Stephen Jones - The Mammoth Book of Best New Horror. Volume 19

"Susan," he said. "Can you concentrate on the snowman? At the first sign of hassle, melt the big bastard."

The woman snapped off a salute. "Since you ask so nicely," she said, "I'll give it a whirl."

"Okay, gang," he said. "Let's go inside."

They sprinted from the thicket to the doors. Bugs didn't make a move, but Keith tripped and Gene had to help him up and drag him.

Inside the building, which was an ice-palace, the wind was less of a problem, and they were protected from the worst of the snow. Overhead lights buzzed and flickered, bothering Jamie's eyes. He slipped his goggles back on.

They found Sewell Head in a room that might have been a mess hall. He was acting as a valet, helping a man dress in arctic gear. Jamie recognized the bloke from the telly. He was the one who said "If I didn't love it, I wouldn't own it." He must love lots of things, because he owned a shedload of them.

"Hi," he said. "I'm Derek. You must be the new Doctor Shade."

Yes, Jamie realized. He must be.

Leech's smile jangled his shadow senses. The dark in him was something more than night.

"I'm a big fan of your father's," said Leech. "I learned to read from tear-sheets of the newspaper strip they ran about his adventures. Ahh, 'the Whooping Horror', 'the Piccadilly Gestapo'. How I longed for my own autogyro! I have a car just like Dr Shade's. A Shadow-Shark."

Jamie remembered that there had been two Rollses in the snow. Whose was the other one?

"Leech," said Gene, acknowledging him.

"Genevieve Dieudonne," said Leech, cordially. "I thought you'd aged hundreds of years and died."

"I got better."

"Well done. Though live through the night before you pat yourself on the back too much. Where's the rest of the army? The heavy mob. Ariadne, Jago, Mrs Michaelsmith, Little Rose? The Cold's already got Jeperson. We need to go all-out on the attack if we're to have a chance of stopping it."

"We're it, right now," said Jamie.

"You'll have to do, then."

Jamie boiled inside at that. He didn't even know the people Leech had listed. Whoever they might be, he doubted they'd have done as well against the snowmen.

"Who might you be, my dear?" Leech said to Susan.

"I might be Susan Rodway. Or Susan Ames. Mum got remarried, and I have a choice."

"I know exactly who you are," said Leech. "Shade, why didn't you say you had her? She's not Rose Farrar or an Elder of the Kind, but she's a bloody good start."

Susan began primping a bit at the attention. Jamie couldn't believe she'd let this hand-kissing creep smarm her up like that. He'd never understand birds.

"Now, Sewell," said Leech, addressing his instant orderly. "Get on the blower and tell Miss Kaye to pull her finger out. The telephone kit is in the laboratory down the hall — the room with the tied-up-and-gagged idiot in it. It's simple to use. You'll have the specs for it in your head somewhere."

Head meekly trotted out of the room. He was taking orders without question.

Leech looked over the four of them — Jamie, Gene, Susan, Keith.

"Susan," he said, "can you do something about the room temperature?"

Susan, bizarrely, seemed smitten. "I can try," she said, and shut her eyes.

A little warmth radiated from her. Some icicles started dripping. Jamie felt his face pricking, as feeling returned.

"Good girl," said Leech. "You, young fellow-me-lad. Any chance of getting some tea going?"

"Give it a try, sir," said Keith, hunting a kettle.

Jamie already resented Derek Leech. For a start, he had released all those triple LPs of moaning woodwind hippies which got played over and over in student common rooms. Even if he weren't the literal Devil, that alone made him a man not to be trusted. But he was magnetic in person, and Jamie felt a terrible tug — it would be easier to go along with Leech, to take orders, to not be responsible for the others. Dad could be like that too, but he always drummed it into Jamie that he should become his own man. Dad didn't even disapprove of him being in a band rather than joining the night-wars — though he realized he'd done that anyway, as well. If he was the new Dr Shade, he was also a different Shade.

It was Leech's world too. If this big freeze was spreading, it was his interest to side with the angels. If everyone was dead, no one would make a deal with him. No one would buy his crappy music or read his raggy papers.

Jamie saw that Gene was sceptical of anything Leech-related, but Susan and Keith were sucked in. Keith had found his grownup, his teacher. Susan had found something she needed too. Jamie had been revising his impression of her all day. Leech saw at once that she was the most useful Talent in their crowd. Jamie hadn't even noticed her at first, and he had been around Talents all his life. Susan Rodway was not only Shade-level or better in her abilities, but extremely good at keeping it to herself. She kept talking about the things she couldn't do, or making light of the things she could.

Leech had been briefly interested in Jamie, in Dr Shade — but he had instantly passed over him, and latched onto Susan.

He realized — with a tiny shock — that he was jealous. But of whom? Susan, for going to the head of the class? Or Leech, for getting the girl's attention? There wasn't time for this.

"What did you say about Richard Jeperson?" Gene asked Leech.

Jamie knew Jeperson was Fred and Vanessa's guv'nor at the Diogenes Club. He tied in with Gene too.

"Mad, definitely," said Leech, with just a hint of pleasure. "Dead, probably. The Cold took him — it's a thinking thing, not just bad weather — and he went outside, naked. He lay down and let himself be buried. I tried to stop him, but he fought like a tiger, knocked me out… gave me this." Leech indicated a fresh wound on his forehead.

"Stone in a snowball," he said. "Playground trick."

Gene thought a few moments and said, "We've got to go out and find him. He might still be alive. He's not helpless. He's a Talent too. If he's buried, we can dig him up."

"I think that's a good idea," said Leech.

Anything Leech thought was a good idea was almost certainly good mostly or only for him. But Jamie couldn't see any alternative. He knew that Fred would give him a right belting if he let Jeperson die.

"Okay, I'll go," he said. "Gene, Susan, stay here. Give Mr Leech any help he needs…" That is, keep a bloody eye on him! Gene, though worried for her friend, picked that up.

Leech was bland, mild, innocent.

"Keith," said Jamie, at last. "Find a shovel or something, and come with me."

Keith, infuriatingly, looked to Leech — who gave him the nod.

"Come on, find someone useful inside you. Let's get this rescue party on the road!"

Keith gulped and said, "O-okay, Jamie."

Derek Leech was on the telephone again. Really, the man had the most terrible manners. He had some minion bother Catriona, then brushed her aside because he wanted to talk with Maureen Mount-main, of all people. Catriona passed the receiver to the woman, who listened — to her master's voice? — and clucked. Yes, Mr Leech, no Mr Leech, three bags bloody full, Mr Leech… Catriona caught herself: this was no time to be a cranky old woman.

The Cold was getting into the Manor House, overwhelming Louise Teazle's bubble of summer. Frost grew on the insides of the windows. Sleet and snow rattled against the panes.

In the gloom of the gardens, drifts and banks shifted like beasts.

Catriona had pain in her joints, and was irritated. She could list other age-related aches and infirmities, exacerbated by the Cold.

Only Rose Farrar and Ariadne were immune. Rose skipped around the drawing room, exhaling white clouds. Ariadne stood by the fireplace — where the wood wouldn't light, and shivers of snow fell on tidy ashes — and smoked a cigarette in a long, elegant holder.