but there was something like sorrow in its eight black eyes. It had once served Mrs. Abernathy, and had even admired her, but its loyalty ultimately lay with the Great Malevolence. Being loyal to the Great Malevolence was better for your health, and ensured that all of your limbs remained attached to your body.
The Great Malevolence felt powerless to act. Had there been a way, it might have sent an army of demons to fight the Shadows, but what good would that have done? They might as well have hacked at smoke with their swords, or tried to run mist through with spears. In the end, the Shadows would simply have swallowed the Great Malevolence’s forces, and those whom the Shadows did not destroy would be condemned to an eternity of utter blackness. But the option of battle was not even available to the Great Malevolence: there was no way to move its troops from Hell to Earth, not since the first portal had been closed by the boy named Samuel Johnson and his friends. Only the little demon named Crudford was able to move from realm to realm without difficulty, and now the future of the Multiverse lay in his small, slimy hands.
How strange, thought the Great Malevolence, that so much power should reside in such an unthreatening, and curiously contented, little body. Had Crudford been larger, or more vicious, or more cunning, he might even have been a threat to the Great Malevolence itself. Instead, Crudford just seemed happy to help. The Great Malevolence was baffled. It couldn’t figure out what Crudford was doing in Hell to begin with. All things considered, he really didn’t belong there.
“Go,” said the Great Malevolence to the Watcher. “Fly to the very edge of our kingdom. Wait there, and when Crudford returns with the heart, bring them both to me.”
The Great Malevolence realized what it had said: When Crudford returns with the heart.
“When,” not “if.”
This is very bad, thought the Great Malevolence. I am becoming an optimist. There could only be one reason for it: Crudford, Esq. In some dreadful way, the demon’s good nature was starting to infect Hell itself. The Great Malevolence could not allow this situation to continue. It decided that, once the heart had been returned to Hell, Crudford would have to be dealt with. When Mrs. Abernathy’s heart was cast into the icy Lake of Cocytus, there to remain frozen forever, it would have some company in its misery
Crudford would be freezing right alongside it.
• • •
Back in Biddlecombe, there was silence for a time.
“Who?” said Professor Stefan at last.
“Mrs. Abernathy,” said Maria, and set about explaining as best she could. Professor Stefan and Professor Hilbert looked as if they didn’t care to believe her, but it was hard to doubt Maria when everything she told them was being backed up by two demons dressed as elves and a third who was polishing his hat.
“She wants revenge,” said Crudford, when Maria had finished speaking. “She’s gone mad. She was always a bit mad, but when she traveled to Earth and the Ba’al bits got mixed up with the Abernathy bits, she went completely bonkers. If she’s made a deal with the Shadows, then she doesn’t care about the Great Malevolence or anything else: all she wants is a last chance to punish Samuel Johnson and everyone who stood alongside him. She will have her vengeance—at any cost.”
“And her heart is somewhere in there?” said Professor Stefan, indicating Wreckit & Sons.
“I think so,” said Crudford. “I can hear it beating, but it’s so loud that I’m not sure where exactly it’s coming from anymore. All I know is that the heart is close, and the toy shop is the center of power for all that’s happening here, so my guess is that it’s in there somewhere.”
“But how do we get in?” said Professor Stefan. “I mean, there’s an immense occult force field protecting the store. We can’t go messing about with it. Somebody might get hurt. I might get hurt.”
Crudford removed his hat and took out his trusty notebook and pencil. He scribbled away frantically for a few minutes. Finally he shouted “Eureka!” 57 and showed the results of his efforts to all.
>
The Great Malevolence would have been familiar with the looks of bafflement that met Crudford’s display of his work, for it consisted only of this:
“It’s an arrow,” said Brian. “What are we going to do, attack the shop with Indians?”
Crudford raised his eyes to the darkening skies in frustration.
“No,” he said. “We’re just going to do this.”
He squelched over to the occult barrier, reached down, and lifted up the bottom the way one might raise a curtain on a stage to peek at what lies behind.
“Simple,” said Crudford. “I’d try not to touch the edge of the barrier as you crawl under. It’ll hurt—if you live long enough to feel it.”
