John Saul - The Right Hand of Evil

"I don't hog the bathroom," Kim protested. Before her mother could object, she changed direction. "What if I wanted a room downstairs?"

Her father looked at her blandly. "Do you?" he asked, his voice betraying nothing of what he might be thinking.

Kim thought about the dark cavern downstairs, with the rabbit warren of dusty rooms lit only by a few bare lightbulbs. God only knew what might be down there, creeping around in the darkness. Unable to hide the shudder that ran over her, she shook her head. "No!"

"Didn't think so," her father replied, winking at Janet.

Half an hour later, when Kim had gone back up to her homework and Jared and Luke had disappeared into the basement to start making plans for his new room, Janet stood at the sink washing dishes.

Washing the dishes, and trying to fathom what had happened that day.

How was it possible that she could have gotten up this morning with the decision to end her marriage finally made, and now actually be looking forward to settling down to spend the evening with the very same man she'd been intending to leave?

Except he wasn't the same man.

Whatever had happened to Ted-whatever truth had finally come to him in the midst of his drunkenness-had, indeed, changed him. And the Ted who came home this morning wasn't a total stranger-he was the Ted she'd met years ago, before the drinking had begun.

He was the Ted she'd always wanted, not the Ted her friends warned her against marrying.

Finally, she'd been proved right. Maybe, her mother's voice interjected. Janet wanted to reject her mother's silent warning as soon as it came into her head, but knew she couldn't.

Ted, after all, had made promises before.

And every time, every single time, he'd broken them.

So why would this time be any different? In the quiet and solitude of the kitchen, she admitted to herself that it might not be any different. She would just have to wait and see.

But for now, for the first time in years, she felt married again.

For as long as it lasted, she was going to enjoy it.

You sure this is a good idea?" Luke Roberts asked as he scanned the room. Perhaps a dozen feet square, its walls were made of thick oaken planks nailed to the huge twelve-by-twelve posts that supported the main joists of the house. It was lit by a single naked bulb hanging from a wire that had been strung along the beams beneath the floor. High up on one wall there were two small windows opening into light wells that, though they might brighten the room a little bit during the day, wouldn't let anyone inside see out, except for maybe a tiny slice of sky. Just the idea of moving into this place was enough to make Luke shudder, and if he'd been given the choice between this dungeon and the big room on the second floor-which was at least twice this size-he knew which one he'd have gone for. In fact, he'd have gone for a room half this size if it had a real window you could open up to let some air in.

There was a funny smell in the room, too. It seemed to be coming from the floor, which was made out of concrete that was starting to rot, with pits Luke was certain must be full of mold and mildew. "What's that?" he asked, pointing to a grate in the middle of the floor.

"It's the sump," Jared replied. "If it gets real wet, and water starts collecting down here, it all runs in there. Then when that gets too full, a pump goes on, and pumps all the water outside."

The room, already close to a complete zero on Luke's list, dropped another notch. "You mean you want to sleep in a room that might flood?"

Jared shrugged. "Even if it floods, it's not going to be that bad." Then he grinned, his eyes glinting in the bright glare of the bulb that hung from the rafters. "And I'd sure rather be down here than upstairs where everyone'll know what I'm doing."

"There isn't even a bathroom," Luke said sourly.

"Sure there is," Jared countered. "It's over in the corner, near the stairs."

"So what are you gonna do if you have to take a leak in the middle of the night? There's gotta be all kinds of spiders and stuff down here."

"Jeez," Jared groaned. "Haven't you ever heard of a bug bomb? You just set it off and close the place up for a few hours."

"Your dad's gonna love that idea," Luke observed.

"It was my dad's idea in the first place," Jared retorted. Then: "You got a joint?"

Luke's expression clouded suspiciously. "What if I do?" he asked, his voice carefully neutral.

Jared's eyes rolled. "If you do, we can smoke it."

Luke stared at him. "With your folks right upstairs?"

Jared shrugged. "Why not? That's the great thing about being down here-nobody's gonna walk by, so they won't even smell it if it leaks under the door a little."

Luke's eyes narrowed. "Bet you wouldn't," he said, with just enough challenge in his voice to tell Jared he did, indeed, have a joint.

"I'm gonna go up and get some food and Cokes," Jared said. "Then we'll smoke it, and figure out how to fix this place up."

In less than five minutes he was back, bringing not only Cokes and potato chips, but the radio from his room as well, along with a couple of candles. Plugging the radio into the single socket jury-rigged onto one of the walls the same way the light had been hung from the rafters, he turned it on, but kept the volume low enough so it wouldn't bring anyone down from upstairs. "So how about it, Luke?" he said. "You gonna share the joint?"

Luke frowned. "How'd you know I had one?"

Jared's lips curved into a mysterious smile. "I know all kinds of stuff," he said.

Luke reached into his pocket and pulled out a red tin box just like the ones that practically everyone Jared knew carried. Opening the lid, Luke carefully lifted the paper that cradled the peppermints inside. Underneath were three neatly rolled joints. After taking two of them out and placing them on the floor, Luke slid the box back into his pocket.

Silently, Luke handed one of the joints to Jared.

Jared struck a match, lit the joint, and sucked the smoke deep into his lungs. Holding his breath to keep the fumes in his lungs as long as possible, he passed the joint to Luke. "See?" he said after they'd each taken three tokes. "No big deal." Both of them sank down onto the floor, leaning against the oak wall.

"Good shit," Luke muttered as he sucked a fourth toke into his lungs.

Jared got up and lit the candle, pulled the string that shut off the glare of the naked lightbulb, and settled down against the wall opposite Luke. "Not so bad, is it?"

"Can't see anything," Luke groused, temporarily blinded.

But as the joint took effect and his eyes grew accustomed to the glow cast by the candle, the whole look of the room seemed to change. The rough surfaces of the planks that formed the room's walls softened, and the ceiling seemed to rise above them until it seemed there was no roof at all.

"Cool," Luke breathed.

"Shhh," Jared hissed. "Just let your mind go." He picked the second joint off the floor, lit it, and passed it to Luke.

The light in the room began to flicker and swell.

So, too, did the texture of the walls. No trace of the planks was left at all. Instead, the walls seemed to have turned translucent, with rainbows of color rippling through them. Then the walls-like the ceiling a few minutes ago-began to recede.

It seemed to Luke that they were in a chamber as huge as a cathedral, with a ceiling vaulted so high they could barely make it out. The walls were gold, set with stained glass in swirling patterns that made the light appear to move as it flooded through from somewhere beyond. In front of Luke something that looked like an altar appeared, above which-apparently floating in the air-was a woman.

A woman more beautiful than Luke had ever seen before.