Darkroom (28 page)

‘So what are the five proofs of demonic possession?' asked Edward.

Jim counted them on his fingers. ‘One, you have to talk in unknown languages. Two, you have to know things that are distant or hidden. Three, you have to be able to predict future events. Four, you have to have an abhorrence of all things holy. Five, you have to show unusual physical strength.'

‘That sounds like Freddy,' said Edward. ‘You can't understand a word he's talking about and he knows if you have money, even if you've hidden it in your locker.'

‘No, but his socks are holey,' said Roosevelt.

They left West Grove in two cars shortly after 1
P.M
. Jim took Vinnie in his Lincoln, along with Sue-Marie and Edward, while Shadow followed close behind in his shiny black Ford Explorer, with Randy, Freddy and Philip, who had volunteered to join them. There was a forest fire burning up in the canyons, and the day was gloomy with smoke and fine particles of ash. There was a strong smell of burning in the air, too, and Jim hoped that it wasn't an omen.

Vinnie kept shaking his head, saying, ‘I never thought it would come to this.'

Jim said, ‘It's too late now, Vinnie. You can't turn the clock back. Let's just see what we can salvage.'

He could hear the bottles of concentrated sulfuric acid rattling in their plastic milk crate in the trunk. ‘This is what happens when you allow yourself to take evil for granted,' he added. ‘So long as Vane was safely trapped in that painting, the Benandanti forgot about him, didn't they? But all these years they should have been scouring every religious library in the world, searching for a sure-fire way to get rid of him for good.'

Vinnie reached inside his shirt and lifted out a small brass cylinder, hanging on a chain. ‘It's not
they
, Jim. It's
us
. I'm a member of the Benandanti, too. This is the caul I was born with, all rolled up.'

Jim glanced at it, and wrinkled up his nose.

Vinnie said, ‘You'd be amazed how many Benandanti there are. Politicians, businessmen, top people in the entertainment business. We're all devoted to stamping out evil, wherever it is.'

‘Except that you grew complacent, didn't you, when it came to Robert H. Vane. And because of that, God knows how many people have been burned to death.'

‘Yes,' Vinnie admitted.

Jim drew up outside the DeLancey Animal Hospital on Palimpsest Street and Shadow pulled up close behind him. Jim and Vinnie and the A-Team all climbed out of their vehicles. They looked up and down the street to make sure that there were no police cars around, and then Freddy climbed the steps to the front door of the hospital and took out his lock-pick. Meanwhile Randy lifted the crate of sulfuric acid out of Jim's trunk, while Shadow carried the canvas bag full of hammers and screwdrivers that Jim had borrowed from Walter the janitor, and Sue-Marie carried a shopping bag full of bright-red industrial gloves.

It took Freddy less than a minute to pick all three locks. He pushed the door open and said, ‘
Ver-wull-ah
, as they say in France. Beats climbing through windows.'

Jim checked the street again for any police cars, and then they trooped inside, closing the door behind them.

‘Hell of a place,' said Vinnie, with a shiver. After the warmth of the midday sun, the animal hospital was distinctly chilly, and it smelled even more unpleasant than it had last night. They had brought five flashlights with them, and their beams criss-crossed the hallway and illuminated the reception desk and the picture of the happy German shepherd.

‘Hell of a place is exactly right,' said Jim, and started to climb the stairs.

They went directly into the room where Robert H. Vane kept his filing cabinets. Jim pulled the first drawer right out and lowered it on to the brown linoleum floor. ‘Take out every drawer, go through every single daguerrotype one by one. Break the glass frame, and then pour acid over the surface. Tilt the plate from side to side, so that the whole image is burned off. When you've done that, pass the plates to Roosevelt and Mr Boschetto here, and they'll cut them up with shears so that they can't be re-plated and reused.'

Sue-Marie hunkered down next to the drawerful of daguerrotypes in her very short fringed leather skirt. She took a plate out of its envelope and peered at it closely. ‘Sir, I can't see no picture on this one.'

‘You have to hold it at an angle,' Jim explained.

She squinted at it one way, and then the other. ‘I still can't see nothing.'

