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  He had looked into that world and invited its patrons to come into him. He had learned their ways, growing more and more powerful. The dark feelings that burned within gave him meaning for the first time, meaning that substituted for the loneliness and emptiness he had known since the death of his parents. He had been placed in an orphanage where religious dogma had been hammered into him until he had nothing but contempt for it and its rules.

  He laughed. The forces he gave himself over to represented the opposite of everything he had hated, abandon instead of restraint, anger instead of repressed rage, and indulgence instead of repentance.

  The old man had gradually learned of what he was doing, and at last had confronted him.

  “You know you are delving deeper than is wise or safe," Hall-Patch had said in his cracked voice.

  "I am doing what I must," Simon had replied.

  They were standing in the front room of the old shop, Hall-Patch behind the narrow counter, his wrinkled hands flat on the wooden surface.

  “You are opening yourself to demonic control," Hall-Patch warned. "That is always a mistake."

  "A mistake? Or is it just that none are brave enough to try? Mine is the way of finding all power."

  "It is a path that will lead to your death," the old man stated, adjusting wire-rimmed glasses. His voice was weary, heavy with impatience. Its tone conveyed that he had seen this all too many times.

  "I'm ready to go beyond what anyone has ever tried," Simon responded. "I'm ready to find all of the power. I can feel it. We're in touch with some, but there's so much more that can be drawn."

  The old man turned from him then. "I thought you were a wonderful pupil, but you're a fool. I want no more to do with you, Simon. You're going to cause destruction."

  "Am I the fool, old man? If I have to go, I want the grimoire."

  Hall-Patch laughed then. Simon had known he would laugh, had known he would think the notion so absurd that he would turn away. He had, in fact, counted on that.

  The old man did turn his back, so he bowed his head, calling on the forbidden names, whispering forbidden words he had committed to memory.

  Then Simon clenched his teeth as Hall-Patch continued to laugh.

  His face flushed at the old man's contempt, and he focused his thoughts on Hall-Patch, attempting something he had never tried, pushing his abilities to their limits.

  The laughter stopped abruptly. Simon wasn't sure if it was because the old man was already feeling the effects of his anger or because he had turned back and seen the glow in his eyes.

  He felt his own temperature rise. Sweat beaded on his brow, and his breath grew short. He had to gasp for air, yet he persisted, drilling his thoughts into the man.

  Slowly, the old man's eyes filled with terror, bulging as if they might pop from their sockets.

  Hall-Patch tried to scream, without success, and his eyes rolled back into his head until only white was visible. He was standing away from the counter now, and as he realized what was happening, his mouth fell open.

  He wanted to run, but he was frozen in place as his body began to quiver. His face and hands became incredibly red, and his flesh was drenched with perspiration. He began to swat madly at the air, as if he were being attacked by something flying about.

  Again he tried to scream, but only a choking sound gurgled in his throat. It would have been a hideous sight to an onlooker, the sight of death in slow motion, but to Simon it was beauty, the actualization of his plan.

  The old man's lungs filled with air, chest cavity expanding then deflating, the process repeating. His chest looked like the small plastic bag attached to a hospital breathing apparatus. He then tried to speak, perhaps to beg for mercy, but just as he could not scream, neither could he plead.

  Feet planted firmly on the plank floor of the old shop, Simon raised his hands and shouted the remainder of his spell, calling on all that he had learned.

  A tear escaped the corner of the old man's eye as the process continued. Even though his muscle and form were fixed in place, held there at the center of the room, inside his skeleton began to quiver. The stench when his bowels collapsed seared Simon's nostrils, but he only chuckled before he continued mouthing his words. His heart pounded; his erection, which had begun when the spell had been first cast, throbbed, its thunder hammering through his body, throbbing at every nerve ending. He wanted to cry out with ecstasy.

