The Library of Shadows (21 page)

'Just one,' said Pau. 'My own. But I wasn't really conscious during it. I was run down by a psychopath on Strøget and hit my head on the cobblestones, and when I woke up from a coma three weeks later' – Pau snapped his fingers – 'bam! That was it.' He started down the stairs. 'It took a while before I figured out what it was all about, even though I could tell right away that something was wrong. But you'll soon see what I'm talking about. Just wait.' He laughed.

They had reached the bottom of the stairs and continued on down the dark corridor to the oak door that led to the library. A faint light came from the doorway.

'Hi, Kat,' said Pau as he stepped inside.

Jon followed Pau into the room. The electric lights were dimmed and the room was almost entirely lit by candles on the table and the few shelves not holding books.

'It's just for atmosphere,' Katherina told Jon. 'It doesn't have any importance for the activation.' She smiled.

'But it's damned cosy,' exclaimed Pau as he dropped into a chair. 'All we need now is some incense and herb tea.'

Katherina ignored him and pulled a book from the glass case in front of her.

'Have you read this?' she asked, handing the volume to Jon.

He took the book and studied it. It was bound in black leather, and even though he didn't have much understanding of such things, he could tell that it was high-quality workmanship. When he turned the book round to look at the title, he saw that it was
Don Quixote.

'No,' Jon said at last. 'I've never got round to reading it.'

'That's a shame,' she said. 'It's a classic. Iversen has read it to me several times.'

Jon nodded and leafed through the book. The paper was thick and pleasant to the touch. It was obvious that someone had put some love into this edition.

'We're going to use it for the activation,' Katherina said casually as she took out another book and then closed the glass case.

'This one?' said Jon in surprise. 'I thought it would involve all sorts of oaths and magic formulas.'

Katherina smiled. 'It's not the words that are important. It's the energy and the emotions that the text conjures up that mean something.' She placed her free hand on the book Jon was holding. 'This one is strong. Can you feel it?'

Jon placed his palm on the book, brushing against Katherina's fingers, which she quickly removed. He closed his eyes and tried to sense the energy she was talking about.

Pau laughed behind them.

'Can you feel anything, Jon?' he asked sarcastically.

'Not the slightest,' Jon decided, opening his eyes.

Katherina shrugged. 'Well, you haven't been activated yet. That usually helps, but even people who are activated can't always feel it.' She cast a glance at Pau, whose smile instantly froze.

'So, is everyone ready?' they heard Iversen say as he came into the room. They all confirmed they were, and Iversen closed the door. Katherina handed the book to Iversen, and they all sat down in the chairs around the table. There was a moment of silence. The flames from the candles slowly stopped flickering. Jon's heart started beating faster, and sweat made his hands damp, as well as the book he was clutching. Across from him sat Iversen. Katherina was on his right, and Pau on the left.

Iversen picked up a book. It was bound in leather, like the one that Jon was holding, but a white bookmark was sticking out of it.

'This is the text we're going to use for the activation. It's the same as the one that you have in your hands, and the whole process really just involves us reading together. I'll start by reading aloud, and then you join in. It's important that we read at the same pace, but that's usually not a problem, once we get going.'

Iversen fell silent and looked expectantly at Jon, who with a curt nod acknowledged that he understood.

'It's been a long time since I read anything aloud,' he said uncertainly. 'At least from a work of fiction.'

'You'll do fine. Katherina will help both of us keep the right tempo,' Iversen explained. 'As we get further along, she'll reinforce or mute the emotions that come up. Don't be afraid, just relax and concentrate on the reading and the rhythm. Immerse yourself in the story and the mood of the book. The more relaxed you are, the easier the activation will be.'

Jon nodded again and took a deep breath. 'I'm ready.'

Iversen opened the book at the place where the bookmark stuck out.

'Page fifty,' he said.

Jon turned to the right page in his copy.

Iversen started reading. His voice was clear and the pace was slow. Jon followed along in the text, and after a couple of paragraphs joined in. He cleared his throat a few times during the first section, and he really had to concentrate to match Iversen's voice. The next section went more smoothly and he had an easier time keeping up. Together they picked up the pace a bit so it didn't seem as artificially slow as when they started. As they turned the page, Jon cast a quick glance at Iversen. He was leaning back in his chair, focusing all his attention on the book. His whole face radiated a tense concentration that made him frown and hold the book closer to his eyes.

