Mycroft's response was a sad shake of his head.
"We were led to believe you'd never been to the cottage before," I said in his direction, "but a coupla nights ago you knew there was another entrance around the back."
"A reasonable assumption, I'd have thought, considering there were steps leading around the side. And don't most homes have a back door?"
"True enough. But it was the way you acted that set me thinking. You were so bloody uneasy, like you didn't want to go through the kitchen. Even Kinsella got the shakes sitting there once. I couldn't help wonder if you got the jitters because old Flora died in there."
Midge gave a small gasp. "Mike, you don't know what you're saying."
"You saw for yourself what happened when they came visiting. Christ, Midge, they couldn't get out fast enough in the end." I could sense Kinsella and the other man sidling up behind me. I grasped Midge's arms. "Okay, it all sounds crazy, I admit that; but there was enough going on to start me worrying. Christ, there's been enough going on since we moved in to scare the hell out of both of us! Yet you've turned a blind eye to most of it, and I can't help wondering about that, too. That's why I finally went to Ogborn for some answers."
"If Flora was under some kind of threat, why didn't she inform the police?" Midge demanded.
"And tell them what? You've seen how they work, how they've wormed their way into our lives. Nothing too forward or obvious—they're much too subtle for that. And certainly no apparent physical violence as far as the old lady was concerned. A weird cult organization can't afford to step out of line; that would give the law too good a chance to come down on them. Yeah, the people around here would have loved that, if Sixsmythe is anything to go by. But there's nothing stupid about Mycroft and his crew, they don't take any risks. What I can't figure is why Gramarye is so important to them."
Kinsella and Bone Man were breathing down my neck.
"You have a remarkable imagination, Mike," said Mycroft without a trace of irritation. "Of course I can appreciate your curiosity about our sect, although not why you've jumped to such painfully wrong conclusions about us."
"You can't deny you harassed Flora Chaldean."
"That's an incorrect term to use. Yes, we persisted, but our intentions were misunderstood. Flora was a lonely and somewhat helpless old lady, living a very uncomfortable existence. We merely offered our care and attention."
"You wanted the cottage!"
He smiled benignly. "A legal way of making a proud woman accept our charity. She would have continued to live there under our administrations, while having a considerable financial gain that would have allowed her to feel independent."
I smacked my forehead in a cartoon gesture. "Oh God, you're good. You're so bloody devious."
"I wish for nothing more than to help Midge come to terms with a personal grief that's been with her for far too long."
"And maybe she'll become one of your so-called Adoptives along the way?"
"She has that choice. But I'd also like to help you, Mike, and perhaps convince you of our sincerity. You're a troubled young man, full of misconceptions, filled with cynicism. I could help you find your way.
"I hadn't realized I'd lost it."
"But you've never known the right path. Do you believe in Magic?"
The sudden shift startled me. "Magic?" I asked stupidly.
"The discovery and application of the unknown forces of Nature through the human will. An alliance between both powers. You might describe it as a synergism."
"What's that got—?"
"The most important objective of Magic is the discovery of one's true and ultimate self. With my guidance and my will, I can help you attain just that."
"Midge, we're leaving." I tugged at her arm.
"A short while to explain," said Mycroft, "that's all I ask."
"Please, Mike." Midge was resisting my pull.
"He's a crank, can't you see that?"
"Mike, I've just spoken with my parents."
First startled, now stunned.
"He helped me reach them." She was almost weeping, but she was smiling too. "I spoke with them only moments ago, but the noise out here disturbed us, upset the thought patterns Mycroft had created."
"You saw your mother and father?"
"No, but I heard them, I heard their voices." The first tear began to slide, soon trickling into the crease of her smile. "They've forgiven me, Mike."
"There's nothing to forgive, for Chrissake!"
"Listen to me. They're happy for me, but they told me there was a path to follow—"
"Let me guess—"
"Listen, damn you!" she screamed.
Mycroft touched her shoulder. "Calm yourself. Anger has no purpose inside this Temple."
I rolled my eyes.
"Perhaps only by showing him will he be convinced. Would you be prepared to open your mind and heart to us, Mike, to lay aside that shield of distrust?"
"Will it improve the dialog?"
Midge slapped at my chest, stinging me. "For once will you hear somebody else? Can't you . . . can't you accept there's more around us than we can just see and hear?"
"If my answer's no, would you leave with me now?" Something heavy was dredging across my very core and I knew I was losing her.
She knew it too. "I can't go with you," Midge replied, and she was so small and defenseless. "I need this, Mike, don't you understand?"
Idiot that I was I turned to Mycroft and said, "So let's talk."
The satisfaction was somewhere at the back of his eyes, only room for affable benevolence at the front. I could almost feel the sighs of relief from Kinsella and his buddy warming my neck: they figured he had me now.
Mycroft stood aside and with a short gesture of his cane indicated the room he and Midge had left a few minutes ago. (This new affectation with the thin stick puzzled me, and it was only later that I discovered its significance.) "I think it's best that we talk in here," he said as an invitation.
Midge didn't hesitate. She seemed eager to be back inside.
I followed less keenly.
To step into the weirdest room I'd ever seen.
THE PYRAMID ROOM
IT WAS IN the shape of a pyramid, the tapering walls steep and high, apexed so that there was no ceiling.
And black.
Even the floor was black.
Above us—ten feet above, at least—shone small recessed lights, one on each angled wall, their thin beams picked out by dust motes, striking downward like straight translucent bars, creating four soft-edged moons on the smooth floor. Their glow became substantial only when the door was closed behind us.
When that happened, the darkness beyond the pale neons became infinite.
I realized that the room above had to be part of the pyramid, the sloping walls cutting through the ceiling, maybe even piercing the ceiling above that one.
Only a single chair stood in the center of the floor, the light beams like four slender posts spaced around it.
"What d'you do in here—sharpen razor blades?"
Despite the lack of adequate light, I could tell my remark hadn't amused Mycroft. "Just as a church spire is constructed to draw spiritual grace toward the congregation below, so the pyramid seeks to direct psychic energy," he said. "The shape is repeated beneath us, inverted, of course, so that the tip grazes the earth."
He lowered himself into the chair, resting his hands on the short blunted handle of the cane. "Midge, would you like to sit as before, and perhaps you'll do the same." (He hadn't bothered to use my name.)
I wasn't keen on squatting at the Synergist's feet but it had, after all, been a long run through the forest. I followed Midge's example, though I declined the lotus position, preferring to lounge on one elbow, ankles crossed, and giving the impression of being quite relaxed about all this. Midge and I were between two light beams, and I twisted my neck to glimpse her profile, which was intense as she gazed up at Mycroft. There was the smell of incense about the place.