Night & Demons (7 page)

“Since I’m an employee of Strangeco,” Howard continued, visualizing the Thief of Baghdad dancing over palace walls while monsters snarled beneath, “my devotion to you is already assured.”

“You work for me?” Strange said. Then, as if he could remember each of the thirty thousand Strangeco employees worldwide, he said, “What’s your name?”

The door swung
almost
shut behind Genie. “Howard Albing Jones, sir,” Howard said.

“Assistant Marketing Associate in the home office,” Strange said.
My God, maybe he did know all thirty thousand!
“Devoted, are you? Pull the other leg, boy! But that doesn’t matter if you’ve got the guts for the job.”

“Yes, sir, I do,” Howard said. He cleared his throat and went on, “I think I could honestly say I’ve been training all my life for this opportunity.”

“You practice the Art also, Jones?” Strange demanded, the hectoring doubt back in his voice. “The Black Arts, I mean. That’s what they call it, the pigmies who adepts like me crush under our heels!”

“Ah, I can’t claim to be an adept, sir,” Howard said. He couldn’t
honestly
claim to be anything but a guy who occasionally watched horror movies. As far as that went, he knew more about being a vampire than being a magician.

“No?” said Strange. “Well, I am, Jones. That’s how I built Strangeco from a corner hot dog stand into what it is now. And by His Infernal Majesty! that’s how I’ll rule the world when I have the staff of power for myself. Nothing will stop me, Jones. Nothing!”

“Mr. Strange, I’m your man!” Howard said. He spoke enthusiastically despite his concern that Strange might reply something along the lines of, “Fine, I’ll take your kidneys now to feed my pet ferrets.”

“If you serve me well, you won’t regret it,” Strange said. Unspoken but much louder in Howard’s mind was the corollary:
But if you fail, I won’t leave enough of you to bury
!

“Master Popple, can you be ready to proceed in two hours?” Strange asked. When he talked to Wally, there was a respect in his tone that certainly hadn’t been present when he spoke to Howard or Genie.

“Well, I suppose . . .” Wally said. He frowned in concentration, then shrugged and said, “I don’t see why not, if Howard is willing. I suppose we could start right now, Mr. Strange.”

“It’ll take me the two hours to make my own preparations,” Strange said with a curt shake of his head. “I respect your art, Master Popple, but I won’t depend on it alone.”

As he strode toward the door, Strange added without turning his head, “I’ll have a black ewe sent over. And if that’s not enough—we’ll see!”

“Now hold your arms out from your shoulders, please, Howard,” Wally said as he changed values on his display. Howard obeyed the way he would if a barber told him to tilt his head.

Waiting as the little man made adjustments gave Howard enough time to look over the room. Much of the racked equipment meant nothing to him, but his eyes kept coming back to a black cabinet that looked like a refrigerator-sized tube mating with a round sofa.

“Wally?” he said, his arms still out. “What’s that in the northeast corner? Is it an air conditioner?”

“Oh, that’s the computer that does the modulations,” Wally said. “You can put your arms down now if you like. I used a Sun workstation to control the window, but the portal requires greatly more capacity. I’d thought we’d just couple a network of calculation servers to the workstation, but Mr. Strange provided a Cray instead to simplify the setup for the corrections.”

“Oh,” said Howard, wondering what a supercomputer cost. Pocket change to the Wizard of Fast Food, he supposed.

“Now if you’ll turn counterclockwise, please . . .” Wally said. “About fifteen degrees.”

Howard wore a cotton caftan that came from Genie’s suite. She’d brought it in when Howard protested at standing buck naked in the middle of the floor with security cameras watching. Howard was willing to accept that the clothes wouldn’t go through the portal with him, but waiting while Pete and his partner chuckled about his masculine endowments was a different matter.

Not that there was anything wrong with his masculine endowments.

Genie didn’t stay, but Howard knew she was keeping abreast of what went on through the part-open door. He wasn’t sure whether he was glad of that or not.

The mica window looked onto the glade where Howard would enter the other world if everything went right. Occasionally a small animal appeared briefly—once Howard saw what looked very much like a pink bass swimming through the air—but Wally had chosen the site because it was isolated. There was only so much you could get from leaves quivering, even if they did seem to be solid gold.