The reading continued and Jon noticed how the rhythm and tempo had stabilized; he no longer had to concentrate as much to keep it going. The type and the words before his eyes practically invited his voice, enticing him to pronounce them, as if they had been waiting years for this moment. Little by little Iversen's voice grew fainter until finally Jon didn't hear it at all. He heard only his own voice. It felt as if he were lying in a canoe, low in the water, floating along a river at a comfortable and even speed. The surface was broken only by the boat, while an invisible undercurrent carried it along. He didn't hesitate even when he turned the page. He felt as if he could see what was on the next page so that he could continue reading without interruption.

The letters of the words seemed sharper and more distinct in relation to the white background, which also appeared to have changed character. It was no longer the thick, white surface in which the structure of the paper pulp could be glimpsed; instead, the background was more even, with a glossier surface, as if it were a frosted white windowpane on which the type had been embossed. Behind the pane he could suddenly discern silhouettes appearing and disappearing like a shadow play that was out of focus.

Jon hardly noticed any more that he was reading aloud. The reading itself proceeded almost mechanically and he was able to admire the interplay between the type and the background. He focused on the shadows as they appeared, and after a while he had the feeling that they were following along with the story. When the text mentioned two men on horseback, he could sense there were two figures on horseback behind the white pane, and when the text described a windmill, he could make out its rotating sails cleaving the air behind the white fog.

This discovery made him concentrate even more on the shadows as he read, and just as the main character lunged at a sail of the mill, the white pane shattered and thousands of shards of glass fell away, revealing the scene behind.

Jon gave a start, but the reading continued at the same tempo, even though the words were now hovering mysteriously in the air in front of the scene with the main character and the windmill. They looked like subtitles for a film, but in this case the reading of the words drove the images forward and not vice versa. He could feel his heart beating faster again, his pulse rising.

The reading continued inexorably, as if he were no longer in control of it and he could enjoy the images it was creating. They became clearer and clearer the more he read until he felt he could almost step into the landscapes visible behind the text. The colours of these images were strong and clear, but they seemed artificial. It was as if the colour control on a TV was broken and the result was colour-saturated images that threatened to flow together. The outlines of the people and surroundings seemed blurred, and he tried to freeze the boundaries by intensely focusing on the hazy border areas. He felt a slight resistance, as if he were turning a rusty door handle, but suddenly he broke through and discovered he was able to adjust the sharpness of the images. Astonished, he played with this new tool. He let the scene flow all the way out, so it looked as if it were taking place in a thick fog, and then he adjusted the focus so sharply that the characters looked as if they'd been cut out of cardboard with a scalpel. He could also adjust the colour balance. The scene could be made brighter or darker, and he could control how warm it felt by bathing it in soft yellow light. He experimented with all the adjustments, finding the outer limits and the possibilities for combinations. He noticed that some adjustments offered resistance, but if he focused very hard, he could break through that threshold too and force the precise mood he wanted on the scene.

The speed at which he read also had an effect. If he read slowly, he had more time to fill the scene with emotions and mood, while a rapid reading speed was not nearly as nuanced and restricted the impact to a few powerful emotions. Jon noticed that when he read quickly, his heartbeat was faster and not entirely regular and he began to sweat, as if he were exerting himself physically. He tried to figure out how fast he could read, but again something seemed to be holding him back, some sort of brake that prevented him from exploring the rest of the scale. Slightly annoyed, he began reading spasmodically, like a pile driver, to remove this obstacle, but he noticed his body lurch and he felt a huge hand grabbing hold of him and holding him tight. He tried to get free, but the more he struggled, the more the grip tightened, and he had no choice but to slow his reading down. The grip still didn't loosen, and he felt as if his lungs were no longer able to get any air.

Jon stopped reading.

Incapable of taking in anything around him, he closed his eyes and his head fell forward towards his chest. Only a few seconds passed before he began taking in impressions from the basement again.

It was his sense of hearing that returned first, very slowly, as if someone were turning up the volume. He could sense commotion around him, the sound of footsteps and furniture being moved. Nervous voices conversed, though he couldn't hear what they were saying, and a crackling sound sliced through the air above his head. Then he smelled smoke; the sharp odour of burning wool and plastic found its way into his nose, tearing at his nostrils. Then Jon opened his eyes.

The sight he encountered was so unreal that his first thought was that it had to be a dream, or that he was still immersed in the story. The room was almost completely filled with smoke, several of the candles had toppled over, the chair on his left had fallen backwards, and sparks and electrical discharges were flying out of the light fixtures. Iversen and Pau were running around putting out the flames that had taken hold on the carpet and furniture. Pau was using his sweater while Iversen was armed with a rug.

Katherina was sitting to Jon's right, staring at him with a blank expression in her eyes. Two thin streams of blood were coming out of her nose, collecting at her lips, and running down her chin. Her hands were clutching the armrests of her chair so hard that her knuckles were white.

