The Amulet (23 page)

I was about to rap on the back window, to tell them of my discovery, when I saw that Dunlop was asleep, his head lying in his wife's lap. I couldn't be sure-it was dark in the car-but it looked like she had a stream of tears running down her cheeks.

That was when I decided not to tell them. It would have to join the other matters awaiting the outcome of the night's work.

I lit a cigarette, by habit more than from any need, but the sight of Newman and Hardy had broken some of Fiona's spell. I sucked it down and concentrated on blowing smoke-rings for a while.

We'd have to put a codicil on that spell if we wanted to sell it:
Not effective in the face of violent death.

I was on my third cigarette and beginning to get cold by the time the couple joined me, hand in hand like a pair of teenagers. I could just see the hands of my watch-it was 9:30.

"We have to time this right," Dunlop said. "We have to get into the crypt, and the best time to do that will be after they are all there. I'm betting that no one will want to miss the ceremony. We shouldn't meet anyone on our way there."

I was puzzled. "But you said they knew we were coming, didn't you?"

He patted me on the shoulder. "Oh yes. And they do. They have other means of guarding themselves. Which is why we must be prepared."

He went back to the car and came back with three glass bottles from the suitcase. I didn't look too closely at their contents. He put them in a small backpack that he struggled to fit over his shoulders. He took something else from inside a small black bag, but he was too quick for me. Whatever it was went into the backpack with the jars.

"A fine night for a walk," he said, and winked at me. For a man who was about to do battle with demons he was in a sprightly mood, but then again, I myself felt full of confidence and eager to get going. Even the sight of the dead policemen hadn't affected me as bad as I would have imagined. I suppose it was something to do with Fiona's spell-I had no fear, no apprehension. Maybe fear was easier than nicotine addiction to conquer by magic. That didn't surprise me much, given how hard I'd found it over the years to give up smoking.

"I'm ready for action," I said. "Let's do it."

"Come on, then," Dunlop said. "We can't wait all night."

We made our way down the hill, watched all the way by those giant unblinking windows, and as we got closer the feeling of being watched got ever stronger.

I wondered what Dunlop had in mind. I couldn't believe that we would just walk up to the door and ask politely if we could get inside, and we certainly wouldn't get away with pretending to have a breakdown-some cliches were just too old to work.

Dunlop had got a few yards ahead of us and I took the chance to ask Fiona if she knew what was going on.

"Just stick with Arthur," she said. "He knows what he's doing."

The rest of the journey down the hill passed in silence except for the crashing of the waves on the rocks below. I could smell salt in the air and feel fine spray on my face. More than once I had a brief, regretful glimpse back at the car.

Dunlop stopped us again just before we stepped onto the causeway and led us out of sight of the house.

"It's time for some more protection," he said. He made some passes with his hands, and I was reminded of Durban's actions at the previous conjuration, but Dunlop's were slower, somehow more graceful. It brought to mind of the careful, slow movements of an old Chinese martial arts expert. It was almost hypnotic.

Suddenly his hand shot out towards Fiona and a shower of dazzling blue sparks flowed over her body, dancing in a spiral which wound around her body, faster and faster until she was almost blocked from view by the whirling light.

Dunlop shouted, one harsh word, and the lights froze in position. They winked once, and she was gone.

It had happened as suddenly as that. I believe I gave out a small yelp of surprise, but I couldn't be sure. I was almost too shocked to move.

I stepped forward, ready to grab Dunlop, believing some treachery, but was stopped by a chuckle, a female chuckle from my left-hand side.

"Don't worry," Fiona said, the sound of her voice coming closer. "Arthur knows what he is doing." I felt a finger touch my cheek and jumped backwards, suddenly afraid. I turned back towards Dunlop in time to see him point at me. My body tensed, expecting a blow that never landed. My sight was filled for an instant with sheeting blueness that seemed to fill my mind.

I blinked, just once, then tried to rub my eyes. I seemed to be peering through a fine mist, and at first I thought it was my eyes, but when I lifted my hand I saw blue, electric sparks dancing across its surface.

