Dark Rain (24 page)

Which sounded about right. But it was far too late for that.

THIRTY-THREE

When he saw where we were pulling up, he got so agitated I became concerned he might forget himself and do something unpleasant to me.

“No … oh no! You’re kidding, surely?”

He crammed himself back in his seat and waved his bony hands. But I wasn’t going to let this drop, so I steeled myself. If it happened, there was nothing I could really do about it.

“There is no way,” he wailed at me, “that I am going in that place! There is no
way
I’m meeting with that nut-job! You can forget it, Devries! It simply isn’t going to happen!”

I went around to his side and bundled him out. And then half-dragged and half-propelled him. This was getting to be a habit. As I yanked him past the gates, however, he finally seemed to lose it.

There was a crackling sound. And a stream of flaring light came rushing out from the center of his forehead, shooting upward. The top of one of the spindly, leafless trees caught fire. A few large dark birds flapped away alarmedly, and something heavy went stampeding through the undergrowth.

I watched, genuinely shocked, as the fire began spreading to the lower branches. That could have been me, goddamit.

But I kept hold of him all the same. It was less of a problem this time, since he had gone slack in my grasp. I could tell that he was mortified as well. He hadn’t meant to do that.

So I let go of the tension that had spread out through my body. And my tone, when I spoke to him again, was harsh.

“Is that nice? You’re a guest here. Put that out.”

He obediently raised his fingers, twitched them, and the fire vanished. But a few cinders were hissing down, there was a plume of smoke. This hadn’t been like the flames in his basement. They’d been far more real.

“I’m sorry, Devries,” he muttered, apparently disgusted with himself.

From this point, then, I was satisfied that I’d have no more trouble from him. He seemed rather lost and saddened. He had even managed to singe the brim of his hat.

Slowly, and still reluctantly on his part, we negotiated all the roots and saplings on the driveway, till Raine Manor came in sight.

It looked rather different in the day. More solid, yes, and more distinct. But not completely either of those qualities. The mist around it was all gone. It seemed it only came during the hours of darkness. But the place as a whole still had an eerie, faded look that wouldn’t go away entirely. Stare at it for long enough, and it might start crumbling away before your eyes.

The
W
on the high spire was casting a long shadow. The windows still gave onto pure blackness, despite the fact the sun was glinting on them. Its light didn’t seem to be allowed inside. And the gargoyles I’d seen moving on the roof were fast asleep along the gutters, by this hour. Not one of them stirred.

A wind chime finally rattled, making me jump. Principally, because there was no wind at all this time.

“You can still forget it,” Willets was informing me by this juncture. “I’m not going to fight you, but I’m not cooperating either.”

Once I’d made my mind up about something, I wouldn’t take no for an answer. Didn’t he even understand that? I dragged him up onto the porch. The front door was shut. And when I tried to turn the handle, it wouldn’t budge an inch.

I thumped at the wood with the edge of my fist and yelled out, “Woody, let us in!”

He had to know that we were out here. And I doubted he was all that pleased about it. He had probably guessed what I had planned for him. And the thought of actually getting involved … there was nothing quite like a stiff dose of practicality to send our Woods into a sulk.

I yelled out, “You can’t hide in there forever!”

Which was another questionable statement and got no response at all. I thought about trying to ram my way in, but the woodwork looked too stout for that.

“You see?” Willets was saying. “We’re wasting our time.”

I told him to be quiet. Except I didn’t exactly use those words.

Then I backed us both off half a dozen paces. Took the gun out of my pocket and fired a round at the big brass lock.

It did nothing but make a hole. But it had the desired effect.

There was a clack. And then the door swung open half a dozen inches. In the pitch darkness beyond it, Hampton’s broad, flat face appeared. He wasn’t in full uniform. He had his livery pants on, but the shirt and jacket were gone and he was in his undervest. I’d apparently interrupted him in the middle of grabbing a snack – there was a large blob of mayo sliding down his chin.

Those peculiar eyes of his narrowed at the sight of us and a crease appeared in his wide brow.

“Mr. Devries? What do you think you’re playing at?” he piped out. “Do you realize this door is made of the very finest Massachusetts oak?”

Unimpressed, I marched toward him, Willets still in tow.

Hampton only saw his mistake too late. He hadn’t even put the chain on. And when he tried to close the door again, I was there already, slamming it aside, then barging straight past his enormous bulk.

He started to protest, but I continued down the hallway, yelling, “Woody, show yourself!”

Willets’s footsteps clattered and scrabbled on the wooden floor. He seemed to have gotten a second wind, and was trying to escape from me more determinedly than ever. But in physical terms, he’s not all that strong, so I just hung on tightly. There was candlelight showing from the ballroom once again. So that was where I went.

It was no different than the last time I had been in here. Woody obviously liked things exactly the way they were, all dismal and spooky – it probably suited his usual frame of mind. Dim, ephemeral shapes surrounded us, the portraits and high chandeliers. It always felt – when I came here – like I’d fallen into someone else’s semi-waking fantasy.

At the center of the room were several flames, a candelabra rather than a single light. The glow they cast combined, however, didn’t even reach the walls.

We stepped into the thin pool of illumination. Willets had given up on trying to protest and looked round nervously, his features rather awed.

“He’s not here,” he protested. His voice had taken on a noticeably tremulous edge. “He’s probably just gibbering around in the attic, playing with his own feces or something.”

“That’s disgusting,” came a voice that I already knew, although it was a touch sharper this time, a little more cut-glass in tone.

We both span round, but could see nothing.

“Is
that
what you think of me?” it went on. “Do you honestly believe that I could be so …?”

