Previously: One question entered his mind; Why had it been painted? Patrick Weed had been dead for almost a month. James had a feeling he wasn't going to like what he saw inside the house.
Out of the corner of his eye he could see Gareth nervously looking from side to side. His face was white, and he looked as if he was about to be sick.
James made up his mind then.
He walked to the house as if he had every right to be there. He walked through the puddle of paint, and walked into the hall of the house.
His first impression of the house was white. White walls, white carpet, white ceiling. There was even white paper framed in white picture frames. That reminded him of the man who had been with the Friends. The guy who had worn the white suite with the white rose. Gareth stumbled in from outside, pushing James forward. His skin was cold.
The smell was worse here, but as they walked further into the house it slowly drifted away, like a snowflake melting as it touches someone's hand. On their immediate left as they walked in was a kitchen. James looked around briefly but couldn't see anything interesting. Gareth was shivering in a corner. Even though he was older than James, he was whimpering like a baby. “We're in a dead mans home. We shouldn't be here.” he kept saying over and over again.
James left him there. As he walked out of the kitchen, he popped his head round the door on the other side of the hall. It was a toilet. Nothing interesting there. He walked further on, and came across another door. This one led into the sitting room. James walked in, then saw the policemen.
He barely suppressed a gasp and walked straight out again.
Stupid! he told himself. Of course the policemen will be in here. He wasn't in the car was he? He cautiously looked back round the door. The policeman still hadn't moved. There was something strange about him. His eyes were still staring straight ahead, he still hadn't moved a muscle.
James walked further in. “Gareth, don't go out of the kitchen.” he called. He now had a full view of the man, and he could see what he should have seen to begin with.
The policeman was very obviously dead, his throat expertly slit open. He would have died instantly. James shivered, wondering in the man had had a family.
A pool of blood was surrounding the dead mans head. It was still wet.
Maybe this should have warned him. Maybe it shouldn't have. It didn't matter either way though, because he was still standing there when a man stepped out behind him. He had short blond hair, and his cornflower blue eyes were full of blood lust. There was something which wasn't human in them. A knife glinted in his hand, blood still dripping from it.
It was Gareth who warned James. He had ignored James's order, and come straight to the sitting room when he had heard him call out. The first thing he saw was the man with a knife, then the dead policeman. He reacted the same way any normal person would – whether woman or man, adult or child. He screamed.
This is what alerted James. He wheeled round and saw the man just as he started moving into attack.. Gareth was still screaming. James hesitated as he saw the man and then paused as the other man stopped too. Something vaguely human stirred in the mans eyes. James couldn't believe it. He knew this man. How many times had he gazed it his picture over the last ten days?
“Dad,” he whispered.
Harry Royale shook his head reminding James of an animal. Then he lunged forward with the knife. “No!” James cried out, ducking away. Gareth finally stopped screaming having run out of breath. Quietness returned to the home for a moment. “I know who you are,” James said to Harry. Harry shook his head again. “That is not possible,” he grunted. “You're the Darkness.” it was the first time James had said the words, and as he said them he knew that he was going to die.
Gareth was looking around in amazement. These two knew each other? What was it that James had whispered? He was stunned into action and looked around for a weapon. The man was attacking James now, but James was ducking and weaving away. So far he had avoided injury.
But for how long?
He saw an old book and picked it up testing its weight. Then he ran blindly towards the man, and lifted the book high. With a yell he brought the book down and hit him on the head with the book. He crumpled to the ground without so much of a murmur.
Both boys stood their for a moment, silently. Then James started saying something but he wasn't listening. He had hit a man, and knocked him unconscious.
He must be stronger than he thought.
“Gareth! We need to get out!” James cried. Gareth still hadn't moved and was looking at the book with a dazed expression on his face. James gave up and started dragging him along the hall and out of the building. The bad smell returned as they passed the door, and suddenly James felt sick. He had just realized: the door had been painted with blood.
Is this nightmare ever going to end? he thought. A strangled cry came from behind him. Nope. “Run!” he yelled, and this time Gareth heard. They sprinted down the road together. James heard a thud behind him and wondered if Harry was following.
They hadn't gone far before Gareth started dropping behind. “Come on!” James cried. Gareth shook his head and stopped. “I... can't.” he panted. James looked back down the street. They had just gone round a corner, so most of it was hidden. Nobody was in sight. It was all right.
“Are you all right?” he asked Gareth. The other boy nodded, so James looked around him. The bus stop was five minutes walk away, but his leg was hurting like hell. He looked down and saw blood soaking through his jeans. Harry must have got him with the knife without him realising. Without so much as thinking, he took his jacket off and tore off a sleeve, then wrapped it tight around the injury. It would have to do for now.
“Come on,” he said taking a step forward. Ouch. That hurt – a lot. The adrenalin from the chase must have stopped him feeling the pain for a few minutes, but now it hurt like hell.
Gareth looked at James, a surprised expression on his face. “You're hurt!” he said.
James resisted the temptation to roll his eyes. “Yes,” he replied. “Now are you going to help me or not?” Gareth rushed forwards, still looking a bit dazed. He still had the book in his hand. He put it awkwardly underneath his arm, the top of the it just visible.
The World of Shadow it read in shiny letters. James looked at the title for a moment, something clicking in the back of his head. Slowly, he worked it out.
“That's it!” he cried.
Half an hour later, James and Gareth were sitting opposite each other in Gareth's bedroom. “..so would you like to tell me, what on earth is going on?” Gareth had been off on a rant for the last five minutes and now he finally stopped, trying to James in the eye. James refused too.
They had caught the bus back to the Roxon's place, where they had bandaged up James's leg. It wasn't as bad as they had first thought – long but not deep – and now as they sat in opposite each other, James wondered what on earth he was going to tell his new friend.
The book, The Word of Shadows was lying on the bed, discarded by Gareth as soon as they had entered the house. James was itching to get his hands on it, to read it's secrets. But first, he reminded himself, he would have to tell Gareth something about what was going on.
He took a deep breath.
“I suppose it started back on the twenty-third. The day I went into the coma,” he started hesitantly. “I don't think anyone knows exactly what happened. I woke up a week later as you know. Ten days after that, I got a letter from this organisation called the Friends. They said to meet them, that they could explain things.”
“They took me to their offices and – you've got to believe me Gareth, - they told me about magic. I know you think that's impossible, because I did too. That's why I went to Patrick's house, because I was searching for something to tell me what the truth was. That book, on the bed, proves that it's true.”
“There's this thing called- well. You're not allowed to say its name, or you will die. That's why Patrick Weed is dead. Anyway, I call it the Beast. It basically created the world. It kills people. That's the sole reason for it's existence.” he paused. He knew that Gareth would never believe him, even through all he had seen today.
“I could tell you anything but you still wouldn't believe me. That is why you've got to read that book. That book will tell you it's true. That book will prove to us all that it's true.” he declared.
