Читать книгу The Demon Road Trilogy: The Complete Collection: Demon Road; Desolation; American Monsters - Derek Landy - Страница 29

THE LIBRARY WAS CREEPY when it got dark.

The staff turned out the lights and locked up. Heather Medina was the last to leave. When the silence had settled and ten minutes had passed, Amber and the others emerged from the restroom where they’d been hiding. The occasional bright sweep of headlights from the street outside was the only illumination they were granted as they made their way through the maze of bookcases. Those lights sent shadows dancing and flitting from floor to wall to ceiling, and each one set Amber’s heart to drumming.

They split up, their task made easier when Glen found a set of keys lying in the office inbox. Locked doors swung open and revealed storage spaces, boxes of books and plaster busts gathering dust. They found desks piled on top of each other and a room full of broken chairs.

Finally, they found a door at the end of a dark and windowless corridor for which they had no key. Milo knelt and proceeded to pick the lock. It took a lot longer than Amber expected.

When the last tumbler slid into place, Milo pulled on the handle and pushed. The door opened to a small room with a single table at its centre, and upon that table was a dollhouse.

Amber stepped in. They were deep enough in the library that she felt confident in turning on a light. The single bulb brightened slowly, its radiance dimmed by dust.

The dollhouse was magnificent. Front opening, with two stories and an attic space. It was the kind of thing Amber would have loved as a little girl, if only her parents had paid more attention to her subtle hints. If only her parents hadn’t been planning to murder her from the day she was conceived.

She peered through the little windows, saw furniture. Beds and dressers. Downstairs, there was a hall with a staircase, and a kitchen.

“Can you see anything?” Glen whispered from beside her.

Something moved past the window and Amber recoiled sharply.

There was a moment, while she stood there, the hair on her neck prickling and every instinct urging her to run, when she genuinely considered just calling up her parents and imploring them to rethink their plans and let her come home. She was ready, in that moment, to forgive them, to carry on with her life as if nothing had happened.

The moment passed.

She cleared her throat. “Hello?” she said. She peered closer, but it was dark in there. “Are you there? Dacre Shanks, can you hear me?”

No answer. At least none that she could hear.

Glen hunkered down to look through the side windows. “Maybe he’s sleeping,” he said, then knocked heavily on the roof. “Hey, wake up in there!”

Milo took hold of Glen’s wrist. “Please don’t do that to the serial killer.”

Glen took his hand back. “What? He lives in a dollhouse. He’s the size of Thumbelina, for God’s sake. You think he scares me?”

“It’s not about whether or not he scares you,” said Milo, “it’s the principle of the thing. Wherever possible, you do not antagonise serial killers. That’s just a general rule of life.”

“I don’t think it applies to serial killers you could fit in your pocket.”

“Quiet,” said Amber, leaning closer to the large upstairs window, the one looking on to the landing. Someone was standing there, very still. Someone who hadn’t been there a moment earlier.

“Hello? Mr Shanks?”

Then she heard it. They all heard it. A man’s voice. Quiet.

“Hello,” it said, from inside the dollhouse.

If a voice could crawl, this one did. It crawled over Amber’s face to her ears, scuttled in and burrowed its way into her brain. She could feel its legs, cold and frenzied. “You have my attention.”

Her mouth was dry. Her mouth was so dry. “Mr Shanks, my name is Amber. I need—”

“Pleased to meet you, Amber.”

For a moment, she couldn’t talk. “Yeah,” she said, feeling stupid and scared and childish. She was so very afraid. “I need your help. We’ve come—”

“And who are your companions?” Dacre Shanks asked in that creepy-crawly voice of his.

“Um, this is Milo and that’s Glen.”

“Hi,” said Glen. Even he sounded scared.

“Mr Shanks,” said Amber, “I’m here because I’ve been told you know of a man who tricked the Shining Demon – did a deal with him, then went on the run.”

There was a pause. “Ah yes,” came the voice from the window. “Indeed I do. I met him many years ago. Interesting fellow.”

“Do you happen to remember his name, or where I might find him?”

“I remember his name, yes, and I also know the town in which he was born. Would that be of any use to you in tracking him down?”

“Yes,” said Amber. “Very much so.”

There was a moment of silence from inside the dollhouse. “How nice,” said Shanks.

“Are you really tiny?” Glen asked suddenly, his curiosity overcoming his fear. “Can I see you?”

Milo put his hand on Glen’s shoulder to shut him up.

Amber glared, grateful to Glen for allowing her to focus on something she could scorn. Reluctantly, she looked back through the window.

“Sorry about that,” she said. “This man, could you tell me his name?”

Shanks said, “Forgive me for asking … Amber, wasn’t it? Forgive me for asking, Amber, and forgive me for being so crude, but what exactly is in it for me?”

She frowned. “I’m sorry?”

“If I tell you what you came here to learn, what do I get out of it?”

“I … I don’t know. What do you want? We can’t release you.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’ll kill people.”

