Mikkel Birkegaard - The Library of Shadows

The fluorescent lights on the ceiling above him flickered erratically a couple of times until one of them suddenly went out, while the two others shone even brighter. Even though the cell room was bathed in light, the glare seemed to be diminishing around Jon. Gradually a sphere formed around him, creating a darker space than in the rest of the room, and sparks and tiny flashes seemed to be racing over the surface of the sphere. Soon they could no longer see him because of the darkness and the increasing energy discharges.

'Shit,' cried Pau. 'He's gone off the scale.'

Katherina cast a glance at the computer screen. The sine wave was still fluctuating regularly but at a faster frequency than before. The red line had disappeared. She twisted her feet free from the tape and set them on the floor.

The now pitch-black sphere seemed to be drawing in the light behind the windowpane, as if it were a black hole. Lightning and sparks slid over the surface in fiery patterns and several leaped from the sphere into the room, where they landed on the objects and wiring surrounding Jon. The sparks danced in the air until all the light seemed to have been sucked inside the sphere with one great inhalation.

Katherina kicked at the floor, sending herself and the chair flying towards the other end of the room, away from the window. As she moved, she made sure to turn her back and lean forwards. Behind her she heard shouting and a great commotion.

Then came the explosion.

The force flung her sideways against the wall and the breath was knocked right out of her. A fierce heat followed and her lungs burned as she gasped for air. After the roar of the explosion came the sound of glass shattering and falling to the floor, and a hissing sound from sparks flying. She heard a whimpering from the other end of the room but all the lights had gone out, and the only remaining light was from the flames that had ignited the papers on the table and floor.

Katherina felt a pain in her arms, on the skin that was unprotected from the heat. The tape round her wrists had started to melt and she could easily slip out of it. She ripped the tape off her mouth and fumbled her way to the door, which she tore open. Before leaving the room, she took one last look at the desk where Remer and Pau had been. She glimpsed people lying on the floor, but she wasn't able to see whether they were still alive.

Out in the corridor a single fluorescent light was flickering, and the strobe effect turned the hall into a nightmarish scene. The metal door to the cell room was bowed outward; the peephole had been blown away and smoke was pouring out of it, as if from a chimney. On the floor in front of the door lay Kortmann's chauffeur. One of his eyes was a deep, gaping crater, and blood was gushing from the wound and down his face into a growing pool on the floor.

Katherina had to push his body aside before she could pull the cell door open. Smoke billowed out towards her. Coughing, she plunged into the room, holding out her hands in front of her. The first of the two chairs was crumpled up like some sort of abstract sculpture; half the upholstery was gone, half was in flames. In the other chair sat Jon.

He was sitting with his head bowed, but otherwise he was completely untouched by the forces that had ravaged the room. He was still holding the book in his hand. Slowly Katherina approached the chair and placed her hand on Jon's shoulder. He raised his head and gave her a strained smile.

'How'd it go?'

Katherina pressed her body close to his and began to sob.

'I'm so tired,' Jon said. He was having difficulty holding his head up.

Katherina released him from the helmet and stroked his forehead.

'We have to get out of here,' she said. 'Think you can manage it?'

'So tired,' Jon repeated.

Katherina tried to haul him to his feet but he was still bound to the right armrest. The explosion had spared the chair he was sitting in, including the plastic strips that held him captive.

'Campelli,' Remer's voice suddenly thundered. Through the hole where the windowpane had been, they could see a figure in tattered clothes, his face covered with blood. 'Welcome. You're mine now.'

'Run,' whispered Jon to Katherina.

She tugged at his bonds, but they refused to give.

With a great effort Jon heaved himself upright in the chair.

'You've got to go,' he croaked, groggy with exhaustion. 'You can't let them take you.'

His words were practically drowned out by a loud explosion. Katherina flinched. She'd never heard gunshot in real life before, but she had no doubt what it was, and the stance that Remer had taken also made it clear enough.

He was holding the gun in his hand, and it was aimed at her.

With difficulty Jon turned his head towards Remer. He could see the gun in his hand, and Remer's lips were parted in a smile of white teeth and red blood. Jon turned his attention to Katherina and saw the fear in her eyes.

He was still holding the book in his hand, and with one last effort he focused his gaze on the words on the page and read as loudly as he could. Even though he didn't have the strength to charge what he was reading, the reaction from Remer was instantaneous. He took a step back and put up one arm to shield himself.

'Now!' shouted Jon to Katherina, and she leaped away from him, heading for the open doorway where Remer couldn't see her. There she hesitated for a second and turned to look at Jon, but he nodded urgently. She didn't move.

'Run!' he yelled with as much anger as he could muster.

Katherina looked terrified, but she pulled herself together and ran, vanishing from his field of vision.

With relief Jon let go of the book, which fell to the floor with a thud. He sank back with a smile on his lips and closed his eyes. He heard a great deal of noise all around him. People were running and speaking excitedly. Someone was whimpering; it sounded like Pau. Jon hoped that it was Pau.

The smell in the room reminded him of his activation at Libri di Luca. There was the same stench of burnt wood and plastic, the same feeling of electricity in the air, and he had a metallic taste in his mouth. The exhaustion he felt was also like before, a penetrating fatigue that made it impossible for him to move unless he gave it his full attention.

One thing that was not the same, however, was the way the reading had progressed. He had been completely out of it during the activation. It was like a blackout, and he had been unaware of anything happening around him.

The test of his powers in the cell room was totally different.

At first he hadn't noticed anything unusual. Since he'd been holding the book at arm's length, his distance from the text was further than he would have liked, and he had to squint a bit to be able to read it. The headache from the blow to his head hadn't helped matters, and he had stammered his way through the first pages. Gradually it got easier, and his reading became more flowing and coherent until he noticed the now familiar sense of control.

Jon had read four or five pages ofFrankenstein without making any major deviations. He just worked his way into the rhythm, which allowed him to orient himself in the space, the text and the energy. He held back a bit, like a runner before the decisive final sprint, tensing his powers like muscles preparing to take off.

When the section began about the revolt of the villagers and the monster's desperation, Jon whirled himself into the story and the images rose up to meet him with clear, sharp colours and distinct outlines. Instead of his surroundings suddenly disappearing, as if someone had pressed a button, there was a much softer transition, like in the fadeout of a film. Objects in his vicinity became part of the stage-set in the story – in this way the chair in front of him became the plank bed on which Dr Frankenstein constructed his monster, and the figures observing him through the glass turned into swaying trees outside the castle windows.