The Book of Doom - By Barry Hutchison Page 0,60

down the walls.

He turned the light towards the nearest wall. It blinked and flashed like the Morse Code of a madman, but the light was enough to let Zac see the wallpaper. In that first glimpse, he’d thought he had recognised it. Now he knew he did, and it made the blood become ice in his veins.

It was his wallpaper. Or rather, it had been. It was the wallpaper from the flat he and his granddad had lived in years ago, before Zac had scraped enough money together for them to rent a bigger place. The walls here were all mottled with damp and riddled with rot.

Around him, the hissing grew just a little louder. Zac turned away from the wallpaper, pointed the flickering torch, and stepped onwards into the dark.

“Zac? Zac? Where are you?”

Even to himself, Angelo’s voice sounded shrill and pathetic, but he was lost and afraid and he couldn’t care less what he sounded like right at that moment.

He had been shoved through into a room that was in near darkness. Then the closing door had cut off all light from the outside and the blackness had swallowed him whole. He had been trying to find the door and Zac ever since, but whichever direction he reached out in he found nothing.

Eventually, when he realised he was completely, hopelessly lost, Angelo sat down on the carpeted floor and crossed his legs. There was only one thing for it.

He screwed his eyes tight shut, as he had been taught to do centuries ago. He gripped his knees and clenched his jaw and concentrated with everything he had. His face turned a worrying shade of purple in the darkness.

“Hng. Come... on...” he hissed through his gritted teeth. It had been a long time since he had attempted this, and even longer since he’d succeeded. But it had to work now. It had to. “Do... or do not. There is... no... try! Hnnnng.”

A small circle of light fizzled into existence above his head, like a mini version of the neon O in the Eyedol sign. Angelo’s body sagged as he let out a shaky breath. He reached up and touched the halo. It hummed faintly beneath his fingers. His hand moved down to his temple. He rubbed it gently and groaned as he stood up.

“I’m going to pay for that in the morning,” he mumbled, but at least he could now see, even if it was only a few metres in every direction. What he saw was nothing. Nothing but carpet on all sides.

Angelo pointed north, south, east and west. “Eenie, meenie, minie, mo,” he whispered, then he picked a direction and he began to walk.

The beam of the torch fizzled and flashed. Zac gave the lens a tap and the light settled for a few seconds. Not that he really needed it. His feet remembered the way all by themselves.

His bedroom led out into a narrow hallway – bathroom to the right, everything else to the left. Six or seven shuffled steps took him to the other end of the hall. Four doors stood there. One led out on to the communal stairway. Another was a cupboard crammed full of toys and other old junk.

The door directly on his right led through to the living room, which in turn connected with the kitchen. The door just ahead and on his left had been his granddad’s bedroom. He shone the flickering torch at that door and saw the handle was still hanging limp and broken, just as it had been when they’d moved out.

The hissing of the static was louder on his right, and so that was where he decided to go. Gripping the torch handle tightly, Zac pushed open the living-room door and stepped through into a nightmare.

NGELO STOPPED BEFORE a familiar white door. It was his door. The one that led into his bedroom. That much was clear. What wasn’t clear, was why it was in Hell.

But it was his door, and in Angelo’s mind that made it safe. Or safer than doors that weren’t his, at least. With the glow of his halo lighting the way, he pushed the door open and stepped into his bedroom.

A demon waited for him inside. Angelo knew it was a demon because he was dressed like a demon. He wore what looked like red pyjamas and a red cape and he held a trident – also red – in one clawed hand. He had a tail with an arrowhead tip. It