Tales of the Shadowmen 4: Lords of Terror

by Jean-Marc Lofficier

I gasped. “How did you know I was thinking that?” I whispered. I was frankly terrified, but too fascinated to turn away. “Are you a genie?”

  “Hardly,” he said with a smile. “And I did not read your mind. Your thoughts were plainly evident upon your face.”

  I frowned, and felt the face in question flush with embarrassment. At this, he favored me with a look of mild rebuke. “Come, now,” he said. “Do not look so abashed. You are right to be cautious. You are old enough to know there is evil in this world.”

  I thought of my Da, and then buried that shameful thought before the Doctor could read that on my face as well. “So how can I know that you’re a good guy?” I asked. “Why are you looking for Miss Nolan anyway?”

  “Those are fair questions,” the Doctor said. He gestured toward the nearby stairwell. “Why don’t we sit down for a moment and discuss it?”

  “OK,” I said, and we did just that. I can hardly convey how strange it was to be sitting there with the Sâr Dubnotal. Regal though he was, he seemed perfectly at ease in those shabby surroundings, and I could almost imagine that we were sitting together in some exclusive club for wealthy tycoons, instead of on the top step of a filthy stairwell.

  “Nick, I am very concerned about Miss Nolan,” the Doctor said. “I think that she may need my help.”

  “How can you know that? You didn’t even know her name until I told it to you.”

  “I will explain.” His eyes fixed on a point in the middle distance. “I am here in New York to visit a friend with whom I have been corresponding, a certain Judge Pursuivant. I was meditating in my hotel room when I sensed a disturbance in the astral plane which...”

  “The what?” I interrupted, thoroughly confused and wondering what Miss Nolan had to do with airplanes.

  The Doctor sighed. “Of course,” he said, mostly to himself, “silly of me.” He looked me squarely in the eye. “Nick,” he said in a quiet voice, “last night I had a feeling that something very bad was happening, and my feelings with regard to such things are never, ever wrong. Just as one can follow smoke to a fire, I have followed that feeling to this building,” he pointed down the hall, “to that apartment. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” I whispered, and though it sounded a little crazy, even to the ears of a child, the Doctor was so grave and assured that it was impossible to disbelieve him.

  “Excellent,” he said. “Now, tell me, do you care for Miss Nolan?”

  “She’s my best friend in the whole world.”

  “Do you spend a lot of time with her?”

  “She lets me stay with her when my Da...”

  “Yes?”

  I tore my eyes away from his penetrating gaze. “I visit her a lot.”

  “I see,” he said, and I am sure that he did. “I want you to think very carefully about what I am going to ask you now. Has Miss Nolan done or said anything recently that seemed strange to you?”

  “Well…she won’t play checkers anymore.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, sir. She used to love it, but now she says it’s…” my brow furrowed as I tried to find the word. “Infantile, that’s it. She’s been showing me how to play chess.”

  The Doctor raised a single eyebrow. “And how are you progressing?” he asked.

  “I’m not very good. She yells at me a lot.”

  “Did she ever do that before?”

  “No,” I said, and I thought I sounded very small and weak. I looked down at the steps.

  “Is there anything else?” the Doctor asked. In my mind, I could hear a faint echo of Miss Nolan’s voice, icy with rage: You insolent whelp!

  “Nick?” the Doctor asked, as gentle and persuasive as a caring father.

  You insignificant maggot!

  “Please look at me, Nick.”

  I clenched my teeth and stared resolutely at the floor. Inside me there was a sudden rush of anger toward the Sâr Dubnotal. Why was he making me talk about these things? Why wouldn’t he just leave me alone? I felt the curses I had learned from my Da curling on my tongue, eager to be spit into his face. Snarling in defiance, I turned to him…and I was immediately struck dumb by what I saw.

  The Doctor, his eyes glittering like emeralds, was casually walking a gold dollar to and fro across the knuckles of his right hand. Suddenly, he clenched his fist and the coin disappeared. Then he turned his wrist, slowly opened his hand, and the coin was sitting up on its edge, perfectly balanced in his palm.

  I was dazzled by this sleight of hand, and in my amazement I momentarily forgot my anger and pain. My reprieve, however, was short-lived.

