'I'm coming, Father!' She looked earnestly up at Bishop. 'Help us, Chris. We have to try and keep it out.'

He nodded, his mind a jumble of thoughts, everything he'd seen and heard in some crazy way confirming her statement. 'You go down to your father, I'll see to the rest of the lights up here.'

Bishop checked every room, even turning on the bathroom light for, though its two outside walls were part of the rare brick segments of the structure, it had a huge glass skylight in the ceiling. He also twisted a wall spotlight around and directed it towards the skylight. When he finally descended to the ground floor, Jessica had switched on the outside lamps, flooding the grounds with their brightness.

Bishop, Jessica and Kulek stood in the main lounge again, Edith Metlock trying to stem the flow of blood from the injured woman lying on the floor with a white linen towel Jessica had found for her. The wounded woman, Judith, lay still, her eyes staring up at the ceiling and occasionally flicking towards the huge window-wall.

'What now?' Bishop asked.

'We can only wait,' Kulek replied. 'And perhaps pray.' Almost to himself he added, 'Although I'm not sure that will help any more.'

'I'm going to try and reach Peck again,' said Bishop, heading for the hallway. 'We'll need an ambulance too for her.' He indicated the injured woman lying on the floor.

Jessica clung to her father, both of them feeling the oppression that now hung over the house. 'Is it really possible for this to happen? Could Pryszlak have really found a way of tapping this power, Father?'

'I think he has, Jessica. Those who have studied the subject have always known it existed. The question is: does Pryszlak control the power, or does it control Pryszlak? I think we shall soon find out if what the woman called Lillian said is true. Will you find my cane for me? Then you must help Edith with the injured woman.'

Jessica found Kulek's stout cane lying behind the armchair in which he had been sitting; she gave it to him then went to the medium who was still kneeling beside the recumbent figure.

'How is she?'

'I . . . I don't know. She seems to be in a state of shock. If she's in pain, she doesn't show it.'

The linen towel was no longer white. Edith held it against the long slash, her hands, along with the cloth, red from the woman's blood. 'I don't think it's too deep, but she's losing a lot of blood.'

'I'll get another towel. We'll have to open her blouse and try to cover the whole of her chest.' Jessica felt herself shudder as she gazed down. The still woman's pupils had retracted to small pinpoints and for some reason, there was a distant smile on her face. She seemed to be listening.

The medium looked up at the glass wall. She, too, could hear something.

'Edith, what is it?' Jessica shook her.

'They're all around us.'

Jessica looked towards the windows, but could only see the glow of the outside lights. They didn't seem as bright as they should have been.

Bishop returned to the room, a determined look on his face. 'Peck was still unavailable, but one of the men in his department told me the trouble seems to be shifting over to this side of the river. There's been a constant stream of emergency calls and they're pretty thin on the ground for reinforcements. His advice is to sit tight and he'll get someone out to us as soon as possible. Even telling him one of their own officers has been murdered didn't get me too far. It seems he's only one of many dead policemen tonight.' He took out the small gun that he had put into his jacket pocket earlier. 'If anyone tries to break in, I can try and hold them off with this. Have you any other guns in the house, Jacob?'

The blind man shook his head. 'I have no use for them. And I think weapons of that sort will not help us.'

'Jacob, the lights outside are dimming.' There was dread in Edith Metlock's voice.

'There must be a reduction in power somewhere,' Bishop said, walking towards the glass wall.

'No, Chris,' said Jessica. 'The lights inside the house haven't been affected.'

Kulek turned towards the sound of Bishop's voice. 'Chris, are you by the window? Please keep back from there.'

'There's nothing outside. No movement, except . . .'

'What is it? Jessica, tell me what is happening.'

'The shadows, Father. The shadows are drawing closer to the house.'

Bishop spoke. 'The lights are just a dull glow now. There's a . . . sort of . . . blackness creeping forward. It's only a few feet away from the windows. It's moving all the time.' He began to edge away from the glass wall, stopping only when he had reached the back of the settee. Suddenly, all they could see was their own reflections, the outside lamps hardly visible. The feeling of oppression had increased: it seemed to be bearing down on all of them, straining against the very house itself, pressing, crushing.

Edith Metlock slumped against the settee, her eyes closed. Jessica reached for her father but found she was too frightened to move towards him. Kulek stared out at the darkness as though he could see it and, in his mind, he could. Bishop raised the gun towards the glass wall, knowing he could not pull the trigger.