Fiona was back, her body pulsing in an aura of turquoise brightness. She laughed, a high-pitched, girlish giggle, and twirled with her hands outstretched, sending showers of sparks dancing from her fingertips.

Dunlop threw his arms up over his head and, after one brilliant flash of white, he too was surrounded by a corona, still blue, but this time shot through with black threads.

"Show off," Fiona said before turning to me. "A simple invisibility spell. It could have been done with a lot less show, but Arthur does love to have an audience."

I didn't understand how we could be invisible when we were lit up like fairies on a Christmas tree, but as I've said before, there was a lot about this case I didn't understand. I kept my mouth shut and followed them as they stepped onto the causeway.

This is where things start to get out of control, and I'm not even sure how much of it I believe myself. I know the story has been outlandish enough so far, but hold onto your hats, as they say in the films, you ain't seen nothing yet. I won't try to theorize over what occurred; I'll just tell the story as I think it happened and let the events speak for themselves.

When my foot hit the causeway it felt like I'd burned my bridges-there was no going back now. I looked to the other two for some reassurance, but they were both lost in concentration.

We had only gone six feet when there was a scream from the top of one of the turrets, a banshee wail that echoed around us. I stopped where I was, frozen by that eldritch scream, and immediately knew that I was not going to be able to move for a long time. The scream echoed around the cliffs, the echoes answering in a chorus of whispers.

I looked up at the house in time to see something detach itself from the roof. At first it was just another blob of darkness against the sky, but then it grew, grew and flowed as if stretching after a long sleep. It took shape quickly, spreading a pair of leathery wings as it fell before swooping upwards barely a yard from the ground and taking flight.

For a second I was back in a childhood nightmare, cowering under the evil breath of a Nazgul from Mordor as it came for me.

It wailed once more and I saw smoke coming from its distended nostrils and the red fires of hell burning brightly in its eyes as it screamed its way towards us. I had time to see a sheen of jet-black scales, scales that clashed like cold metal as the great wings beat and it swooped.

I shouted, a stream of nonsense words, but was quietened by a stern look from Fiona. I ducked at the same time as my legs gave way under me, but when I managed to look up Dunlop and Fiona were standing over me.

It went dark, and the creature came on, dived over Fiona's left shoulder, and kept going into the blackness. Fiona had a small, secretive smile on her lips.

"This is only the first barrier, used to keep away passing strangers. An illusion, that's all, nothing to frighten a big strong man like you," she said in a throaty stage whisper, not even looking at the thing that circled above us.

She was right. It swooped by overhead once more, revealing a milky white underside, before returning to its roost on the roof. The next time I looked it was just another blob on the skyline.

Dunlop took me aside and whispered sternly in my ear.

"You must control yourself. No matter what you see, or what you hear, you must keep quiet. I will tell you if there is anything to get really worried about. Okay?"

I nodded, feeling stupid and ashamed, and fell in behind them as they started moving again.

I found that if I looked out of the corner of my eye I could see the aura around me. Unlike the others, mine was green, a faint olive green that shimmered and swirled like cigarette smoke in a still room. I was so intent on watching this that I almost walked into the back of the others when they stopped.

Fiona put her hand to her lips, but she needn't have bothered-I had learned my lesson. We stood there for several seconds before I heard what had stopped them.

It came from the sea on the left-hand side, a slithering of a heavy body; the scrape as it pulled itself over the rocks on the shore. As the noise got closer I could hear something else, the rhythmic rasping of something large breathing.

Dunlop wrestled with his backpack, trying to unravel one of the straps that seemed to have got tangled at his left shoulder. He was still struggling when the thing pulled itself up onto the causeway, blocking our way to the house.

Think of a seal, then blow it up to the size of a bus. Give it a bright red weeping sore of a mouth big enough to swallow a man whole and add tiny red eyes. Then add the smell.

Its odor wafted over us and made us choke. Dunlop still hadn't got his backpack off, and as I moved forward to help him Fiona went to meet the beast.

It reared up above her, at least eight feet off the ground, towering over her slight form, the tiny red eyes staring down at her. I looked closely into those eyes, but there was no sign of intelligence, only a blind, unquestioning rage. That didn't bother Fiona. She strode forward until she was no more than three feet from the creature.

