Soon. Soon! The necromancer could hardly subdue its excitement.
Soon this game will be over. And I will be the one and only winner.
The necromancer controlled itself, calmed itself down.
And waited. Soon!
Chapter 42
Andrea proceeded to walk up to the second floor, pause on the landing, then walk up to the third floor with renewed determination. Once there, without stopping, without knocking, she marched right into the “master bedroom” and over to Lynn’s bed. Lynn was laying down, eyes open. The lamp on the night table was on and she was at first surprised, and then annoyed, at the interruption.
“What’s going on? What do you want, Andrea?”
Lynn looked past her friend and saw Ernie, then Anton, and was not amused. “What do you want? John isn’t here.”
“We’re not looking for John,” Andrea said. She bent down, thrust out her right arm, and started searching for something under the bed. “Andrea!” Lynn’s voice rose in stridency and anger. “What the hell—”
Andrea stood up suddenly. “This is what we were looking for.” She turned to Ernie. “It was stuck on the underside of the box spring with masking tape.” She pulled off the thin strips of adhesive and handed the book to Ernie. ”Late at Night. This is what we’re looking for, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Ernie said cautiously. So, it was real, had been real, all along. A chilling sensation ran up and down his spine.
It was the same book, same cover, same type face, same everything. He began to flip through it, looking for the sections that he hadn’t already covered the night before.
“What is that?” Lynn wanted to know. “What was it doing under my bed?”
“Some women have men under their beds,” Anton said. “Other women have books.”
“I don’t know what it was doing there,” Andrea replied. “Maybe you can tell us.”
“Some stupid paperback novel,” Lynn exclaimed. “Who cares? I still don’t know what’s going on.”
Anton stepped over to the bedside and sat down next to Lynn. “Yes, why all this fuss about some cheap paperback? Curiouser and curiouser.” Lynn gave him a dirty look, then got up off the bed and stood over by the window. “Answer me, someone!”
“Ernie found this book last night in the bookshelf downstairs. By morning it had disappeared. I was able to tune in on the aura it emitted and traced it to this room. Something was blocking the book’s emissions before—or should I say someone—but once I had penetrated the psychic barricade it was a simple matter to find it.”
Ernie felt slightly apprehensive. How did he know Andrea had “traced” the book? She had found it so quickly that it seemed possible that she had planted it under Lynn’s bed herself. No, you have to stop thinking like that. You have to trust the woman. He felt three pairs of eyes boring into him; Andrea had left it up to him to fill in the rest.
He expelled the air in his lungs, rubbed his forehead, then forged ahead. “This book—it’s a story about this island, about an expedition. It’s the story of a young woman and her lawyer friend who bring some associates to the island. One by one people start disappearing—and dying.”
“Preposterous,” Anton said. “These silly trash novels. What they won’t think of next. Do you expect us to be frightened or something?”
“The characters in this novel—are us.”
Lynn was raising no objections. Ernie suspected she knew more than she was telling. Could she be the “friend” Andrea had warned him about? Anton, on the other hand, tried to grab the book from Ernie’s hands and kept harping on how ridiculous the whole thing was.
Ernie turned to the page that first introduced Anton’s literary counterpart. “Read this,” Ernie said. “It’s the description of a famous concert pianist who is a member of the party. See if it doesn’t sound like you.”
Anton took the book. It was not a flattering description. Anton’s nostrils flared and his face reddened slightly, but he seemed to recognize himself. He began flipping pages rapidly, stopping now and then to read a paragraph or two, pacing the short length of the room twenty times a minute. Lynn had dropped all protestations and stood by the window, looking pale and nervous. Ernie and Andrea watched Anton, wondering what his final reaction might be.
“This is uncanny, impossible,” Anton thundered. “Who could have written this book? We’re all in here. Every one of us.” He looked at their hostess. “Lynn. You and John. In the book you’re called Linda Bauman and Joseph Edwards, but it’s still the two of you. The house, this house, is described exactly as it is.”
“Other people have been to this island,” Lynn said quietly. “Anyone could have written a novel set on Lammerty Island.”
Ernie jumped in, mentioning all the possibilities and improbabilities that he had considered and rejected the night before. “You’ll have to read it yourself and see what we mean. The book is about what’s happening on this island this very minute. The story in that book is now taking place. We are the cast of characters. Everything in that book has come true, or might come true, before the night is up.”
“Speaking of which,” Andrea said, taking the book from Anton, “shouldn’t we see what is going to transpire? At least according to,” she read the cover, ” ‘Mr. Schumann’?” She stopped short for a second, as if startled by the name, recognizing something.
“What is it?” Ernie asked.
“No—nothing,” Andrea said, shaking off whatever had upset her and beginning to flip through the book. At one point she started reading. Anton and Ernie watched her, her lips moving furiously, her body trembling. “My God —my God. Ernie—you were right! Anton—this is incredible. Horrifying.”
Anton and Ernie exchanged incredulous glances. For once they were too shaken to snap at each other.
“My Lord.” Andrea looked up from the pages for a moment, white-faced and frightened. “The visions, the feelings I had downstairs, of what was happening to Jerry and Cynthia. This book describes it. If that really happened to them— and I know it did—God help them. God help them.”