55. A small joke playing on the words transparent and clear, which mean the same thing, pretty much. It troubles me that I have to explain some of these jokes—not to you, obviously: I know that you’re hugely intelligent, and you got that joke straight off, but not everyone is as bright as you. Maybe there should be a test before we allow people to read this book. We could pay people to wait in bookstores and libraries, and when someone picks the book up with the intention of reading it, the tester could then step in with a list of simple questions. You know:
1. If you see a door marked PUSH, should you (a) Pull; (b) Push?
2. If you see a sign on the street that reads CAUTION: DO NOT CROSS HERE, do you (a) Cross; (b) Look for somewhere else to cross.
3. If you are at the zoo, and see a notice on the lions’ cage that says DANGEROUS ANIMALS: DO NOT PUT HAND THROUGH BARS, do you (a) Put your hand through the bars, and waggle your fingers invitingly; (b) Keep a safe distance and, therefore, keep your hand, too.
If you have answered (a) to any of these questions, then you are not bright enough to read this book, and we also have another question for you: namely, how come you’re still alive?
56. You will know that you are getting old when you go upstairs to do something and, by the time you get there, you’ve forgotten what it is that you went upstairs to do. You will know that you are very old when you get upstairs and can’t remember where you are. And you will know that you are very, very old when you get upstairs and can’t get downstairs again. You may laugh now, but the old-age bus has a seat for everyone.
57. Eureka, which comes from ancient Greek, means “I have found it,” and is reputed to be what the Greek scholar Archimedes (287–212 B.C.) shouted after he stuck a foot in his bath and noticed that the water level rose. This was because he had realized that the volume of water displaced by his foot was equal to the volume of the foot itself. This meant that, by submerging them in water, the volume of irregularly shaped objects could now be measured, which had been impossible—or very, very difficult—before.
It also enabled Archimedes to solve a problem set for him by King Hiero II, who wanted to know if a gold crown that had been made for him was pure or had been polluted with silver so that the goldsmith could cheat him. Archimedes knew that he could now weigh the crown against a piece of gold of similar weight, and then submerge both in water. If they were of the same density, then they would displace the same amount of water, but if the gold of the crown had been mixed with silver, then it would be less dense and would displace less water, and so the king would know that he had been cheated.
Archimedes was supposed to have been so excited by his discovery that he ran naked through the streets of Athens. You can only get away with this sort of thing if you’re a genius. If you’re not, they’ll lock you up or, at the very least, give you a very stern talking-to. You may also catch cold, or injure yourself on a gate.
XXXIII
In Which Spiggit’s Plays an Important Role
THE VARIOUS DOLLS, TEDDY bears, and small battery-powered animals that had forced Samuel and the others up to the next level of Wreckit & Co. watched in silence as Crudford led Maria and the others into the store. The aftermath of battle was still visible. There were disembodied limbs lying on the floor, and teddy bears with their stuffing hanging out. A makeshift doll hospital had been set up close to the lift, and dolls wearing the uniforms of doctors and nurses were doing their best to reinsert arms and legs, and the occasional head, into the correct sockets. Some of the larger dolls still clutched knives, and a couple of stuffed toys snarled at the new arrivals, but none of the toys made any attempt to attack.
“What happened here?” asked Maria.
Nurd took in the Nerf bullets and sports balls scattered across the floor.
“My guess is that this lot tried to attack Samuel and whoever else was trapped, and they got more than they bargained for,” he said.
Wormwood paused by the remains of a small black stuffed bear. Its head had been almost knocked from its body, and was attached to its neck only by a couple of thin threads. Carefully, tenderly, Wormwood picked it up and held it in his arms, cradling its head in his left hand. A large tear dropped from Wormwood’s right eye.
“Is this what we have become?” he said. “We have set human against teddy, doll against man, and this little bear has paid the price! All he wanted to do was give pleasure to some small child, to be his friend in times of joy, and his comfort in times of trouble. Oh, the humanity!”
He lifted the bear and placed it against his shoulder, its small black body stifling his sobs.
“Ow,” said Wormwood, then louder: “Ow! Ow!”