  Wind from nowhere swept around him, swirled through the interior of the small shop. Everything shifted, and then the old man's bones began to obey the orders they were receiving. First the toes twitched, rising upward. For a moment, only bulges in his shoes were visible. In the next instant, the bones broke through the flesh that contained them and then the leather of the shoes.

  Blood spewed through the ripping material, and the old man's eyes rolled farther back in his head. Yet his bones were not still. The foot continued to rise, and the flesh of his shins began to separate. The leg, then the kneecap, broke free.

  Simon watched, amazed even though he had anticipated the power of this spell for a long time. Slowly, the skeleton stepped forward, the hips pulling through the flesh that bound them, and the rib cage forcing its way through the muscles of the chest. As that ripped open, internal organs began to spill from within the chest cavity in a bloody, steaming mass. When the stench of them reached his nostrils, Simon almost vomited, yet he could not avert his eyes from the hideous scene.

  The shoulders pulled away next, then the skull forced its way through the face. Lips and cheeks tore open, and the skull emerged, exposed teeth and bone seeming to smile in satisfaction as the act was completed.

  For a moment the skeleton stood there, the ruined meat of the body at its feet while blood and bile oozed and dripped over the bones. Then, teetering, it slowly toppled, falling apart like a pile of precariously balanced Tinker Toys.

  With a deep breath, Simon let his thoughts soften, then stop. It was like letting go of a heavy burden. He staggered and had to brace himself against a table to keep from falling. His hair was now a mass of tangles about his head, and his muscles ached from the tension of the conjuring.

  Breathing through his mouth, he allowed himself a few moments to regain composure.

  Then he moved behind the counter, lifted the book from its hiding place, and rushed to the door, stepping onto the street, hurrying away, He never learned how the police explained what they found in the old shop when they went in to investigate the smell.

  Now the book was a trophy in his hands, the recollection of the conjuring like a runner's recollection of a great race. But the book did more than bring back memories of past accomplishment. It offered so much more, secrets he was only beginning to unlock.

  The little ones he had called from the beyond worked on their own in the child's world now. Their strength powered by the energy from the thoughts of those forced believed in them, they performed magic to fulfill Martin's twisted desire to cause pain.

  That allowed Simon time to do more. He was almost ready to take a new step, to unlock new doors and to discover things that had perhaps never been known or experienced, even by the greatest of sorcerers.

  He was ready to go on, to take the next step, and to find whatever awaited him, him and anyone he might need in the process.

  ~*~

  "We're going to have to get her into water," Althea said as the heat from Heaven's body could be felt in the air around them.

  "Fill the bathtub," Gab said. She slipped her arms under her daughter's body, ignoring the heat as she hoisted her from the mattress.

  Preceding her down the hallway, Althea stepped into the narrow white porcelain bathroom and turned the COLD handle as far as it would go. Water began to pool in the tub as she shoved the stopper into place, and she pushed herself back against the wall to make way for Gab, who was struggling with her child's weight.

  Quickly Gab knelt at the tub's edge, lowering Heaven into the rising water. It almost began to sizzle as her form sub
merged.

  "Better get more ice," Gab said. "Just bring all the trays."

  In the living room, Terry looked up as Althea passed him, but she moved on before he could ask more questions.

  As she returned to the bathroom with the vat of ice cubes, she could feel heat emanating from the tub. It seemed as if she were approaching a small room in which a space heater had been left on for too long, and when she stepped inside she found the air thick and difficult to breath.

  As she dumped the ice cubes, steam began to rise. Gab dipped her hand into the water and splashed it onto Heaven's face.

  Althea began to help her, cradling the child's head with one hand as she tried to open the COLD faucet more.

  Her own face was flushed, and beneath her blouse perspiration was showering through her pores. About to collapse from the heat, she pulled back, desperate for a breath of fresh air.

  Gab's scream forced her to shake the confusion from her head and look up. Spontaneous combustion? The shower curtain was on fire.

  “Can it be that hot in here?" Gab shouted.

