coordinations that did not make any kind of logical sense but nonetheless bespoke Truth. It was as if he were a cog in a great machine and every once in a while he was allowed to glance over and see nearly identical cogs performing nearly identical functions. There were connections he could not understand but knew existed, and he knew now that it was all tied to whatever existed inside that house.
Another small dark face at another low window.
His entire body seemed to be covered with gooseflesh and his heart was pounding harder than he'd known it could, but Daniel steeled himself and pressed forward.
Night appeared to be falling quicker than usual, sundown and dusk fairly speeding by, and if he had learned that this was a phenomenon which only happened here, that the power within the house somehow had the ability to influence the sun, he would not have been surprised.
He walked up the porch steps, knocked on the heavy oak door.
It was opened instantly.
By Billingsly .
Daniel sucked in his breath at the sight of the man.
He was no longer a child and the servant an adult--they were both grown men of approximately the same size-- but the balance of power had not shifted in all these years, and Daniel instinctively stepped back. Billingsly was still a frighteningly intimidating figure, alien and unknowable in his proper attire, the blankness in his eyes impossible to read. He bowed, smiling enigmatically.
'You are the last.'
'What?' Daniel said.
'I trust you had a pleasant trip?' The servant stepped aside, motioning him in.
Daniel stepped over the threshold, acutely aware of the symbolism of that simple act.
The door shut immediately behind him.
Mark He was scared shitless, but he tried not to let it show.
It was not merely the circumstances of his arrival c the air of menace that overhung the house which le:
him feeling so terrified, but the fact that he wasn't exactly a guest, wasn't exactly a prisoner, but seemed t be somewhere in-between--and he had no idea what t do about it.
Mark glanced nervously around the sitting room.
was strange being back, seeing the high-vaulted ceiling and the patterned hardwood floors, all of the familiar furniture in all of the familiar places, mileposts of his childhood that were indelibly ingrained in his memory It was the smell of the house that affected him most strongly, though, the familiar odors of old flowers am fireplace smoke and dust; scents of his past that lingered in the room and remained behind, present but invisible like ghosts.
Mark stared at Billings. What was he? Ghost'
Demon? Monster? None of them seemed to hit the mark, but they were all close, they were all within the ballpark.
Feigning a bravery he did not feel, he turned his back on the assistant and walked across the sitting room, pulling open the drapes covering the window. He tried peering out, but it was night outside and he could see nothing.
'I should be able to see the lights of Dry River,'
he said.
'Curious, isn't it?'
Mark dropped the drapes. 'What's going on here?' he demanded.
Billings chuckled.
'Who are you?'
'You know who I am, Marky boy.'
Mark felt cold. 'All right, then. What are you?'
'I'm the assistant.'
'What do you want from me?'
'Me? Nothing. It's the House that called you back.'
'Called me back?'
'You are to live here again.'
Mark shook his head. 'I don't know what the fuck you're talking about, but I came back here because Kris ten died and I wanted to find out what happened to her.
And for your information, I came back for a visit, not to stay.'
'But stay you shall. The House needs occupants.'
'For what?'
'Why, to maintain the border, of course.'
Mark didn't like the sound of that, and he tried not to let his fear show.
'The House,' Billings continued, 'was built as a barrier, to maintain the border between this world, the material world, and the other world, the Other Side.'
Mark's mouth felt dry. 'The 'Other Side'?'
Billings's eyes were flat, unreadable. 'The hereafter, the world of the dead, the world of magic and the supernatural, the world of spirits. It is the opposite of this world, your world, and it is a horrific place, a world of terrors and abominations the likes of which you have never seen nor ever dreamed. The House was built to keep the two separate, and it is the only reason your people, your world, are still here. Otherwise, you would have been overrun long ago.'
Mark said nothing.
'The House is like an electrified fence or, more precisely, like a battery supplying power to that fence. And it is charged by people living within it. That is why you were called back. For the first time, the House is empty.
There is no one living here, and the barriers are coming down. On both sides.' He looked at Mark. 'Ever since Kristen passed on.'
Mark turned away, didn't respond. His heart was pumping crazily, and his body was drenched with a sheen of fear sweat.
'The border is asemipervious membrane. It is not a solid wall, and without a strong barrier to separate the two worlds, they will inevitably collide. And that,' he said, 'would be catastrophic.'
'So I'm here to recharge the battery?'
'If you will.'
'What happens if I refuse?'
'You have not refused. You have come.'
'What if I leave?'
'You can't leave.'
'Who's going to stop me if I break one of these windows and jump out and run away?'
Billings looked at him. 'The House.'
There was silence between them after that.
'Where did the house come from?' Mark asked finally.
'Who built it?'
'The Ones Who Went Before.'
The name, with its ambiguity and intimations of tremendous age, frightened him, and he listened quietly as Mr. Billings described the early days, after the barrier was erected, the days of miracles, when gods and monsters roamed the earth, when seas were parted, when oracles foretold the future, when miraculous beings and the resurrected dead mingled with ordinary men. After the House became occupied, he explained, as it gained strength and became more efficient, more attuned to its purpose, those 'leaks' were plugged, all access to the Other Side was sealed off.
'Nothing is perfect,' the assistant said. 'And, in the past, isolated spirits have made it through. But the House was built to maintain the laws of reason and rationality, and those exceptions had no influence or bearing upon that purpose. The Other Side was eventually forgotten about, passing into the realm of myth and fiction, and the occasionally sighted monster, the occasional haunted house, the occasional ghost became an aberration, entertainment, a story that was interesting but not to be believed.