The carpets, layered like roof shingles over the concrete, weren’t the neutrally exotic designs you normally saw on Oriental rugs. Some of these had stylized camels and birds, sure; but one had tanks, jets, and bright explosions, while peacock-winged devils capered as they tortured people against the black background of the newer-looking rugs.

Around where Howard stood was a six-pointed star drawn in lime like the markings of a football field. Howard would’ve expected a pentacle, but he didn’t doubt Strange knew what he was doing.

All Howard himself was sure of was that he was taking a chance at adventure when it appeared. If that was a bad idea, then he hoped he wouldn’t have long to regret his decision.

It might be a very bad idea.

“There,” said Wally. “There’s nothing more I can do until we actually begin building the charge. Then I may have to—”

Robert Strange entered through a pedestrian door set in one of the six vehicle doors along the outside wall. The black sheep he led looked puzzled, a feeling which Howard himself echoed.

“You’re ready, Master Popple?” he asked.

“Ey-eh-he-e
,” said the sheep. Strange jerked the leash viciously. The cord looked like silver, but it was functional enough to choke the sheep to silence when Strange lifted his arm.

“Yes, Mr. Strange,” Wally said. “I’m a little worried about Howard’s mass, though. Eighty-seven kilos may be too much.”

“Too much?” snapped Strange. “If you needed more transformers, you should have said so!”

“Too much for the fabric of the universe, Mr. Strange,” said Wally, as mild as ever but completely undaunted at the anger of a man who scared the living crap out of Howard Jones. “I really don’t want to go to more than thirty kilowatts.”

Strange sniffed. “The subject’s ready?” he said. “You, Jones; you’re ready?”

“
Ey-eh-he?
” the sheep repeated, rolling its eyes. Her eyes, Howard assumed, since Strange said he was fetching an ewe. The tycoon’s dagger hilt winked in the bright laboratory lighting.

“Yes, sir!” Howard said.

Strange grimaced, then bent and tied the leash around a ring set in the drain. He turned his head to Howard and said, “You know what you’re going to do?”

“Sir, I’m going to enter the other land,” Howard said. “I’ll take the scepter from the king of that land and return here to you with it.”

As a statement of intent it was concise and accurate. As a plan of action it lacked detail, but there wasn’t enough information on this side of the portal to form a real plan. Howard was uneasily aware that his foray, even if he wound up in a dragon’s gullet, would provide information so that the next agent could do better.

“All right,” Strange said. “Give me a moment and then proceed.”

There were drapes bunched among the wall hangings. As Strange spoke, he drew them along a track in the ceiling to separate his corner of the room from Howard and Wally. The ewe bleated again.

“You may begin, Master Popple,” Strange called, his voice muffled by the thick fabric. He broke into a musical chant. The sounds from his throat weren’t words, or at least words in English.

“You’re ready, Howard?” Wally said.

Howard nodded. His throat was dry and he didn’t want to embarrass himself by having his voice crack in the middle of a simple word like, “Yes.”

Wally rotated a switch, cutting the ceiling lights to red beads among the dimming ghosts of the fluorescent fixtures. The sheet of mica, bright with the daylight of another world, shone like a lantern beside the little man as he typed commands.

There was a reptilian viciousness to Strange’s voice, and the sheep was managing to whimper like a frightened baby. The hair on Howard’s arms and the back of his neck began to rise. For a moment he thought that was his reaction to the sounds coming from beyond the drapes, but as the fluorescents cooled to absolute black Howard saw a faint violet aura clinging to three racks of equipment.

Wally was generating very high frequency current at a considerable voltage. Howard decided he didn’t want to think about
how
high the voltage was.

Wally muttered as he worked. Though Howard could see his lips move, the words weren’t audible over the hum of five transformers along the outside wall. The opening between Genie’s door and the jamb was faintly visible.

The air spluttered. Howard felt a directionless pull, unpleasant without being really painful. Violet light flickered through the mica, a momentary pulse from the world across the barrier.

Strange shouted a final word. The sheep bleated on a rising note ending in so awful a gurgle that Howard pressed his hands to his ears before he remembered that moving might affect Wally’s calculations. The ewe’s hooves rattled on the concrete; the curtain billowed as the animal thrashed.

