Night of Demons - 02

by Tony Richards

  The judge reappeared. His pale gaze battened on the area the fight was breaking out. He seemed to understand it might be far more difficult this time. I could see that by the way his face went even harder. Then he marched off in the same direction as the rest.

  I was just about to join him, when I caught a glimpse of something in the corner of my eye. Another shadowy figure. My aim came up toward it. But then I realized it was a man, huddling in the shadows of a nearby porch. I went across to him. And when he cringed back, I could see he hadn’t run away because be was too scared to move.

  But I got him calmed down and talking. And it turned out he’d seen everything that had gone down before the cops arrived.

  “It came out of Willis Penn’s house!”

  He pushed the words out anxiously, his body shaking. I was listening to him very carefully, desperate to figure out exactly what was happening.

  “Which one’s that?” I asked him.

  He pointed to a ruined shell.

  It turned out Penn had been another lousy neighbor. Little kids were his pet hate. He harassed them mercilessly whenever they came near his place. The folks here would have loved to see the back of him, except that he was penniless and had nowhere else to go.

  It wasn’t the same kind of creature, then. But it had been the same kind of man. I couldn’t claim to understand it, but at least I had something to go on.

  I tried to think what to do next. This was utterly crazy. But then I remembered…there was one person I knew who saw the world in such chaotic terms. If madness was being visited on us, who better to go to for an explanation?

  Cassie’s shotgun was still thudding in the distance. And when I finally went toward the racket, I saw two things more.

  Lauren was in the thick of the fighting this time, really going at it. Like I said, people adjust. And the judge was trying to use a Spell of Binding, his palms held out flat. A spider web of yellow sparks was pouring from them, but they couldn’t seem to find a proper target. The beast, barely visible, kept on sliding out of reach. I got a glimpse of another eye, as pale as glowing fog. And that confirmed that this was, once again, bound up with Hanlon. But beyond that, I was completely stumped.

  I hurried across to Saul, who was standing near to Cassie. He had his sidearm in one hand, his cell phone in the other, and was talking on it, looking like he’d just been slapped around the face with a wet towel.

  “East Crealley!” he snapped at me, by way of explanation. “A third one!”

  That was the next district up from here. This seemed to be happening in a steady counterclockwise progression. Hanlon and Millicent must have gone from one place to the next, drifting along in vapor form.

  I touched Cassie on the shoulder. Her head jerked around.

  “Can you keep a handle on things here?” I called above the gunfire.

  She peered back at me cockeyed, like I was trying to insult her somehow. Then she got the fact that I was not planning to stick around. I felt a little guilty heading off like this. But one more gun wasn’t going to make an awful lot of difference. What we really needed now was solid information. And the look on her face informed me she got that. She had always trusted me, in that respect.

  “Where are you going?” she yelled back.

  “The last place you’d ever want me to!”

  “Which means either the Girl or Raine, right? Up to you! But best of luck!”

  CHAPTER 26

  Some instinct made me avoid Plymouth Drive again. Going that way would have taken me directly past Millwood House. And I wasn’t sure that I wanted to get that close, in view of what was happening below me. That smoke-ghost I’d seen headed off in this direction might be present, after all. And capable of turning back into its serpentine form? I wasn’t sure.

  There was another route I knew, a track through the dense timber on the western slope of Sycamore Hill. It was barely wide enough to let my car through. Branches scraped continuously against the paintwork, and rocks grumbled underneath the tires. But I made it to the summit with my Cadillac still in one piece, although I’d have to get the chassis looked at.

  Then I was making my way on foot to the Manor for the second time in twenty-four hours.

  The moving window was no longer there. So—whatever it had been in the first place—Raine had given up on the idea. There was only bare brick in the space that it had occupied, no windowpane remaining. Above it, a couple of the gargoyles on the roof had woken up. But they weren’t doing too much. Just sitting by the guttering and peering at the stars, for all the world like a pair of old men entranced by the night sky’s mysteries.

  I did my level best to ignore them. Finally went up onto the porch and rang the bell. Then, when I got no answer, hammered on the woodwork. There was not a sound inside. No indication anyone was there. I understood that couldn’t be the case. Woodard Raine was agoraphobic, hadn’t stepped outside in years. And Hampton—loyal servant that he is—never leaves his master’s side unless he absolutely has to.

  But it wasn’t just the noise that I was making. Raine has a keen inner eye. He had to realize I was out here. For some reason best known to himself, he was taking no notice of me.

  I stepped down again and walked along the front of the house, trying to peer in through the windows. Which was as hopeless a task as any I could think of. The moon was out again, reflected in them, like on a series of dark, rectangular ponds. I knew that there was furniture inside the place—I’d seen it. Ornaments, paintings and stuff. And I ought to have been able to make out some outlines.

  However hard I peered, I could not see anything beyond the panes of glass. Not even from this close up, with my nose almost pressed against them. Pure unblemished black returned my gaze. I already knew no light ever got into the place. Maybe that worked in reverse as well, and none could get out either.

