The Devils of D-Day (13 page)

‘How about you?
Can you do it?’

‘It is not within my powers.’

I hefted my candlestick again. I wondered what the devil was
capable of doing in the time it would take me to cross the room and smash him
on his perch.

I said: ‘I thought only God could give the gift of life.’

The devil shifted its unseen claws. ‘Life is not a gift, my
friend. It is a curse.

Adramelech
is quite capable of
giving such a curse.’

My mouth felt very dry. I said: ‘How can I believe you? How
can I trust you?’

There was a moment’s pause. The winter wind raised and
lowered the drapes, and flakes of snow
came
tumbling
over the window-ledge. The devil stirred, and said in that throaty, sexless
voice: ‘You don’t doubt what I can do, surely?’

I moved cautiously across the rumpled rug, trying to get as
near to the devil as I could.

‘I doubt your existence,’ I said. ‘I doubt if you’re anything
more than a nightmare.’ The devil cackled. ‘Then watch,’ it said. ‘Just watch.’
There was a silence. The shadows of the drapes rose and fell, like the wings of
dreadful creatures. Then the house was pierced by a high, hideous shriek, and I
heard furniture falling, glass breaking; and someone keening and moaning like
an animal in agony. I turned. The door banged open again. From out of the
corridor came a low, howling wind, and then the sound of someone staggering
towards us, mumbling in pain as it came.

There was a crackle of electricity, and the whole room was
dazzlingly lit by a
blueish
light. Then there was
darkness again, and a rumble of thunder that compressed my eardrums and almost
threw me over. Then there was another fierce blitz of electricity, even
brighter than the first, and in the wide-open doorway, her arms raised in
desperation, her face blotted white by the demonic lightning, I saw Antoinette,
the elderly maid, in a nightdress soaked by torrents of blood, her whole body,
her arms, her legs, her stomach, her face,
porcupined
with knives and forks and scissors and skewers. It was as if every sharp
instrument in the whole house had flown from its drawer and stabbed itself into
her.

Her voice almost swallowed by another burst of thunder, she
moaned: ‘Father Anton, save me . . .’ and collapsed to her knees with a clatter
of knife and scissor handles.

I turned back to the devil, and I was stunned and furious.
‘Is that
your
damned power? Slaughtering old women?
You damned maniac!’

The voice came from somewhere else now – on top of the dark
mahogany wardrobe, in a corner where I couldn’t see.

‘You would consider it powerful if it happened to you,
monsieur
.
Or if it
happened to Madeleine.
I could make it happen to Madeleine right now.
Every pitchfork and castrating knife in the whole of her farm could stick
itself into her right now, right this minute. You only have to say the word.’

I said, quaking: ‘What are you? What kind of a devil are
you?’

The devil laughed. ‘I am
Elmek
,
sometimes known as
Asmorod
, the devil of knives and
sharp edges. I am the devil of swords and daggers and razors. Do you like my
work, you with your blunt cudgel and your blunt anger?’

I hurled my candlestick towards the shadows where the
devil’s voice came from, but it clattered uselessly against the wardrobe door,
and dropped to the floor.

‘You have a choice,
monsieur
,’
the devil said. ‘You can either help me or try to hinder me. If you help me,
Adramelech
will reward you. If you hinder me, these dead
will remain dead, and I will make sure that
your
precious Madeleine is sliced up like so much meat.’

I pressed my hands to my forehead. I could hear Antoinette
gurgling and choking in her own blood, but there was nothing I could do. If I
tried to fight this devil any longer, it was going to cut everyone to pieces,
including Madeleine and Eloise and Jacques
Passerelle
,
and once the sun had risen and set, it would probably cut me to pieces, too. I
knew then that I was going to have to pacify this demon, and play for as much
time as I could get. If we searched for its brethren,
it’s
twelve brother devils, it could take us months, and by that time I might have
found some way to exorcise it for good.

I lowered my eyes, trying to look resigned and obedient. I
said: ‘All right. It’s a bargain. What do you want me to do?’