“And?” said Shanks.

“And it’ll be my fault.”

“And this would upset you?”

“Well, yes.”

“You are a curious girl. Tell me this – why do you want the man you seek?”

“I just want to talk to him,” said Amber, aware how pathetic this sounded.

“About the Shining Demon?”

“Yes.”

The man in the window moved slightly, and the light almost hit his face. He was wearing a short-sleeved shirt and a tie. “You want to make a deal? Or you’ve already made one and you’re having second thoughts? Maybe I can help you. Release me and I’ll speak to the Shining Demon on your behalf.”

“I’m sorry, Mr Shanks, but you’re not getting out.”

“Then what else do you have to offer me? I am trapped in a dollhouse – what, apart from freedom, do you think I require? A pet?”

“We could get you a cute little convertible,” said Glen. “Maybe throw in a Barbie if you’re feeling lonely?”

Amber froze, awaiting Shanks’s response.

“Your friend is very rude,” he said eventually.

“I’m sorry,” she responded. “And he’s not my friend. Mr Shanks, you’re absolutely right, there is nothing I can offer you. We’re not releasing you. You’ve killed innocent people before and you will do it again. I can’t allow that to happen.”

“Then we are at an impasse.”

“I guess we are.” She bit her lip. “So why not just tell me? You’re not getting out, right? So we’re not going to be making a deal here. If we’re not going to make a deal, there’s nothing you have to gain from this situation. And, if you have no chance of gaining anything, then you won’t have anything to lose by telling me what I want to know, will you?”

A low chuckle. “I see your logic. Cleverly done, young lady.”

“Thank you.”

“But you’re wrong about me not having anything to gain. You see, I’ve been stuck here for … I actually don’t know how long.”

“Thirty-one years,” said Glen.

“Really? Well now … thirty-one years. Imagine that. In that case, I’ve been stuck here for thirty-one years. I can’t go insane and I can’t kill myself because I’m already dead. So I’ve been sitting here for thirty-one years, and I only rise out of my bored stupor when that door opens and little Heather Roosevelt pokes her pretty head in to make sure everything is still in place. Oh, but she’s not a Roosevelt anymore, is she? She got married. She won’t tell me to whom, but I saw the wedding ring – for as long as it was there. She’s getting old, though, isn’t she? Every time I see her, she is less and less like the troublesome teenager who trapped me in here in the first place.

“But here I sit. Bored. I don’t need to eat or sleep. I don’t age. I feel each and every one of those seconds as they drag by, too many to count, too many to keep track of. I haven’t spoken to anyone in all that time. I talk only to myself these days, just because I like the sound of my own voice – as you’ve probably guessed. I haven’t talked to anyone and I haven’t interacted with anyone until you three walked in here.

“Your problem, as I have said, stems from the mistaken presumption that I have nothing to gain by not telling you what you want to know. The fact is, though, I do. I haven’t spoken to anyone until you. I haven’t interacted with anyone until you. But you know what else I haven’t done? I haven’t hurt anyone … until you. You need this information and you need it badly, or else you wouldn’t be here talking to someone like me, but I’m not going to tell you simply because it makes me happy to disappoint you.”

“Wow,” said Glen. “You’re a dick.”

“I suppose I am, Glen, yes,” said Shanks. “I take my pleasures where I can – small and petty as they may be.”

Glen sneered through the window. “Well, why don’t I just reach in there and smush your head?”

“Please do.”

“Glen,” said Amber.

He stepped back. “What? Am I the only one here who is aware of the fact that the big, bad, scary man we’re talking to is, like, three inches tall? Am I the only one amused by that?”

“If you reach in there,” said Amber, “you’ll be opening the dollhouse. He can escape.”

“Where to? A cartoon mouse hole in the skirting board? He’ll still be only three inches tall.”

“Are you sure about that?” Milo asked. “We don’t know how this doorway magic works. You open that dollhouse and he might return to normal size.”

“Don’t listen to them, Glen,” said Shanks from the window. “Reach in here and teach me a lesson.”

Glen faltered. “Uh … no. No, I don’t think so, if it’s all the same to you.”

“Are you a coward, Glen?”

“Only when threatened.”

“Such a shame. My first impression of you was that you possessed a spark your companions lacked. But you have revealed your true nature, and your true nature, I am afraid to say, is a crushing disappointment.”

Glen shrugged. “You’re actually not the first person to say that.”

“You are a coward and a dullard, just like the rest of your countrymen.”

“Ah now, here,” said Glen, “don’t you go insulting my countrymen.”

“What is Ireland but a land of mongrels, wastrels and whelps?”

“Ah, that’s a bit strong …”

“Drunken buffoons stumbling through their maudlin lives, violent and thuggish and self-pitying, a nation of ungrateful—”

Glen laughed. “I’m sorry, pal, I don’t care what you say. You’re three inches tall. My mickey is bigger than you. And that was a pretty blatant attempt to provoke me, but what you’re failing to realise is that Ireland is the greatest country in the world, you dope.”