“What is it?” said Nurd.
“The little swine is biting my ear!” said Wormwood.
He gave the bear a sharp tug, and its body separated entirely from its head. Unfortunately, the head remained attached to Wormwood’s ear, its sharp teeth continuing to gnaw at the lobe.
“Get it off!” said Wormwood. “It really hurts.”
Nurd tried tugging at the bear’s head, but its teeth were firmly embedded, and he succeeded only in painfully stretching Wormwood’s ear.
“That’s not helping,” said Wormwood. “You’re just making it worse.”
“Well, you’re the one who picked it up in the first place.”
“I felt sorry for it.”
“And see where it got you,” said Nurd. “Maybe you can offer to help those dolls sharpen their knives next.”
Maria arrived with a pencil borrowed from Brian. She managed to jam it between the bear’s jaws and prize them open just wide enough for Nurd to remove the head from Wormwood’s vicinity. He held it in front of Wormwood’s face by one of its ears, where it continued to snap at him, just as the elf had earlier tried to get at Nurd. Nurd considered this poetic justice. He didn’t want to be the only one being bitten by possessed objects.
“He seems to have a taste for you,” said Nurd. “Can’t imagine why. I bet you taste awful.”
He tossed the head in the direction of the doll hospital, disturbing the final delicate stages of an operation to restore an arm to a Hug-Me-Hattie doll. Hug-Me-Hattie’s arm slid under a radiator, and the doll doctors and nurses gave Nurd a look that could only be described as cutting.58
“Sorry!” said Nurd. “As you were.”
The scientists, meanwhile, were watching the toys. With the exception of the clearly lunatic black bear that had nibbled on Wormwood, the toys still showed no desire to approach.
“Why aren’t they attacking us?” asked Professor Stefan.
“Maybe it’s because we have demons with us,” suggested Professor Hilbert. “It might have confused them.”
“They don’t look confused,” said Professor Stefan. “They just look hostile.”
“Why don’t we see what happens if we try to leave?”
The two scientists, with Brian and Dorothy/Reginald in tow, pretended to depart.
“Bye!” they said. “Lovely meeting you! Good luck with everything!”
The heads of the toys turned to follow their progress, but no attempt was made to stop them, not even when Brian opened the main door and stepped outside. He might have kept going as well had not Professor Hilbert grabbed him by the collar and pulled him back inside.
“That’s quite enough cowardice for today, Brian,” he said.
“It really isn’t,” said Brian. “I have loads left.”
But Professor Hilbert was not to be argued with, and Brian reluctantly trudged back into the store.
“Interesting,” said Professor Stefan. “Mr. Nurd, Mr. Wormwood, perhaps you’d like to try, just out of curiosity.”
Nurd and Wormwood did as he asked, but as they approached the door the toys closed in on them, blocking their way with a wall of plastic and fur broken only by the odd knife.
“Ah,” said Professor Stefan. “That would seem to answer the question, at least partly. Something wants you two to remain here.”
“We should have known,” said Wormwood. “We were invited to the opening, and we never get invited to anything. Now it looks like the only reason we were asked is because something wants to hurt us.”
He and Nurd looked sad.
“Try not to take it personally,” said Maria.
“I’ll try,” said Wormwood, “but it’s difficult.”
Crudford put one hand to the side of his head, even though he didn’t have any obvious ears, and listened.
“Can you still hear the heart?” asked Professor Hilbert.
“It’s definitely near,” said Crudford. “I say we go up. It’s clear that whatever we’re looking for isn’t here.”
Brian didn’t want to go up. He wanted to go out. He could not think of any reason why he should go deeper into this shop of horrors. At that moment, fate intervened—as it often will—to give him a push in the right direction.
“What is that noise?” said Professor Stefan. “It sounds like music.”
A handful of Nosferati survivors, their ears jammed with dead mice to drown out the sound of the organ, had found the stairs out of the basement. They emerged from the stairwell with their fangs exposed, their clawed hands raised, and their bald heads shining under the emergency lights.
The Creeps: A Samuel Johnson Tale sjvtd-3 Page 20