Jon's next thought was that the bookshop had been attacked again.

'Who was it?' he managed to stammer, noticing how dry his throat was.

Pau cast a glance at Jon on his way over to a switch near the door where a burst of flame had just ignited the door frame.

'Hey, he's back,' shouted Pau to Iversen, flinging his sweater with his left hand at the flames coming from the electrical outlet. 'She did it.'

Jon noticed that Pau's right arm hung limply at his side.

'Jon?' Iversen came over to him. 'Jon, close the book. Do you hear me?'

Jon turned his head towards Iversen, who came closer with the rug slung over one arm. Jon was about to look down at the book when Iversen began shouting at him.

'Jon, look at me! Just close the book, Jon. Look at me, and close the book!' There was fear in Iversen's voice.

Jon kept eye contact with Iversen as he slowly closed the book. An obvious expression of relief spread over Iversen's face.

'Who was it?' Jon asked again.

'It was you, Jon,' said Iversen. At the same instant he caught sight of new flames leaping up behind Jon's chair. He immediately went over to slam the rug at the fire until the flames died out. In the meantime, Pau had put out the fire at the electrical outlet and was now standing at alert, keeping an eye on the room in case any new fire should break out. The sweater he was holding ready in his hand was smoking faintly.

Katherina had bowed her head so her chin rested on her chest. Her hands were clasped in her lap, as if in prayer. They were trembling ever so slightly.

Jon tried to stand up, but was immediately seized with dizziness and dropped back into his chair. He felt Iversen's hand gripping his shoulder.

'Just stay where you are, Jon. It'll be over soon.'

He wanted to turn round to face Iversen to ask for an explanation, but before he managed to turn his head, he blacked out.

'That was crazy!'

Katherina heard Pau's excited voice as if it were a radio that had suddenly been switched on, much too close. It sounded as if she were in the bookshop. Judging by the leather underneath her, she must be sitting in the armchair behind the counter, with her head tilted to one side.

Why was she sitting here? She felt so exhausted that she couldn't even open her eyes. What had happened?

She heard Iversen answer Pau in a somewhat more subdued tone, his voice extremely grave.

'Things could have gone terribly wrong,' he pointed out. 'And we still don't know how they're feeling. What about you? How's your arm?'

'It's okay,' replied Pau casually. 'It just tingles a bit, like it's asleep. But holy shit, it sure hurt when he zapped me. How'd he do that?'

'I don't know, Pau,' said Iversen wearily.

'If that's what activations are like, we should have more of them,' said Pau firmly.

'That was absolutely not normal,' Iversen emphasized. 'I've ... I've never seen anything like it.'

Katherina could hear a trace of nervousness in Iversen's voice. He was scared. Why? She tried to think back. They'd been downstairs in the basement. Jon had been there too. The activation.

She gave a start when she remembered.

'Is she awake?'

Katherina felt someone bending over her.

'No,' said Iversen very close. 'It was just a spasm.'

She wanted to shut them out for a little while longer. First she had to work out what had happened.

All four of them had been in the basement for Jon's activation. She herself had made all the preparations, with candles and everything. It was supposed to be pleasant, like adopting a new family member, but something had gone wrong.

At first everything proceeded according to plan. Iversen started reading, and Jon quickly fell into the rhythm, helped along by Katherina's efforts to focus his attention on the text. Pau had just sat there, gawking, with a silly smile on his face, as if he were waiting for a chance to tease the new boy in class.

After a couple of pages Iversen had glanced at her and nodded. She closed her eyes and concentrated on Jon's reading as she shut out everything else. Slowly she reinforced his attempts to accentuate the text he was reading, and she made sure his attention continued to be directed at the book. The images he created became more and more rich and detailed, until she held him back a bit. She sensed him trying to override this sudden obstacle, like a mass of water that had been dammed up.

Then Katherina opened her eyes. Iversen had stopped reading, and again he nodded to her. She closed her eyes again and removed the barrier to Jon's progress, as if she were uncorking a bottle. At the same time she enhanced what he was accentuating so the result was an explosive leap forward, filled with colours and a rapid flow of pictures. The activation was achieved, and she was surprised at the richness of detail and depth in Jon's interpretation of the text. The images he had created as an ordinary reader seemed like blurry black-and-white pictures in comparison to these, which were saturated with colour, clarity and nuance. It was like the difference between watching a film on TV and on a cinema screen.

Gradually she reduced her own influence. Jon now had no trouble maintaining his concentration, and she even sensed how he was experimenting with his new instrument. When she opened her eyes, Iversen was sitting there with a big grin on his face, while Pau was so immersed in the story that he paid no attention to anything else around him.