'It can't get in!' Kulek shouted, his voice raised even though there was total silence in the room. 'It has no material form!'

But the bulging inwards of the huge sheets of glass joined by thin metal strips belied his words.

'Jesus Christ, it's not possible.' Bishop couldn't believe what he was seeing. The glass was bending like the distorted mirrors in a funfair's crazy house. He put his other hand up to protect his eyes, sure that the windows would burst inwards at any moment.

The injured woman pushed herself into a sitting position, the stained linen towel falling away from her chest and blood flowing freely into her lap. She watched the windows and laughed. The cackling sound she made died when, without warning, the bulges in the glass subsided and the windows returned to their normal shape. For several moments, no one in the room dared to speak.

'Is it ov . . .?' Jessica began to say when an ear-splitting crack made them all jump back in alarm.

The middle section of the wall was split from top to bottom, jagged streaks running from the main crack like forked lightning. Again the sharp sound of splintering glass came to them and they watched in paralysed horror as the section next to it began to split. They saw the thin cracks travelling in different directions, patterning a jigsaw of sharp lines on the treated glass. Soon the lines resembled a spider's web. Another crack, and the section on the other side of the centre piece began to break, this time two lines travelling up from the base and joining near the top, etching out a jagged mountain shape.

With explosive force, all the sections shattered inwards, showering the occupants of the room with thousands of lethal glass shards. The sound was that of a hundred pistols being fired at once. Bishop fell back over the settee, his clothes and hair covered in silver fragments. Kulek instinctively turned his body and ducked, his dressing-gown instantly covered in tiny porcupine quills of glass. The shock had sent Jessica reeling back, the long settee between her and the windows protecting most of her body; she screamed when a section of glass the size of a dinner plate scythed along the side of her raised arm as she fell. The settee served to screen Edith Metlock and the short woman completely from flying glass.

Bishop had rolled on to the floor, tumbling over the injured woman. He lay still for a few moments, waiting for the ringing in his ears to clear, then forced himself to stand. He saw Kulek groping his way towards Jessica, calling out her name.

'I'm all right, Father.' She was pushing herself up on to one elbow and Bishop winced when he saw the long, red tear in her arm. He reached her just as Kulek was leaning forward to help her up, pieces of glass falling from their bodies like brushed snow. There were many tiny cuts on Jessica's forehead, neck and hands, but the rent along her arm was the worst damage she had suffered. He held her with Kulek and all three looked across at the broken wall, cold air flowing in unhindered and chilling them.

There was nothing outside now but blackness.

They kept still, scarcely daring to breathe, waiting for something to happen. The first figure appeared, standing just beyond the area of light so his body was ill-defined, shadowy. Bishop realized he had dropped the gun.

The figure stepped over the threshold, out of the darkness, into the light. He stood there, head turned slightly sideways, eyes blinking as though the light was hurting his eyes. The man was filthy, his clothes torn and covered with grime. Even in their dazed state, they could smell his corruption.

'Who is there?' asked Kulek softly, his question directed at Jessica and Bishop. Neither could answer.

The man's head was slowly turning towards them and, even under the dirt that covered him, they could see his face was drawn and emaciated. His eyes were still half-closed, and there were no whites to them, only a dull, greyish-yellow. His movements were sluggish as he walked towards them.

Jessica began to back away, dragging her father with her, but Bishop stood his ground. There was a hollow, vacant expression on the man's face and Bishop felt revulsion when he saw the dried mucus and spittle that covered the lower half of his face. His revulsion heightened when the man grinned at him.

Bishop ran forward, afraid yet repulsed enough to want to crush the thing before him as though it were a loathsome spider. He pushed the man and to his surprise felt no resistance; it was as if he had no strength left at all, that his body had wasted into a debilitated state, a withered frame that was hardly living. The man staggered back and Bishop followed through by lifting him and throwing him back out into the darkness. He stood there, panting from fear rather than exertion, and looked out into the night. There were many more standing in the shadows, watching the house.

