“We’ll let you know, I promise.”
And we went ahead with no further diversions. We started on the ground floor, the gazes of the frat boys following us warily as we split up. I found myself going through doorway after wooden door. How many rooms did this place have? And I found cupboards and closets, and rummaged through those, but there were no black cloaks with hoods. The only knives I found were of the dining variety. And more importantly, there was no hint of anything pertaining to black magic, not even so much as a funny-colored candle.
The three of us regrouped and headed up the stairs. Lauren went past Eastlake junior, who was still stood by the railings.
As she passed him, Ryan sniffed and murmured, “Love the perfume!”
And then he did something else that utterly astonished us. He went into this whole Hannibal Lecter act, baring his front teeth and snuffling like an animal.
Which stopped Lauren dead in her tracks, her pale eyebrows lifting.
“Excuse me?” she asked him, in a very tight voice. “What did you just do?”
“Was that supposed to be a joke?”
Ryan didn’t move. His wide mouth faked a smile again.
“It was supposed to be a compliment.”
“That so?”
Lauren’s movements had gone very measured, with a pensive look on her pale face. She reached out with her left hand, pushing the door that Ryan had emerged from the rest of the way open.
And stiffened again, once her gaze had darted in there.
“You okay?” I heard her saying. But she wasn’t talking to young Eastlake anymore.
I moved up to her side and looked where she was looking, and then averted my gaze. There was a bed in there, a slender girl with lengthy red hair sitting up on it. Her back and shoulders were completely nude, and she’d pulled up a white bed sheet to cover the rest. Except that Ryan here was fully clothed. So what had they been doing?
“You all right, young lady?” Lauren asked again.
The girl remained expressionless, but nodded.
“Maybe you’d like to get dressed?”
“Why put her to that kind of trouble?” Eastlake smirked. “She’d only have to undress again once you guys are gone.”
We turned to face him, feeling slightly stunned. The smile on his face had grown even wider. There was not the slightest hint of awkwardness in his expression. And his eyes were sparkling with a strange, wild fire.
“When I told you no one was in charge here,” he admitted, “well, that wasn’t quite the truth. Everyone, including her, does what I say and when I say it. You are looking at a real life Master of the Universe.”
And not one of us could think of any sane reply to that.
Oh my God, but this kid was a doozie.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“The others? Nothing more than spoiled, fatheaded brats. Ryan Eastlake? A control freak, obviously, and probably a psychopath in training.”
That was Lauren’s firm opinion, and I found it hard to disagree. But we’d searched the house from top to bottom, and had found precisely squat. Right now, we were heading back across the campus to talk with a few of the other students. We needed to find out as much as we could about these Deth boys.
The cafeteria looked like the best place to start. In weather such as this, it was crowded to bursting, the noise of clattering trays and a hundred energetic conversations bouncing off the walls and ceiling.
We split up again. Saul went in one direction, me and Lauren in the other. And as we circulated among the packed tables – well – a curious expression started forming on Ms. Brennan’s face.
This wasn’t like the outside world. None of the students that we talked to acted withdrawn or suspicious. Some of them even seemed to know who I was and what I did, but that didn’t bother them in the least. They were open, even downright helpful. Which was not the kind of reaction a city cop like Lauren here was used to.
But when we brought up Ryan Eastlake’s name, the mood got decidedly edgier. The students starting glancing round, like they were worried they’d be overheard.
“Those other Delta guys?” a skinny brunette told me, her voice dropping almost to a croak. “They’re jerks with high opinions of themselves, but nothing worse than that. Ryan Eastlake? Different story. Real bad news.”
“Anyone with any sense stays right out of his way,” added a slightly chubby blond girl who was sitting to her left.
But someone hadn’t, and I mentioned her. The female company he’d been with, although I was sparing with the details.
“A redhead?” the first girl asked.
“Becky Trayner?” And her friend’s face tightened. “She’s so dumb. Some kids think that they can play with fire and not get burned.”
“Burned how?”
They both went noticeably taut.
“You didn’t hear it from me,” said the brunette, “but there’s this rumor way back from when Ryan was in high school.”
“He had a girlfriend back then too,” the blond put in, “called Alva Whitbread.”
“Story is, he got her in the family way.”
I noticed Lauren’s eyebrows bob a little, so I guessed that wasn’t an expression that still got a lot of usage in the outside world. But I nodded for the two kids to continue.
“When Alva told him about it, then said that she wanted to keep the child … story is, he went ballistic. Beat on her. She lost the baby.”
I had been a father twice, and the person closest to me in the whole world these days was expecting another child. So news like that hit me where it really hurt.
“That’s a serious assault,” I said. “And he was never charged?”
Their heads shook.
“Alva’s parents weren’t well off. Ryan’s father was their landlord. People say they got moved to a larger house, a better district.”
“And there was talk about a large amount of cash as well, to keep entirely quiet about the matter.”
“Everybody knows this?”
