F. Paul Wilson: Conspircaies

"Different inside" she said. "Frayne and I are different right down to our genes. You're completely human, Lewis. We're not. We're hybrids."

Lew looked stunned. His jaw worked a few times before he could speak. "Hybrids?"

"Yes, Lewis. Hybrids." She walked over to Canfield's wheelchair and rested her claw on his shoulder. "Neither of us really belongs here."

Jack noticed how Lew's eyes locked on the spot where his wife was touching Canfield. His heart went out to the guy, but he couldn't help him. Lew was pushing for answers and Melanie was giving them to him.

She could take it a little easier on him, though.

"How?" he said. "When?"

"Late in the winter of 1968, right here in Monroe, the Otherness spawned something in this plane. Frayne and I were just tiny, newly formed masses of cells within our mothers at the time. We were vulnerable to the influence of the Otherness then—our DNA was altered forever as it made its beachhead."

"What beachhead?" Jack said.

Obviously she was referring to the "burst of Otherness" Canfield had mentioned. But what exactly were they talking about?

"It was not something anyone would take notice of. But the fate of this plane was sealed in that instant." Her eyes fairly glowed as she spoke. "A child was conceived. A special child—The One. He is grown now, and soon he will make his presence known."

"Sounds like Olive's Antichrist," Jack said.

Melanie smirked. "Compared to The One, Olive's Antichrist would be a fitting playmate for your children. When he comes into his own, everything will change.

The very laws of physics and nature as you know them will be transformed. And after the cataclysm…Otherness will reign."

Ooookay, Jack thought. Time to go.

"Sounds like fun," he said, turning toward the couch to retrieve his jacket. "But I've got to get moving."

"No, please," she said, moving away from Canfield and gripping his arm—Jack was relieved she used her hand instead of her claw. "Not yet. I must speak to you."

"Hey, that thing's getting hot," Lew said, holding up his palm to the Tesla device but not touching it.

Jack could feel the heat faintly from where he was standing.

"Lewis," Melanie said, "I wish to speak to his man alone."

"Alone?" Lew said. "Why alone? What have you got to say to Jack that I can't hear?"

"I'll tell you about it later, Lewis. Wait for me outside, in the car."

He stared at her. "You've changed, Mel."

"Yes…I have. I finally know who I am, and I've learned why I'm the way I am. And I'm proud of it. Please, Lewis. Wait for me in the car. I'll be up in a few minutes and we'll go home together."

His eyes widened. "Really? We're going home?" He glanced at the hole. "But I thought…"

"The gateway will be closing soon. I have some things I must do before it does, and then I'll join you."

Jack didn't believe it for a minute, but Lew seemed to be swallowing the whole package.

"Sure, Mel," he said, nodding as he started toward the steps. "I'll wait for you outside. For a minute there…"

"I would never hurt you, Lewis. Surely you know that."

"I do, Mel," he said. "I know you wouldn't." He hurried up the steps.

Canfield rolled over to the stairway and peered up, then wheeled around to face Melanie.

"Why did you tell him that?" he said in a low voice.

"Because I don't want him hurt," she said.

"How can he not be?" Canfield was twisted half around. Clinking noises rose from the pouch behind his seat back as he fumbled inside it.

"I mean physically. He was good to me, Frayne. He treated me like a human being instead of a freak. I owe him for that."

Jack felt like he was eavesdropping on a private conversation.

"Should I be hearing this?" he said. "Because frankly, I don't care to."

He glanced at the Tesla device and was sure its dome was starting to glow. He wanted out of here. The growing heat was only part of it; the whole scene was starting to annoy him. Especially Melanie and her hybrid buddy Canfield—something going on between those two, something that made him queasy.

Melanie turned to him and smiled…not a smile to be particularly trusted. "Everything will be made clear in a minute or two."

"Jack," Canfield said, still over by the steps, still rattling around in his chair's rear pouch, "could you help me with this a minute?"

The Tesla device's dome was glowing a dull cherry red now. Jack was glad to get away from the heat.

Jack came around behind the wheelchair. He noticed a length of sturdy chain running out the rear pouch, around the support column, and back into the pouch.

"Right here," Canfield said, indicating the pouch. "It's stuck. Could you just yank that the rest of the way out?"

Jack reached in next to Canfield's hand, grabbed a fistful of links—

—and felt something cold and metallic snap around his wrist just before Canfield dove out of the wheelchair and slithered— slithered —away across the floor.

"What the—?"

Jack yanked his hand out of the pouch and stared at the chrome handcuff around his right wrist. The second cuff was closed through the links of the chain looped around the support column.

Sudden panic at being trapped rippled through his veins, just as revulsion rippled through his gut at the sight of Canfield's boneless legs jutting from his pant cuffs; they seemed more like tentacles than real legs.

"Good job, Frayne," Melanie said as Canfield squatted beside her like a dog. Jack almost expected her to pat Canfield's head. Instead she turned toward Jack. She was positively beaming now. "It would have been so much easier if you'd chosen to climb down the hole."

Jack ignored her and calmed himself. He wasn't Houdini, but he could get out of this. Lots of options…

He tugged on the chain. The links were made of eighth-inch steel, and welded closed. He wrapped his hands around the column and tugged—not even a hint of give.

"Don't waste your time," Melanie said. "That column is a cement-filled steel pipe, set into the cement floor and bolted to a six-inch beam above. It's there to stay."

She was right. The column wasn't going anywhere. What about the cuffs, then? Top-grade Hiatts—a heavy-duty hinge model. If he had his pick set, he could have them open in thirty seconds. But the set was back in his hotel room.

Okay—he'd have to shoot himself free.

As he reached for the Semmerling he remembered it was in his jacket…out of reach on the couch across the room.

Jack's mouth went dry. He felt the entire weight of the house pressing down on him.

Trapped. He looked at them.

Canfield's eyes shifted away. "Sorry, Jack," he said. "It's not personal. Actually I kind of like you. But Melanie's calling the shots here."

"Is that so?" said a voice from the top of the stairs. "Since when?"

Jack recognized the voice, but it was Canfield who announced him. "That sounds like Professor Roma! Professor, I've been trying to reach you all day!"

Melanie, however, was suddenly agitated. "He's not Professor Roma." Her voice dropped to an almost reverential tone. "He's The One!"

Canfield sucked in a breath. "The One? He's The One?"

Jack turned and stared up the steps to where Roma stood in the doorway, his monkey perched on his shoulder as usual.

"The One what?" Jack said.

"The One who will soon be lord and master of this world," Melanie said.

"Oh, brother," Jack muttered.

Roma said, "You have not answered my question, Melanie."

"This man is wanted on the other side, sir," Melanie said. "Some entities there feel they have a score to settle with him."

Jack didn't like the sound of that at all.

"Do they?" Roma sounded like a chef who's just been told that some of the customers think he 'should add more chocolate to his mousse.'