  I tried one of the frames, but it didn’t budge. Didn’t even tremble, like it was nailed to the surrounding wall. I took out my pocketknife, unfolded it. And, slipping it through a gap, felt around for where the catch ought to be. There seemed to be none. There was nothing physical holding this pane shut.

  The same happened with the next one I tried. My temples began pounding with frustration. Then a sound came from above that made me suddenly look up. The two gargoyles on the roof were watching what I was doing. Maybe they’d never seen anyone trying to intrude on Woodard Raine this way.

  I knew that I was taking a big risk here. But I couldn’t see any other course of action. If Woody thought he could just sit in there and sulk while the whole town was torn to bits, he was mistaken.

  Desperate measures, and all that. I went back in among the leafless trees and rummaged around a short while. Came back clutching the kind of object I’d been looking for.

  It was a mossy, muddy rock, about the size of a sourdough loaf. I stopped a yard from a window, my lungs feeling heavy and my heart banging against my ribs. This was taking one hell of a chance. I understood that fully.

  What finally made me do it was…I couldn’t see the town from here, there was too much in the way. But I could hear the whine of sirens from below. They seemed to be heading in every which direction. And when I glanced across, I saw two more gray smudges drift through the night sky toward Millwood House, looking like the sails of old-time ships against the glittering blackness. The cops and their allies had managed to stop a couple more of the creatures. But mayhem and then some was still breaking loose down there.

  I turned back, hefting the rock. And flung it at the glass.

  It shattered easily enough. So I’d been right about it being mostly normal. Big shards and smaller fragments tumbled to the dirt beneath the sill.

  I kicked away a few jagged edges at the bottom. Then I started climbing up.

  But halfway through, I saw that I might just have made a really big mistake. Because the pieces on the ground were floating up again. The glass was putting itself back together, taking shape around me.

  Quickly too.<
br />
  I yanked my hand away as a section moved in underneath my palm. And then a long shard came swinging up and snagged on my pants leg. The cuff tore as I pulled it free. Panic swept across me. I hurled myself forward, slamming to the floor inside. All the breath was knocked out of me, but considering the alternative…

  I lay perfectly still, trying to get a sense of my surroundings. Couldn’t. It was totally dark in here. Everything seemed to have a floating, weightless quality, so that I wasn’t even sure which way was up.

  But I’d thought to bring a little flashlight with me and I clicked it on, then got up to my knees.

  When I looked back at the window, it was exactly as it had been before the rock had gone through it. There was not the smallest crack visible. But the really weird thing…?

  I could see the view outside it perfectly. The tangled woods and the star-filled firmament. And if no light got into this place, how was that even possible?

  It was best to simply try and forget it. So much around Raine defies explanation. So I looked away, and almost gasped. This was August Raine’s old study. There were snapshots from his college days, up on the wall. And a photograph of his wife on the huge mahogany desk. I played the circle of light across them gently.

  This was where he’d shown me the Thieftaker, during the course of one of his numerous garden parties. I’d felt honored at the time.

  I got the rest of the way to my feet, still playing the beam around. There was a brass and crystal chandelier overhead. And a stuffed bear in one corner of the room, exactly as I remembered it. But I wasn’t here for any of this, so I went into the corridor outside.

  A different kind of light came bobbing up to me as I emerged. A candle, in a white porcelain holder. Behind it, I could see Hampton’s face, his mismatched eyes glinting annoyedly.

  He was far more used to living in this all-consuming darkness than I was. He’d had years to adjust to it. And as the distance closed between us, he must have seen the look on my face, and slowed down sharply. He’s not a bad guy, and I didn’t want to hurt him. But I wasn’t about to let him get in my way.

  His expression phased through from astonished to noticeably scared. And then he seemed to reach a quick decision, disappearing through a nearby doorway, blowing out the candle as he went.

  That was the last I saw of him. I headed for the ballroom, which was where Woody was usually holed up, passing numerous examples of the family crest and antiques hanging from or clustered by the walls.

  My soles finally clacked on parquet flooring. Several more candles on tall, thin holders had been lit in here. Given the size of the room, their glow was not particularly bright. The shapes around me were uniformly indistinct. There was a massive crystal chandelier above me, five times the size of the one back in the study. Huge portraits of Raine’s ancestors dominated most of the paneled walls. But on the furthest one, his family tree had been engraved. It stretched right back to Theodore Raine, the founder of this town. And immediately after him, his son, Jasper. Who had married Sephera McBryde, the leader of the Salem witches.

  Of the current owner, there was not a sign. But that’s far from unusual. Woody acts like he’s doing you a favor when he bothers to reveal himself.

  I was opening my mouth, about to yell his name out. But then events went and beat me to it. Two things happened, one hard on the other’s heels.

  The door behind me suddenly slammed shut, with a resounding thump. It did that on its own, since there was no one standing there.

  And then, the air around me started moving. Sucking inward fiercely. Gusting up around me. I could feel the hair lift on my scalp, and the loose edges of my clothing flapped.

  The wind rose to a steady shriek, becoming so intense that I could scarcely breathe. It plucked at me like a giant hand. The bottoms of my shoes lost contact with the floor a second.

