Light (11 page)

‘Yes, she was attractive but the thing
that did really draw us together was her interest in me as a Jew.’

‘Yeah, why?’

‘Well, it seemed to be some kind of
obsession of hers.  Jewish history, the holocaust, that sort of thing, you
know.’

‘I see.  Do you know why?’

‘No, nor did she,’ and, thinking about it,
it was something of a mystery.  He had never really wondered about it when he
was going with Cherry, but now…?

At that moment the light almost
imperceptibly dimmed but Shmueli barely noticed.  He was well and truly into
the interview.

‘So, why did your relationship end?’

Now that was the question he was
dreading.  What could he say?

‘I ended it.  I had no choice.’

‘Why?’

‘I’m sorry.  That’s not something I care
to discuss.

‘But, Shmueli, that’s the most important
thing.  I know what happened you see.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Don’t play games with me.  I told you; I
know what you did,’ and there was now an edge to the reporter’s voice.  An edge
that Shmueli felt most unpleasant.  He couldn’t possibly know.  Cherry would
never have said.  He had to be digging.  Looking for a story.

‘Listen, Mr Mitchell...’

‘Mitch.’

‘No.  You listen to me, Mr Mitchell.  It’s
been a year since Cherry and I broke up.  As far as I’m concerned that’s all
I’m prepared to say.  I really don’t want to talk about it.’

And the light began to flicker.  This time
it was quite noticeable.

‘Don’t you?  Well, let me guess.  You were
dating a gentile against the wishes of your parents and then you became religious. 
How am I doing?’

Shmueli had no intention of replying.

‘Good.  Warm am I?  Once you’d got
religion you realised that your parents were right and you chucked the girl. 
I’m correct, aren’t I?  The talented Miss Linford didn’t understand you and...’

‘No, shut up.’

‘Samuel, that’s not very polite is it?’

And the lights continued to flicker.

Shmueli knew that he had to conclude this
as quickly as possible.

‘Mr Mitchell.  Would you please leave?  I
really have nothing more to say to you.’

In his anger Shmueli quite failed to see
in the coruscating gloom that a shadow had entered the room to hover behind the
armchair in which the reporter sat.

‘Now, come on, Shmueli.  Why do you think
I’m interviewing you?  Tell me the truth!’

And, as he spoke those angry words,
Mitch’s expression hardened.  In an instant all pretence had vanished and the
look that he gave Shmueli was one of total and absolute malice.

Shmueli cringed in his chair

The next words, when they came, were an
even bigger surprise, ‘You know, I really hate you fucking Yids.  Your
sanctimonious attitudes.  What is it with you?  A good Christian girl, not good
enough for you?’

‘No!’ he wanted to scream but he held
himself in check.  This situation had to be defused somehow.  But, Shmueli knew
that he was not man enough to deal with it alone.  If he was going to call for
Asher, now was the time.  First, however, he would have one more try for
himself.

‘I’ve asked you to leave.  Please do so,
now.’

‘And who’s going to make me?’

And, behind the seat, the shadow began to
grow.

Shmueli was in trouble, deep trouble.  Now
he had no choice.  But, before he could shout out, his nemesis spoke again. 
His words were anything but comforting.

‘And don’t think of calling out.  No-one
can hear you.  I’ve made certain of that.’

The shadow became darker, became stronger.

Shmueli, however, was quite oblivious to
it.  All he could do was to concentrate on the strange words that he had just
heard.  How could Mitch have done anything to the others?

‘Asher!’ he screamed.

But, just as Mitch had predicted, there
was no response.

‘I told you, they can’t hear us.  There’s
no-one to help you, you see.  It’s just the two of us.’  And then the shadow,
dark and menacing, rose to be clearly visible.  ‘Three, actually, counting my friend
there.’

And Shmueli looked in terror at the
unearthly form that was swiftly expanding to dominate the room.  All he wanted
to do was to curl up and bury his head but that way led to disaster, he was
sure of that.  He had to escape, somehow.

Desperately he stood and, facing the
enemy, he slowly backed from the room.  Now he knew the truth, everything that
he had so far experienced was nothing other than a precursor for this moment. 
He was about to face the supernatural and he knew beyond any possibility of a
doubt that his chances of survival were virtually zero.

‘Wait, Shmueli.  Don’t run away.  We
haven’t finished with you.’

And his legs turned to water.  He was
rooted to the spot.

‘That’s better.  Watch as the fun starts.’

