Something from the Nightside

But when I went to raise my gift, nothing happened. Something from outside had wrapped itself around my head, unfelt but immovable, forcibly preventing me from opening my private eye, from seeing the world as it really was. I struggled against it, with what strength I had left, but there was nothing there that I could get a grip on. I swore briefly. What was going on here, that Something didn't want me to see, to understand? Suzie scowled about her, desperate for something solid she could attack.

"What do you want to do, John? Kick in all the doors and take it room by room? Shoot anything that moves and isn't the runaway?"

I gestured abruptly for her to be quiet, straining my ears for the sound I thought I'd caught. It was there, faint but definite. Not too far away, behind one of the closed doors; someone was giggling. Like a child with a secret. I padded quickly down the corridor, Joanna and Suzie right on my heels, stopping to listen at each door until I'd found the right one. I tried the handle, and it turned easily in my grasp, like an invitation. I pushed the door in an inch, and then stepped back. I gestured for Joanna to stick close to me, and then nodded to Suzie. She grinned briefly,

kicked the door in, and we all surged forward into the room beyond.

It was bare and empty like the rest of the house, except for Cathy Barrett, found at last, lying flat on her back on a bare wooden floor on the other side of the room, covered from neck to toe by a long grubby raincoat, tucked under her chin like a blanket. She made no move to rise as her would-be rescuers charged in, just smiled happily at us as though she didn't have a care in the world.

"Hello," she said. "Come in. We've been expecting you."

I looked carefully about me, but there was no-one else in the room with her. I didn't discount the we, though. The continuing sense of an unseen watching presence was stronger than ever here. The light was brighter too, though there was still no obvious source for it. The more I studied the room, the more disturbing it felt. The room had no window, no contents, no details. Just walls and a floor and a ceiling. A sketch of a room. It was as though the house felt it didn't have to pretend any more, now that we'd come this far. I put away the flashlight and took a firm hold on Joanna's arm, to make sure she stayed with me. She didn't even seem to notice, all her attention fixed on her daughter, who hadn't even tried to raise up on one elbow to look at us more easily. I began to wonder if she could move.

Her gaunt face smiled equally at all of us, peering

over the collar of the raincoat. I almost didn't recognise her. She'd lost a hell of a lot of weight since the photo Joanna had shown me, back in my office, in another world. The bones of her face pressed out against taut, grey skin, and her once golden hair hung down across her hollowed features in dark greasy strings. She looked half-starved, her great eyes sunk right back into the sockets. In fact, she looked like she hadn't eaten properly in months, not just the few weeks she was supposed to have been missing. I glanced at Joanna, wondering if I should have been quite so ready to believe everything she'd told me. But no; that wasn't it. My gift had shown me Cathy entering this house only a few days ago, and she'd looked nothing like this then.

Suzie glared about her, the pump-action shotgun steady in her hands. "This stinks, John. Something's very wrong here."

"I know," I said. "I can feel it. It's the house." "It's her!" said Joanna. "My Cathy. She's here!" "She's not the only one here," I said. "Suzie, keep an eye on Joanna. Don't let her do anything silly."

I moved slowly forwards and knelt beside Cathy. The wooden floor seemed to give slightly under my weight. Cathy smiled happily at me, as though there was nowhere else in the world she'd rather be. Up close, she smelled bad, as though she'd been sick for weeks.

"Hello, Cathy," I said. "Your mother asked me to come and find you."

She considered this for a moment, still smiling her awful smile. "Why?"

"She was worried about you."

"She never was before." Her voice was calm but empty, as though she was remembering something that had happened a long time ago. "She had her business and her money and her boyfriends ... She never needed me. I just got in the way. I'm free now. I'm happy here. I've got everything I ever wanted."

I didn't look around the empty room. "Cathy, we've come to take you out of here. Take you home."

"I am home," said Cathy, smiling her interminable smile. "And you're not taking me anywhere. The house won't let you."

And I fell screaming to the floor as something huge and dark and ravenously hungry smashed its way into my mind, revealing itself at last.