"Please don't argue with me, Jeffy," Sylvia said in a low voice. "It's time to go home."
Jeffy tried to pull away from her. "No!"
"Please obey your mother, Jeffy," Glaeken said softly.
The boy abruptly stopped struggling. The look Sylvia threw Glaeken was anything but grateful.
"There's something you should realize, Mrs. Nash," Glaeken said. "The creatures that attacked your house last night are active only in the hours between sunset and sunrise. They must hide from the sun during the day. However, as I'm sure you are all aware, the daylight hours are shrinking."
"But that can't go on forever," said an unfamiliar voice.
Alan turned and saw that Hank was on his feet, staring in turn at each person in the room. It was the first time he had opened his mouth since he'd been introduced.
"Can it?" Hank said.
"The pattern will continue," Glaeken said. "And accelerate. Sunrise was late again today. Tomorrow it will be even later. Sunset will keep coming earlier and earlier."
"But if that keeps up…" Hank's eyes widened. "Lord!"
Slowly he sank down next to Carol on the couch.
"You see the pattern? Shrinking daylight hours, lengthening periods of darkness. The hole creatures will have progressively longer time for their feedings, and shorter periods when they must be in hiding. And when daylight is gone completely…"
"They'll never stop," Jack said in a hushed voice.
Alan knew from looking at him that no matter what terrors he and Sylvia and Ba had experienced last night, Jack had seen far worse.
"Correct," Glaeken said. "We are headed for a world without light, without law, without reason, sanity, or logic. A nightworld from which there will be no dawn. Unless we do something."
"Call me when you get the metal," Sylvia said.
Alan reached out and shook hands with Glaeken as he passed, then wheeled himself to where Ba stood holding the door.
"Don't leave," said a strained voice.
Alan turned at the door and saw that Nick had stepped out of the kitchen. His eyes were bright and alive again. And there was genuine concern in them as he stared at Alan.
"Why not?" Alan said.
"If the four of you leave here today, only three will live to return."
A chill swept over Alan. He glanced out into the atrium and saw Sylvia, Ba, and Jeffy standing before the elevator. As he watched, the bell dinged and the doors slid open. Sylvia and Jeffy stepped inside. Ba stood waiting, restraining the doors with one of his big hands.
Alan was paralyzed for a moment. The three outside were waiting for him; the six people in the apartment were staring at him. He wanted to stay, but wouldn't—couldn't—stay without Sylvia. And no way was Sylvia moving in here. Not yet, at least.
He shrugged and flashed what he knew was a weak grin at the people in the apartment.
"We'll see about that."
Then he headed toward the elevator, feeling as if he was rolling himself toward an abyss as deep and dark as the one in the Sheep Meadow outside.
As the door closed behind Dr. Bulmer, Bill guided Nick back into the kitchen. The younger man's behavior disturbed him. He was acting like some sort of Delphic oracle, transmitting threats and predictions from beyond. Was it madness or had his brush with the abyss left him connected, as Glaeken had said, to the chaos that was encroaching on all their lives?
"Are you trying to frighten people, Nick?"
"No," he said as he resumed his seat at the kitchen table. His eyes were tortured. "They're in danger. One of them's going to die."
"Who, Nick? Which one?"
If Nick was actually tapped in to something, maybe Bill could get something concrete out of him before he went catatonic again. Those four people from Long Island—the woman, Sylvia was a bit of a bitch, but he didn't want to see harm come to any of them, especially the boy.
"Who's going to die, Nick? Who's in danger? Is it Jeffy, the boy?"
But Nick was gone again, his face empty, his eyes blank.
"Damn it, Nick!" Bill said softly. He gave the slumped shoulders a gentle squeeze. "Couldn't you have held on a few minutes longer?"
No reply, of course. But he did catch a voice rising in the living room. He went to see what was up.
"What are we doing here?" Hank was saying. He was on his feet again, staring down at Carol where she sat on the sofa. He looked frightened. He glanced at Glaeken, at Jack who had appropriated Sylvia Nash's seat, then at Bill. "What do you want with Carol and me?"
"I brought you here so you could learn the truth," Carol said. "The truth about me."
"What truth? What you said about your son before? I didn't even know you had a son."
"Well, I do," she said, then looked away. "And I don't."
Bill caught a glimpse of the unfathomed pain in her eyes. He pressed his shoulder against the edge of the wall and leaned into it until it hurt. It took all his strength of will to hold back from rushing to her side.
"But what's that got to do with what's been going on in this room? Which, quite frankly, I don't understand one bit."
"My son is behind it all," Carol said in a small voice, without looking up.
Hank looked around again. "Will someone please tell me what's going on?"
Glaeken stepped forward. "Let me try, Mr. Treece. If you remember, a short while ago I told of a man named Rasalom who in ancient times sided with the Enemy and became its agent here. That man was imprisoned in Eastern Europe in the fifteenth century. He should have remained imprisoned forever, but the German Army inadvertently released him in 1941. Before he could get fully free, however, he was destroyed. Or at least appeared to have been destroyed. Through luck and unique circumstances, Rasalom was able to incorporate himself into the unborn body of a man who would grow to be James Stevens."
Bill noticed Hank glance sharply at Carol here—her last name had been Stevens when he'd met her.
"But Rasalom was powerless within Jim Stevens," Glaeken continued. "He could only watch the world pass by from within Jim's body. Until…Jim married Carol Nevins and they conceived a child. Rasalom became that child. He was reborn late in 1968. For decades he lay low while his new body matured, soaking up power from the world around him, from the wars and genocide in Southeast Asia, from the hatred in Africa and the Middle East, and from the countless spites, acrimonies, antipathies, rancors, and casual brutalities of everyday life as well. He was waiting for the proper time to make his move. A few months ago he discovered that he was unopposed here. His first overt move was with the sunrise on Wednesday morning. He has been steadily escalating since then."
Hank was staring at Carol. "Your son? I don't believe this. I don't believe any of it. Come on, Carol. I'm taking you home."
"This isn't going to go away, Hank," Carol said, meeting his gaze. "We've got to face it."
"Then we'll face it somewhere else. Anywhere but here. I can't think straight here."
Carol rose to her feet. "Okay. Somewhere else. But we've got to come to terms with this."
Bill wanted to stop them, make Hank believe, but it was not his place. He couldn't step between a man and wife, even if the wife was Carol.
Carol said goodbye, and thanked Glaeken. Hank said nothing. They left in silence.
Jack got up and walked over to where Glaeken stood.
"Do you hire out?" he said, clapping the old man on the back. "I mean, if I ever have guests I can't get to leave, will you come over and get rid of them for me?"
Glaeken smiled, and as concerned as Bill was about Carol, he had to laugh. It was good to laugh, especially since he wasn't sure when he'd have cause to laugh again.