And the strange form began to grow and, as
it did so, the more defined it became.  A monstrous ogre-shaped fog that
pulsated with an evil energy as if it were alive.

What was it?

The stench of damp and decay was
overpowering.  What did it want?  And, unbearably slowly, its shape shifted as
it moulded itself to fill the entire room.  It reached into every single corner
and, where it touched, the plasterwork began to crumble.  Dank, dark, grey. 
Paint visibly chipped, paper peeled and then the temperature plummeted.

The reporter opened his mouth and laughed.

Surely someone must have heard the racket,
but there was only silence from the hallway behind.

And the laughter ceased.  Everything
seemed to freeze.  Shmueli’s legs became strong again but he was too horrified
to run.  Within him was a death-wish that compelled him to watch how the drama
would unfold.

Things were changing.

Mitch opened his mouth even wider.  Surely
no-one could sustain that without tearing his face.  But no, it remained, a
great well of darkness leading down Mitch’s gullet.  Then the monstrous spectre
altered and, bit by bit, it began to band together into a column of smoke that
became drawn towards that impossible maw.  Like some powerful Hoover, Mitch
sucked up the entirety of the terrible form and, with a suddenness that seemed
so final, his mouth snapped shut.

It was then that the convulsions started
as the demon took possession of the man.

If Shmueli were to escape.  Now was the
time.

Come on; he willed himself.

Nothing.

And then Mitch’s body itself began to change. 
First his skin, never that colourful when he was in the best of health,
gradually lost its bloom to become sallow and leathery.  It was as if the
reporter was aging rapidly as the spectre inside caused him to decay in the
same manner as it had the house.

His fair hair became thinner as it turned
albino-white and an old man stood there staring malignly at Shmueli.  But, even
that was not the end.  With a sound like paper tearing the flesh began to crack
and to rip away from the bones beneath until the man’s face was left ravaged
and scored.  Too quickly, the redness of the vicious wounds became replaced
with yellowing and open sores from which small rivulets of pus slowly dripped.

Even the clothes in which Mitch stood were
not immune to the ravages of the insatiable force.  Like his skin, they too
began to thin and started to shred.

So, Shmueli reasoned.  It was over.  The
change was complete.  Instead of a young man there now stood an ancient and
evil-looking tramp who stank of raw sewage.  But, Shmueli was mistaken; there
was more to come.

Stupefied he watched as Mitch’s skeletal
hands carefully reached up to the top of his head and grabbed at his wispy
hair.  In huge clumps he tugged it out, taking most of his scalp with it. 

Please God, Shmueli thought.  Let this be
the end.  Please.  This was a nightmare beyond anything he could imagine.

Before his horrified eyes stood a thing. 
Once it had been human but now it was just a corpse, putrefying and evil, with
strips of flesh and gristle hanging from grey-white bones.  With its hollow
eyes it seemed to leer at Shmueli.

And, at last, the thing started to speak
but, when it did, its voice was quiet and rasping as if it had no vocal cords
which, Shmueli realised, was probably the case.

‘We    want    you,    Shmueli   
Isaacson.  Give    us   the    cup.  Give   us   the    cup.’

But Shmueli did not know how to reply. 
His mind reeled.  His head spun.

And then, as it advanced, its arms
outstretched, Shmueli could only thing of three quiet words.

‘I don’t understand.’

But there was no answer.

‘Please.  What are you?’

But the thing, relentless in its task, had
no response. 

Slowly, Shmueli made one last determined
effort and he backed towards the door.  If he did not escape now there would be
no other chance.

And then he bumped into something.  It was
soft and immobile.  What was it?

In his desperation he turned.

It was Asher.  Thank God.

And then he looked at his friend’s eyes. 
They were blank, they were zombie-like.

And Shmueli knew real fear.

As his former friend shoved him back into
the room Shmueli just had time to notice that behind Asher stood the others. 
All were in the grips of the force that wanted him dead.

‘I said we should’ve come earlier. 
They’re all in bed.’

The house, as Jake and his two companions
could clearly see, was in darkness.  It was gone eleven and Jake could not
understand why the Professor had left it so long.  He had telephoned hours ago
to say that he was coming after all.

‘No, Jake.  I’ve already told you.  I had
things to do.  Important things,’ and he indicated the leather briefcase that
he was clutching as if contained a fortune in platinum, ‘Now, come on.  We must
meet with Mr Isaacson.’

Tiferet was the first to leave the car,
closely followed by Hester Linford.  Jake, however, waited to lock the doors
behind them.  It was as he approached the house, however, that he felt a chill
that seemed altogether too familiar.

