Late at Night (20 page)

The thing below was evil. And it was almost at the door.

There was a scratching sound. Fingernails scraping against the bottom of the door.

The door moved slightly upwards, shaken from without, rising, rising. The bolt held. Gloria stifled a scream. One hand went into her mouth, between clenched teeth.

Then she jumped back in horror as the thing began beating on the door, as the door began to shake, to quiver, as with each pounding, merciless blow it almost jumped right off its hinges.

It was going to beat the door in. Gloria was certain of it. And she was equally certain that it was no ordinary person below that door. An ordinary person could not do to a trapdoor what this thing was doing.

There was a terrible cracking sound, a metallic wrench, and with one loud, explosive motion, the door burst upwards into the chamber. Gloria jumped back out of its way just in time. She screamed, her entire body shivering in fear. She wanted to close her eyes, to shut out the horror, but could not. She could only back up and watch as the thing on the stairs advanced into the room.

She walked into something. The lantern. It was a French lantern with fifteen reflectors, twenty-one inches in diameter, individual lights arranged in two circular rows.

Suddenly the light was turned on.

Gloria was blinded, burned. Then the lantern went out as suddenly as it had gone on. Through the haze, Glo could barely make out the figure climbing towards her.

It was a man. Sort of. A crazy hybrid amalgam of human and demon, a devil in human form. It looked like a man, walked like a man, but the eyes were bright with madness, and the skin was burnt and blackened, and the mouth was open and showing scores of yellowed, sharp-fanged teeth among which a vivid red tongue was snaking. One thought tore across Gloria’s mind.
Edmund Burrows. The Maniac. The maniac who slaughtered all those people in 1900. He’s still alive. He’s come back. And he wants to take my life.

The man/demon stepped into the room. Thoughts of
blood, screaming
ran through Gloria’s mind. A twisted, scattered jumble of all she had read about this monster bounced back and forth in her brain. What he did to his victims, how he killed them, what he did to their bodies afterwards. Gloria had visions of obscene mutilation, dismemberment, torment no one should have to know about, let alone endure.

But she was lucky. This was not Edmund Burrows, but only a
materialization
of his memory, a physical replica brought together out of the psychic ebbs and currents flowing across the island, shaped and given substance by the mind of someone who was just as sick and evil as the late Edmund Burrows had been those many years before.

Too frozen with terror to defend herself, Gloria could only sob and whimper as the manifestation stepped forward, grabbed her in his arms, and lifted her bodily off the floor. There was a sickening moment when she knew what was going to happen to her, a terrible realization that she would never know why.

And a terrible stab in her heart when for one sane second she wondered what would become of Jerry.

The lantern room was shaped like a polygon. There were sixteen windows, forty-four by twenty-four inches, and three-eighth of an inch thick. Suddenly Glo was being thrown headfirst through one of those windows, starting the grisly descent to the rocks at the bottom of the cliff so many feet below. The cold rush of air contrasted with the hot feel of the blood flowing from the cuts and scrapes her flesh had endured from the flying shards of shattered glass. One arm had been nearly severed. Her head was pounding with horror and agony and excitation. She was flying, flying, whirling through the
air—look at me! You earthbound fools. I’m immortal
—It was a dream, that was all, a beautiful dream of freedom and flying.

And then her body smashed into the rocks below and her beautiful dream was over.

Halfway across the island, the necromancer smiled.

Chapter 37

Nothing.

They had found nothing. There hadn’t been a trace of the paperback novel anywhere in any of the guest rooms. As they walked down the second-floor hall to the staircase, Ernie whispered new instructions. “When we get downstairs, I’ll go into my room and search it thoroughly again. Perhaps someone borrowed the book and brought it back while we were out.”

Andrea looked a little impatient. Or was it a trick of the light? “I still think you should tell them—”

“No,” he interrupted. “Not just yet. I’m not sure what I’m dealing with here.” They paused at the top of the stairs, careful to keep their voices low so that the people in the lounge couldn’t hear them. “I want-to see if I can find the book, make sure it really exists, before I tell everyone else about it.” He rubbed his face and looked heavenward. “They’ll probably think I’m mad.”

