Stephen Jones - The Mammoth Book of Best New Horror. Volume 13

In mid-air it exploded, a flash of actinic light splashed with sparks like phosphorus and a number of lesser cracks that shot tiny burning shards of shrapnel across the room. At the same time the cats launched themselves like furry missiles at the giant rat, straight through the barrier that confined it. It cowered back, squealing, as the cats tore it to pieces, Jo fled from their fury.

She stepped up onto her bridge, and though she knew that it was just a narrow plank and there was far too much air below her, she also knew that harmony was restored and the Casa della Scala was complete again, after too long in limbo.

Rain lashed through the open sides of the bridge as she crossed it, but she took no notice. At the other end she stepped through into the cat tower with a gasp of relief, then sank to the floor, her legs gone suddenly wobbly. She sat and hugged her knees, closing her eyes thankfully for an instant.

An insistent miaow brought her back to the present, and she looked up to see a pair of bright yellow-green eyes in a white-furred face. Jo stroked the cat, but it wanted to be away, so she got to her feet and followed it down the stair.

From below, it still looked like a plank, but if she half-closed her eyes and tried not to look directly at it, she could see a kind of ghost of what the bridge should be.

‘Yes, I’ve got it,’ said Giordano. ‘How remarkable. I wonder if my cousin Pasquale can see it.’

‘Now it’s your turn,’ Jo told him.

‘I think you credit me with too much knowledge, if that’s not an oxymoron. I don’t know the contents of all the books in the library.’

‘Maybe not,’ she acknowledged as they walked along the calle that led to Roberto’s. ‘But I expect you have some family history you can delve into.’

‘Well, I don’t know a huge amount about my wicked ancestor, except that he was said to dabble in black magic. Summoning demons, or trying to.’

Jo stopped, as she always did, to look in the mask shop. ‘He managed to summon one, anyway,’ she said, watching her own reflection, a palimpsest on the display. ‘With that necklace, I think.’

The other nodded. ‘Yes, an artefact like that could well be used for summoning a demon.’

‘He wanted me to put it on,’ Jo said thoughtfully, starting to walk again.

‘It’s a good thing you didn’t.’

‘Yes. That rat-thing could have. possessed me?’ The modern part of her mind expressed incredulity at the concept.

‘Oh, I think so,’ said Giordano. ‘Don’t you?’

She did not reply, and they walked in silence until they reached the bar. At the door she turned and asked him, ‘How did your “wicked ancestor” die?’

‘Arturo Delia Quercia? Nobody knows. He disappeared. No one ever found his body.’ Giordano followed her in, saying, ‘Ciao, Signora Renata’ in passing to the mustachioed proprietress.

When they had found seats, at a minute table by the window, Jo took the key out of her pocket. ‘I should give you this while I think of it.’

Giordano eyed it with suspicion. ‘If I were you, I’d throw it in the canal.’

‘Okay,’ she said.

Their espressos arrived, and Giordano spent some time sugaring his and stirring it. After a while he looked up and said, ‘Do you mind telling me where your family comes from?’

Taken aback by the sudden change of subject, she replied, ‘Well, Portugal, as you might guess from the name. Lisbon. But there was some kind of family feud and the parents came to England before I was born. Why?’

‘Because you have blue eyes.’

‘What?’

Her companion looked embarrassed. ‘It’s just that the captain of one of Arturo Delia Quercia’s ships was called Da Silva.’

‘It’s a pretty common name,’ said Jo, picking up her cup.

‘Maybe,’ Giordano agreed. ‘But they called this chap “occhio azzurro”.’ He shrugged, and picked up his own coffee. ‘Perhaps it’s a coincidence.’

‘But you think there’s a connection. Why? Why would Arturo Delia Quercia want that—’ she lowered her voice’—demon to do me harm, if I’m a descendant of someone he employed?’

Putting his cup down, Giordano eyed her levelly. ‘ “Harm” is rather too mild a term, you know. When you think that “possession” is another word for “owning”. Owning you, in life and death, body and soul. For ever. Whatever he had against the Da Silva family, you were lucky to get out.’

‘Well,’ said Jo, looking out of the window at a white cat that had wandered into view, ‘you could say I had help.’

Arthur c. Clarke’s iconic date saw the passing of many writers, artists, performers and technicians who, during their lifetimes, made significant contributions to the horror, science fiction and fantasy genres (or left their mark on popular culture in other, often fascinating, ways).

AUTHORS/ARTISTS

Children’s author Catherine Storr, whose classic 1958 novel Marianne Dreams was filmed in 1988 as Paperhouse, died on January 6th, aged 87. A former editor at Penguin Books, eleven of her supernatural stories were collected in Cold Marble and Other Ghost Stories , while her collection of stories for young children, Clever Polly and the Stupid Wolf, was published in 1955 and remains on the curriculum of many British primary schools.

Wartime cryptographer and screenwriter Leo Marksdied on January 15th, aged 80. He scripted Michael Powell’s cult classic Peeping Tom and Twisted Nerve.

Gordon B. Love, who produced the fanzine Rocket’s Blast/Comicollector in the 1960s, died on January 17th following an automobile accident. He was 62.

Comics artist Frederic E. Ray, Jr.,who illustrated Superman and Tomahawk for DC Comics during the 1940s and 1950s, died on January 23rd.

Fantasy and military SF writer Rick Shelleydied of complications from a massive heart attack on January 27th, aged 54. His books include the ‘Varayan Memoir’ trilogy, the ‘Lucky 13th’ series, plus The Wizard at Meq and The Wizard at Home.

Canadian-born fantasy and SF writer Gordon R. (Rupert) Dicksondied of complications from asthma on January 31st, aged 77. Best known for the ‘Childe Cycle’, ‘Dorsai’ sequence and ‘Hoka’ stories (written with Poul Anderson), the Hugo and Nebula Award-winning author published his first story in 1951 and wrote more than eighty books and around 200 short stories. His 1976 novel The Dragon and the George won the British Fantasy Society’s August Derleth Award.

British horror author Gerald Susterdied of an apparent heart attack on February 4th, aged 49. A former teacher before becoming a full-time writer in the late 1970s, his many occult thrillers include such titles as The Devil’s Maze, The God Game and The Labyrinth of Satan, which formed a loosely linked trilogy. His other novels include The Elect, The Scar, The Offering, The Block, The Force and The Handyman. A devotee of Arthur Machen, whose writing was a major influence on his own work, Suster also wrote a number of non-fiction volumes based on his personal interest in the occult, including Hitler and the Age of Horus, The Truth About the Tarot, The Hellfire Friars and a biography of Aleister Crowley. He also contributed a regular column to the esoteric magazine The Talking Stick.

Slovakian-born John L. Nanovic, who worked as an editor under the name ‘Henry Lysing’ for Street & Smith on such pulp magazines as Doc Savage and The Shadow, died on February 9th, aged 94.