Lost in a Good Book (Thursday Next 2)

'Quite a shithole, eh, Thurs?'

'You're not kidding,' I replied, glad to be with company. 'All kinds of creepy weirdness was running through my head just now.'

'How have you been? Hubby still with an existence problem?'

'Still the same – but I'm working on it. What's the score here?'

Spike clapped his hands together and rubbed them.

'Ah, yes! Thanks for coming. This is one job I can't do on my own.'

I followed his gaze towards the derelict church and surrounding graveyard. It was a dismal place even by SpecOps 17 standards, which tended to regard anything merely dreary as a good venue for a party. It was surrounded by two rows of high wire fences, and no one had come or gone since the 'troubles' five years previously. The restless spirits of the condemned souls trapped within the churchyard had killed all plant life not only within the confines of the Dark Place but for a short distance all around it – I could see the grass withering and dying not two yards from the inner fence, the leafless trees standing lifeless in the moonlight. In truth, the wire fences were to keep the curious or just plain stupid out as much as to keep the undead in; a ring of burnt yew wood just within the outer wire was the last line of undead defence across which they could never move, but it didn't stop them trying. Occasionally a member of the Dark One's Legion of Lost Souls made it across the inner fence. Here they lumbered into the motion sensors affixed at ten-foot intervals. The undead might be quite good servants of the Dark One but they were certainly crap when it came to electronics. They usually blundered around in the area between the fences until the early morning sun or an SO-17 flame-thrower reduced their lifeless husk to a cinder, and released the tormented soul to make its way through eternity in peace.

I looked at the derelict church and the scattered tombs of the desecrated graveyard and shivered.

'What are we doing? Torching the lifeless walking husks of the undead?'

'Well, no,' replied Spike uneasily, moving to the rear of his car. 'I wish it were as simple as that.'

He opened the boot and passed me a clip of silver bullets. I reloaded my gun and frowned at him.

'What, then?'

'Dark forces are afoot, Thursday. Another Supreme Evil Being is pacing the earth.'

'Another? What happened? Did he escape?'

Spike sighed.

'There have been a few cuts in recent years, and SEB transportation is now done by a private contractor. Three months ago they mixed up the consignment and instead of delivering him straight to the Loathsome Id Containment Facility, they left him at the St Merryweather's home for retired gentlefolk.'

'TNN said it was Legionnaire's disease.'

'That's the usual cover story. Anyhow, some idiot opened the jar and all hell broke loose. I managed to corner it but getting the SEB transferred back to his jar is going to be tricky – and that's where you come in.'

'Does this plan involve going in there?'

I gestured at the church. As if to make a point, two barn owls flew noiselessly from the belfry and soared close by our heads.

'I'm afraid so. We should be fine. There'll be a full moon tonight and they don't generally perambulate on the lightest of nights – it'll be as easy as falling off a log.'

'So what do I do?' I asked uneasily.

'I can't tell you for fear that he will hear my plan, but keep close and do precisely what I tell you. Do you understand? No matter what it is, you must do precisely what I tell you.'

'Okay.'

'Promise?'

'I promise.'

'No, I mean you have to really promise.'

'All right – I really promise.'

'Good. I officially deputise you into SpecOps 17. Let's pray for a moment.'

Spike dropped to his knees and muttered a short prayer under his breath – something about delivering us both from evil and how he hoped his mother would get to the top of the hip replacement waiting list, and that Cindy wouldn't drop him like a hot potato when she found out what he did. As for myself, I said pretty much what I usually said, but added that if Landen were watching, could he please, please, please keep an eye out for me.