Ernie couldn’t stand still any longer. He took the book from her, and began scanning the pages past the point where she had been. “I have to find out what happened to the others. The housekeepers. Gloria. Eric. The middle of the booklet’s see—”
Lynn spoke up at last. “I can’t believe you three, standing around like children. As if you could really predict the future by reading some idiotic book. I think you’ve all gone crazy. Absolutely crazy.”
“Don’t sit there and pretend to us,” Anton bellowed. “That book is an outrage, an—an abomination. An invasion of privacy. The work of the devil.” He started moving slowly, threateningly towards Lynn, his body quivering, eyes wide and full of menace. “You little witch. You invited me, all of us, on this trip. And now we find —that. You know what’s going on, you and your decrepit old lover.”
“Shut up! I don’t know anything about that book. You come bursting in here, accusing me.”
Andrea took Ernie’s arm. “Let her see it. Once she reads it herself she’ll—”
Lynn spat out her words. “I’m not interested. I thought you were a friend of mine. I thought you and Anton were both friends of mine. But I see I was wrong. You’re all against me. Even John—”
“Here!” Ernie shouted. “John has gone searching for the housekeepers—yes, that’s it!” He read out loud: ” ‘Edwards realized that he had taken the wrong path, and was heading away from the old mansion and towards the other end of the island.’ ”
He flipped the page, anxious to see what was going to happen. I can’t believe I’m doing this, he thought. Can I really believe this book is magical? That it dictates or has somehow recorded our future actions? Yet he kept reading, silently, ignoring the battle occurring on the other side of the room.
Anton was inches away from Lynn. “You’d better tell us what that book is, who wrote it, and what it’s doing here,” he said. “Or I won’t be
responsible for what happens.”
“You’re drunk.”
“Yes, drunk. And bound to get drunker. After reading that book.”
Lynn saw a scapegoat. She pointed to Andrea. “She found it. She probably put it there under the bed. To place me under suspicion. Andrea’s the psychic, the freaky one, we all know that.”
“Come on, Lynn—you’ve been going on about witchcraft and the supernatural ever since the very first day I met you,” Anton argued. “You may not have. Andrea’s psychic powers, but you share the same interests. You’re practically a fanatic on the subject. Worse even than Andrea. I wouldn’t put it past you to have planned this entire trip just so you could work some spell on us, or use this island for some demonic purpose. Is the season right? Is it the right day of the week? Are the planets in conjunction?” He looked at Andrea, who was hanging on his every word, alarmed and showing it. “She used to bore me silly with all that stuff. She’s gone through a dozen boyfriends and it’s no wonder. We all get sick of her—”
“I dumped you, Anton,” Lynn shouted, near tears. “Have you forgotten? And you’ve never gotten over it, have you?”
“ Why did you ‘dump’ me? Because I wouldn’t put up with your ridiculous—”
“Stop it!” Andrea’s voice was so loud and forceful that even Ernie paused in his reading to see what she had to say. Andrea went over to Lynn and took her by the shoulders. She looked for a minute as if she were about to tear their hostess’s arms off. “Lynn,” she said, slowly, deliberately. “You never told me you’d become that interested in the supernatural, Lynn. Never. Now I want an honest answer. Are you behind the things—the things that have been happening here? The disappearances, the deaths. Lynn—”
“Leave me alone.”
Anton was getting jumpier by the minute. “What deaths?”
Andrea shook Lynn back and forth. “Are you the one, Lynn? Is it you? Tell me, tell me or so help me, I’ll—”
Andrea was saved from further violence by the sound of Ernie’s verbal reactions to the section of the book he was reading. “God—according to this, John is the next one who’s going to die!”
Lynn pulled away from Andrea, her face twisted with confusion and fear. “John? Something’s going to happen to John. What, Ernie?
Tell me what!”
Ernie turned to her and was about to answer her question … when all the lights went out!
Chapter 43
It worked!
Get the book. Get the book now while everyone’s confused. Get the book. A bump. An outcry. Someone toppling over. Careful, careful— the lights won’t stay out for long; it’s taxing to drain away the electrical energy this way. You don’t want to be caught among them when the lights go on, not this way.
Someone’s touching you; shake them away, knock them over. Don’t let them stop you.
Got it! Yes, this is it, I can tell. This is the book at long last.
Now, over this way, past that shadow—rush them—don’t let anyone get in your way; just take the book, hide it where no one can find it. Even if they question me, search me, they won’t be able to find the book.
It’s a strain; if you drop your guard the lights will go on too soon—hurry, hurry—keep your mind on the lights while you run, run, run, run…
You’ve got the book you’ve got the book you’ve got the book you’ve got the book …
Now I’m going to make them all pay.
All of them.
* * *
The lights came back on.
Andrea was lying on the floor, rubbing her elbow and grimacing.
Lynn was leaning back against the wall, white as a sheet, her body shivering.
Anton had somehow gotten over to the bathroom door in the darkness.
Ernie stood in the center of the room, where he had been before the lights had gone out.
His hands were empty.