“You don’t have to tell them all you’ve told me,” Andrea insisted. “Just tell them you were reading an interesting novel, and you can’t find it, and you wondered if anyone had seen it. That’s all. Simple, isn’t it? And while you’re doing the talking, I’ll watch the others carefully for some sign of a reaction.”

“I don’t know.”

“It’s the only way.”

“All right. But first, let’s look a little bit longer. Whoever has the book may not give it up willingly. But if we find it…” His voice trailed off.

“Let’s not forget that this book could easily fit into a purse or a pocketbook,” Andrea said. “Or even the large jacket in a man’s suitcoat. Anybody could have concealed it on their person. This searching the house from top to bottom may be a waste of time.”

“Maybe it’s all a waste of time.” The sound of tinkling ice cubes in tall glasses, conversation, trickled up the stairs from below.

“No, Ernie. I believe you. I really do. It’s not just your honest face,” she smiled, and he couldn’t help but respond in kind, if only briefly. “There’s something in the air,” she continued. “I can sense it. I sense the presence of a disruptive element. It could be the book, it could be whomever it belongs to. I don’t know. But one thing I am sure of. We’re all in terrible danger.”

Ernie wanted to ask her exactly what she meant, how she knew. But her bearing, her evident self-confidence, intimidated him. He was beginning to be in awe of her. Or was it just that lie wasn’t sure if she was really a gifted psychic— which would be impressive enough—or a self-deluding, dangerous mental case. Which would also be impressive, but rather disillusioning.

“We have to try and go into the servant’s quarters when we have the chance,” he said. “One of us can pretend to go to the bathroom again, then duck into the rooms in back.”

“What about the cook?” Andrea reminded him. “She’s taken sick. And she was sharing a room with the girls.”

“Damn. I forgot. That’s one whole room we won’t be able to go into. And if Hans is in the room he shared with Eric, we might as well forget the whole thing.”

“One step at a time,” she said. As they started down the staircase, she giggled softly at her inadvertant pun.

Downstairs there was a visible tension in the air. Gloria and Jerry had yet to come back, the housekeepers were still missing, and Ever son was asking Hans over and over again if he knew where Eric had disappeared to. The others weren’t aware that instead of going to her room, Cynthia had walked out the door, but this wasn’t the time to tell them.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Everson. As I told you, the last time I saw Eric we were searching the west end of the island. I recall Eric said that he thought he had heard something and wanted to see what it was. We decided to split up so we could cover more territory.” Hans shrugged. “You know Eric. He is—well—” The Swede was obviously not comfortable telling on a fellow employee, but “his sense of duty got the better of him. “—he’s not very responsible, sir. If you want my honest opinion—”

“That would help!” Everson snapped.

“I think he went off drinking somewhere and passed out in the bushes.”

Hans could hardly be accused of covering for Eric, but Everson seemed to be of the dubious opinion that the Swede was protecting the chauffeur, as well as the housekeepers. “For pete’s sake, John,” Lynn protested, “there isn’t some sort of conspiracy among the ‘workers’ going on. If Hans says he doesn’t know where they are then I’m sure he doesn’t know.”

“I’m only ask—”

“You’re
grilling
him, and it isn’t necessary.” She smashed the stub of her cigarette angrily into the nearest ashtray and turned her back on the lawyer. There seemed to be a fragile thread holding their relationship together, and the least little snap would tear the thread in two.

Everson turned to his employee. “Hans. I’m sorry. I’m so overwrought, worried about those girls. This is so unlike them. Eric, yes. He is irresponsible and I’ve accepted it long ago. But Emily. Joanne. What could they be up to?”

Hans only shook his head. “I’ll keep searching all night if I have to.”

“This whole thing
is
becoming a little alarming,” Anton said. He was perched on the settee, his smirk in place, holding his chest and head up in a manner that made him seem bird-like. “It’s getting quite dark out, in case anyone hasn’t noticed, and there are several people out there, some of whom might well be injured or incapacitated.”

Anton’s manner irritated Ernie no end. “Will you help us go out and look for them?”

Anton remained unruffled. “I have nothing else to do, dear fellow.” He bowed from the waist with it .sweeping gesture. “Lead on.”