“Well, yeah. Nobody can prove it, though.”
It was a conversation that I came away from with a heavy heart. And Saul looked downbeat too, when he rejoined us at the door. He’d obviously been hearing the same kind of thing. So when we wandered back outside, the weather matched our mood.
It was drizzling a little heavier than it had been, a continuous fine spray of mist descending. And the clouds were lower than they’d been before.
Goddamn it, I hated this. We’d had bad individuals in our town, but this was something else. This stank of corruption, and there’d never been too much of that in a town like Raine’s Landing.
“Hear about this Whitbread girl?” Saul asked us. “Charming little tale, now ain’t it? How did that get past us without anybody knowing?”
I gave it some serious thought. Normally, we find out about bad stuff through the adepts. They sense it on the night air, then they bring the news to us. But they’re only looking out for supernatural perils, and this business didn’t start off that way.
No – this was plain, straightforward human evil, hidden from sight behind a great big pile of cash.
When I pointed that out, Lauren nodded.
“Welcome to the normal world,” she grimaced.
“The Eastlakes?” Judge Levin gawked at me surprisedly. “I’ve never met the son, but I’ve been at gatherings where Eastlake senior’s been present. Always struck me as a rather quiet man. Maybe too quiet, come to think of it.”
I could hear the judge’s wife, Fleur, fussing around somewhere in the back of their big, fancy wooden home. Martha and Doc Willets were both still here in the living room, trying to remain as patient as they could.
But they were human beings, despite their powers, and still had normal needs. There was a big piled plate of turkey sandwiches on the coffee table, a pitcher of lemonade and a pot of java. And, staring at them, I realized I was pretty starved. At a nod from the good judge, I helped myself. And so did Lauren.
“You found no signs of Satanism in the slightest?” Willets grumbled. “But that makes no sense. If these Delta boys are behind the attacks, then their frat house ought to be the venue from which they are being launched.”
“Which is why I’m going back this evening,” I said, around a bite of bread. “And why I want you with me.”
Then I switched my attention to Martha.
“Except we’re going to need an extra bit of help,” I told her.
Martha’s just about my favorite adept, natural and unpretentious, generous and warm. She was one of the first people in this town to greet Lauren with open hospitality, and she’d even provided Lehman Willets with a proper home.
She’s not the strongest of magicians by a good long chalk. But she does have one special gift. Back when the Shadow Man had been around, she’d altered her appearance, using that to avert a disaster. Then she’d done the same for me when I’d been trying to catch Cornelius Hanlon.
The question was – she could make people look different, sure. But could she make them look like absolutely nothing?
“Invisibility?” Her voice went up an octave and her face jerked. “I … well, Ross, I’ve never tried it.”
But the time had come to have a go. The lights had been switched on by this hour and the living room’s windows had turned reflective. Drizzle was still tapping on the panes. But everyone stood up.
“Okay then,” Willets asked, “who’s first?”
“Thanks for volunteering,” I said.
He looked daggers at me, but then held himself still while Martha approached. I searched his face for any signs of apprehension, but could find none. They’d become close friends since they’d first met, and he knew that she’d do nothing that might hurt him.
It was Martha, instead, who was the apprehensive one. Willets noticed that and grinned.
“At my age,” he assured her, “anything that happens now can only be a big improvement.”
“Nonsense. Lord, you’re still a very handsome man.”
“Are you certain – if this works – that you can change me back?”
“Lehman, you’re not helping matters any,” Martha stammered. “I’m already nervous enough as it is. So hush.”
She raised both hands toward the doc. She didn’t touch him, but her fingers hovered near his brow. Her arms were straight and rigid, and her head was leaning slightly back. She started to exhale soft words. A string of them, all in a language I could not identify. Her eyes closed for an instant, then she breathed in and continued.
Could I feel a faint vibration running through the floor? I glanced down, slightly troubled.
And when I looked up again, Willets was gone. I peered around, trying to find him.
“Did it work?” came a voice from the thin air in front of me.
I tried to swallow. “Yuh, apparently.”
I could hear his footfalls moving off across the carpet. And when I squinted closer, I could see the faint impressions that his shoes were making. He stopped beside the window, where presumably he studied his reflection … or at least, the lack of one.
“Well, I’ll be damned!” he crowed. “How good is this?”
“He can still be heard,” I pointed out to Martha. “I mean, his footsteps can.”
“There’s nothing I can do about that, Ross. You’ll simply have to move round carefully, once you get where you are going.”
She had done the same for me inside another minute. And the moment that I vanished from the others’ sight, Willets popped right back into my field of vision.
“Huh?”
“You have to be able to see each other,” Martha explained. “How else can you work in concord?”
She had a point. And so I nodded at the doc.
“Ready to get going?”
“Ready’s not the right word, man. Most people have fantasies like this. So … I can’t wait!”
Our surroundings turned to a blur in another instant. The judge’s room melted away to streaks. And then we were passing through the water-spattered window.
