Абрахам Меррит - Creep, Shadow!

When she spoke again, her voice had changed, filled with real concern and a little frightened: "You mean that – about three thousand miles and centuries away?"

I said: "Yes."

Again she was silent; then: "With the Demoiselle?"

"Yes."

She said, furiously: "The damned witch! Oh, if you'd only been with me… I could have saved you that."

I said: "Maybe. But not on some other night. Sooner or later it had to come, Helen. Why that is true I don't know – yet. But it is true." For suddenly I had remembered that strange thought which had come to me – that I had drunk of the Demoiselle's evil long and long ago – and must drink again, and I knew that it had been a true thought.

I repeated: "It had to be. And it is done."

That I knew was a lie, and so did Helen. She said, a bit piteously:

"It's just begun, Alan."

I had no answer to that. She said: "I'd give my life to help you, Alan – " Her voice broke; then, hurriedly: "Bill said to wait at the Club for him. He'll be there about four." She rang off.

Hardly had she done so than a boy brought me a letter. On the envelope was a tiny imprint of the trident.

I opened it. It was in the Breton:

My elusive friend! Whatever I may be – I am still a woman and therefore curious. Are you as insubstantial as shadows? That doors and walls are nothing to you? You did not seem so – last night. I await you with all eagerness tonight – to learn. – Dahut

There was subtle threat in every line of that. Especially the part about the shadows. My anger rose. I wrote:

Ask your shadows. Perhaps they are no more faithful to you now than they were in Ys. As for tonight – I am otherwise engaged.

I signed it Alan Caranac and sent it off by messenger. Then I waited for Bill. I drew some comfort from the thought that the Demoiselle evidently knew nothing of how I had escaped from her turret. That, at least, meant that her powers, whatever they might be, were limited. Also, if those damned shadows had any reality except in the minds of those who strayed into her web of suggestion, the idea I had planted might bring about some helpful confusion in her menage.

Promptly at four, Bill came in. He looked worried. I laid the whole thing before him from start to finish, not even passing up the poker party. He read the Demoiselle's letter and my reply. He looked up:

"I don't blame you for last night, Alan. But I rather wish you had answered this differently."

"You mean accepted it?"

He nodded: "Yes, you're pretty well forewarned now. You might temporize. Play her along a bit… make her believe you love her… pretend you would like to join her and de Keradel…"

"Sit in on their game?"

He hesitated, then said: "For a little while."

I laughed: "Bill, as for being forewarned, if that dream of Ys she conjured up means anything, it means Dahut is a damned sight better forewarned than I am. Also, much better forearmed. As for temporizing with or playing her – she'd see through me in no time, or her father would. There's nothing to do but fight."

He asked: "How can you fight shadows?"

I said: "It would take me days to tell you all the charms, counter- charms, exorcisms and whatnot that man has devised for that sole purpose Cro- Magnons and without doubt the men before them and perhaps even the half-men before them. Sumerians, Egyptians, Phoenicians, the Greeks and the Romans, the Celts, the Gauls and every race under the sun, known and forgotten, put their minds to it. But there is only one way to defeat the shadow sorcery – and that is not to believe in it."

He said: "Once I would have agreed with you – and not so long ago. Now the idea seems to me to resemble that of getting rid of a cancer by denying you have it."

I said impatiently: "If you had tried a good dose of hypnotism on Dick, counter-suggestion, he'd probably be alive today."

He replied, quietly: "I did. There were reasons I didn't want de Keradel to know it. Nor you. I tried it to the limit, and it did no good."

And as I digested this, he asked, slyly: "You don't believe in them, do you, Alan – in the shadows? I mean in their reality?"

"No," I answered – and wished it were the truth.

"Well," he said, "your incredulity doesn't seem to have helped you much last night!"

I went to the window and looked out. I wanted to tell him that there was another way to stop the shadow sorcery. The only sure way. Kill the witch who did it. But what was the use? I'd had my chance to do that and lost it. And I knew that if I could relive the night, I would not kill her. I said:

"That's true, Bill. But it was because my disbelief was not strong enough. Dahut weakens it. It's why I want to keep away from her."

He laughed: "I'm still reminded of the cancer patient – if he could only have believed strongly enough that he had none, it couldn't have killed him. Well, if you won't go you won't. Now I've some news for you. De Keradel has a big place on Rhode Island. I found out about it yesterday. It's an isolated spot, hell gone from nowhere and right on the ocean. He keeps a yacht – seagoing. He must be almighty rich. De Keradel is up there now, which is why you had it all to yourself with the Demoiselle. Lowell sent yesterday for McCann and McCann is coming in tonight to talk things over. It's Lowell's idea, and mine, too, to have him go up and scout around de Keradel's place. Find out what he can from the people about. Lowell, by the way, has gotten over his panic. He's rather deadly in his hatred for de Keradel and that includes the Demoiselle. I told you he is all wrapped up in Helen. Thinks of her as a daughter. Well, he seems to think that she's in danger."

I said: "But that's a damned good idea, Bill. De Keradel spoke of some experiment he is carrying out. That's undoubtedly where he's working. His laboratory. McCann might find out a lot."

Bill nodded: "Why not come up and sit in?"

I was about to accept when suddenly I had the strongest feeling that I must not. A tingling warning of danger, like some deep hidden alarm going off. I shook my head: "Can't do it, Bill. I've got work to do. You can tell me about it tomorrow."

He got up. "Thinking you might change your mind about that rendezvous with the Demoiselle?"

"No chance," I answered. "Give my love to Helen. And tell her I don't mean maybe. Tell her I'm taking no more journeys. She'll understand."

I did spend that afternoon working; and that night. Now and then I had an uncomfortable feeling that someone was watching me. Bill called up next day to say that McCann had gone to Rhode Island. Helen got on the 'phone and said she had received my message and would I come up that night. Her voice was warm and sweet and somehow – cleansing. I wanted to go, but that deep hidden alarm was shrilling, peremptorily. I apologized – rather awkwardly. She asked:

"You haven't it in your stubborn head that you'd carry some witch taint with you, have you?"

I said: "No. But I might carry danger to you."

She said: "I'm not afraid of the Demoiselle. I know how to fight her, Alan."

I asked: "What do you mean by that?"

She said, furiously: "Damn your stupidity!" And hung up before I could speak.

I was puzzled, and I was troubled. The inexplicable warning to keep away from Dr. Lowell's and from Helen was insistent, not to be disregarded. At last I threw my notes into a bag with some clothes and sought shelter in a little hide-away hotel I knew, after having sent Bill a note telling him where he could find me but warning him not to tell Helen. I said I had the strongest reasons for this temporary obscuration. So I had, even though I didn't know what they were. That was Tuesday. On Friday I went back to the Club.

I found two notes from the Demoiselle. One must have come just after I had left for the hide-out. It read: