get some cash. I never saw him. Just heard him come in and he went out right after. And then, while I was out looking for him, my Land Rover was returned. It stank of perfume. Tom never drove it back here. Someone else did. Maybe Beth, but it wasn't her perfume. But someone did. They brought it here. And when I went to find Eliot, Janice told me he'd been sacked, and she admitted she saw Tom drinking with Eliot at the School of Divinity, on the day we had the bust-up. The idiot probably went over there to iron out the problems I've been having. Without knowing how dangerous Eliot is. I know he's behind it.'
'He went to Eliot of his own free will then?'
Dante feels his blood rise. 'He was angry. That's all. But Eliot took advantage of the rift between us. I just know it. When I first met Eliot, he hinted that free will was never going to be a concern with him. I think you both know what I'm saying.'
'Did he offer drugs?' the Proctor asks.
'What is this? I asked you two here so I could find out what I'm dealing with. And now you're giving me this school-teacher routine. I don't need a social worker. I need information.'
'Listen, Dante,' Arthur chirps in, smiling. 'We only want to establish the influence Eliot may have had on you. He's very clever at suggesting things and embroiling people in his little schemes. Especially young people.'
'No, no, no,' Dante says, shaking his head in frustration. 'We've gone way beyond that. It's not about starry-eyed youths eating poisoned candy. I was in awe of Eliot when I first got here, but since then I've hardly had anything to do with him. We never even discussed the work I was supposed to be doing. He deliberately avoided me and any mention of what I'd travelled up for. He fobbed me off with all kinds of excuses. He was always pissed. He was only concerned that I meet Beth. He insisted on it, so I met her. And he doesn't need drugs, she does all the work for him.' Dante pauses and watches their startled reaction at his mention of Beth. 'Eliot's probably used her to get Tom. I don't know how well you know her, but she's not to be trusted either. And while we sit here yakking, time is drifting by and my friend is in danger. I know how fast it spreads.'
The Proctor frowns. 'What spreads?' He looks and sounds sincere. Dante reaches for a cigarette. It is frustrating not knowing what the Hebdomidar and Proctor have on Eliot. For all he knows, the story about Beth and the other thing will sound like a crazy, drug-induced hallucination. Dante takes a deep drag on his cigarette. 'It starts with an illness. After you become familiar with Beth, that is, you get a really bad fever with nightmares you just wouldn't believe. Your body weakens and you go delusional. It's like you're being prepared for the other one.'
The Proctor wrestles with a smile. 'The other one? I don't follow.' But Arthur leans forward on the couch and searches Dante's face.
'Yeah, the other one,' Dante says, taken aback by Arthur's sudden interest. 'The thing that Eliot and Beth have with them. I don't know what it is exactly, but it's deadly. It appeared whenever I met Beth. She calls it somehow. It sounds crazy, I know, but it wanted me. That's the only reason Eliot asked me up here, to use me. To give me away to whatever he and Beth have with them. I think he made a promise to someone and now he's struggling to keep it.'
'Is this a man you're referring to?' the Proctor asks, half-smiling and half-frowning with disbelief.
'It sounds ridiculous . . . But I know what I saw. Or what I experienced, to be more precise. It was like Beth put me in a trance and then this other party, this whatever it is, arrives.' His voice has weakened and he blushes in embarrassment at what he is trying to communicate. These men are strangers and not ordinary strangers; they are educated men with good jobs and positions at a top university. It seems hopeless.
'I'm sorry, Dante,' the Proctor says. 'I'm not really following and it all sounds a little too fantastic to me.'
Desperate, Dante looks to Arthur. 'But your mate knows what I'm talking about. Don't you?'
The Proctor glances at Arthur, his