He let out a strangled, angry yelp.
“Man? What do you think you’re doing?”
Taking a real risk, and didn’t I know it. Cass would have had kittens, if she’d seen me treating him this way. Most people in town would. You didn’t behave this way toward a powerful adept. Alarm them or make them angry, and there was no telling how they might respond in the heat of the moment. And that was the more respectable ones, who didn’t have the history that Willets did.
I’d been one of the cops who’d had to clean up, after the incident at the Iron Bridge. I tried not to think about that as I hung onto his struggling form. Those charred young bodies – no, I put all of that out of my mind and propelled him toward the metal staircase.
“You can’t treat me like this!” he howled, the Emperor of Ice Cream being physically dragged off his throne. “Where on earth do you think you’re taking me?”
I could tell that, just like Raine, he’d developed a fear of stepping outside.
“Back into the real world,” I replied.
“Real …?” He made a spluttering noise. “Why?”
“There’s a war going on. And you’ve been conscripted.”
And he finally got it. Dug his heels in, skidding to a halt.
“I’ve already told you!” He gawped stubbornly around at me. “I can’t possibly beat that creature!”
He’d told me several times, in fact. But I wasn’t ready to accept it.
“Didn’t you hear?” I asked him. “It’s not the winning that counts, it’s the taking part.”
I gave his scrawny neck a jerk, and we were heading for the stairs again.
I’ve already mentioned that he could have done all sorts of awful things to me. He certainly kept threatening them as we continued heading up.
“I’ll turn you to a toadstool!”
His feet tried to scrabble backward on the risers, making a loud clanging noise.
“I’ll … transmogrify you to a pile of dust!”
Which he could have managed easily. But I had my own opinion, when it came to Lehman Willets.
He still thought about those kids who had died every single day – I had no doubt of that. I would have been the same, if I were him. And there are vast forces at work in this town, almost all the time. But guilt can be the strongest of them. Can outweigh them all. He kept on squirming, issuing new threats. But my bet was, he didn’t have the resolve left to back them up with action.
So, seeing that he wasn’t going to frighten me, he tried to reason with me instead. And more fool him.
“There’s absolutely nothing I can do!”
“No,” I told him. “There’s one thing. You can at least give it your best shot.”
“And what’ll that achieve?”
“More than sitting on your backside ever did.”
“Really? Oh, great! Homespun philosophy!” He sounded like he wanted to spit. “I knew I should’ve never come to a dumb provincial town like this!”
If he’d stayed in Boston, then it might have been for the best, all things considered. But we needed him right now.
We finally reached the top. I turned him round to face me. He was glaring, breathing heavily, his features set like anthracite. I got out the two items that I’d fetched from my car.
There was a floppy denim hat – I used to wear it fishing on the Adderneck. It went over his gray head, the pressure of it making him shrink down surprisedly.
“What? What’s that?”
“A fashion statement.”
And the shades that I’d brought covered up his eyes, so that the glowing pupils were no longer visible. That was a mild relief.
I didn’t even know how long it had been since he had last gone out into the daylight. Even a person as powerful as Willets needs protection sometimes. And these two simple objects were his.
He seemed to get what I had in mind, the plans I had for him. The look on his face became even more alarmed. He pawed at the dark glasses. And then, failing to dislodge them, tried to head back down the stairs again.
I stretched out and refastened my grip around his collar, then yanked the door open. A shaft of sunlight flooded over us. That made him stop struggling and hunker down. But I just pushed him out into the open.
When the bright daylight hit him, he cringed under the impact of it, his hands trying to shield him and his features creasing up more than they usually did. Was he in actual pain? I didn’t want to hurt him, and I felt a solid twinge of guilt myself. But things had gotten far too serious for personal considerations. Too many people had already suffered, and much worse than this. And I wasn’t about to give up at this stage. So I kept propelling him along the crumbled sidewalk.
“Have you no decency, Devries?” He was stooped over like a man twice his age, his hands still trying to keep the sunlight off his face. “For pity’s sake, stop this!”
“I’ll stop when we’re done.”
“You s.o.b.! I’ll make you pay for this. Why, I’ll create a werewolf and I’ll sic him on your hide!”
“Loaded my gun with silver bullets, just this morning,” I informed him.
He pulled and twisted in my grasp. And his language became a good deal worse than a college professor’s ought to be. But I got him into the passenger seat of my Caddy all the same, slamming the door shut behind him. He stared round the interior like he’d forgotten what an automobile was.
My own attention had gone elsewhere. The raven that had first been there had company by now. The branches of the tree that it was sitting in was full of crows, starlings, and grackles, all of them gazing in the same direction. Ours. And I thought I could make out, below them, the shape of a weasel of some kind. The kind of power the doctor had attracted a good deal of notice.
It was pretty weird, feeling their inquiring gazes on me. I got in the other side
“Put your seatbelt on,” I said.
He was all hunched up into a ball, the light still obviously causing him discomfort. But it wasn’t that he couldn’t move. He simply didn’t want to.