The devil rustled in pleasure. ‘I thought you might see
sense. You are a good man and true, aren’t you?’ ‘I’m just trying to save
people’s lives,’ I told him.
‘Of course.

Very commendable.
Life is full of
commendable deeds, and it’s such a pity that they usually cause so much pain. I
am the devil of suicide by throat-cutting or slashing of wrists, did you know
that? I am always
honoured
when someone slices
himself up nicely.’ ‘Just tell me what to do.’ ‘Of course,’ said the devil.
‘All in good time.’
‘What am I going to do with these
bodies? What if the police ask me about them?’

‘That’s very simple. When we have left, the house will burn.
Not a severe blaze, but enough to gut this room, and the room along the
corridor where this lady slept. It will be a great tragedy. Everybody will be
sorry that their old priest is dead, but he was senile, wasn’t he, and perhaps
he let the candle fall on his
bedspread,
or a
stray-log drop on to his rug. Nobody will think to question you. You will have
had no motive for arson, and so nobody will suspect your involvement.’ ‘For
Christ’s sake, I didn’t kill them anyway!’ The devil laughed. ‘How many
murderers have said
that!
How many witches have
protested their innocence! How many Nazis claimed they were only obeying their
orders!
’

I shut my mouth tight, and told myself, silently and firmly,
to keep my fear and my anger bottled up tight. If this devil ever suspected
that I was trying to play it along, it would probably cut me up like shish-kebabs
in a split-second. I still couldn’t get that sickening apparition of Antoinette
out of my mind, and I knew that I was going to have nightmares about those
forests of knives and scissors for the rest of my life.

There was no sound, now, from the doorway. I guessed she was
probably dead.

‘How are we going to get you to England?’ I asked the devil.

Elmek
was silent for a moment.
Then it said: ‘There is a copper-and-lead-bound trunk in the cellar. It was
first used for carrying sacramental robes and chalices in the days when the
king travelled around the countryside, staying at the chateaux of French
barons. I will enjoy the irony of travelling in it myself. You will arrange for
transportation across the Channel this afternoon, and all you will have to do is
collect the trunk from the cellar and take it with you.’

‘Supposing I deliberately forget?
Supposing I leave you behind?’

‘Then these two people will remain as dead as they are now,
and your precious Madeleine will have the nastiest death I can devise. And so
will you
..’

Outside the shattered window, the sky was growing greyer as
dawn approached. I said: ‘All right. If that’s what you want.’

‘That’s precisely what I want. I am looking forward to
meeting the Reverend Taylor again.’

I stood in the ruined room, wondering what I ought to do
next. I kept the ring of hair curled around my finger, and I couldn’t even bear
to look at the carnage around me. I felt a
sourish
,
bilious taste in my mouth.

The devil said: ‘You can go now. Get dressed. The sooner you
arrange our journey, the better.’

I looked up at the gloomy corner where it was hidden. I
said: ‘If I disbelieved in you – if I refuted your very existence – would you
disappear?’

Elmek
laughed once again. ‘If I
disbelieved in you,’ it said, ‘if I refuted your very existence, would you
disappear?’

I wiped my soiled and sweaty face with my hand, and I felt
about as desperate and depressed as I ever had in my whole life.

I reached the
Passerelle’s
farm
just after seven, in a chill, thick fog. I parked the Citroen in the muddy
yard, walked across to the stable door, and knocked. A black-and-white dog with
matted fur came and
snifled
at my knees, and then
loped off round the side of the farm buildings.

Jacques
Passerelle
appeared at the
door, wiping his hands on a towel. His braces were hanging from his belt, and
he still had a blob of white shaving cream clinging to his left ear. He was
smoking one of his
Gauloises
and coughing.

‘
Mr
McCook,
qu’est-ce
que
c’est
qui se
passe
?’

‘Is Madeleine here? It’s rather urgent.’

‘She’s milking. Round the side there, third door. You look
bad.
A night on the tiles?’

I grimaced. ‘Would you believe I spent a night with Father
Anton?’

Jacques laughed.
‘These priests!
They’re worse than the rest of us!’