‘Professor, stop.’

‘What is it?’

‘It’s here.  The thing in my dreams, the
thing that killed Kevin.’

‘Impossible.’

‘Why?  I’ve got exactly the same sensation
of evil that I had before.’

‘But it is not part of this world.  It
cannot be…, unless.’

‘What?’

‘No, no, that’s impossible.’

‘What?’

‘But, if that’s true, then I’ve
miscalculated.  We are too late.

‘Come on, there is no time to lose.’

And Jake could see that it was useless. 
Whatever it was that Tiferet either knew or suspected he was not telling.  The
man could be so infuriating when he wanted to be.

Without waiting to find out how Jake was
feeling, Tiferet rang the doorbell and hammered on the knocker but there was no
response.

‘We must get in.  Come on, young man; see
if there’s an open window.  These students will not be security-conscious.’

But Jake still felt that unnatural
iciness.  The Beast was here, he was certain of it.

‘Come on; you are safe.  If you are right
then it is not you that it is after.  Its quarry lies within the house.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Tonight, its victim is Shmueli Isaacson. 
We do not have much time.  Follow me.  We must find a way inside.’

Jake looked at Hester who just shrugged
her shoulders.  It was becoming quite obvious that Ben Tiferet was not one to
worry about consequences or to even care about the worries of others.

‘Here, the side gate is open.  A back door
may be unlocked.’

‘But, Professor Tiferet, we can’t do
that.  That’s breaking and entering.’

‘Madam, I am well aware of that. 
Unfortunately we have no time for the niceties.  As our young friend has said
there is an evil spirit in that house.  If that thing were to succeed in its
objects then there is no hope for any of us.  That is not a chance I am
prepared to take.  Stay here if you wish but if you come then I would suggest
that you keep your opinions to yourself.’

Hester fell silent and mutely followed the
others into the darkness of the side passage.  It was almost impossible to see
anything and she prayed that they were not going to trip over any hidden
obstacles.

And then they were in the garden itself. 
Overgrown and treacherous, filled with bushes that had not been trimmed for
ages and grass that reached up to your ankle.  Not for the first time, Hester
wondered why she had come.

Even the house seemed malevolent in the
forbidding gloom and it was soon clear that there was no obvious entrance.

‘I think I can do it,’ Jake announced,
pleased at his resourcefulness, ‘Do either of you have something strong and
thin on you?  A credit card would do.’

Hester opened her handbag and produced a
wallet.  She slipped out a card and passed it to Jake.

‘Just be careful with it; I don’t want it
damaged.’

But Jake smiled.  That was a promise that
he was not going to make.

He slipped the card into the wide gap
between the frames of the side bay window and forced it around the wood.  The
heat that would be lost through that gap would have cost a fortune he reasoned
but that was not his problem.

‘There, that’s it,’ he muttered as he
pushed the card upwards and listened for the satisfying click,

‘Perfect.  Professor, perhaps you could do
the honours.’

The window was open and Jake climbed upon
the sill.

‘Coming?’

Tiferet made ready to follow, then changed
his mind.

‘After you, madam.’

Hester shook her head nervously, ‘I don’t
know.  It doesn’t seem right.’

‘Fine.  Then wait out here in the dark by
yourself.’

And Jake smiled inwardly.  Tiferet was
such an arrogant son of a bitch.  Poor old Hester, she looked quite
discomfited.  Quite clearly, she did not relish the prospect of being alone. 
So, he reached down to help Hester through and then waited for the Professor to
follow.

Inside the house it was even darker than
in the garden but Jake crossed the floor carefully and felt the wall by the
door.  He flicked the switch and looked on satisfied as the light came on.  He
even realised that the atmosphere had changed.  The thing had gone, of that he
was certain.

‘There.  Now let’s see where everyone is.’

As he walked into the hallway the answer
to that was obvious.  Three bearded young men wearing pyjamas and black
skull-caps just sat there on the floor with eyes wide open, staring vacantly.

‘Professor.’

But Tiferet was already acting.

‘They’re in a trance.  I will see what I
can do.  Somehow, I do not think Mr Isaacson is among them but we shall see.’

The Professor approached the oldest
looking of the three and began to speak in some strange tongue that Jake could
not understand.

‘You were right,’ he said at last, ‘The
creature has been here.  Their trance is deeper than anything achievable by
hypnotism.  They have been possessed by the evil.

‘Jake, I will need your help.  Open my case,
please.’