“Okay then. Your funeral.”
I started the engine and swung us around.
“Where are we going?” he asked me, his voice all muffled up.
“To see the wizard.”
And his head came up a little. “Huh?”
“Someone as powerful as you,” I told him.
At which, his face rose fully into view, its expression filled with icy shock. He peered at me through his dark lenses. Out here in the light, I could see the faint carmine specks behind them.
“Who? What good’ll that do? You’re insane!” he hissed.
“Oh? I thought that was your bag,”
“You’re ridiculous! A consummate fool!”
Well, a poet called Carl Sandburg once wrote, ‘To never see a fool you lock yourself in your room and smash the looking glass.’
Which sounded about right. But it was far too late for that.
THIRTY-THREE
When he saw where we were pulling up, he got so agitated I became concerned he might forget himself and do something unpleasant to me.
“No … oh no! You’re kidding, surely?”
He crammed himself back in his seat and waved his bony hands. But I wasn’t going to let this drop, so I steeled myself. If it happened, there was nothing I could really do about it.
“There is no way,” he wailed at me, “that I am going in that place! There is no way I’m meeting with that nut-job! You can forget it, Devries! It simply isn’t going to happen!”
I went around to his side and bundled him out. And then half-dragged and half-propelled him. This was getting to be a habit. As I yanked him past the gates, however, he finally seemed to lose it.
There was a crackling sound. And a stream of flaring light came rushing out from the center of his forehead, shooting upward. The top of one of the spindly, leafless trees caught fire. A few large dark birds flapped away alarmedly, and something heavy went stampeding through the u
ndergrowth.
I watched, genuinely shocked, as the fire began spreading to the lower branches. That could have been me, goddamit.
But I kept hold of him all the same. It was less of a problem this time, since he had gone slack in my grasp. I could tell that he was mortified as well. He hadn’t meant to do that.
So I let go of the tension that had spread out through my body. And my tone, when I spoke to him again, was harsh.
“Is that nice? You’re a guest here. Put that out.”
He obediently raised his fingers, twitched them, and the fire vanished. But a few cinders were hissing down, there was a plume of smoke. This hadn’t been like the flames in his basement. They’d been far more real.
“I’m sorry, Devries,” he muttered, apparently disgusted with himself.
From this point, then, I was satisfied that I’d have no more trouble from him. He seemed rather lost and saddened. He had even managed to singe the brim of his hat.
Slowly, and still reluctantly on his part, we negotiated all the roots and saplings on the driveway, till Raine Manor came in sight.
It looked rather different in the day. More solid, yes, and more distinct. But not completely either of those qualities. The mist around it was all gone. It seemed it only came during the hours of darkness. But the place as a whole still had an eerie, faded look that wouldn’t go away entirely. Stare at it for long enough, and it might start crumbling away before your eyes.
The W on the high spire was casting a long shadow. The windows still gave onto pure blackness, despite the fact the sun was glinting on them. Its light didn’t seem to be allowed inside. And the gargoyles I’d seen moving on the roof were fast asleep along the gutters, by this hour. Not one of them stirred.
A wind chime finally rattled, making me jump. Principally, because there was no wind at all this time.
“You can still forget it,” Willets was informing me by this juncture. “I’m not going to fight you, but I’m not cooperating either.”
Once I’d made my mind up about something, I wouldn’t take no for an answer. Didn’t he even understand that? I dragged him up onto the porch. The front door was shut. And when I tried to turn the handle, it wouldn’t budge an inch.
I thumped at the wood with the edge of my fist and yelled out, “Woody, let us in!”
He had to know that we were out here. And I doubted he was all that pleased about it. He had probably guessed what I had planned for him. And the thought of actually getting involved … there was nothing quite like a stiff dose of practicality to send our Woods into a sulk.
I yelled out, “You can’t hide in there forever!”
Which was another questionable statement and got no response at all. I thought about trying to ram my way in, but the woodwork looked too stout for that.
“You see?” Willets was saying. “We’re wasting our time.”
I told him to be quiet. Except I didn’t exactly use those words.
Then I backed us both off half a dozen paces. Took the gun out of my pocket and fired a round at the big brass lock.
It did nothing but make a hole. But it had the desired effect.
There was a clack. And then the door swung open half a dozen inches. In the pitch darkness beyond it, Hampton’s broad, flat face appeared. He wasn’t in full uniform. He had his livery pants on, but the shirt and jacket were gone and he was in his undervest. I’d apparently interrupted him in the middle of grabbing a snack – there was a large blob of mayo sliding down his chin.
Those peculiar eyes of his narrowed at the sight of us and a crease appeared in his wide brow.
“Mr. Devries? What do you think you’re playing at?” he piped out. “Do you realize this door is made of the very finest Massachusetts oak?”
Unimpressed, I marched toward him, Willets still in tow.
Hampton only saw his mistake too late. He hadn’t even put the chain on. And when he tried to close the door again, I was there already, slamming it aside, then barging straight past his enormous bulk.