I almost screamed again, but a sharp look from Dunlop soon put paid to that. He still struggled with his backpack, but he didn't seem too concerned about his wife.

I started to move anyway, but before I had gone two yards Fiona took matters into her own hands.

She started singing, a cool, high melody, as sad as a bagpipe lament-but much more tuneful. Her aura pulsed, first deeper blue, then back to turquoise, swirling and drifting as if caught by a wind. The beast writhed in a sudden spasm, leaving strips of skin on the road surface beneath it, and the stench got worse, forcing me to gag violently. Fiona's singing got louder and her aura grew and flowed faster, growing apace with the rhythm of the song, encompassing the creature in a swirling sea of rainbow colors.

A series of spasms hit the creature and it thrashed and curled like a worm on a pin. It mewled like a lost kitten, then began to diminish. There was something wrong with my sense of perspective-it seemed to be receding away from me, but I could see that it still sat on the ground in front of Fiona. It got smaller until it was no larger than a small puppy.

It gave one final squeal, a pitiful cry of longing, before it was gone, leaving only a gray smear on the causeway.

Fiona turned back to us, just as Dunlop managed to get his backpack off. Her aura was stronger now, a deeper, richer blue with threads of gold dancing and swirling within it. But even as she spoke I could see it fading back to its previous color.

"It's a bit late now, Arthur," she said. "I don't think your services will be required." She sounded annoyed, but there was a large smile on her face.

"I thought I'd let you deal with it-it was only a small one," Dunlop said, then they hugged each other and I could see tears in his eyes.

The embrace went on for longer than I would have liked, and after several seconds I had to cough discretely.

"I'm sorry, Derek," Fiona said, prizing herself away from her husband. "It's just that it's a long time since we exercised our power-we weren't sure if we would be strong enough."

"What was it?" I asked, not really sure if I wanted to hear the answer.

"A creature from another dimension, called out of the outer regions to bar our way," Dunlop answered. "And that wasn't an illusion-you had something to worry about that time."

"Thanks for the advance warning," I muttered, not quite loud enough for him to hear. "So if it was that bad, why did you let Fiona deal with it?" I said.

"Because I have great faith in her power," he replied. "But I can't tell you any more without confusing you further."

He was right there, I was confused enough already.

"Anyway. I didn't quite have this ready," he said opening his backpack and removing a one-foot long piece of untrimmed wood. It was of some dark wood that I didn't recognize, and it looked worn and polished with age and use. As soon as he touched it his aura deepened and the black threads all but disappeared. He looked five years younger.

"A wizard has to have a wand," he said by way of explanation. "Everybody knows that."

Everything had taken a comic edge and none of us seemed to be taking our situation seriously. Some form of demon had just attacked us, I had almost lost control of my bowels at the sight of a dragon, and here Dunlop was waving a bloody magic wand around.

What next? Sawing the woman in half?

"What is this-cabaret night?" I asked.

"Don't worry," Fiona replied. "I call it my hippie spell-it's always laid back." She burst into a fit of giggles, so girl-like and cute that Dunlop and I came out in sympathy.

"It helps us keep things at a distance, stops us from being overcome by fear," she said when she had recovered enough to speak. "Haven't you noticed its effect?"

"Yeah," I said, trying to sound nonchalant. "But I don't believe it's working that well. I think I need a change of underwear."

That started off the chortling again.

"Be like me, Derek," Fiona said. "Don't wear any-it saves on the laundry."

Still giggling we made our way to the gate.

We approached it slowly, and I had plenty of time to study it closely. It was fifteen feet high, a network of black iron curled and twisted into demonic faces that leered obscenely at us as we faced it. Along the top of the gate were a series of tall spikes, gleaming razor sharp in the dim light. And on top of every spike there was a head. I had to look closely to make sure that they too were cast of the same black iron. The craftsman had been brilliant-the heads were perfect, the strands of hair each individually defined, the mouths gaping in throat-tearing screams, the eyes showing pure terror.