The rest of Sycamore Hill came into view for just a few brief seconds. We were high above it, moving fast.
Then everything went dark.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
When my sight returned, I was back inside the Deth House’s common room. It looked the same as it had done earlier, and was just as overheated, but was empty now.
“Goddamn, but these kids live well,” Willets mumbled, to one side of me.
I turned to him, signaling for him to keep his voice down. Then we went from room to room, still seeing no one. All the lights had been left on, though, and the front door was unlocked. So it looked like they were coming back.
The reason that I’d brought the doc along was this. Me and Saul and Lauren had already searched this place thoroughly, sure. But none of us practice the magic arts, whereas Willets not only did that, he was a pro.
Maybe he’d spot something that we’d not been able to. We moved up to the higher levels of the house. The whole while we were doing that, I kept on listening out for the frat boys’ return.
I’d rarely seen the doctor look so ill at ease. His face was set, his jaws clenched and his chin pushed out. There was a fierce intensity to the way his red-flecked pupils searched through every room. He was reaching out with all his senses, trying to find anything that might help us.
But he was clearly coming back plain blank. And when he got to the last few rooms, he had a genuinely defeated air.
Then a notion seemed to strike him. His gaze brightened, and he hurried down the stairs again, careless of the noise that he was making.
“What is it?” I asked, coming down behind him.
“What kind of fools are we? Good Lord, we haven’t even tried the cellar yet.”
Except so far as I could tell, there wasn’t one.
“In a house this old, in Massachusetts? Are you kidding me?”
And so we searched for a door or a hatch. We even tried under a few of the expensive rugs. And found precisely nothing. Not even a trip around the house’s outer walls revealed an opening to a lower level.
But when we went back in, Lehman hurried over to the center of the common room and stamped one foot down, hard.
And that produced a hollow thud.
“There is something down there!” he hissed. “I just know it!”
I suggested it had been sealed up.
“If that’s the case, then the only way down there has to be …”
And he didn’t even bother finishing the sentence.
“So they simply murmur a few words and conjure themselves in?” I asked.
“I’d doubt that,” His gaze was going back and forth like some old hound dog’s who had lost his favorite bone. “I’d imagine that they use some kind of symbol, and it’s got to be on this first floor.”
“Like what?”
“Something with a portal motif. Round, most likely. Largish.”
I tried to picture what he was describing, but it wasn’t easy. We were looking for something that symbolized a doorway?
But the doctor began walking carefully across the rugs, peering down at their intricate patterns. Then he went over to a low, leather-topped table, searching for the same thing in the golden etching there.
He shook his head, but he did not give up. If anything, his manner became more intense. He pored over the whole room, giving every corner his acute attention.
This was way out of my league, and all that I could do was watch. I can punch, and I can shoot, and I can track down a wrongdoer, but I’m just not suited to this fine, intricate, stuff.
“Can’t you simply blur us in,” I asked, “the same way that you got us here?”
“If I’m right about this symbol, then the answer’s no. I can get us out again, perhaps. But a symbol like that, it would more than likely act as a paranormal safeguard and repel intruders.”
Okay. If he said so. I left him to keep on searching.
> There were gauzy curtains at the windows of the common room. I stared in the direction of the college’s main building, and could see a section of it past the intervening trees. There were still a load of lights on there, but they looked very small, the regular world a long way off, the wispy fabric making it unreal.
Willets was perspiring faintly and looking bemused. He’d gone back to the point where he had started, and was rubbing at a stubbly cheek.
“I don’t understand this,” he was mumbling. “There has to be –“
But then he stopped and tipped his head back, his eyes widening.
“I’ll be damned,” he muttered.
CHAPTER TWENTY
“Come take a look at this,” he said.
As I’ve already pointed out, there was no direct ceiling to the common room, simply a balcony running above it on the second story. And the same went for the third floor too, so it was easily some fifty feet from the top of my head to the inside of the roof.
Suspended from the center of it, hanging from a thick iron chain that had been bolted to a beam, was an enormous chandelier. Its heavy outer frame was circular, but there was loads more finer metalwork inside.
And the more I peered at that fine detail, then the more it seemed to form a pattern. There were human figures in there, silhouettes writhing in agony. And flames leaping. And other figures – horned ones – stalking through the general carnage. What the blazes was this?
“I’ve only ever seen one of these pictured in a book,” Willets was saying, his voice even croakier than usual. “Ross, this is a Portal of Astaroth.”
I’m a big reader, and so that was a name I thought I recognized from Dennis Wheatley novels. Some kind of major and important demon?
“It’s just as well I didn’t try to blur us in,” the doc was going on. “If I’d tried that with this around, we’d more than likely have been torn to bits, or wound up buried in the ground.”
Alive? So this thing was powerful in a very creepy way. I got that. If you stared at it too hard, the figures seemed to move. I did my level best not to react to that.
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