“You fool,” said Mrs. Abernathy. “Now three of them know about us.”

Mrs. Renfield joined her. “What shall we do?” she asked. “Kill them?”

“We can’t wait any longer,” said Mrs. Abernathy. “We have to begin.”

“But all is not ready.”

“Enough will have gathered,” said Mrs. Abernathy. “The gates will open, and the first will pour through. They will prepare the way for the Great Malevolence, and he will finish what they have begun. Go! I will join you in a moment.”

Mr. and Mrs. Renfield moved away, followed by Mr. Abernathy and his wobbling head. Mrs. Abernathy strolled to the garden gate and looked toward the direction in which the three children and the dog had run. She saw the ghosts of them still hanging in the air before they drifted away like fog.

Perhaps the others were right, she thought. It was not yet time. The Great Malevolence had wanted to enter this new world in glory, provoking awe and terror as he came, his demonic army arrayed behind him. Instead, their attack upon the world of men would commence more slowly. As the demons began to pour through, the portal would grow larger. They would draw the energy that they needed from the collider. It would only be a matter of hours before the gates would melt away, and the Great Malevolence would be unleashed upon the Earth.

A small figure, wearing a devil’s horns and mask, appeared before her.

“Trick or treat,” said a voice from behind the mask.

Mrs. Abernathy regarded him curiously, then began to smile. The smile turned to a fearsome, terrible laughter. She put the back of her hand to her mouth, and said, “How delightful! Oh, this is just perfect!”

Like small boys the world over, the small boy behind the mask, whose name was Michael, didn’t care much for things that were “delightful,” or grown-ups who seemed to find things funny when they weren’t funny at all.

“Look, are you going to give me something or aren’t you?” he asked impatiently.

“Oh, I’ll give you something,” she said. “I’ll give you all something, and it will be the last thing you will ever receive. I’ll give you death.”

“No sweeties, then,” said the small boy.

Mrs. Abernathy’s laughter faded, and she squatted down before him. He saw a faint blue glow to her eyes. It grew brighter and brighter, until there was nothing in the woman’s eye sockets but cold blue light that made him wince with pain. When she opened her mouth, he smelled the foulness of her insides.

“No sweeties,” said Mrs. Abernathy. “No sweeties ever again.”

She watched the small boy run away, and thought:

Flee! Flee while you can, but there will be no escape, not from me.

And not from my master.

MRS. JOHNSON SAT ON the couch, smiling awkwardly at her visitor, whose name was Dr. Planck. Dr. Planck was small and dark, with a pointed beard, and black-rimmed glasses. Mrs. Johnson had made him tea, and offered him a biscuit. Now she was trying to understand why he was with her in the first place. All she knew was that it had something to do with Samuel. These things always did.

Dr. Planck worked at the local university as part of the experimental particle physics research program, and had been involved with CERN for a number of years. When the message from Switzerland about Samuel’s e-mail had come through to him, he had rushed to Biddlecombe. He wasn’t certain that a small boy could be entirely helpful to them, but there was something about his drawing, and the description of the rotten egg smell, that had caught the attention of the scientists at CERN. Now here he was, drinking tea and eating Bourbon cream biscuits, and trying to establish if Mrs. Johnson’s son might just have given them the help they had been seeking.

“Samuel hasn’t done anything wrong, has he?” said Mrs. Johnson.

“No, not at all,” said Dr. Planck. “He just sent us a very interesting e-mail, and we’d like to talk to him about it.”

“By ‘us,’ you mean the CERN people,” said Mrs. Johnson.

“That’s right.”

“Has Samuel solved one of the mysteries of the universe,then?”

Dr. Planck smiled politely, and nibbled on his biscuit. “Not exactly,” he said. “Tell me, what do you know about the people at number 666…?”

Mrs. Abernathy stood in the basement, Mr. Abernathy and the Renfields behind her. A pinpoint of blue light hung in the air, pulsing softly. Mrs. Renfield growled in disapproval.

“It was there all along,” she said to Mrs. Abernathy, “and yet you hid it from us.”

“You did not need to know,” said Mrs. Abernathy.

“Who are you to decide such things?”

Mrs. Abernathy turned on her. For an instant, her mouth grew so large that it threatened to engulf her entire head, revealing row upon row of jagged teeth. The huge jaws snapped at Mrs. Renfield, who staggered backward in alarm. Then, almost as soon as it had revealed itself, the monstrous mouth was gone, and Mrs. Abernathy was restored to her former beauty.

“You will keep a civil tongue in your head, or you will find yourself deprived of both,” warned Mrs. Abernathy. “Remember to whom you are speaking. I have the ear of our master, and I am his emissary here on Earth. Any disrespect shown to me will be communicated to him, and the punishment will be great.”

Mrs. Renfield hung her head, quaking at the thought of what punishments might befall her. She belonged to a lower order of demons than Mrs. Abernathy, [22] yet she was envious of Mrs. Abernathy’s power, and her closeness to the Great Malevolence, for that which is evil is always jealous, and seeks constantly to advance itself. Now her display of anger had left open the possibility of retribution from their master, because Mrs. Abernathy would surely tell him of Mrs. Renfield’s impertinence. But if she could overcome Mrs. Abernathy and take her place, if she, and not Mrs. Abernathy, could pave the way for their master, then she would be rewarded, not punished.

And so she made her move. Her jaws widened, and from between her lips her spider chelicerae emerged, two appendages ending in hollow points, each loaded with poison. She approached Mrs. Abernathy from behind, her eyes fixed on the pale skin at the base of Mrs. Abernathy’s neck.

Suddenly Mrs. Renfield froze, unable to advance. She felt her throat tighten, as though a hand had gripped it and was slowly choking her. Mrs. Abernathy turned, her eye ablaze with blue fire.

“You foolish creature,” she said. “Now you will suffer pain for all eternity.”

Mrs. Abernathy waved her fingers in front of Mrs. Renfield’s face. The chelicerae continued to grow from Mrs. Renfield’s mouth, but now they began to curl down toward her own neck. Mrs. Renfield’s eyes widened in panic, but she could do nothing to stop what was about to occur. The twin points pierced her skin, and she began to pump poison into her own system. Her eyes bulged, and her face blackened, until at last she fell to the floor. Her bodyjerked once before it turned to dust and smoke.

Mrs. Abernathy returned her attention to the blue light.

“Master,” said Mrs. Abernathy. “Your servant calls.”

The blue light grew larger, and the basement became colder. Mrs. Abernathy’s breath plumed whitely. Her fingertips were so chilled that they began to hurt.

And then a voice spoke. It seemed to come at once from everywhere and nowhere, echoing around the basement. It was deep and sibilant, like the hissing of a giant snake in a dank cave.

“Yessssss,” it said. “Speak.”

“Master,” said Mrs. Abernathy again, and her voice trembled. Even now, after she had spent so long in the presence of this great Evil, so close to an eternity that the difference hardly mattered, it still had the power to terrify her. “We must act now. We can wait no longer.”