The Infernals by John Connolly Page A

clarity of her own image in turn made the world at which she gazed easier to discern.
    And each time her eyes were filled with a blue light, and they burned with her hatred for Samuel.
    Samuel’s mother greeted him from the kitchen as he opened the front door and dumped his bag in the hall.
    “Hello, Samuel. Did you have a good day?”
    “If, by good, you mean embarrassing and soul-destroying, then, yes, I had a good day,” said Samuel.
    “Oh dear,” said his mum. “Sit down at the table and I’ll make you a nice cup of tea.”
    What was it about mothers, wondered Samuel, that led them to believe all of the problems of the world could be solved with a nice cup of tea? Samuel could have walked in with his head under his arm, blood spurting from his neck and his back quilled with arrows, and his mother would have suggested a nice cup of tea as a means of salving his wounds. She would probably even have tried to rub some tea on his severed head in an effort to stick it back on his shoulders.
    But the funny thing was that, more often than not, a cup of tea and a consoling word from your mum were enough to make things at least a little better, so Samuel sat down and waited until a steaming mug of tea was placed in front of him. It really didsmell good. He could almost feel it warming his throat already. Today had been bad, but perhaps tomorrow would be better. Tea: our friend in times of trouble.
    “Oh bother,” said Samuel’s mother. “We’re out of milk.”
    Samuel’s forehead thumped hard against the kitchen table.
    “I’ll go,” he said.
    “There’s a good lad,” said his mum. “I’ll have a fresh cup waiting for you when you get back. Will you get some bread while you’re at it? I don’t know: even with your dad gone, we’re still getting through as much food as ever.”
    Samuel winced. He didn’t know which hurt more: to hear his mother grow sad when she talked about his dad’s absence, or to hear her remark upon it so casually. His mother seemed to notice his discomfort, for she moved to him and enveloped him in her arms.
    “Oh, you,” she said, kissing his hair. “I don’t mind you eating. You’re a growing lad. And your dad and I, well, we’re talking, which is something. I’m not as angry with him as I was, although I’d still hit him over the head with a frying pan given half the chance. But we’re okay, you and I, aren’t we?”
    Samuel nodded, his eyes closed, taking in the comforting smell of flour and perfume from his mother’s dress.
    “Yes, we’re okay,” he said, although he wasn’t sure if it was true.
    His mother pushed him gently away, and held him at arm’s length. She looked at him seriously.
    “There’s been no more, um,
strangeness,
has there?” she asked.
    “You mean demons?”
    Now it was his mother’s turn to look uncomfortable.
    “Yes, if that’s what you want to call them.”
    “That’s what they were.”
    “Now, I don’t want to get into an argument about it,” said his mum. “I’m only asking.”
    “No, Mum,” said Samuel. “There’s been no more strangeness.” Not unless you include glimpses of a woman with her face stitched together, staring out at him from mirrors and glass doors. “There’s been no more strangeness at all.”

In Which We Pay a Visit to Mrs. Abernathy’s House. Which Is Nice. Not.
     
    B EFORE WE GO ANY further, a quick word about evil.
    Evil has been in existence for a very long time, long enough to be part of the birth of everything billions and billions of years ago following the Big Bang that brought this universe into being. Unfortunately, for a while after the Big Bang there wasn’t much for Evil to do because there wasn’t a great deal of life about, and what life there was consisted of little single-celled organisms which had quite enough to be getting along with just trying to become multicelled organisms, thank you very much, without having to worry about being unkind to one another for no good reason as