I stepped around the thickest ruts of mud until I reached
the cowshed door. It was warm and musky in there, scented with the breath of
cows. Madeleine was perched on a stool, wearing a blue scarf around her head,
jeans, and muddy rubber boots.

Her hands worked expertly at the cow’s teats, and the thin
jets of milk rang against the sides of the zinc pail. I leaned against the door
for a while, and then I said:

‘Madeleine.’

She looked up, surprised. In her work clothes, she had a
casual, gamine attractiveness that, in normal circumstances, I couldn’t have
resisted. She said:
‘Dan!

Quelle
heure
est-il
?’

‘Ten past seven.’

‘Why have you come so early? Is anything wrong?’

I nodded, trying to keep my shock and nausea under control.
I said: ‘I don’t know how to tell you.’

She let go of the cow’s udder, and set the pail down on the
cobbled floor. Her face was pale and strained, and it looked as if she hadn’t
slept a lot more than I had.

She said: ‘Is it Father Anton? Is he all right?’

I shook my head.

‘He’s not-?’

I was so exhausted that I leaned my head against the frame
of the cowshed door, and when I spoke I could only manage a dull, tired
monotone. I felt as if I’d been gutted, like a herring, and left to drain on
somebody’s sink.

‘The devil broke out somehow. I heard it in the night. I
went downstairs and it had killed Father Anton. Then it killed Antoinette in
front of my eyes, to prove its power.’

Madeleine came across the shed and touched my shoulder. ‘Dan
– you’re not serious. Please.’

I lifted my head and looked at her. ‘How serious do I have
to be? I was there. I saw the devil cut Father Anton open, and I saw him kill
Antoinette. It says its name is
Elmck
, the devil of
sharp knives. It said that if we didn’t help it find its brethren, it would cut
us to pieces as well.’

‘I can’t believe what you’re saying.’

‘Well, you’d better damn well believe it, because it’s true!
If you don’t want to wind up like Antoinette, you’d better find some way of
making your excuses to your father and getting yourself an indefinite
vacation.’

She frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean that all the time we have is the time that devil
decides to grant us. It insists we help it find its brethren, and we’re only
going to stay alive as long as we appear to be co-operating. It wants to leave
for England this afternoon. If we leave at eight, we can just catch the ferry
at Dieppe.’

Madeleine looked completely confused. ‘Dan, I can’t just
walk out of here! What can I say to papa? I’m supposed to be here to help!’

I was so tired and upset that I was near to tears.
‘Madeleine,’ I insisted, ‘I wouldn’t ask you if it wasn’t deadly serious. If
you won’t make your excuses to your father, then I’ll have to go and tell him
the truth.’

‘But Dan, it seems so unreal.’’

‘Don’t you think I feel the same way?’ I asked her ‘Don’t
you think I’d rather get on with my damned work and forget this thing ever
happened? But I’ve seen it for myself, Madeleine. It’s real, and we’re both in
danger of death.’

Those pale Norman eyes regarded me seriously. Then Madeleine
slowly pulled the scarf from her hair, and said: ‘You mean it.’

‘Yes, I damned well mean it.’

She looked out of the cowshed across the foggy yard. Over
the hills, behind the dim tracery of leafless elms, the sun glowered through
the grey haze of another winter day in the Suisse
Normande
.

‘Very well,’ she said ‘I’ll go and tell my father. I can
pack in half an hour.’

I followed her through a flock of grubby geese and into the
farmhouse. Jacques
Passerelle
was in the red-tiled
hallway, combing his short hair into a neat parting.

Madeleine came up behind him and held him round the waist.
He glanced up at her face in the mirror and smiled. ‘You’ve finished the
milking already?’ he asked her.

She shook her head. ‘I’m afraid that Dan came with an urgent
message. I have to spend a little time in England.’ He frowned.
‘
Angleterre
?
Pour quoi?’ Madeleine
lowered her eyes. ‘I can’t lie. It’s something to do with the tank. We have to
go and find some information for Father Anton.’

Jacques turned around and held his daughter’s arms.
‘The tank?
Why do you have to go to England because of the
tank?’