Mike Shevdon - Sixty-One Nails

The step creaked when you stood on it, and again when you stepped off. I was pretty sure that it had only creaked once. There was absolute stillness. I stood and listened, naked in the dark, starting to feel chilled, but nothing stirred. The memory of the unseen pursuer and chill air from my dream returned to me and I was just on the point of thinking that the creak had somehow been part of the dream when it came again.

There was definitely someone on the stairs. Someone or something.

Could it be Blackbird? A bolted door would be unlikely to stop her if she wanted to come in. She'd said that she would find me, hadn't she? But why would Blackbird creep up my stairs at four in the morning? And why would she stop when the stairs creaked? No, whatever it was, it wasn't good news. She'd told me to watch my back. She'd warned me, "If they catch you, you'll die," and she wasn't joking.

I put my finger on the light switch, then hesitated. It would show under the door and whatever it was would know I was awake. I looked around the darkened room. There was no weapon, nothing I could use to defend myself. Besides, if it was something like Gramawl I was kidding myself if I thought I could fight it and win.

The window was the only option. If I opened the big French windows, I could climb over the railing of the half-balcony, drop down onto the patio and make a run for it.

I moved around the room, trying to locate my clothes in the dark. While it was tempting to just open the window and jump for it, I knew I would be much worse off naked. The delay between stepping on and off the stair told me that whatever it was on the stairs was being cautious. That meant I had a few moments to get my stuff. I fumbled, pulling on my Tshirt and slipped quickly into my underpants. The trousers I had left out for the morning were here somewhere. I cursed silently in the dark. Then I remembered my glow.

I summoned it, but nothing happened. No wonder, my mind was like a butterfly. Knowledge leant me calm and allowed me to focus. I reached within and my glow flickered into life. It was unsteady, reflecting my state of mind. I glanced towards the door and wondered how much time I might have? Not long. If only the door had a lock on it.

Pulling on my trousers, I tried to think of something to wedge in the door to keep it closed. The milky light danced around me. If only I could seal the door.

But perhaps there was a way. Magic responds to need, that's what Blackbird said. Well, I sure as hell needed it now.

I went to the door and put my hand on it, remembering what she told me. The power was there, I just had to believe in it. I knew I could do magic, the light was all around me. I needed to bend it to my will and seal the door.

I focused on the door, thinking, Yes, I remember there used to be a door here, but it was nailed shut. I reinforced the thought, feeling an echo of something inside, a pulse of darkness. I struggled to link it somehow with the thought that the door was nailed shut so no one could use it. I opened my eyes, only then realising I had closed them. My glow had gone and the door looked the same, but I knew it was nailed shut. It was no good trying it, because it had been nailed shut long ago. I had to believe.

I went back to the end of the bed and rekindled my glow, fumbling with my socks. Abandoning trying to put them on, I stuffed the socks into the top of my rucksack and put my bare feet into my boots. It would have to do. I pulled the laces tight without lacing them up, knotting them roughly to stop them from tripping me. I heard a tiny sound that might have been something in the kitchen. Damn! That was where my coat was. I'd have to abandon it.

I froze. The door handle on the inside of my bedroom door slowly turned downwards. I frantically reinforced my belief that it was no good trying to open the sealed door and edged towards the window. The handle reached the bottom, but the door didn't open. I grabbed the rucksack and pulled the top closed. Whatever was on the other side of the door now knew I had barred it. I went over to the French window and pulled the curtains back.

The door creaked. I glanced at it while I fumbled onehanded with the security locks on the French windows. Why were security locks so fiddly? I stopped trying to watch the bedroom door, which was nailed shut anyway, and concentrated on the window locks, bringing up my glow so I could see what I was doing. The light swelled and swayed around me, making it more difficult to see what I was doing.

Tiny pings and creaks were coming from the door, as if enormous pressure were building up on the other side. The door bulged inwards as the strain built up. The tips of my fingers were numb with the strain of trying to open the catch when I finally managed to release it and the security lock flipped open. I yanked the catch across and wrenched opened the window. There was a sound behind me and I glanced back. The door had held.

I reached over and grabbed the rucksack, hoisted it over the railing and dropped it onto the patio below as quietly as I could. I didn't want whatever was outside my door to know I was escaping and go back downstairs to intercept me as I came around the front.

A glance over my shoulder revealed dark spots forming on the door. The spots ran together to form a dark stain in the centre of the wood. Each spot had the same flat unreflecting black as my skin when I called my glow. Hesitantly I stepped back around the bed towards the door, fascinated by the spreading blackness. It was like the opposite of my glow, cancelling out any light I could make.

"Brother." The breathy murmur from the other side of the door resolved into words, making the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. "Open the dooooor."

That did it. I went back to the half-balcony and swung my leg up over the railing, finding it uncomfortably tall in awkward places. I fought for a footing on the other side. As I looked back into the bedroom from the far side of the railing I could see black spots spreading over the wood of the door. They spread like drops of water condensing on a surface, running across it, joining and merging into a dark stain. What the hell was that? The spots paused at the edge of the door then swelled onto the wall, running across the wall and up onto the ceiling.

I had seen enough. I took a quick look down to where my rucksack was lying on the patio, squatted down to get as low as I could and dropped from the rail to the paving below. The impact jarred me to the core and I banged my chin against my knee as I sprawled onto the wet slabs made slick by the rain. I pushed myself to my feet. My glow was gone, but I could see my rucksack by the city lights reflected from the low clouds. I grabbed it by the strap, swung it over one shoulder and glanced up at the room, now dark with the window wide open. I would have to leave it like that. What else could I do? The flat had been the one place I could be myself. It was a refuge from work and from life. Now I was being forced to abandon that as well. Anger swelled in me, taking the edge off my fear.

Turning away, I edged up to the corner of the house and peeked around to see if anything was waiting to jump me. There was nothing to be seen. At the front of the house, a quick glance at the front garden told me the way was clear just as a loud dull thump came from the back of the house. It spurred me on and I headed straight for the front gate.

Out on the road, I ran down the street. After an initial sprint, I slowed to a steady jog, putting as much distance between me and the thing in my flat as possible. I'm not a natural runner and the loose boots and rucksack didn't help, but all I had to do was keep moving.

The rain pattered down in steady drops and began to soak through my shirt as I crossed the empty street and turned the corner. Occasional cars rolled past but there were no other pedestrians. I guess four in the morning was a little early, even for the London suburbs. My breath was burning in my lungs as I turned right into a side road, heading vaguely towards the tube station. My rucksack began to pull at my shoulder and I stopped to shift it from one side to the other.