'What did I tell you?' whispered Iversen, giving Katherina a wink. She smiled back.

It was hard not to get caught up in Jon's gripping storytelling technique. The images and associations he created kept enticing the listeners to go along on a fantastic journey. Katherina, who had heard
Don Quixote
many times, didn't remember ever being so tempted to immerse herself in the story as she was now. The hair on her arms stood on end, and she felt a slight tickling in her stomach.

Katherina again turned her attention to Jon's discovery of his powers. She directed his focus to the various means at his disposal, and each time he surprised her by going further than she thought possible.

It was during these breakthroughs that physical phenomena began to manifest themselves. The candles were blown out. The lamps pulsed with shifting voltage, the furniture began to shake.

Iversen asked Katherina to bring Jon back. There was a trace of nervousness in his voice. Jon didn't notice anything, but sweat was pouring down his face and little blood vessels had burst in the whites of his eyes. But he kept on reading in a loud, clear voice and all of Katherina's attempts to subdue him were in vain. The bookcases began to shake violently. The books came toppling off the shelves and fell to the floor.

The commotion brought Pau out of his trance. He got up to take hold of Jon but before he could touch him a blue spark leaped from Jon's elbow and through Pau's outspread fingers. Pau was slammed back into his chair, which fell over backwards. He quickly got to his feet but he was holding onto his right arm and moaning loudly.

Katherina continued her attempts to mentally put the brakes on Jon but the discharges got even stronger. Little flashes of lightning danced out of Jon's body and over to the electrical fixtures, which sprayed sparks into the room. Pau and Iversen were fully occupied stomping out the embers and flames, while the furniture started shaking more violently and jumping about. At one point a bookcase fell on top of Iversen and Pau had to come to his rescue.

Katherina tried to follow the pulse that she sensed lay behind the bursts of energy coming from Jon. They occurred spasmodically, at regular intervals, and when the next pause came, she directed all her powers at breaking Jon's concentration. Her chair was shoved a metre away from him, but the reading stopped, and he raised his eyes from the book to stare at Katherina. His bloodshot eyes were filled with confusion and fear.

After that she remembered nothing more.

'Katherina?' Iversen's voice was very close.

She opened her eyes and looked up into Iversen's worried face. He smiled.

'Are you feeling all right?'

Aside from a sluggishness in her whole body and the feeling that she hadn't slept in a long time, she was fine. She nodded.

'What about Jon?' she asked.

'The master of fireworks?' said Pau, poking his head into her field of vision. 'He's totally out of it. But still alive.'

The two men straightened up and looked behind them, where Jon was lying on a camp bed. From what Katherina could see, he was sleeping peacefully.

'We lugged the two of you up from the basement,' Iversen explained. 'It's still being aired out. I don't think the electrical switches are ever going to work again. They're completely melted.'

'How could that happen?' asked Katherina, her voice hoarse.

Iversen shrugged. 'It's beyond me,' he admitted. 'We were hoping you could tell us something.'

'Nothing except that he was incredibly strong,' replied Katherina. 'Stronger than any transmitter I've ever encountered before.'

Iversen nodded pensively.

'But lightning?' Pau interjected. 'Was that wild enough for you?'

'It does seem very extreme,' Iversen acknowledged. 'But we activated latent areas of his brain. Who knows how much is hidden away up there?' He tapped his index finger on his temple. 'Maybe we flipped a couple of extra switches.'

'Or blew a fuse,' suggested Pau cynically.

All three of them fell silent as they exchanged worried looks. Even Pau seemed to have grasped the seriousness of the situation. A hint of nervousness had slipped into his eyes. From the camp bed they could hear Jon breathing evenly.

Katherina looked down at her hands. It had been her job to control the seance. Of course no one could have predicted how things would go, but she was the one who should have stopped Jon earlier and prevented everything from getting out of control. Maybe she had put too much pressure on him. Her fascination with how his powers were unfolding had made her hesitate when she should have intervened. The electrical switches might not be the only things that had melted. Even though Jon was breathing all right, they couldn't know whether he was nothing more than a vegetable behind his closed eyes.

'Maybe we should have someone take a look at him,' said Katherina.

'We've discussed that,' said Iversen with a sigh. 'But who would we get, and what should we tell them?'

Katherina had no answer.

'Whatever else we do,' Iversen went on, 'we'll have to contact Kortmann.'

Katherina gave a start. During all the preparations for the activation and Iversen's homecoming from the hospital, they had completely forgotten to inform Kortmann about their meeting with Tom Nørreskov and what he'd said about the Shadow Organization. To top it all off, they had thrown themselves into an activation that Kortmann had specifically advised against.