  “Nick,” the Doctor said, “I know it hurts you to discuss these things, but I’m afraid it’s necessary. I cannot help if I am not privy to all the facts. However, there is a way you can give me the information I need without having to actually talk about it.”

  “There is?”

  “Yes. Unfortunately, you still have to remember it. It will not be a very pleasant experience, but it will be of invaluable assistance to me.”

  “Assist you how?” I asked, a petulant whine creeping into my voice. “What exactly do you want to know?”

  “I want to know why Miss Nolan doesn’t like checkers anymore,” he said, without a hint of irony or sarcasm. “Will you help me?”

  I considered it for a moment. He was such a strange man, but everything about him inspired feelings of confidence and trust. Of course, I knew from my books that all the best villains did the same thing, but I couldn’t persuade myself that he was bad. I glanced at the coin, still steady and straight on its edge in the center of his hand, and I made my decision. “What do you want me to do?” I asked.

  “Keep your eyes on the coin,” he whispered.

  Slowly at first, then with increasing rapidity, the coin began to spin. I felt a chill despite the summer heat.

  “How are you doing that?” I asked, and my voice seemed to come from some distance far outside of myself.

  “I am the Great Psychagogue,” he replied, as if that explained it. “Concentrate on the coin. See how it reflects the light. Let everything else around you fall away…”

  As he said these words, I felt a sudden lightness, and my surroundings seemed to grow hazy and indistinct. I felt as if I were slipping into a fever dream.

  “Do not be frightened by what you are feeling,” the Doctor said. “I will be with you on every step of this journey.”

  The stairs completely disappeared into a dark, grey mist. The air was cool and dry, and I could no longer feel the floor beneath me. All the while, floating before my eyes, the coin continued to spin, flickering like a golden star.

  Then, there came a sense of gentle descent, and I could once again feel the wood of the steps. The flickering light began to slow, then ceased. The hall reformed, but retained a certain dim, artificial quality, as if it were an imperfect reproduction constructed from someone’s flawed and fading…memory.

  I felt a shock of realization. I heard the Doctor’s voice, not with my ears but with my mind. That is correct, Nick, he said. We are within your memories.

  There was a creaking on the steps. I looked down and saw Miss Nolan, bundled in a heavy coat and brushing flakes of snow from her shoulders. There was a package with a red bow in the crook of her arm, and I recognized it as a gift she had given me at Christmas, a used copy of The Book of a Hundred Games.

  She was then, and remains to this day, my ideal not only of feminine beauty, but of Beauty itself. Petite, red-haired and freckled, she was the very archetype of the fair Irish colleen, and seeing her filled me with such love that my heart ached.

  She looked up and saw me, and her blue eyes narrowed with concern. “Nick!” she exclaimed. “What are doing out here? You’re going to catch your death of cold!”

  I wanted to answer, but I couldn’t. Startled, I tried to stand up, but my body wouldn’t respond. Do not be alarmed, I heard the Doctor say. You are a dreamer, conscious of the fact you are dreaming, but powerless to contr
ol your actions. Relax, and let yourself be pulled by the strings of memory.

  Miss Nolan knelt in front of me. “So,” she said, “in his cups again, is he?” I slowly nodded. “Oh, well,” she sighed, “may as well be mad at the sky for being blue. Maybe if your Ma hadn’t died so young…” She shook her head, and then her expression of dismay vanished with a mischievous wink. “Tell you what, why don’t we have some hot chocolate?”

  At last I spoke. “Can we? With whipped cream?”

  She gave an exaggerated scowl. “What do you think this is, my boy, the Waldorf-Astoria?” She laughed and tousled my hair. “Come along, Master Rockefeller. I hope you’ll forgive us for not having cream tonight.”

  Suddenly, the scene changed and we were in Miss Nolan’s apartment. I was sitting with her on a couch, a steaming cup of cocoa in my hand. “Have you made any progress on Robinson Crusoe?” she asked.

  “It’s too hard,” I whined. “Why can’t I keep reading Tom Swift?”

  “You can, but I want you to read other things, too. I want you to challenge yourself, Nick.” She reached over and tapped my forehead. “You have a good mind, so I want to see you use it. I want you to be living better than this when you get to be my age.”