“Then why are you in America?”

Glen leaned down to grin straight into the window. “Because America has the best monsters.”

There was a moment of silence, and then, amazingly, laughter.

“I like you,” Shanks announced. “I like all three of you. And I will answer your question, Amber – but only to you. Not to your friends.”

“We’re not leaving,” said Milo.

“That is my only condition,” Shanks said.

“Why?” Amber asked. “Why not tell all of us?”

A chuckle. “Because I am tricky. Because I like pushing buttons. Glen may be a delightful buffoon, but Milo here is obviously your protector, and as such he takes things a lot more seriously. Since I am acquiescing to your request, I need to find some way of satisfying my quiet need to torture. Making your companions leave the room is a small triumph, but, as it has been pointed out, I am a small man.”

Amber deliberated, then looked at Milo. He grunted, and left the room. Glen went with him.

Amber shut the door, and moved back to the dollhouse. “Yes?”

“Heather doesn’t know you’re here, does she?” Shanks asked.

“Why does it matter?”

“She has kept this dollhouse in this room for thirty–one years. My prison has many windows, but all I see are walls. She even took the other dollhouses to the local school, so I couldn’t gaze at them for solace.”

“And if I ask her to move it somewhere else? Somewhere with a view, maybe? If you give me the name of the man I’m looking for and the town he grew up in, I’ll ask her. You have my word.” Amber frowned. “Hello? Mr Shanks? Are you still there?”

“A view?” he said, even quieter than before. “You offer me a view?”

“Well, what do you want, Mr Shanks?”

“To be free.”

“I told you, I’m not releasing you.”

“There is more than one way to be free, Amber.” Shanks stood with his hands clasped at his chest, his face still in darkness. “I’ll give you the name of the man you seek. I’ll tell you where to find him.”

Amber frowned. “And in return?”

A hesitation. “In return, you find a way to kill me.”

She had to be honest – she hadn’t been expecting that. “I’m sorry?”

“I’m never getting out of here,” said Shanks. “Don’t you think that’s unnecessarily cruel? I know I’ve done bad things, evil things, but surely you understand that nobody deserves an eternity of this? Heather would gladly kill me if she could.”

“I’m … I’m not killing anyone.”

“Then get your protector to do it. He looks like he’d even enjoy the opportunity.”

“This isn’t why we came here.”

“But you’d be doing the world a favour!” Shanks said. “What if I escape? The first thing I’m going to do if I ever get out of here is kill Heather Roosevelt. Then I’m going to kill her parents, and all of her friends. Then this entire town. So do the right thing, Amber. Find a way to finish me off now, while I’m vulnerable.”

She shook her head. “We’re not killers. We’re not like you.”

“Please,” said Shanks. “You’d be putting me out of my misery.”

“You’ve murdered innocent people,” said Amber. “You deserve your misery.”

“Then I’ll give you something more!” Shanks said. “I’ll give you his name, his address, and I’ll even tell you how to get to him tonight.”

Her heart beat faster. “He lives close?”

“No. He lives in Oregon. But distance doesn’t mean a thing when you’ve got my key. It’s on the wall behind you. See it?”

There was a single nail in the wall, and hanging from that nail was an ornate brass key. Amber took it down, tracing her fingers over the intricate etchings along its side. The head of the key was shaped like a lock.

“Heather hung it there to taunt me,” said Shanks. “Always in sight, always out of reach. But that key can get you where you want to go instantly. Do we have a deal?”

Amber looked back at the dollhouse. “I’m not going to kill you, Mr Shanks.”

“Then get Buxton to do it! He might even know how!”

“Buxton?”

“Gregory Buxton,” said Shanks. “I first met him in the town of his birth, a bland little place called Cascade Falls. That’s who you’re looking for, and that’s where you want to go.”

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“See for yourself! Put the key in the lock of the door there. Turn it twice, but keep saying his name in your head, his name and the name of his town.”

“Gregory Buxton,” she said, turning to the door, “Cascade Falls.”

“Try it,” said Shanks. “Keep saying that, turn the key, open the door and walk through. That’s all the proof you’ll need. But then, once you’ve spoken to him, promise me you’ll do as I ask.”

“I’ll … I’ll talk to Milo about it.”

“We had a deal!” Shanks shouted from behind her.

Amber didn’t turn. “I didn’t agree to anything.” She put the key in the lock, repeating Buxton’s name and the name of his town over and over in her head. She twisted the key and heard the door lock, then turned it again, heard the tumblers slide and settle. Then she opened the door and stepped through, but at the last moment the corridor became a dimly lit hall with a grand staircase and long shadows. The door shut behind her with a crash that reverberated through the floor itself. She spun. The door was now white and it didn’t have a handle. She pounded on it. It was thin wood that shook under her fist.

And then Shanks’s voice came drifting down from upstairs.

“I told you I was tricky.”