  Althea ripped down the curtain and stomped, but before it had stopped smoldering, fingers of flame shot upward, licking up the slick tile to the painted plaster where they found fuel.

  Blue and yellow sheets of flame blanketed the ceiling in an instant. Gab looked up to see Terry standing in the doorway.

  "Run," she commanded. He didn't disobey, but he didn't get far either. Just as he was turning, he collided with Danube who now stood framed in the doorway.

  Gently setting the boy aside, he stepped across the room, kneeling beside the tub. He placed a thumb on Heaven's forehead and began to recite a blessing.

  Steam continued to rise, and the flames began to eat away at the ceiling above, but he was not swayed from his task as Althea and Gab moved back to give him room.

  "Demon from the pit of hell, I order you back into the nightmare from which you have come!" he said. "You are being summoned by one force, but by the power of the Creator of all things I command you back."

  Heaven sputtered, but her face remained flushed, and the flames continued.

  Ignoring the rising heat, Danube gently submerged Heaven, continuing his prayer of blessing. Above him, bits of the covering for the ceiling began to peel and flutter down in snowflakes of flame that had burned to brittle black ash before touching the floor.

  "We've got to get her out of here," Gab said.

  "That will do no good," Danube shouted. "The flames are emanating from the demon. Taking her out of here won't take us away from the fire."

  Reaching around his neck, he pulled a rosary free. For a moment the cross made him hesitate, think of his father, think of a thousand things. Then he quickly draped it around the girl's neck. It might help, provide one more obstacle for the summoning.

  He looked around then and saw them, a dozen of them. They were standing on the counter by the sink, atop the toilet, along the wall; snarling little monsters, laughing at him as their leader gently chanted.

  He had not seen them when he had entered, and he knew Gab and Althea could not see them at all. They were amused by that, and some of them made gestures and lewd faces in front of Gab, celebrating her being unaware.

  Shaking free of his raincoat, Danube wheeled around to face the leader, the one Heaven would have called Gnelf Master. He knew it to be the chief kesilim, the fooling spirit that led these others who had been charged by someone to torment this child.

  "You'll kill her," Danube warned.

  The kesilim only laughed, and continued its chant.

  "Do you see it?" Gab screamed.

  "I see the form it has here, the form it is using," Danube said. "It is a hideous version of the creatures in your child's book."

  The being opened its mouth wide in a grin then, shaking a playful finger at Danube.

  A piece of the ceiling sagged away from the beams, dangling from the corner of the room near the doorway, more sparks and fluttering bits of flame raining down from it.

  Danube ignored them, ignored the smoke, ignored the heat as he faced the beings before him.

  "Where are they?" Gabrielle asked.

  "I can't see them," Althea said.

  The water in the tub almost reached boiling point. Bubbles began to spew up over the edge, splattering hot droplets of liquid about the room while at the same time flames continued to eat away the ceiling.

  "Let the girl go," Danube commanded. "You were sent here, not summoned. I command you to leave."

  The Gnelfs laughed. "You command us?" the leader asked.

  "In the name of God."

  The Gnelf laughed. "You sought to kill God."

  "Not I. I am sanctified now. There is no blood for which I am responsible."

  "None at all." From out of the air, Gnelf Master snatched something, then held it in front of him. It was a small pouch, and the movement created the sounds of coins rattling.

  "Does this not haunt your nightmares, oh sanctified one? Are you proud of your past, holy man?”

  “Leave," Danube demanded.

  "We've got to get Terry out of here," Althea said, while Gab clutched at Heaven who was still in the churning water in the tub.

  "No," Danube instructed. "I need the boy." Althea's eyes opened wide. "You can't harm a child."

  "I won't harm him," Danube said. "I need him. He is a friend of the little girl?"

  “Yes.”

  Danube pointed to Terry who stood in the doorway. "Come here."

  Frightened, Terry drew a quick, uncertain breath. He had stayed in the same spot, watching everything, but he didn't want to walk into the flaming room.