Then it paused. A sigh rang out.

“Words fail me.”

There was a humming sound above us, like some kind of massive hornet had appeared out of thin air. So he was obviously unhappy. And that’s something about Woody that I haven’t yet explained.

He never could get it into his head that certain people didn’t like him. He always thought of himself as some kind of beloved leader, some revered benefactor. Mr. Popularity, with yellow eyes. And finding out that wasn’t the case … it made him sad, or made him angry. It invariably threw him into a foul mood.

Except I very badly needed him on board. I wasn’t even sure we could get anywhere very far without his personal involvement. Damn Willets and his big mouth. I struggled to think how to retrieve the situation.

“It was just a turn of phrase, a joke,” I called out.

He had so little understanding of the way that normal life worked that he might just buy it. I could only hope.

“Really?”

He sounded faintly intrigued. So I’d been right about that.

“A joke between friends,” I told him, pressing the point home. “What’s the world come to, if friends can’t josh each other?”

“But we’re not actually –”

“Comrades, then. Brothers in arms, united in a noble cause.”

He’d go for that, surely, being painted as the good guy? But I felt slightly dirty by this stage. I would have said almost anything to get him on our side, and knew it.

“Number twos though, sport? The very thought is so unsavory.”

“Bar-room humor,” I explained, working hard to sound convincing. “Just a bunch of buddies, all potty-mouthed and yakking it up.”

The only response I got was silence. So perhaps he didn’t understand.

“It’s a male-bonding thing,” I tried. “Boys will be boys, you know.”

“Oh!”

Which was followed by another pause. And then, “Yes, I see. I suppose they might.”

Those golden, slitted cat eyes of his opened in the darkness. I heard Willets let out a stifled murmur.

The humming above us stopped. So Woody had apparently cheered up. I took a deep breath. For all his dottiness and eccentricity, he could be dangerous when roused.

Raine took a step toward us. It sounded like he was barefooted, this time.

“Ha, yes! Very convivial. What fun we shall have.” He stared at me. “But I’m not sure I actually approve of your behavior, sport. Coming here completely uninvited? Shooting at my door? You are in my employ after all, and I believe I’m entitled to expect better of you.”

Then he looked across at Willets.

“The good doctor, I presume. Pleased to make your acquaintance at long last. It so happens that we share a passion. I have a particular taste for the musicality of that great tunesmith, Benny Goodman.”

He made a few quick noises that were supposed to be a clarinet. Willets turned away, muttering some kind of anatomical suggestion underneath his breath. But I grabbed him by the collar again. Turned him round and then gave him another shake, reminding him to behave himself.

He got the message. Nodded politely. Even tried to force a smile.

“That’s … well, that’s good to hear.”

He was still wearing his floppy hat and shades, and looked faintly ridiculous among all this dimmed-out grandeur. But when it comes to adepts, as I’d found out long ago, you never read them simply by appearances.

Raine turned his attention back to me.

“So – why have you disturbed me in this fashion, sport?”

“You must know what’s going on?”

“Of course. But I thought we had a deal. You sort out this unpleasantness, and I reward you handsomely. It all seemed very simple at the time, as I recall.”

“No, not good enough. I need your help.”

His eyes narrowed even further. And a luster that was half puzzled and half amused crept into them.

“Mine, old chum? I don’t get what you’re driving at.”

There was a hard set to my body. I’m not sure he even noticed that. But it was time to bring the Master of the Manor down to earth with a pretty hefty bump.

“You already know what we’re up against,” I told him flatly. “You must see nothing I can do, alone, will stop it. But look where I am? Standing in the same room with the two strongest adepts in this town. And if we worked together, as a team …?”

There was the faintest glint of comprehension from him, realism starting to bite home. But that didn’t even start to mean he liked it.

“But I
hired
you! You’re supposed to –”

“And that’s what I’m doing,” I broke across him. “My job, the best way I know how.”

“Blast!”

He seemed lost for words for a short while after that. But then, in the soft glow of the candlelight, I caught a faint glimpse of a smile. It was perfectly neat and even this time. Except that, when I had last met him, his teeth had been slightly jagged. It was always this way with him, like watching a movie that kept altering the details of its plot.

All I ever felt like I was dealing with, around any of these guys, was an utter lack of definable substance. I was conversing with shadows. I was negotiating with creatures who dwelt far beyond the borders of the everyday mundane. And if I kept on doing this, I wondered, would I eventually travel to that place myself, without so much as a ticket back?

“Can I take it, then,” Raine asked, “that you’re appealing to my better nature?”

I nodded. If it made him any happier putting it that way, okay.

He blinked slowly. “Very well. What do you want from me?”

“Get both your heads together for a start,” I told him. “Pool your knowledge. Try and find some way to at least slow Saruak down.”

Willets’s mouth popped open again. But I still had him by the collar, and he seemed to change his mind.

“More importantly, figure out some way to convince Levin and the others that they need to cancel the ceremony.”

Woody seemed to lose the plot for a moment. He’s remarkably good at doing that.

“But I love that ceremony. It’s always such tremendous fun.”

“Not this year, Woods.
Think
about it.”

Which he did.

“Ah! You might have a point.”

An air of frantic busyness seemed to overtake him, as soon as he’d conceded that. Once he’d made up his mind about something, he usually threw himself into it with a passion. So he turned smartly around and took a few paces toward the furthest corner of the room, making a soft padding sound. Then he stopped and raised one arm, the palm held open wide. Something against the wall over there suddenly lifted itself into the dim, flickering air – it was massive and rectangular – and started to float toward the man.