Jake complied.

‘There is a book in there.  Give it to
me.’

It was heavy and bound in cracked black
leather but Jake did as he had been instructed and waited until Tiferet found
the page he wanted.

‘I spent the afternoon tracking this
down.  It is the only copy of Abulafia’s prayers to the Almighty to still
exist.  Now, take out the pouch and remove the stone.’

And, within the case, Jake found the pouch
that Tiferet had shown him when they first met.  He took out the crystal.

‘Good.  Now come here and hold my stone
against that in your ring, just above the young man’s head.’

Tiferet waited for Jake to get into
position.

‘Whatever happens, stay calm.  You may
feel light headed but that is only to be expected.’

And then the Israeli began to intone the
mystic words of Abraham Abulafia; words that no-one had spoken for almost a
thousand years; and, as he recited, so the two crystals seemed to come alive. 
Bands of colour, crimson and vermilion, juniper and orange, poured from one to
the other as they flowed together to become one great sphere of pulsating
light.

Beating in time to Jake’s pounding heart,
the shining orb seemed to dominate him and he found his body swaying in time to
its rhythm.  Even his thoughts were becoming subsumed into the ball of colour
as it expanded to engulf the head of the bearded lad beneath.  Tiferet nodded
in satisfaction.

‘What is your name?  I command you to
answer.’

‘I have no name, Ferret,’ came the feral
voice, ‘I have the boy and I have his stone.  Soon I shall live the life that
has been denied me.’

‘No.  Release these three, they are no use
to you.  Return Shmueli to us.’

‘Oh, my twisted Ferret, your puny mortal
powers are nothing to me,’ the voice appeared to gloat, ‘You have what I want. 
Give my servants the man called Jacob Tranton and the stones that you and he
carry and I will return the boy.  As,’ it paused, ‘A gesture of...goodwill;
these three wretches, you may have now.  They have served their purpose.’

‘No!’

‘Then the boy dies in torment; is that
what you want?’

Tiferet wiped the back of his hand across
his forehead.

‘All right,’ he said, with resignation, ‘I
will do as you ask.  Where do you want them delivered, and when?’

‘You shall be contacted later tonight.  Go
now, the boys are returned.’

And, it was as if a contact had been
opened as the glowing sphere vanished.  Instantly, a bolt of power coursed
through Jake’s veins and he gasped at the pain of the charge.  The Professor
grabbed his arm to steady him and then they heard a moan.  It did not emanate from
the three boys who seemed to be waking up.  No, this came from the figure of
Hester Linford who had collapsed to the floor.

Jake rushed over to her.

‘Hester!’

‘It was like an elec…tric sh...shock,’ she
murmured, haltingly.

‘But that’s impossible,’ Tiferet
immediately retorted, ‘How can that be?  Only Jake should have been affected.’

He shook his head in bewilderment but he
did not have the answers and he waited for the woman to recover.  Meanwhile,
they tried to reassure the three young men who were confused and dazed and had
absolutely no memory of what had happened to them or to Shmueli.

Jake helped Hester up and supported her as
they followed the Professor out to the car.  There was nothing more they could
do there.

‘Explanations would be in order,’ he said
as he opened the vehicle’s doors, ‘What’s happening?  Ferret, it called you,
why?’

‘That’s Lapski.  It’s a name my students
call me behind my back.  They think I don’t know.’

‘But, that wasn’t Lapski possessing those
boys?’

‘No.  That was the Beast in your dreams. 
I misjudged its abilities.  When it destroyed your psychic friend it used his
energy to give it some parody of life.  It is now strong and I have no way of
countering its powers.’

‘But, Professor?’

‘No.  They already have five stones.  We only
have two.  All they need is one more and they will be able to cross into the
other dimensions of Earth to retrieve the remaining five.’

Jake made no comment at the talk of other
worlds.  With all that he had seen who was he to doubt?  But he knew that he
was ready to fight.

‘Then, we must follow them and be the
first to retrieve the stones.  We have two, there are five more to find, with
seven surely we will have the advantage?’

‘But how?  If we act now the Isaacson boy
will die.  I cannot be responsible for that.’

‘Then we must think of a plan.  Come on,
let’s take Hester home and then we will decide what to do.  Think about it as
we drive.  We are not defeated yet.’

Fighting words, but were they true?  And
that was when Jake realised something.  When he had been connected to the power
from the crystals something had happened to him.  He felt stronger, powerful,
as if a new vitality was within him.  Yes, he was ready.  He was certain of it.