Death of an Adept

Julia whirled around in time to see the kitten disappear under the bed in a bristling flash. Her own heart beating faster, she grabbed the hockey stick that Peregrine kept behind the bedroom door and tiptoed out onto the landing. At once she became aware of the smell of something burning.

"Peregrine?" she called anxiously.

There was no response from below. Tight-lipped with sudden fright, Julia hurried down the stairs and darted across the hall into the kitchen.

The first sight to meet her eyes was her husband, slumped in a heap on the floor within arm's reach of some strange foreign object that smoked and smoldered like a damp Roman candle. Her second glance registered the fact that there was a gloved hand and arm reaching up through the cat-flap toward the latch on the kitchen door.

Without hesitation, Julia raised the hockey stick and swung it like a cricket bat, landing a heavy blow on the intruder's groping fingers. The resultant dull crack was accompanied by a howl of pain from outside. Before she could strike again, the arm whisked itself back through the cat-flap like a wounded rat.

A breathless string of curses punctuated the hasty rustle of retreating feet. Beating the smoke away with one hand, and staggering a little dizzily, Julia started toward Peregrine, glancing down at the outlandish object left behind. Recognition eluded her for a moment. Then, with a shock of pure horror, she realized it was a severed and mummified human hand, its skeletal fingers clenched around a dirty yellow candle that gave off a stinking flare of sickly yellow flame. The fingertips were also lit, burning with a bluer light.

Her scream pierced through the heavy fog that was smothering Peregrine's mind and senses. The realization that Julia must be in danger roused him as little else could have done. Clawing his way back to consciousness, he heaved himself up onto his elbows and forced his eyes to open. Through a stupefying haze, he glimpsed Julia pressed flat against the adjacent wall, her face blanched white with revulsion.

Her dilated eyes were fixed on the noisome object that lay burning on the floor between them. Dragging himself to his feet with the help of a chair, Peregrine nearly recoiled himself when he saw what it was. Even semi-drugged, he could have little doubt that the mummified hand was an occult weapon of attack.

"Go phone Adam!" he rasped hoarsely. "I'll try to neutralize this thing."

Julia fled to the sitting room. Fighting the sickening drag on his senses, trying not to breathe any more than he had to, Peregrine lurched over to the sink and drenched a tea towel under the tap. As he flung it over the gruesome object on the floor, it began smoking even more, but he also heard the hiss of flames hopefully being quenched.

Julia thrust her head through the doorway that connected with the hall, hanging onto the jamb, her eyes wide with fright. She was swaying on her feet, as if she was having trouble keeping her balance.

"The phone's dead," she gasped. "I can't get a dial tone."

"They must have cut the line," Peregrine muttered, backing out into the hall.

Julia bit back a sob and knuckled her eyes as she fought off the soporific effects of the fumes.

"We've got to get out!" she managed to whisper.

"No! That's what they want!"

"Then what'll we do?" she wailed.

Peregrine was cudgeling his own befogged brain, and dimly seized upon their only hope.

"The cell phone!" he mumbled thickly. "It's in my art case."

Clamping his lips firmly closed, and holding his breath, he went back into the kitchen, advancing only far enough to grab the handle of the black leather satchel lying on the floor by the kitchen table. Dragging it into the sitting room, he threw it open and rummaged inside until he located the object he was looking for. His fingers felt thick and clumsy. Concentrating hard, he began to punch in Adam's number.

Chapter Twenty-Four

ADAM was reading in the library when the house phone rang. Ximena had gone up to bed, as had Philippa. Setting a finger in his book to mark his place, he went over to the desk to answer the summons.

"Sir, I'm putting Mr. Lovat through!" Humphrey informed him without preamble. "Hold the line."

The uncharacteristically preemptory tone put Adam instantly on alert, even as Peregrine came on the line, sounding breathless and distraught.

"Trouble, Adam!" he gasped. "We've just had an attempted break-in, down here at the gate lodge."

"Good Lord!" Adam exclaimed. "Are you and Julia all right?"

"More or less," came the reply, "but this wasn't any ordinary burglary. There's something awful in the kitchen, and I'm not sure I've - Jesus, the lights just went out!"

"Peregrine, are you all right? Humphrey, get in here!" Adam bellowed, when Peregrine did not immediately respond. "Peregrine, answer me!"

" - got to get out of the house, but I know they're out there…" Peregrine's answer came through a crackle of static. "… kind of drugged smoke."

"What's that?" Adam demanded.