could see a loop of the string poking out of his collar. If she could get to that, get the talisman off him, there might be a chance.
“There’s a ritual I discovered,” Gideon said. “One that would lift all constraints upon me. I’d be able to leave this and wander freely. Spend the last few years of my life at liberty. And more importantly, avoid being trapped here after death. Unfortunately, it requires a sacrifice. I’ve had to wait for a suitable candidate to turn up. And I’m afraid you were the first.”
“No,” she said. Trying to sound helpless, pleading, scared. Actually, that wasn’t hard. “Please.”
“As I said,” he told her, “it’s nothing personal. But it won’t be so bad for you. They won’t torment your spirit; they’ve no quarrel with you. And–” he raised the knife high “–it should be quick and painless.”
His smile was sad. No, he wasn’t enjoying it. But he was going to do it anyway.
“It might be better if you close your eyes,” he said.
7
T HE KNIFE WENT up. Now. All or nothing. It all depended on–
She yanked hard at the restraint, and she felt the leather tear.
Gideon blinked, looked down, hesitated–
She yanked again, and the restraint broke. He grabbed at her wrist, but she punched him in the groin. It’d worked before, and it worked again. He doubled up with a yelp, and the knife missed her ear by an inch, plunged down among the springs and stuck there. He yanked at it, clutched at her throat with his free hand.
Dani got hold of the loose loop of string and pulled. The medallion flopped out into view. She grabbed hold of it, the metal edges digging into her palm, and then yanked.
Gideon grunted, his head jerking forward as the string refused to break. And then he realised, and he was grabbing at her hand. “No. You bitch. No.” The knife rose again.
She spat in his eyes; he flinched, stumbling back, and her hand twisted from his grip. She yanked again, and the string broke.
Gideon shouted, lunged at her with the knife–
And suddenly someone was standing between them. Someone in an army uniform.
“No,” said a voice.
The room was getting darker; looking around, Dani could see the candles were flickering out. The dark beyond the dwindling light was moving, the shadows shifting and forming shapes. She looked away from them; she knew what they’d look like.
“Get out of my way, St. John,” Gideon said. He tried to dodge past the newcomer to reach her, trying to snatch the talisman from her hand. She pulled her hand back, folded it to her chest. More candles flickered out. Dark shapes advanced.
St. John Dace stepped towards Gideon. Dani could see a huge, gaping wound in the back of his head. “No, Gideon.”
“I’ve paid the price!” Gideon shouted. “I’ve paid! ”
“No.”
The candles went out. The room was dark. Shuffling figures in uniforms and smocks moved past.
“I’ve paid, I tell you.”
“That’s not for you to decide.”
“Get back. Get back .” Then that high, manic titter. “You can’t hurt me. You can’t . You’re just ghosts. I can still kill her and–”
“We can’t,” said St. John. “But there are other things here. Old things that have slept and waited. Things that can hurt you. Things like this.”
The room, already cold, suddenly grew even colder. The dead moved back, some of them pressed almost up against the bedframe. There was a scratching, scraping sound, and between the closely-packed forms, Dani saw something move past; something very, very tall and thin, impossibly thin for a human being, surely. Something whose shape was thankfully hidden under a black, tattered cloak and cowl; something with long, long skeletal fingers that groped out ahead of it.
“No. No .” There was something beyond rage and misery in Gideon’s voice now; there was naked terror.
“You know what it is,” said St. John Dace. “And you know what will happen if it touches you.”
The black,
“There’s a ritual I discovered,” Gideon said. “One that would lift all constraints upon me. I’d be able to leave this and wander freely. Spend the last few years of my life at liberty. And more importantly, avoid being trapped here after death. Unfortunately, it requires a sacrifice. I’ve had to wait for a suitable candidate to turn up. And I’m afraid you were the first.”
“No,” she said. Trying to sound helpless, pleading, scared. Actually, that wasn’t hard. “Please.”
“As I said,” he told her, “it’s nothing personal. But it won’t be so bad for you. They won’t torment your spirit; they’ve no quarrel with you. And–” he raised the knife high “–it should be quick and painless.”
His smile was sad. No, he wasn’t enjoying it. But he was going to do it anyway.
“It might be better if you close your eyes,” he said.
7
T HE KNIFE WENT up. Now. All or nothing. It all depended on–
She yanked hard at the restraint, and she felt the leather tear.
Gideon blinked, looked down, hesitated–
She yanked again, and the restraint broke. He grabbed at her wrist, but she punched him in the groin. It’d worked before, and it worked again. He doubled up with a yelp, and the knife missed her ear by an inch, plunged down among the springs and stuck there. He yanked at it, clutched at her throat with his free hand.
Dani got hold of the loose loop of string and pulled. The medallion flopped out into view. She grabbed hold of it, the metal edges digging into her palm, and then yanked.
Gideon grunted, his head jerking forward as the string refused to break. And then he realised, and he was grabbing at her hand. “No. You bitch. No.” The knife rose again.
She spat in his eyes; he flinched, stumbling back, and her hand twisted from his grip. She yanked again, and the string broke.
Gideon shouted, lunged at her with the knife–
And suddenly someone was standing between them. Someone in an army uniform.
“No,” said a voice.
The room was getting darker; looking around, Dani could see the candles were flickering out. The dark beyond the dwindling light was moving, the shadows shifting and forming shapes. She looked away from them; she knew what they’d look like.
“Get out of my way, St. John,” Gideon said. He tried to dodge past the newcomer to reach her, trying to snatch the talisman from her hand. She pulled her hand back, folded it to her chest. More candles flickered out. Dark shapes advanced.
St. John Dace stepped towards Gideon. Dani could see a huge, gaping wound in the back of his head. “No, Gideon.”
“I’ve paid the price!” Gideon shouted. “I’ve paid! ”
“No.”
The candles went out. The room was dark. Shuffling figures in uniforms and smocks moved past.
“I’ve paid, I tell you.”
“That’s not for you to decide.”
“Get back. Get back .” Then that high, manic titter. “You can’t hurt me. You can’t . You’re just ghosts. I can still kill her and–”
“We can’t,” said St. John. “But there are other things here. Old things that have slept and waited. Things that can hurt you. Things like this.”
The room, already cold, suddenly grew even colder. The dead moved back, some of them pressed almost up against the bedframe. There was a scratching, scraping sound, and between the closely-packed forms, Dani saw something move past; something very, very tall and thin, impossibly thin for a human being, surely. Something whose shape was thankfully hidden under a black, tattered cloak and cowl; something with long, long skeletal fingers that groped out ahead of it.
“No. No .” There was something beyond rage and misery in Gideon’s voice now; there was naked terror.
“You know what it is,” said St. John Dace. “And you know what will happen if it touches you.”
The black,
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