Extract from Chapter Nine: Light and Fire
He tried to rein back his mind, but it was hard to remember that he was Sam, not Jean-Paul nor Jeanette nor Julien, hard to remember that he was afraid of being consumed by the Light, rather than of the spiders in the garden and the rats in the sewers and the figure who was gone when you looked again, and the corners and the darkness and the minds and the fire…
He caught hold of something inside his own mind that felt as if it were hot to the touch. Mentally he closed his fist around it and thought of the pain in his shoulder. His shoulder, something to centre on, his heart, his mind, his desires.
Somewhere in the distance, the running white line of light slowed, paused, and began to contract in on itself, racing back towards the centre, growing brighter as it did. It struck Sam, who lurched as if physically hit. For a second all was darkness. Odin was reeling, blinking away tears. The valkyries dared to look in Sam’s direction again… What next?
Sam’s eyes opened. The black irises were pure white, and the thoughts that before had given such life to his face were lost. There were simply too many other minds competing for room.
There was a brief silence. Then, with the distant smile of a madman, Sam raised his hands and opened them. A beam of white light shot towards Odin, struck, spun him around like a puppet. The full force of a thousan people’s fears passed through Sam and out again, filled the barn with the chitter of insects coming to kill, the howl of wolves in the forest, the buzz of the broken lamp on the darkened street that for a second showed the half-perceived figure in the gloom…
Odin had rarely been heard to scream. When he did, it wasn’t a particularly impressive sound, caught as it was between a gurgle and a gasp. Now, however, for a second he was rooted to the spot. Then he turned, stared at the fire as if he’d seen death in it, and ran. The valkyries fled too, charging into each other in their haste to escape whatever unseen demon pursued them.
Somehow, Sam moved. He got to his hands and knees, tried to rise and half fell again. His face contorted as he squeezed his eyes shut and put his hands over his ears against the roar of all those minds.
~Catherine Webb, WayWalkers
He caught hold of something inside his own mind that felt as if it were hot to the touch. Mentally he closed his fist around it and thought of the pain in his shoulder. His shoulder, something to centre on, his heart, his mind, his desires.
Somewhere in the distance, the running white line of light slowed, paused, and began to contract in on itself, racing back towards the centre, growing brighter as it did. It struck Sam, who lurched as if physically hit. For a second all was darkness. Odin was reeling, blinking away tears. The valkyries dared to look in Sam’s direction again… What next?
Sam’s eyes opened. The black irises were pure white, and the thoughts that before had given such life to his face were lost. There were simply too many other minds competing for room.
There was a brief silence. Then, with the distant smile of a madman, Sam raised his hands and opened them. A beam of white light shot towards Odin, struck, spun him around like a puppet. The full force of a thousan people’s fears passed through Sam and out again, filled the barn with the chitter of insects coming to kill, the howl of wolves in the forest, the buzz of the broken lamp on the darkened street that for a second showed the half-perceived figure in the gloom…
Odin had rarely been heard to scream. When he did, it wasn’t a particularly impressive sound, caught as it was between a gurgle and a gasp. Now, however, for a second he was rooted to the spot. Then he turned, stared at the fire as if he’d seen death in it, and ran. The valkyries fled too, charging into each other in their haste to escape whatever unseen demon pursued them.
Somehow, Sam moved. He got to his hands and knees, tried to rise and half fell again. His face contorted as he squeezed his eyes shut and put his hands over his ears against the roar of all those minds.
~Catherine Webb, WayWalkers