Anton was the nearest to Andrea. “Are you all right, my dear?” He gave her his hand and pulled her to her feet.
“No thanks to you,” she said. “You knocked me right to the ground, Anton. Where were you running to anyway?”
“I wasn’t running anywhere. I thought I was heading for the door, and some light, but apparently my inner radar wasn’t functioning too well.”
“Well somebody hit me. I landed right on my damn elbow.”
“Somebody touched me,” Lynn said. “Someone brushed past me. I felt them—only for a moment.”
“What are you raving about?” Anton snapped. “You look as if someone just ravaged you.”
“No. You don’t understand. There was something—funny—about them, something about their skin, a funny odor. I sensed something …”
“Leave the ‘sensing’ to Andrea, will you? Wonder what caused that blackout?” he asked. “Do you think the entire house was affected?” No one knew.
When they had collected themselves, Ernie looked at each one individually and said only four distinct words. “Who has the book?”
Anton looked down at the carpet. “It must have dropped to the floor.”
“You heard me. Which of you has the book?”
Andrea walked over to his side. “It’s gone?”
“Yes, it’s gone. Convenient for the lights to go out, wasn’t it? Someone took the book while the lights were out, and if I had a suspicious mind— which I do—I’d almost think the lights went out on purpose.”
“Come now, man,” Anton protested. “We were all standing here in plain view. None of us turned out any light switches or pulled any plugs. I didn’t see anyone sneak down to fiddle with the fuse box either, did you?”
“There are other ways of making lights go out,” Andrea said.
“Spells, I suppose,” Anton countered contemptuously.
Ernie got their attention again. “Listen. I don’t care about spells or plugs or fuseboxes. All I know is that the book is gone, and someone in this room is responsible. Now I want that book back and I want it now.”
“How do you know you didn’t put it somewhere?” Anton said. “Your pocket? Back under the bed? Why accuse us? You and Andrea were the ones who were so interested in it before.”
“Someone tore it right out of my hands,” Eric said. “The lights went out, we were milling around trying to find the light switch, bumping into one another—then suddenly I felt someone grab the book and pull it out of my hand. One of you. It had to be.”
Andrea looked tired. She sighed and said, “Ernie, it might have been somebody else. Anyone could have snuck in here and taken the book while the lights were out.”
“It would have been a neat trick.”
“I know that. But it’s not impossible. We’re dealing with forces—”
“Oh damn!” Ernie cut her off. “We’re all at one another’s throats.” He sat down on the bed and rubbed his eyes. “It’s a wonder any of us can keep our sanity. This whole business—it’s just crazy. I don’t know what to make of it. If what it says in that book is true, half of us are already dead. The housekeepers—eaten alive. Cynthia and Jerry, torn apart. Gloria dashed to pieces on the rocks. Eric—hacked to bits. God, I must be going crazy. Can I actually believe things like that can happen to people in this day and age? A grown man believing that ghosts, monsters, can tear people limb from limb.”
“You read all that in that book?” Lynn asked. She seemed on the verge of hysteria.
“We’ve been trying to tell you,” Andrea said. “The characters in that book, for some reason beyond our comprehension, are exact duplicates of you, me, everyone on this island. The situation, the relationships, the people—exactly the same.”
“But you’ve no proof,” Lynn challenged. “Where are the bodies? How do we know any of those things actually came to pass? Just because those people are missing …”
“That’s your answer right there,” Anton said.
Lynn walked over to him. “No, it isn’t. I won’t believe anyone is dead until I see their bodies.”
&nbs
p; “Believe me, you wouldn’t want to,” Ernie said. “Their ends were distinctly unpleasant.”
“Ernie!” Andrea gave him a desperate look. “The book would have told us who ‘our friend’ is. We could have tried to stop them from hurting anyone else. Now it’s too late.”
“ ‘Our friend’?” Anton queried. “I’ve heard that somewhere before. Just what is she talking about?”
Ernie explained. “Andrea thinks someone on the island, one of us probably, is behind these deaths. Someone is using the island’s supernatural, or psychic, forces to kill people.”
“She or he can make thoughts come to life, turn thought into reality,” Andrea continued. “She or he can create physical manifestations that can kill, that can strangle or stab or tear you to pieces just as if they were real and tangible.”
“All this metaphysical stuff is wearing me out,” Anton sighed. “It’s beyond me, I admit it. I don’t know about all this psychic mumbo-jumbo. I just want to know if someone is really killing us all off or not. And I want to know why and how I can save myself. The rest of us, I mean. And if that book can tell us, I want that book. If none of us have it, perhaps someone else came in and grabbed it as Andrea suggested. Who else is in the house with us?”
Andrea tapped her lower lip. “Mrs. Plushing, right?”
“Hans is with her,” Anton said. “That makes two.”
“Betty,” Lynn offered. “She’s in her room.”
“Three. And we can’t discount the others.” Anton scratched his face. “You say that Eric’s counterpart is killed in the book, but we don’t know for a fact that he really is dead. He—or any of the other so-called disappearees could be wandering this house, could be hiding the book again this very minute.”
“The others are dead,“ Andrea said with grim finality.
Late at Night Page 19