Ernie realized that he had put himself in a spot. There was something else he wanted to search for before he went looking for the missing staff and guests. He looked over in Andrea’s direction, but she was gone.
Good girl,
he thought, she was going to look in the servants’ quarters while Hans and the others were milling about out here. Then he could hear her voice coming from the kitchen. She must have stopped to chat with Betty, who was still in there doing the dishes.

“All right,” Ernie said. “Should we go in teams as before? Or should we separate?”

Everson waved his arm limply as if to discount both suggestions. “Ernie, no. You people are our guests. Hans and I will do the searching. We’ll go where the girls were seen last. The house. They probably wandered around and lost track of the time.” He looked at the swede. “Hans, half of the flashlights we have aren’t working. Go out in the shed and see if you can find some more batteries.”

“All right, sir. But I must tell you that the area near the mansion has already been searched.”

“But no one went back
inside
the house. That’s what I intend to do.” He addressed the other two men in the room. “You fellows can stay here until we get back. If we think we need you, we’ll let you know.”

Ernie stepped forward. “John, it will be a lot easier if we go with you. That house is
big,
remember? At least let Anton and me look elsewhere on the island.”

Anton grunted. “We’ll probably bump smack into those star-crossed lovers, Glo and Jerry.”

Everson groaned. “Darn. I forgot about them.”

“Relax,” Anton continued. “They’re undoubtedly having a nice, long chat, reassessing their relationship and all that. They’ll come back when they’re good and ready. I wouldn’t worry about them. Those May-December romances, you know.”

If Everson had heard the last remark, or if Anton was embarrassed that he had made it, neither made it evident. Lynn, however, smoking a freshly lit cigarette over in the corner, gave the pianist a glowering stare.

“Hans, look for the batteries.” The Swede nodded to his employer and headed out to the storage shed.

Lynn puffed furiously on her cigarette as if fortifying herself, then made her way over to Anton’s side. “Of course, you conveniently forgot to mention that Glo and Jerry wouldn’t have run off at all if you had learned to mind your business.” It was clear that there were a lot of hurts between the two, a lot of sensitive areas and sore spots left over from their old relationship. “But no, you have to run and tell Gloria the bad news the first chance you get.”

Everson saw a scene arising, and tried to head it off, the diplomat in him surfacing. “Lynn. Not now. Let’s not get into—”

“She’s my aunt!”
she screamed. “And I love her. And I won’t have her hurt by this slimy, two-bit”—she held her hands out, searching for the right word—
“asshole
who loves to play with people’s feelings as if they were—as if they were dirt.”

Anton’s face wore a scornful look, but on the outside he was calm. “You’re overreacting,” he said. “Shamelessly. Your aunt can take care of herself, in case you hadn’t noticed. I’ve been friends with Glo for years, remember?
She
introduced you to me. I thought she should know how ‘faithful’ her boring little playmate really is. You’ve been acting strange ever since we landed on the island, Lynn, and whatever’s bothering you has affected your judgment.”

“Ooooohhhh,” Lynn made her hands into fists and squealed out her anger. “I could just—”

The kitchen door swung open and Betty was there, wiping her hands on an apron tied around her waist. She looked so worried, so distraught, that for a moment Ernie thought she had rushed out in Anton’s defense. Anton looked towards her with a smile on his face, all beneficence, all charm, like a praying mantis catching sight of a tidbit.
”Betty.”

She continued wiping her hands and looked at the others in turn. “Mrs. Plushing,” she said. “I—I’m terribly worried about her.” Immediately she had Everson’s and Lynn’s undivided attention. “Her fever is getting higher. She’s burning up.”

“My God.” Lynn stubbed out another cigarette, put her hand over her mouth.

“We brought medicine, extra blankets,” Everson said. “In case of an emergency. Hans will show you where they are.” As if on cue the Swede walked in carrying a pair of flashlights. “We remembered everything
but
batteries,” the handyman explained. “But I found these and they seem to be working.”

“Never mind that now,” Everson said. “Take Betty out and show her where the thermometer and medicines we brought along are stored. In the small black case, I believe. Do you mind nursing Mrs. Plushing for a while?” he asked Betty. She was still wiping her hands, which by now were as dry as the Sahara. “Just until I return?”