Jim went across and looked at the plate, too. He shone his flashlight across it, at a diagonal, but Sue-Marie was right. The murky silver surface had no image on it at all. ‘Odd,' he said, and took another plate out of its envelope. That, too, was blank.

He was suddenly filled with an overwhelming feeling of dread. ‘Pull all of these drawers out!' he barked. ‘Check all of these daguerrotypes!'

The A-Team took out plate after plate.

‘Blank!' said Edward.

‘Blank!' said Randy.

‘Nothing on this one, neither!' said Shadow.

Jim found an envelope with a name he recognized. He opened it up and took out the daguerrotype, but that was blank, too. Soon the floor was strewn with empty brown envelopes, and blank daguerrotypes were scattered all around them.

‘What?' asked Vinnie apprehensively.

‘They're not here,' said Jim. ‘The shadow-selves, whatever you want to call them. We can't destroy them because their images are out and about someplace.'

‘I thought they could only go out at night,' said Roosevelt. ‘You know, like vampires.'

‘
Out
, yes,' said Jim. He slowly stood up, listening. Edward noisily took another plate out of its envelope. Jim put his finger to his lips and said, ‘Ssshh!'

‘What is it?' asked Philip. He looked even paler than usual, which made his spots look even redder.

‘I don't know,' said Jim. He was sure he had heard the faintest of rustling noises, the same noise that he had once heard in a darkened attic, when the rafters were clustered with bats. He moved cautiously toward the half-open door, opened it a few inches wider, and listened again.

‘They're downstairs,' he said.

‘You mean the shadow-selves?'

‘Can't you hear them? They can't go out during the day – the sunlight would fade them away to nothing – but it's dark in here. All the windows are blacked out.'

‘Oh, Jesus,' said Freddy. ‘We're going to get barbecued.'

‘They must have known we were coming!' said Vinnie. ‘How the hell did they know we were coming?'

‘I'm not sure. But we have to get out of here, and quick.'

He went out on to the landing. There was nobody on the stairs, but he could definitely hear shuffling and breathing. He crossed over to the banisters and looked down into the hallway.

He hardly ever swore. He had always believed that swearing was the sign of somebody who didn't know how to express themselves. But he swore then, even though he did it under his breath.

The hallway was crowded with silvery-black faces, all looking up at him with foggy white eyes. There must have been over a hundred of them, spilling out of the doors of every downstairs room – the waiting room, the surgery, the reception area. There was no way for Jim and his A-Team to get to the doors. They wouldn't even be able to make it halfway down the stairs before they were incinerated.

He turned around. His A-Team were standing right behind him. ‘We'll have to do what we did last night – climb out of the window!'

Vinnie said, ‘What? What is it, Jim? What's down there?'

‘Look for yourself.'

Vinnie peered over the banisters. He said nothing, but when he looked back at Jim his face was aghast.

‘Satisfied?' Jim asked him. ‘Now let's get out of here!'

Shadow went over to the opposite door and opened it. As he did so, however, five or six silvery-black people appeared inside the room. Shadow immediately slammed the door shut. ‘Mr Rook, we can't get out that way! It's cramful of gooks!'

‘Let's try the back of the house!'

Roosevelt tried another door, and then another, but both of them were locked. He opened a third door, but that room was crowded with shadow-selves, too, black-faced and white-eyed, and they took a threatening step forward. Roosevelt pulled it shut as fast as he had opened it, but he shouted out, ‘I can't lock it! There ain't no key! They're tugging at the handle and there ain't no key!'

Jim said, ‘Back in here, quick! We'll just have to break another window!'

He beckoned everybody back into the room with the filing cabinets in it. Vinnie was the last, except for Jim, and he was sobbing with panic.

‘Vinnie!' said Jim. ‘We're going to get out of here, all right?'

Vinnie stared at him wild-eyed. ‘They're going to cremate us alive! We're all going to die!'

‘Pull yourself together, will you? We have kids to take care of!'

‘I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! We didn't know that anything like this would happen! I swear it …'

Jim pushed him roughly into the room. He was just about to follow him when a slanting bar of sunlight crossed the wall at the side of the staircase. It disappeared almost instantly, but it was definitely sunlight. For a split second Jim couldn't think what it was, but then it came to him. Somebody must have opened the front door!

