The Six Messiahs - Mark Frost [21]
Doyle felt absurd; here he sat arguing with an Englishwoman masquerading as a Chinaman in front of a crowd of German tourists—and one American reporter—about the death of a man who had plunged off a waterfall locked in a mortal struggle with his brother, as seen and described by Larry his trusted secretary. Fine way for a distinguished author to behave.
On the other hand, all every other medium he'd asked about Jack had ever been able to provide were patently phony bromides that bore no relation whatsoever to the man himself....
Crack!
Doyle's first thought: a gun shot. No, a light bulb had burst, one of the ceiling fixtures, over their heads. A shower of sparks cascaded softly over the audience.
"Look what happen, mistah, see? Now you make spirits mad!"
Mr. Li laughed again, alone this time, the audience taken aback: This Mr. Li was less friendly, his voice assuming a more remote Otherness, metallic and cold. The temperature in the room dropped as his warmth retreated; queasy, ill-fitting. Some shivered and drew their wraps close around their shoulders; a woman moaned inadvertently.
The air around Sophie Hills grew dense and bright, making her suddenly harder to see. Mr. Li's laughter stopped dead; Sophie choked, breath catching in her chest. Her eyes opened wide; she looked panicked. "Mr. Li" was gone. Mrs. Saint-John froze where she sat, alarmed.
This is not part of their program, thought Doyle, rising from his chair. No one else in the room moved; Pinkus pinned against the wall, primal fear. He saw Innes take a step toward the two women____
Crack!
Another light bulb burst. Frightened cries. People scrambling to avoid the sparks.
Doyle felt a hand on his shoulder: the priest.
Sophie fell to her knees; her body shuddered uncontrollably but her eyes remained clear and full of appeal, wrestling against something unseen and turbulent, some force trying to enter her?
The priest moving quickly toward her.
"Someone in this room!" said Sophie, terror warping her voice. "Someone not what they seem! There is a liar here!"
Innes was the first to reach her; he took hold of an arm. At that moment, Sophie Hills lost whatever battle she was fighting; her eyes closed, her body went rigid as an oak. She turned to Innes and her eyes opened-—she shook her arm and Innes flew off her as if he'd been struck by a runaway horse, crashing into the first row of deck chairs six feet away.
Doyle lowered a shoulder and threw his full considerable weight into the woman; she yielded hardly an inch, hitting a wall. He slid around to the back, clamped a bear hug on Sophie Hills, pinning her arms and held on. The priest thrust a crucifix before her face; she stopped struggling, eyes fixed on the cross. Innes scrambled back resiliently and from behind locked his arms around the woman's shoulders. She offered no resistance but a ferocious energy coursed through her body; both brothers agreed later it felt as if they were holding a Bengal tiger.
The priest didn't waver.
"In the name of all that is Holy, I command you, Unclean Spirit, to leave this body!"
The woman looked at him. Placid, serene. Smiled angelically.
"Do you remember your dream?" she asked the priest; a woman's voice again; low, intimate, melodic. But not Sophie's.
The priest stared at her in amazement.
"There are six. You are one. Listen to the dream."
What the devil was this?
"You must find the others. There are five. You will know them. If you fail, hope dies with you. This is the Word of the Archangel."
The voice so quiet no one else heard it: only Doyle, Innes, and the priest. Her smile faded and the woman went limp in their arms. Doyle laid Sophie gently to the ground. Slow, shallow breathing. Unconscious.
Air in the room clear again. Time, which had felt suspended, began again. Mrs. Saint-John collapsed; Innes caught her before she hit the floor.
Captain Hoffner appeared next to Doyle, his smooth facade ruined. "Mein Gott. Mein Gott."
"Get them to their beds," said Doyle.
Hoffner nodded. Crewmen appeared. Sophie Hills gently carried