With a nod she gave her assent.

'I think we should call in Clara too,' she added firmly. 'The receivers have just as much right to know what's going on as the transmitters.'

After an hour Clara turned up, the first to appear of those they had summoned. Jon was still asleep. Katherina had been sitting at his side most of the time, and apart from a couple of grunts and incomprehensible sounds, he had remained calm. Clara greeted everyone and then leaned over Jon as if to assure herself that he was actually sleeping and not just pretending. She squatted down next to the bed and grabbed his wrist to take his pulse.

'And he's been like this ever since the activation?' she asked perfunctorily.

Iversen confirmed that Jon's condition hadn't changed and then recounted in rough outline what had happened during the seance. When Clara heard about the physical phenomena, she opened her eyes wide and let go of Jon's wrist, as if she'd burned herself.

'Very interesting,' she said and stood up. Her eyes met Katherina's, as if looking for an answer, but Katherina could only shake her head weakly.

At that instant the door to the bookshop opened and a young man came in. It was Kortmann's chauffeur. Without looking at them, he held the door open for Kortmann, who with some difficulty rolled his wheelchair over the threshold. He hesitated for a moment when he saw Clara, but then he turned to his assistant and nodded. The young man left Libri di Luca, closing the door carefully behind him.

'Clara,' he said loudly. 'I didn't expect to see you here. It's been a long time.'

'Same here, William,' said Clara, going over to the man in the wheelchair and holding out her hand.

Kortmann grimaced and shook her hand briefly.

'And Iversen is up and about again, I see.'

Iversen smiled and nodded. 'I'm fine.'

Kortmann moved closer to the bed and studied Jon's face.

'That's more than can be said for our young friend here,' he said, shifting his gaze to Katherina. She could see his jaw muscles tighten. 'How could you even think of carrying out an activation without telling me?' Kortmann abruptly turned his head to look at Iversen.

Iversen looked terrified and had to search for words. 'We didn't think it was necessary,' he managed to stammer. 'And he insisted on doing it as soon as possible.'

'So what happened?'

For the second time Iversen described the seance. Kortmann didn't visibly react to what he heard, but he kept his eyes fixed on Iversen.

'Let me see the basement,' Kortmann demanded. 'You,' he said, pointing to Pau. 'If your arm is all right now, you can carry me downstairs.'

Pau nodded eagerly and then struggled a bit with the man's frail body until he got a proper grip and lifted him out of the chair. Katherina thought Pau looked like a ventriloquist with Kortmann as the well-dressed dummy. While the others went down the spiral staircase to the basement, she stayed behind with Jon. It was impossible to tell just by looking at him that only a few hours ago sparks had flown out of his body. His eyes moved behind his eyelids, and his breathing was calm. Cautiously she placed her hand on his forehead. It was warm and slightly damp.

After ten minutes the others returned. Pau put Kortmann back in his wheelchair and wiped his brow with the back of his hand.

Kortmann moved closer to the bed and studied the unconscious Jon with renewed interest.

'Young Campelli is full of surprises,' he said to himself. 'Have any of you ever seen anything like this before?' he asked Clara, who was standing on one side of the bed.

She shook her head. 'Never. There's never been anything that even resembled physical phenomena, energy discharges or whatever you want to call it.'

'So we don't in fact know what we're dealing with here,' said Kortmann. 'It could be a new sort of Lector power that we haven't yet seen, or it could be a separate phenomenon – an area of the brain that became activated by accident and has no relation to our powers.'

Katherina cleared her throat. 'I think it has something to do with his powers.'

'Can you explain?' asked Kortmann, sounding annoyed.

'When we use our powers on transmitters, we can feel a kind of pulse in the accentuations or energies they emit.' Clara nodded agreement. 'And I sensed that the phenomena followed the beat of Jon's heart,' Katherina explained. 'It's true that the frequency was irregular, but the phenomena occurred and were reinforced with every pulse – I'm sure of that.'

'And this ... pulse. Is it something that only transmitters have?' The tone of Kortmann's voice was gentler but his eyes were cold. Katherina shifted her glance to Clara, who was smiling at her like a proud mother.

'Yes,' replied Katherina. 'It has nothing to do with a normal pulse. It only occurs when transmitters use their powers.'

'That's how we, as receivers, can determine whether someone has transmitter powers and is using them or not,' Clara added.

Kortmann rolled his wheelchair a short distance away from Jon's bed.

'So that means he's not dangerous as long as he's not reading. Is that right?'

'That seems to be the conclusion,' said Clara.