Mikkel Birkegaard - The Library of Shadows

Katherina moved closer to the podium and Jon. She didn't cover much ground, but she felt better being slightly nearer to him. Nothing was visible on his face – no emotions or expressions she could interpret.

She felt the hood of her robe being tugged from her head. A hand landed on her shoulder and slowly she turned around. In front of her stood the red-haired man, the man Jon had just pointed out as Luca's murderer.

'You shouldn't be here. You must have taken a wrong turn somewhere,' he said with a triumphant smile.

Katherina's heart pounded and she couldn't breathe. Without the protection of her hood she felt helpless. It was a hundred against one, and there was no place for her to flee. She had failed.

'You'd better come with me,' said the red-haired man.

The pictures of him she'd received from Jon popped up again, but now they were coloured by her own rage.

Katherina took a deep breath.

With a violent shove she sent the man toppling backwards. He staggered a few steps before he fell on his back with a yelp. Several people standing close turned towards Katherina with shouts of surprise. She started screaming as loud as she could and pushing at those who were nearest. The first participants moved away in fright, but she kept running into people and yanking at everyone she could reach. She managed to grab some of the books and tore them out of the hands of the astonished owners, hurling them as far away as she could. There was no chance that anyone would come to her aid, but she could at least break the concentration of the crowd, maybe long enough so that Jon could stop the reading.

The people around her began to understand what was going on, and more and more hands reached out for Katherina. She repeatedly tore herself free, but the crowd was getting rougher and rougher, and agitated voices were pelting her with words in many languages. She fought back as best she could, but then someone shoved a book at her face and stopped her shouts.

A voice cut through the noise. It was one of the hooded guards, pushing his way through the excited participants and speaking to them in an authoritative tone. He got Katherina in an armlock and one by one the others retreated. The guard ushered Katherina towards the door. The Lectors moved aside, glaring at her as they did. Almost everyone was watching the commotion while Jon still continued to read, as did a number of other Lectors close to the podium who appeared not to have noticed a thing. Desperation surged inside of Katherina, and she almost didn't have the strength to stay on her feet, but the guard ruthlessly pulled her along. When they had nearly reached the door, she made one last effort to tear herself away, but the guard merely tightened his grip.

'Take it easy, damn it,' he whispered in unmistakable Danish. 'It's me, Mehmet.'

Jon noticed when Katherina's support vanished.

The colours of the surroundings abruptly lost their strength and the details around him became blurred. He had to work harder to keep the scene intact. The features of the cemetery weakened and the atmosphere was not as palpable as it had been before.

At the same time a violent commotion occurred in the energy field. Instead of being a unified support that reinforced the intensity of the scene, the force now fluctuated for shorter or longer periods. It seemed like the signal from a transistor being run through the whole range of frequencies.

Remer had also noticed it, but instead of faltering, he smiled. 'Don't pay any attention to that,' he said confidently. 'We don't need them.' He held his arms out to the sides and tipped his head back to look up at the clouds in the sky.

The colours changed, starting from above and flowing downwards, as if someone were pouring paint over the landscape. Everything that was pale and pastel became so sharp and bright it hurt his eyes. The headstones moved back into place and acquired detailed decorations including gargoyles and mythical creatures.

Jon couldn't keep up. He'd lost control of the scene. The ball was now in his opponent's court. 'Not bad,' he admitted as he tried to hide his concern. What had happened to Katherina? He didn't have the strength to hold on much longer alone. Maybe she had escaped. He hoped she had. If only he could make sure she was safe. If only he could poke his head outside to determine whether she was okay.

Three more of Remer's people appeared.

It looked like he was defeated. Without Katherina's support, and with more and more of Remer's people being reactivated, he couldn't keep going. He noticed that his energy was fading, but he still couldn't stop reading. Patrick Vedel's influence had vanished, but there were other receivers who were keeping everyone captive in the text.

The main character at the grave stopped speaking, closed his eyes and bowed his head. Slowly he leaned forward until his forehead touched the stone.

Darkness. They were back inside the car. The sides and roof were pressing so close he couldn't move. He heard screams from behind him, inside the car, muted, as if someone were shouting into a quilt, but insistent and impossible to ignore. A strong smell of petrol made the main character cough. A shudder rippled through his body and a violent pain in his legs made him scream.

Jon was caught off guard by the change of scene, but he quickly recovered. The darkness limited the possibilities for manipulating the surroundings and gave him a chance to relax. He tried to gather his forces, though he knew it wouldn't be long before the scene changed again.

'Are you okay?' asked a voice outside the car door.

The main character could do nothing but scream.

Then other sounds. The sound of metal against metal, faces that bent close and then vanished, the chassis of the car creaking and groaning. Petrol fumes filled his lungs and made him cough again. He felt someone grab hold of him. The pain was unbearable. He screamed. Someone was yanking violently at his body. Suddenly he felt water on his face. Rain. He saw the outline of the car as he was dragged away. He saw the crushed roof and the crumpled bonnet. He saw a blue spark issue from the rear of the car.

Then he felt the heat washing over him.

Mehmet and Katherina came out into the corridor, beyond the crowd's field of vision, and hugged each other.

'What happened to the two of you?' Katherina asked.

'It wasn't all that easy to get in,' replied Mehmet. 'And we also had to convince a couple of guards to loan us their togas, if you know what I mean.'

'Where's Henning?'

'He's there,' said Mehmet, nodding towards the stairs. 'He started reading from another book we found.'

They hurried up the stairs to the next level. Here the tables and chairs had not been removed. They stood in long, even rows – a sharp contrast to the chaos below. Henning was sitting with a book in his hands in the middle of the floor, a couple of metres from the edge of the terrace. As they approached, they could hear him reading in a clear voice.

'Watch out,' said Katherina, holding Mehmet back. A spark raced across the pages of the book Henning was reading. 'He's been reactivated.'

'Is that good?' asked Mehmet.

'I have no idea,' replied Katherina and sighed. She stepped closer to Henning and studied his face. His eyes were staring down at the book but they seemed to be seeing more than just letters and words. A few drops of sweat glistened on his brow and his cheeks were flushed.

'He's completely out of it,' declared Mehmet.

'Leave him be.' Katherina moved over to the railing. They were standing right above the podium with a full view of the floor below. Jon was still standing there, reading, paying no attention to the fact that scattered all around him were bodies lying on the floor along with a jumble of candles and books. Discharges from the electrical fixtures sent constant showers of sparks out into the room, and bolts of lightning leaped between Jon and the eight other Lectors standing around the podium who had been reactivated. It was as if they were feeding each other with energy, sometimes in random bursts, at other times passing the charge from one person to another like a relay baton.