按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
Those skeletal forms around him were sitting up and grinning their wele； for they had been waiting many years。 One even crawled over to touch the young Janusz's face with bony fingers。 Janusz lay there； unable to move； and he wondered why unseen hands were pulling at his clothing。 And he wondered why there was no pain when teeth gnawed into his plump belly。
No； there was no pain at all。
Just the nightmare that he knew would go on forever 。 。 。
50 SHADOWS AND IMAGININGS
Halloran remained perfectly still； staring up into the eyes of the dying gunman。
The weapon wavered in the air； trying to home in on its target。 But the exertion was too much； and too late。 Danny Shay rolled onto his side to make one last determined effort； but the gun was far too heavy for someone with only seconds to live。 For a moment his arm hung over the stairway； the weapon loose in his grip。 Then Shay's eyes closed and he knew he would never open them again。
'Dear God 。 。 。' he began； the plea cut short when even his voice lost its strength。
He toppled from the stairs onto the damp floor； his landing relaxed； for he was already dead。
Wind tearing in from the passageway above ruffled Halloran's hair。 The light stirred； juddered； many of the candle flames snuffed by the breeze so that shadows stole forward from the alcoves。 The ancient worshippers watched on； stone eyes dispassionate。 And there seemed to be other onlookers within those darkened arches； but these were forms of no substance； observers that could never be defined by light for they were of the imagination even though they existed outside the mind。 Halloran was intensely aware of their watching。
He turned towards the altar where the bloated corpse continued to pump blood。 Cora had moved away； her shoulders soaked a deep red； she looked imploringly at Halloran； as if silently begging him to take her away from this madness。 When she saw the coldness in him； Cora became inert。
Halloran would not allow emotion to hold sway。 Not for the moment。 He was confused； uncertain of his feelings for Cora。 She had touched him； made him vulnerable once more。 And naturally； he had paid the price。 He told himself she was an innocent used by someone who existed only for corruption。 Yet 。 。 。 the thought persisted 。 。 。 yet there had to have been some part of her that was susceptible。
'Don't dare to judge me； Liam She spoke quietly； but with defiance。 'Not you； not someone like you。' He understood her meaning。
Thunder rumbled through the passageway； the sound spreading out into the chamber； seeming to tremble the walls。 Dust sifted down from the ceiling to congeal in the puddles on the floor。
And in one small slick of black water lay the dried husk that was an embalmed heart。
And those unseen but fearfully imagined forms were emerging from the alcoves。
Halloran sensed their movement at first and only when he looked did they take on a nebulous kind of reality。 These were as the things from the lake； and they shuffled forward； eager to embrace。 Because they were of him； the creatures mere reflections of the dark side of his inner self； manifestations of his own frailty； his own corruption。 Hadn't Kline； himself； explained that to him？
He felt weakened。 He staggered as if struck。 He spun round。
More of these creations of the subconscious were slipping from between the statues； winding their way through； advancing on him。 Yet each time he focused on one； it became formless； a swirling； vaporous nullity。 His mind seemed squeezed； as though invisible tentacles had insinuated themselves into the orifices of his body； clogging them； sliding inwards to capture his thoughts。
He clapped his hands against his temples； shaking his head to free himself of these tenuous intruders。 He twisted； bent under their weight。 Cora was trying to reach him； but something had hold of her； something not visible that tore at her robe； exposing her shoulders； her breasts that were smeared with blood。 She was screaming as she struggled； but he could not hear her。
Halloran stumbled forward； desperate to help her； wanting that more than anything else； heedless of his own plight； the invasion of his own body。 But it was useless。 He was being dragged down by these seeping infiltrators who sought their own origins。
He could not hear her screams。 But he could hear Kline's laughter。
Its cracked sound mocked him； tormented； as Kline overwhelmed him with imaginings； the thoughts swelling with alt the badness that had been drawn into that underground room； the malignancy that had dwelled inside the dead men； released now by someone who acted as instigator and catalyst； someone who knew the ancient secrets of the Cabala； who understood their potency。 Felix Kline 。 。 。
Where was he？ Where was Kline？
Where else but inside your head？ came the silent reply。
'That can't be；' denied Halloran aloud； his hands over his ears as though they could cut out the sly voice that was； indeed； inside his head。
Oh； but it can。 A familiar snigger。 I can be anywhere。 Didn't I demonstrate that the first time we met？
'I can stop you！' You can？ Please try。 A good…humoured invitation。
Halloran's legs buckled as white…hot irons pressed against the back of his eyeballs。
There。 Painful？ I can do more than that。 You deserve to suffer more。
Halloran looked up from his kneeling position。 Kline was standing a short distance away； facing him； eyes closed； scarlet hands tight against his own head。 A head whose skin was all but gone； the flesh that had been beneath exposed and livid。 He was unsteady as shadows that were something more than shadows writhed around him。 Kline's mouth was open； an agonised grimace。
'It's too late！' Halloran managed to shout。 'You're weak。 Your power isn't the same。' And as he said the words； Halloran felt the slightest easing of pressure； the merest cooling of the fire。 Pain immediately came back to him。
You're so wrong； Halloran； whispered the insidious voice inside his head。 My only problem is whether I finish you quickly or take my time； enjoy myself a little。
But there was a gasp； a sound only in Halloran's mind。 Kline was reeling； his hands leaving blotches of scraped flesh as they ran down his face。
'Halloran！' A piercing scream； and from Kline's lips。
The psychic's eyes opened； blackness filling them。 They rested on Halloran's。 'I can hurt you；' Kline rasped。 'I can make your heart seize up with the horrors I'll show you。' His eyes closed once more and the snigger was back inside Halloran's mind。
Nightmares began to form； and gargoyles drifted from them。 But these were tangible； on the outside of his thoughts； for when they touched him their fingernails were like razor blades； and he could smell the stench of their breath； dank and foul； like old sea caves where mammoth creatures of the deep had been abandoned by the tide to die。 They clung to him and their lips …not lips； they had no such things as lips…their openings pressed against his face to kiss。
He felt the aching in his arms。 The tightening of his chest； as fear began to win through。 No！ They were in his