  “You’re not doing so bad,” I assured her.

  “Think so, do you? Twenty-four years old with no decent man to speak of? Barely scraping by working as a clerk in some old lady’s bookshop? And a haunted one at that?”

  “Haunted?” I asked. “By a ghost?”

  “Well, what else, silly? I’ve heard it a couple of times coming from the cellar.”

  “What does it sound like?”

  She frowned. “It sounds like a crying child. I’ve gone down there to look, but I can never find anything. I asked Mrs. Bishop about it, and she says she hears it all the time. ‘Pay it no heed,’ says she. ‘It’s just another lost and forgotten soul.’ Pretty spooky, eh?” I nodded vigorously, and then the cocoa was gone and Miss Nolan had her arm around me, holding me close. I felt myself drifting into sleep, lulled by her warmth and the sound of her heartbeat against my ear. “I want you to listen to me, Nick,” she said. “I’m going to give you a key. Anytime that I’m not here and your old man gets to be a bit too much, you can come over and stay, OK?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said in a drowsy whisper.

  “That’s a good boy,” she said.

  Then I was awake again, sitting on the couch alone, reading by a feeble ray of spring sunshine. I was on the last chapter of Robinson Crusoe, and consumed with elation at being so near to the end. There was a rattle at the door, and Miss Nolan stepped into the room. “Now there’s a handsome man to come home to,” she said with a grin. “I was hoping you’d be here. You can help me celebrate!”

  “You got a new job?” I said.

  “Oh, better than that! Nick, my boy, I deserve a good swift kick for every time I ever complained about dear, sweet, lovable Mrs. Emily Bishop, God rest her soul!”

  “What do you mean? You always said she was nasty. When she died two weeks ago, you said...”

  “Bite your tongue, my lad! That wonderful lady, that angel, has reached out from the grave and delivered me into a better life!”

  “How did she do that?”

  “She left me everything, Nick! Do you understand? She wrote a will and left me everything she owned!” Laughing, she took my hands and led me in a little victory dance. Then a disturbing thought occurred to me, and I gave it voice: “Does this mean you’re going to move away?”

  Miss Nolan sat down on the couch and pulled me down with her. “Now, Nick,” she said, “sometimes a person’s circumstances can change and they…and they…” A far-away look came into her eyes, and then she winced as if in pain.

  “Are you all right?” I asked, leaning in close. She roughly pushed me away.

  “Yes,” she said sharply. “Yes, I’m perfectly fine. It’s just my head… Sometimes it hurts.” She started rubbing her temples. “It started about a month ago, right after Mrs. Bishop got sick. It always goes away after a few minutes. I just have to… Oh…God…” She gasped and curled into a fetal ball. For a moment I was panic-stricken. She was clearly in agony and I had no idea what to do. I was even considering going to Da for help, when she suddenly sat upright. She looked at me for a moment as if she were surprised to see me, then gave me a peculiar little half-smile.

  “Distressed, boy?” she asked. It seemed like such an odd thing to say, and was said in such a mocking tone, that I wasn’t sure how to respond. I waited for her to say more, but she just kept staring at me with that strange, impish look. Her eyes, normally so gentle, began to burn with a predatory cruelty. She was scaring me, and must have sensed this, because she blinked a few times and appeared normal again…almost.

  “I’m sorry, child,” she said. “You must forgive my behavior. It’s these dreadful headaches. They can really be quite debilitating. Now, as I was saying, you are clearly concerned that I will be leaving you to your own devices in this…place.” She looked around with a sneer, then seemed to force herself to smile. “But you must not trouble yourself. You are very important to me, you see.”

  “I am?” I said, and my misgivings disappeared at the pleasure of hearing her say this.

  “Oh, yes!” she exclaimed. “In fact, I don’t think I could live without you.”

  No one–not even Miss Nolan–had ever said something like that to me before, and I was over the Moon. I rushed forward and hugged her, barely noticing the stiffness and hesitation of her returned embrace. Then she softened and some of the familiar warmth and affection returned to her arms.

  “Steady on, Nick,” she said with a laugh. “What’s brought all this on?”

  “You’re the nicest person in the world,” I said.