Treading very cautiously, he went back to the banister rail and looked down into the hallway. The silvery-black shadow people were still there. In fact there were more of them than before, jostling together like cockroaches. They were all looking up at him, and some of them were baring their black, negative teeth. He kept his hand half-raised in front of his face, in case they started flashing their lights at him, but they seemed to be waiting for something.

He stepped nearer to the banister and saw what it was that they were waiting for. Right in the middle of them crouched the hooded black figure of Robert H. Vane. His tripod legs were extended so that they were even longer and spindlier than they had been before, which made him twice the size.

Vane took one step forward, toward the bottom of the staircase, and then another, and another. His legs were so long that he crossed the hallway in two steps, and the third took him halfway up the first flight of stairs. He was followed closely by the swarm of shadow-selves, so that the awkward clattering of his feet was accompanied by the same metallic rustling as before, only much louder this time.

Jim ran back to the filing cabinet room and shut the door behind him. There was no key, so he tugged Randy by the sleeve and said, ‘Put your shoulder against it! Hold them back as long as you can!'

He turned to the window. Shadow and Freddy were wrestling with claw hammers, trying to pry away a protective wire-mesh screen. Jim hadn't noticed it before, because it was painted black, just like the glass.

‘How long is that going to take to get off?' he demanded.

‘Doing our best, sir! The screws is all rusted and painted over.'

‘Well, hurry! Vane's here, and he's coming upstairs!'

‘Vane?' Vinnie almost shrieked.

‘This was a trap. Vane must have known we were coming.'

Jim picked up a hammer and hit the side of the wire-mesh frame, trying to dislodge the screws. He hit it again and again, but all he managed to do was distort it.

‘Mr Rook!' Randy shouted. ‘Mr Rook! They're pushing against the door!'

‘Shadow! Go help him! Vinnie, you too!'

‘They're going to burn us alive!' screamed Vinnie. ‘We don't stand a chance, they're going to burn us alive!'

‘Just shut up and help to keep them out!' Jim yelled.

The door began to shake as the shadow-selves threw themselves against it. Randy, Shadow and Vinnie pressed against it as hard as they could, and Edward joined them, while Jim and Philip carried on smashing at the wire-mesh frame that covered the window.

But then there was a blinding flash all around the edges of the door, and an unbearable blast of heat. The A-Team staggered back into the room, flapping and clutching and blowing on their hands. The door was kicked from outside, and then kicked a second time. In a swirl of noxious black smoke, the door swung wide open, its paint still blazing and dripping on to the floor in rivulets of fire. Outside stood Robert H. Vane, with the black cloth drawn back from his square, bone-white head. Jim could see now that it was only his right eye that had mutated into a huge black lens. His left eye was gray, and disconcertingly normal, although he stared at Jim as if he were short-sighted, or drugged. His mouth hung open on one side, like a stroke victim, and his teeth were crowded and spotted with black decay.

Jim stepped in front of his students and spread his arms protectively. None of them spoke. Robert H. Vane heaved himself into the room, and stood facing them, with six or seven of his silvery-black shadow people trying to force themselves around his legs.

‘So – ahem! – this is the showdown,' said Jim. He was trying to sound challenging, but he had a catch in his throat and he had to keep clearing it. ‘This is where absolute evil starts to take over the world, is it? And – ahem! – woe to anybody who tries to stand in the way.'

Robert H. Vane's bellows-like chest rose and fell. ‘
I do nothing
,' he whispered. His voice reminded Jim of a sack with a dead dog in it, being dragged across a rough path. ‘
All I do is show the human race what it really is
.'

‘Oh Jesus, oh Jesus, he's going to burn us alive!' moaned Vinnie.

‘The human race isn't all evil,' said Jim. ‘There's good and there's bad in every one of us, except for you.'

‘
I am purity
,' whispered Robert H. Vane.

‘You?' said Jim. ‘You're pure evil, that's what you are. You and all of these shadow people that you keep trapped in your daguerrotypes. The
good
Robert H. Vane is lying in his grave, and all that's left is his ugly side, which is you.'