Neil replied, “No signs, huh? Well, in that case, I’m afraid the gateway goes. You can’t just use my son that way and expect me to cooperate. I’m going to go upstairs right this minute and turn your so-called gateway into cheap firewood.”

Toby growled, “I shall kill you.”

Susan, across the other side of the kitchen, whimpered. She could see now how malevolent and red Toby’s eyes were, and how his hands clenched and unclenched with impatient strength. She said, “Toby, for pity’s sake.”

Toby ignored her. He kept his eyes on Neil. At that moment, Neil was in no doubt at all that whatever was using Toby to speak this way, could and would destroy him. He could already feel the temperature dropping in the kitchen, and he could see the red line of the thermometer by the stove gradually sliding downward.

“I’m going up there,” said Neil. “If you want to stop me, then you’re going to have to fight me.”

He turned and opened the wooden door that led up to the stairs. In Toby’s room, across the landing, he could already hear shuffling and bumping sounds, as if a heavy piece of furniture were being shifted around. He turned and took a last look at Toby, but Toby didn’t move. The boy simply sat at the table, his face calm and smooth with intensely self-possessed hatred. Neil didn’t like to leave Susan, but he guessed that Toby probably wouldn’t harm her—Toby or whatever demonic thing was using Toby to speak to him.

“You are very unwise,” said Toby dispassionately.

Neil climbed the stairs as far as the landing. The bedroom door was closed, but now the bumping noises were louder and more frantic. It sounded like chairs and tables and beds being hurled from one side of the room to the other. He heard a lamp smash, and then a window break.

“Allen,” begged the voice, a persistent whisper beneath the clattering and thumping. “Please, Allen… help…”

His heart was beating in slow, painful pulses as he approached the room. From underneath the door, strange, cold lights were flickering, like a blue neon sign that was short-circuiting. There was an odor, too, a chilly smell of burned electricity, mingled with an indescribable sourness. His throat was dry, and he felt so frightened that his legs hardly responded when he tried to go nearer.

“Fenner,” said a coarse voice, and he turned abruptly around. It was Toby, standing halfway up the stairs, his reddened eyes fixed on him in undisguised anger. “I’m warning you, Fenner. Leave that wardrobe alone.”

“You just keep away,” said Neil. “I’m going to do what I have to do, and nobody’s going to stop me.”

“You’re a fool, Fenner,” grated Toby. From behind him, framed in the light from the kitchen, Susan pleaded uncomprehendingly, “Toby! Toby, what’s the matter? Toby!”