  "Now," Danube said.

  Slowly the boy walked forward, stepping around some debris and holding one arm in front of his face to ward off the heat.

  In the doorway, flames curled over the threshold and began to reach out to the rest of the house.

  "The whole place is going to go up, and we won't be able to get out," Althea warned.

  Danube did not acknowledge her words. He knelt in front of Terry and whispered a soft blessing. His thumb gently formed the sign of a cross on the boy's forehead.

  "You love Heaven?"

  "She's my friend," Terry said.

  Danube placed his hands on Terry's shoulders and turned the boy so that he faced the band of Gnelfs. "Do you see them?"

  He squinted, looking through the smoke.

  "They see you."

  Terry nodded as his eyes found the shapes, the muscles and the scars. He was looking at a group of nightmarish little gnomes with leering eyes. He bit his lip and let the bearded man's words fill his ears.

  "They want to harm Heaven," Danube said. "But you can stop them. You can tell them to be gone.”

  “Why me?"

  "Why him?" Gnelf Master repeated.

  "He is as pure as the other child. You came upon her unawares with your efforts. He is her friend, and he stands ready to reject you."

  "He has no effect on us."

  "Ask them to leave, Terry."

  Danube put a hand on the boy's shoulder and stood silently. After his eyes darted around for a moment, Terry nodded. "Leave. Go away. Leave Heaven."

  "You cannot corrupt here," Danube said. "You are in the presence of love and caring. You are in the presence of friendship and mercy. You are of corruption and judgment. Leave us and stop this summoning."

  "The demon has been called. He cannot be turned back."

  "He cannot come here," Danube said. "He has no right or invitation."

  "We are all invited. The child invited us into her mind. You invited."

  "No, you invaded," Danube said. "You came here with lies and deceptions, masquerading as the friends of her imagination. That is not an invitation. If you have awakened some spirit that will expect an explanation, it is yours to deal with."

  "This is not finished," the Gnelf warned.

  "Cease the summons," Danube said. "And leave this place."

  "You will p
ay, holy man," the little being said. "You will pay dearly." He muttered some other phrase, and the stubby figures vanished.

  With a moan, Heaven relaxed in the tub, and the churning of the water ceased. Quickly Gab lifted her, hugging her soaked body. The heat was leaving her.

  Heaven buried her face against Gab's shoulder, weeping.

  "She's all right," Gab said.

  "But the fire," Althea shouted. "We've got to get out of here."

  Danube quickly ushered them into the hallway, where the smoke was already growing thick. Fire crawled along the walls of the corridor, devouring the paneling.

  Taking Heaven from Gabrielle, Danube carried her.

  They burst into the living room ahead of the flames. Here, the haze was not quite as thick, and Terry led the way to the front door, flinging it open. The knob crashed against the wall, but there was no need to reprimand him. The dent wouldn't be there long.

  Gab followed him out into the night. Rain still pelted down, but already fire trucks were pulling to a stop in front of the house. Their red lights blazed through the driving storm, reflecting off the drops, making the rain the color of blood.

  Quickly the firemen came forward, some of them helping Gab and Althea, a tall African American man relieving Danube of Heaven.

  "You stopped them," Gab said, when she found Danube sitting on the rear bumper of one of the trucks. He was breathing deeply, ignoring the rain soaking his shirt.

  "Only temporarily," he said.

  "You drove them back."

  "I ran a bluff," he said. "We have to figure out why they were summoned and what we must do to stop them."

  As the firemen in their heavy black jackets and yellow helmets yanked hoses free and hurried toward the house, Gab accepted blankets and consolation from neighbors. In an instant, the house was engulfed.

  ~*~

  Simon's eyes bulged from their sockets as the scene unfolded in the depths of the liquid. He had joined Martin again at the cauldron when he had heard of Danube's arrival.

  That had worried him. Now he was terrified. He screamed when the Gnelfs were banished, one hand flying out to grip Martin's forearm.