He started to protest, but I continued down the hallway, yelling, “Woody, show yourself!”
Willets’s footsteps clattered and scrabbled on the wooden floor. He seemed to have gotten a second wind, and was trying to escape from me more determinedly than ever. But in physical terms, he’s not all that strong, so I just hung on tightly. There was candlelight showing from the ballroom once again. So that was where I went.
It was no different than the last time I had been in here. Woody obviously liked things exactly the way they were, all dismal and spooky – it probably suited his usual frame of mind. Dim, ephemeral shapes surrounded us, the portraits and high chandeliers. It always felt – when I came here – like I’d fallen into someone else’s semi-waking fantasy.
At the center of the room were several flames, a candelabra rather than a single light. The glow they cast combined, however, didn’t even reach the walls.
We stepped into the thin pool of illumination. Willets had given up on trying to protest and looked round nervously, his features rather awed.
“He’s not here,” he protested. His voice had taken on a noticeably tremulous edge. “He’s probably just gibbering around in the attic, playing with his own feces or something.”
“That’s disgusting,” came a voice that I already knew, although it was a touch sharper this time, a little more cut-glass in tone.
We both span round, but could see nothing.
“Is that what you think of me?” it went on. “Do you honestly believe that I could be so …?”
Then it paused. A sigh rang out.
“Words fail me.”
There was a humming sound above us, like some kind of massive hornet had appeared out of thin air. So he was obviously unhappy. And that’s something about Woody that I haven’t yet explained.
He never could get it into his head that certain people didn’t like him. He always thought of himself as some kind of beloved leader, some revered benefactor. Mr. Popularity, with yellow eyes. And finding out that wasn’t the case … it made him sad, or made him angry. It invariably threw him into a foul mood.
Except I very badly needed him on board. I wasn’t even sure we could get anywhere very far without his personal involvement. Damn Willets and his big mouth. I struggled to think how to retrieve the situation.
“It was just a turn of phrase, a joke,” I called out.
He had so little understanding of the way that normal life worked that he might just buy it. I could only hope.
“Really?”
He sounded faintly intrigued. So I’d been right about that.
“A joke between friends,” I told him, pressing the point home. “What’s the world come to, if friends can’t josh each other?”
“But we’re not actually –”
“Comrades, then. Brothers in arms, united in a noble cause.”
He’d go for that, surely, being painted as the good guy? But I felt slightly dirty by this stage. I would have said almost anything to get him on our side, and knew it.
“Number twos though, sport? The very thought is so unsavory.”
“Bar-room humor,” I explained, working hard to sound convincing. “Just a bunch of buddies, all potty-mouthed and yakking it up.”
The only response I got was silence. So perhaps he didn’t understand.
“It’s a male-bonding thing,” I tried. “Boys will be boys, you know.”
“Oh!”
Which was followed by another pause. And then, “Yes, I see. I suppose they might.”
Those golden, slitted cat eyes of his opened in the darkness. I heard Willets let out a stifled murmur.
The humming above us stopped. So Woody had apparently cheered up. I took a deep breath. For all his dottiness and eccentricity, he could be dangerous when roused.
Raine took a step toward us. It sounded like he was barefooted, this time.
“Ha, yes! Very convivial. What fun we shall have.” He stared at me. “But I’m not s
ure I actually approve of your behavior, sport. Coming here completely uninvited? Shooting at my door? You are in my employ after all, and I believe I’m entitled to expect better of you.”
Then he looked across at Willets.
“The good doctor, I presume. Pleased to make your acquaintance at long last. It so happens that we share a passion. I have a particular taste for the musicality of that great tunesmith, Benny Goodman.”
He made a few quick noises that were supposed to be a clarinet. Willets turned away, muttering some kind of anatomical suggestion underneath his breath. But I grabbed him by the collar again. Turned him round and then gave him another shake, reminding him to behave himself.
He got the message. Nodded politely. Even tried to force a smile.
“That’s … well, that’s good to hear.”
He was still wearing his floppy hat and shades, and looked faintly ridiculous among all this dimmed-out grandeur. But when it comes to adepts, as I’d found out long ago, you never read them simply by appearances.
Raine turned his attention back to me.
“So – why have you disturbed me in this fashion, sport?”
“You must know what’s going on?”
“Of course. But I thought we had a deal. You sort out this unpleasantness, and I reward you handsomely. It all seemed very simple at the time, as I recall.”
“No, not good enough. I need your help.”
His eyes narrowed even further. And a luster that was half puzzled and half amused crept into them.
“Mine, old chum? I don’t get what you’re driving at.”
There was a hard set to my body. I’m not sure he even noticed that. But it was time to bring the Master of the Manor down to earth with a pretty hefty bump.
“You already know what we’re up against,” I told him flatly. “You must see nothing I can do, alone, will stop it. But look where I am? Standing in the same room with the two strongest adepts in this town. And if we worked together, as a team …?”
There was the faintest glint of comprehension from him, realism starting to bite home. But that didn’t even start to mean he liked it.
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