  Then I was lifted completely off my feet and carried up into the air.

  My first instinct was to grab hold of the chandelier. But I decided that was a bad idea. Staying calm, whatever might be going on, was always the best policy. Except that it was pretty hard under these particular circumstances.

  And then—damn—I dropped the flashlight.

  “Woody!” I barked. “Cut it out!”

  A pair of dark gold eyes with slitted pupils came open below me. And they stared up at me balefully.

  The main thing about Woodard Raine—however crazy he might get—is that he’s always clung on to his father’s values. He’d been taught them at such an early age that they were etched into his brain, I guess. And they included civility. So long as you were a guest in his home, he would never harm you.

  Except on this occasion, I didn’t exactly count as that. This wasn’t a social call. I hadn’t been invited. Quite the opposite, in fact. The word was “intruder.” I’d committed B&E. And so, how’d he react to that? Maybe the old rules no longer applied.

  The air continued to push in around me, streaming across the contours of my face. It was really hard not to surrender to panic. I had to be twelve feet off the ground, and that bronze-tinged gaze was still fastened on me.

  Raine blinked slowly.

  “Put me down!” I shouted at him, gulping as I did so. With the wind pushing against my features, it was hard to draw in any air.

  I went up a little higher. There was a gleam of sharpened teeth as he finally replied.

  “You have some goddamn nerve, sport! Smashing up the place? And scaring Hampton? Just because we’ve been on good terms in the past, that doesn’t allow you to take liberties.”

  I’d no idea what “good terms” meant. I’d put up with his quirky behavior, that was all. Done it from expediency and little else. The less time I spent in his company, then the happier I was. But Woody’s always had his own distorted way of seeing things. He looks at them through the eyeglass of his own imagination—realism barely played the slightest part.

  Back before the magic had completely taken over, he’d been little more than a rich spoiled brat. Slim and blue-eyed, with a permanently cocky sneer imprinted on his face. His parents’ influence had kept him out of trouble. Now that they were gone, he kept on finding brand-new ways of getting into it.

  I kicked at the air defiantly, trying to show him I was not afraid. Which wasn’t wholly true. He’d never done anything like this before, and I was concerned how far he’d take it.

  But, as I’ve said before, dealing with the adepts is a matter of not being intimidated by them, or their conjuring tricks.

  “It’s not me taking liberties!” I managed to shout down at him. “How can you ignore what’s happening?”

  His gaze narrowed, and I thought I could detect a hint of puzzlement.

  “What exactly do you mean?”

  “You must know what’s been going on?”

  “You mean the creatures in the suburbs? There’ve been monsters in my town before, old chum.”

  Which was how he thought of the whole Landing, in a patriarchal and possessive sense.

  “They’re being taken care of adequately. I don’t see there’s any need for—”

  “These aren’t the usual kinds of conjuration!” I broke across him. “There’s a lot more to it this time. Something genuinely weird is happening. And it’s partly down to Millicent Tollburn!”

  “Milly?”

  The twin bronze glows vanished. He’d either shut his eyes, or dropped his head. And, when they appeared again, their brightness was far less intense than before.

  A pale, slim hand with long, narrow fingers like a pianist’s became apparent. He stretched it out at me.

  And when his palm moved downward, I did too. Relief washed through my entire frame.

  CHAPTER 27

  I settled to the parquet floor a couple of yards in front of him. The wicks of a few more candles sprang up with fresh flame, which danced but made the scene a little clearer.

  He had changed since I’d last met him. It’s like he keeps on reinventing himself. The s
allow, sharply structured features were the same. And he still had the leaf-shaped ears that were the mark of all his family. But—apart from the darker eyes—the beard of before was gone. His hair was shorter than it had been. You could see the little scar on his chin where he had fallen over drunk one time, in college.

  He seemed to be wearing pure black robes on this occasion. They were plain matte ones, and did not throw back a scintilla of the candlelight. His head looked like it was floating independently because of them. Whether that was an intentional effect or not I’d no idea. I’d better things to do with my time than try to figure out what was going on in that bizarre jumble inside his head.

  But I needed his help, and didn’t let myself forget that.

  I explained everything that had been going down. Not merely the creatures, but Hanlon’s arrival here, and the whole business at Millwood House as well. I left Lauren Brennan out of the equation, since I didn’t want him taking too much of an interest in her. She’d already gone through quite enough, without being subjected to Woody’s weird attentions.

  I wasn’t quite sure how much of this he was really absorbing. It was a whole big load of information, even for a saner mind. And I knew how Woody’s focus kept on going off in strange directions.

  He did look concerned, however. And kept making funny little noises, clucks and gulps and thoughtful humming sounds.

  He broke across me only once, to explain about the Wand of Dantiere and what it did. The way that it turned human bodies into clouds of vapor, which could enter other people and affect their minds. Which was pretty much as I’d expected. I continued to the point where the last creature had appeared.

  “Does the wand do that too?”

  “Not that I was ever aware of,” he came back at me.