  “Am I? Well, I suppose I’d be foolish to argue with a thing like that.”

  I looked up at her, and the strange and unpleasant light that had danced in her eyes was gone. “Is your head better?” I asked.

  “My head?” Her eyes narrowed in confusion. “It was hurting again, wasn’t it?” She brightened a little. “But it’s all gone now, thank the Lord.”

  There was a sudden stillness, and everything around me seemed to freeze; a moment trapped in amber. I couldn’t understand what was happening. I felt a rising panic as I gazed into Miss Nolan’s now vacant eyes.

  We have to go forward, Nick. I heard the Doctor say. Please release us from this memory.

  But I’m not doing this! I cried out to him, but even as I thought the words, I realized I was wrong. In fact, I was doing it, and I knew why. Please bring me out, I implored. Just let it all stop here.

  I will not force you to continue, Nick. But let me ask you this, do you believe I have seen all I need to see?

  I did not respond.

  This is the last pleasant memory you have of Miss Nolan, isn’t it?

  I let my silence stand for a yes, and I refused to say anything more. I expected the Doctor to grow angry at me for my obstinacy, but all I could sense from him was pity, which was somehow worse. Very well, he said, and I thought I could hear him sigh. I will count down from...

  No! I interrupted. I’ll show you the rest. I’ll show you everything. I concentrated…and entered a kaleidoscope of pain.

  – I sit, nervous and bewildered, staring at a chessboard while Miss Nolan berates me for an obtuse clod.

  – I feel her cuff me on the back of the head. Cocoa?! Impertinent brat! Am I your serving wench?

  – I see her on the floor, holding her head, writhing in pain. What’s happening to me? Why is this happening to me? I go to her and looks up at me, frightened and imploring. I’m losing me! I’m…I’m… Away from me, boy! I don’t need your help! Go back to your sot of a father!

  I cried out, whether aloud or only in my mind I cannot say. I felt myself plunging into the black abyss where I had buried the worst moments of my young life. I rushed headlong through the death of my mother; through a hundred beat
ings from Da; through a thousand cuts of Miss Nolan’s increasing and unaccountable cruelties…

  …I am standing outside of Miss Nolan’s door. On the other side, I can hear a low, guttural chanting, punctuated by a series of small cries. In my hand, I hold the key that she gave me, and I resolve to use it. I quietly step into the apartment. The room is saturated with a dull, yellow glow coming from some indeterminate source. Miss Nolan is sitting on the floor, her back turned to me. She is naked, but her body is covered with symbols and writing I cannot understand. The chanting and the crying is emanating from her, but it does not sound like her voice. She falls silent, and sees me over her shoulder. You dare? she says, low and dangerous. You dare disturb me now?

  My mouth moves but no sounds come out. I want to run, but I am rooted to the spot.

  Nothing to say? She rises to her feet and turns to face me. The strange runes and foreign script cover her from head to toe. Tell me boy, do you like to see me this way?

  I shake my head. I don’t like it at all.

  No? Why is that?

  My mouth feels as if it is full of sand, but I force myself to answer. Because this isn’t you, I whisper.

  She laughs. That is an interesting observation. Perhaps you are more intelligent than I presumed. If so, then you won’t have any difficulty learning this lesson. She steps forward and strikes my face with the back of her hand. Look at me, you insignificant maggot! She grasps my chin and forces me to look into her eyes. They were once blue, those eyes, but now they have darkened to black. If you ever again come unbidden into my presence, she says, I will thrash you until you bleed. Do you understand? I say that I do, and she strikes me again, hard enough to send me to my knees. You do not weep, she observes, standing over me.

  It never does any good, I reply.

  There is a long silence, and then she is helping me to my feet. Go, she says, and remember your lesson. She slams the door behind me and…

  Please, Doctor…

  She slams the door behind me…

  Please bring me back…

  She slams the door…

  Please…

  …I was once again sitting at the top of the stairs, staring at a spinning coin in the hand of the Sâr Dubnotal. For a moment I could not move or speak. The thought occurred to me that I was still trapped in the labyrinth of my memories. I felt a rising horror at the possibility I would have to travel those dark corridors again, but then the Doctor’s hand closed. “It’s over, Nick,” he said. “You have done well.”