Light by Eric Rendel

sounds like Tiferet might be just the right person to help me.’
    ‘Great.  Let me know how you get on.’
    ‘Sure.’
    As Jake returned the receiver to its cradle
he wondered.  Just because Tiferet was known did not mean that he was
innocent.  What had he really learnt?  There was no evidence whatever to
indicate whether or not the Professor was on the side of the angels.  No; for
the moment, he would play it carefully.  There was no sense in dropping his
guard until he was certain.

Chapter 6
    It was not until the middle of the
afternoon when Jake finally managed to make contact with Kevin Saint-George but
it proved to be almost a complete waste of time.  Kevin promised to ask around
about the lifting of Voodoo-type curses but he had no immediate remedy to
offer.  His only real advice was that, as Jake knew that the images he had seen
were externally created, he should try and face them to challenge their validity. 
Whilst Jake appreciated the soundness of the advice he was not certain that he
could implement it.
    As the day wore on, however, he did not
experience any recurrence of the visions and the next test of his mettle came
when Fiona returned from work in a flaming temper.  It was quite obvious that
she already knew that Jake had failed to keep his appointment with Mitch which
could only mean that they had already spoken.
    Coincidence, or something else?
    Jake kept his first uneasy thoughts to
himself.  If Fiona was not having an affair he did not fancy the lashings of
her tongue when he made the accusations.  As it was he realised that their
marital relationship was sinking rapidly into a quagmire from which there
seemed no escape.
    And, so it was that they went to bed that
night in silence.  Sleep, however; was a long time in coming as Jake brooded
over his suspicions without coming to any sensible conclusions.  Mitch was a
client of Fiona’s firm so it was entirely possible that they spoke quite
innocently on the telephone.  There really was no need to make anything more of
it.  So why was he fretting?
    At last he dropped off and immediately
found himself in that grey upon grey vista.  This time, however, he was aware
that he was dreaming and he determined to face the adversary when it appeared. 
He stood his ground and waited.
    Everything was quiet and still.  There was
not a trace of movement anywhere.  Involuntarily, Jake shuddered.  Despite his
knowledge that this was merely a dream the feeling of danger was acute. 
Something was there.  Something was stalking him and, whatever it was, it had
the power to tear him apart; mind and body.
    ‘Stop it.’
    It was no use thinking like that.  The
enemy had to be confronted.  He had to face his fear.  That was the only way to
conquer it.
    The sensation intensified.  Unseen; the
thing approached.  A grey unformed monstrosity that had no part in creation.
    And Jake could feel its icy breath upon
him and he knew that its fanged mouth was inches from his face.
    ‘Give me the ring.’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Give me the ring.’
    So insistent.  So commanding.  Jake had to
resist it; he had to.
    ‘Leave me alone.’
    ‘Give me the ring.’
    ‘Show me your face.’
    Again came that fleeting glimpse of a
little girl who was malevolently staring at him.  Her eyes so full of
accusation…and so, so, familiar.  Somehow she belonged to Jake’s past but to a
past he realised that was blocked off in the deepest recesses of his memory.
    ‘Who...are...you?’
    And she was gone and so was the creature.
    Then, from out of the mists, came a human
figure.  His face hidden by a cowl.
    ‘Jacob Tranton,’ spoke the newcomer softly
in a slightly foreign accent, Tiferet, it had to be, ‘Why do you resist?’
    ‘Who are you?’
    The man shook his head.
    ‘This could be so simple.  All you have to
do is to give me your ring and then you may resume your life untroubled.’
    ‘And, if I refuse?’
    It was only in Jake’s imagination but he
knew that the