Part 25 (2/2)

”I thought . . . I thought the walls were closing in on me.”

”Your claustrophobia,” Gabrielle said.

McNeely nodded.

”You're sure it wasn't just . . . in your mind?”

”It was in my mind, but I didn't put it there.”

They were silent for a moment, then Gabrielle asked, ”What do we do?”

McNeely shrugged. ”What can we do? Wait, that's all.”

”s.h.i.+t!” roared Wickstrom, slamming a hammy fist on the table with a force that made the dishes jump, spilling soup over the sides of the bowls. ”What the h.e.l.l is it gonna do? It hasn't said boo to Gabrielle or me! It's just been f.u.c.king with you, George . . . oh, s.h.i.+t,” he moaned, slumping into a chair. ”What does it want?”

”It wants you, George,” said Gabrielle, her voice tight with tension. ”Just like it wanted c.u.mmings.”

He shook his head. ”No . . . no, I don't . . .”

”I'm not letting you out of my sight, not for a minute.” Her eyes were blazing, reminding McNeely once more of the lioness. But now, instead of vigilance, they burned with the fury of an animal whose mate is captured by natives. He felt that at any moment she would perform the equivalent of leaping the kraal wall and scattering the little black men in a b.l.o.o.d.y froth. But even a lioness would be helpless here.

”All right.” He nodded. ”You stay with me. Safety in numbers.” He smiled.

”How long can it be,” Wickstrom said softly, ”till we're out of here?” No one answered.

”Too long,” he said, sadness in his eyes.

They ate lunch half-heartedly around the fire. McNeely had only a few spoonfuls of soup and a little wine. He kept glancing around the room involuntarily, almost expecting the walls to move again. The others noticed his preoccupation but didn't mention it. As he picked at his food, his mind was set on one thing alone. He would have to talk with them again, have to do something to prevent a recurrence of what they had done to him after he'd built the fire. For he knew beyond doubt that if it happened again, he would come out of it either dead or totally insane. He could not remember the pain, but he could remember the fear, and though he hated to admit it, the fear was far greater than his ability to conquer it. It had been so great that it had made him go to Gabrielle and Wickstrom and tell, if not all, at least too much. What more could it make him do? He felt as if he would do anything, say anything to escape a next time, and he ached with the need to go and confront the ent.i.ty and beg, if need be, to be spared a similar experience. Where would it happen the next time, he wondered. In bed with Gabrielle? Would his mind feel the walls pressing them together, merging flesh to flesh until the two of them were nothing but an unrecognizable ma.s.s of blood and tissue? A spoonful of soup caught in his throat, and he coughed it away, grabbing a napkin and gesturing to the others to sit as they rose to aid him.

After lunch they shot some pool, then changed into gym clothes for a brief workout. Gabrielle's protectiveness was in evidence, and McNeely realized with a dull shock that her att.i.tude toward him was much the same as she had had toward Neville when they'd first come to the house-as though she expected his imminent death, feeling furious at her inability to prevent it. The sensation only heightened his unease, and he longed for their self-proclaimed night, when he could steal away to confront the source of his terror.

”Night” came slowly, but finally he and Gabrielle were in bed. Neither had the slightest interest in lovemaking, but she stayed pressed against him, her arm thrown across his chest as an unmistakable token of owners.h.i.+p that annoyed even as it comforted him. It seemed to take hours before she drifted off to sleep.

The face was waiting for him in the fire chamber, smiling and glowing as brightly as a small sun. If it had been weakened before, it had since recovered its robust strength. It was, he thought, positively rosy.

It is good to see you.

”What do you know of good?”

It looked humorously petulant, as if appreciating the play on words. Much.

”And of evil?”

All.

”Did you do that to me today?”

In the Great Hall.

”Yes.”

It was not a great hall by the time we were done. It was rather small.

”You b.a.s.t.a.r.ds,” McNeely snarled. Although he sensed that abject servitude would be the course to take, his anger was too strong to check.

It was a lesson. Simply a lesson. It was unfortunate that we had to resort to it, but you seem to require ever more direct proofs of our power. The smile broadened. We do not like to be ignored.

McNeely's jaw trembled. ”Don't ... you won't do it again.”

We hope it will not be necessary. You would be of no use to us dead or insane. The pale eyebrows rose, as if in sudden memory. By the way, David Neville wants you to know how much he enjoyed your cowardice in the Great Hall.

”Neville ...”

His delight was so great, he nearly broke away from us again. He would have finished you if he had. Perhaps next time he shall determine your discipline.

”All right! You want to scare me, I'm scared! I almost lost my mind up there. And maybe next time I will!” His voice softened dangerously. ”Now what do you want? I mean, what exactly do you want me to do?”

We wish escape.

”How? How can you escape?”

You will take us out.

”Me?”

Within you. Of your own free will.

”My own free will? That's absurd! You do things to me like what you did up there-you force me into helping you-and you call that my own free will?”

You feel coerced?

”Yes!”

There is no coercion. The choice is yours.

”Choice? What choice?”

To help us or die. Everyone has a choice. So do not say you have no choice.

McNeely stared at the face, his words lost. The face looked back, watching him with seemingly slight interest. McNeely wondered if those strange eyes actually saw as humans see. ”If I help you,” he said finally, ”will you let us go, let us leave here?”

When we are satisfied that you are in earnest.

”What do you ...”

You could attempt to lie to us. You could dissemble.

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