Howard would’ve covered his ears even if he had thought about Wally. The sound was
horrible
.

Wally typed, his eyes on the computer display. He’d sucked his lower lip between his teeth to chew as he concentrated. The transformers hummed louder but didn’t change tone.

Howard felt the indescribable pull again. In the other world the violet haze formed again, this time in the shape of a human being.

A blue flash and a
BANG!
like a cannon shot engulfed the lab, stunning Howard into a wordless shout. He clapped his hands, a reflex to prove that he was still alive.

The air stank of burning tar. Dirty red flames licked from one of the transformers on the outside wall. Howard drew in a deep breath of relief. He immediately regretted it when acrid smoke brought on a fit of coughing.

Strange snatched open the curtains, his face a mask of cold fury. The ewe lay over the drain, her legs splayed like those of a squashed insect. Her eyes still had a puzzled look, but they were already beginning to glaze.

Wally changed values at his keyboard with a resigned expression. Howard looked for a fire extinguisher. He didn’t see one, but he walked past Wally and turned the main lights back on. The transformer was smoldering itself out, though an occasional sizzle made Howard thankful that the floor was covered with non-conductive wool.

“What went wrong?” Strange said. “I know that the transformer failed;
why
did it fail?”

“The load was too great,” Wally said simply. “We very nearly succeeded. If we replace the transformer—”

“We’ll double the capacity,” Strange said. “We’ll make another attempt tonight, at midnight this time. I never thought you were careful enough with your timing, Master Popple.”

“Sir, I don’t think it would be safe to increase output beyond—” Wally said.

“We’ll double it!” Strange said, his tone a rasp like steel grating on rib bones. “If we don’t need the extra wattage, then we won’t use it, but we’ll use as much as it requires!”

He looked disgustedly at the dagger in his hand, then wiped the blade on the curtain and sheathed the weapon. He strode past Howard and Wally to the hall door; Howard watched him with a fixed smile, uncomfortably aware that instinct tensed him to run in case Strange leaped for his throat.

The Thief of Baghdad might’ve had a better idea. On the other hand, Howard didn’t remember the Thief of Baghdad facing anything quite like Robert Strange.

Strange thumped the hall door closed; it was too heavy to bang. At the sound, Genie’s door opened a little wider and the slim girl returned. She grimaced when she saw the ewe. It’d voided its bowels when it died, so that odor mingled with the fresh blood and burned insulation.

“Are you all right, Wally?” she asked. “And you, Howard. I’m not used to there being anybody but Wally here.”

“I’m sorry you had to see that, Iphigenia,” Wally said with a perturbed glance toward the ewe. “You really shouldn’t have come in until the crew has cleaned things up.”

“Wally, I’ve lived with Robert for fifteen years,” Genie said bluntly.
“
There’ve been worse things than the occasional dead animal. I was worried about you and Howard.”

“It just tickled a little,” Howard said. If he let himself think about events in the right way, he was pretty sure he could make the last ten minutes or so sound more heroic than they’d seemed while they were happening.

“There wasn’t any risk, Iphigenia,” Wally said. At first he didn’t look directly at her, but then he raised his eyes with an effort of will. “Ah—I really appreciate your concern, but right now I have something important to discuss with Mr.—with Howard, that is. Can you, I mean would you . . . ?”

“All right, Wally,” the girl said, sounding puzzled and a little hurt. She nodded to Howard and walked to her room with swift, clean strides. This time the door shut firmly.

One of the vehicular doors in the outside wall started up with a rumble of heavy gears. A team of swarthy men, beardless but heavily mustached, stood beside a flatbed truck. They entered, paying no attention to Howard and Wally. One lifted the sheep over his shoulder and walked back to the truck with it; his three fellows started disconnecting the wrecked transformer. They talked among themselves in guttural singsongs.

“Will you come here please, Howard?” Wally said, showing no more interest in the workmen than they did in him. He adjusted the mica screen to show the spring again. “I, ah, have a favor to ask you.”

A couple—not the same ones as before—sat on the pool’s mossy coping, interlacing the fingers of one hand as they passed a cup back and forth with the other. Wally tightened the focus so that their mutually loving expressions were unmistakable.