He backed away and, as he did so, three figures came running forward from the blackness. They leapt into the room and came to an abrupt halt as the sudden glare blinded them. There were two men and one woman: the men wore grey denims, and one of them was shoeless; the woman was dressed normally. Bishop realized these three were not in the deteriorated state the first man had been in. He quickly looked around for the lost Beretta and gratefully lunged for the pistol when he saw it lying on the floor half-under the settee. He was on one knee retrieving the weapon when Jessica shouted; he turned to see one of the men rushing at him. His intention had been to try and warn them off, but without thinking he swung the gun in the advancing man's direction and squeezed the trigger. His would-be assailant spun around and fell to the floor as the bullet spat into his shoulder. The woman fell over the sprawled figure, but the other man skirted them both and came running towards Bishop, who was still crouched low. The next bullet punctured the second man's neck.

'Chris, there are more of them outside!' warned Jessica.

He saw them hovering just beyond the area of light. 'Quick, upstairs. We haven't got a chance down here!'

Leaping over the back of the settee, he pulled Edith Metlock to her feet. 'Take your father up, Jessica. We'll follow.' He did not allow his eyes to stray from the broad wall of darkness before him, the gun held up, trembling slightly, towards it. His first two shots had been lucky, for he was not at all familiar with guns, nor was he used to maiming or killing people; but he was aware that at such close range it would be virtually impossible to miss and he would not hesitate to fire at anyone entering the room. He pulled the medium along with him and she allowed herself to be led, her hands over her ears as though the sound of the breaking glass was still reverberating in them. She looked dazed and pale. Bishop felt perspiration trickling into his eyes and he hastily wiped the back of his hand over his forehead. He was surprised to see his hand smeared with blood when he brought it away; parts of his face must have been lacerated by flying glass.

'They're at the front door,' he heard Jessica call out. 'They're trying to force it open!'

He could hear the muffled thumps coming from the hallway. 'Up the stairs, quickly,' he ordered. At least they would not be able to rush him up there and he might just be able to hold them off until the police arrived. If they arrived.

The hand that hooked itself behind his knee and brought him down belonged to the short woman. He fell heavily, taking the medium with him, and the injured woman threw herself on top of him, oblivious of the pain she suffered. Twisting his head to avoid the sharp-edged fingers, Bishop saw the woman who had leapt into the room with the two men crawling towards him, a long sliver of glass held in her hand like a knife blade. He brought a knee up and it sank viciously into the plump side of the woman above him, causing her to topple sideways. His back still against the floor, he pointed the gun straight into the advancing woman's face. She did not seem to notice; or she did not seem to care. Panic-stricken though he was, Bishop could not pull the trigger. He twisted away as the jagged glass came rushing down at him and heard it break against the floor. The woman stared at her bloody hand, then reached for him again. He swiped away the arm that supported her weight and brought the end of the pistol down on the back of her head as she collapsed. Kicking himself free of the short woman, whose legs were still tangled with his, he pulled himself clear. A well-aimed shove sent her crumpling back against the settee and he thought she would not be able to rise again. Incredibly, he was wrong.

She flew at him with a strength that was frightening for someone in her condition and her blows sent crystals of glass that had already pierced his face deeper into the skin, making him cry out. Others were in the room now, men and women who had stepped from the cover of darkness they seemed to favour, some of them shielding their eyes from the harsh glare, others squinting their eyes against the light. Bishop felt the plump woman's body shudder as the bullet entered her groin, but it took two more to stop her struggles. As she slid away, he saw there was no fear in her eyes, only a strange look of pleasure.

He fired into the crowd that had invaded the room and, for a brief moment, their disorganized rush was halted. It gave him just enough time to gain his feet and stagger towards the door. Roughly pushing Edith Metlock through, he pumped two bullets into the nearest man, this one also dressed in grey denims which Bishop suddenly recognized as prison clothes. The man fell forward just as Bishop pulled the door closed and the wood shook as his body crashed into it on the other side.

Jessica and her father were on the stairs, the girl looking down over the balustrade at him. Her face was streaked with tears that came from absolute terror. Bishop felt the handle twisting beneath his grip and he knew he would not be able to hold the door shut for long.

'Move yourselves!' he shouted. 'Take Edith with you!'

Jessica was galvanized into action by the harsh command. She reached down over the balustrade and guided the medium around to the stairs. Bishop waited until they were out of view before he released the door-handle. It flew open and he kept firing into the room beyond until the gun made only a sharp click. It was empty, empty and useless. He turned and fled.

As he passed the glass panel that ran the length of the heavy, wooden door, it broke and a hand reached in and grabbed his arm. Another hand shot forward and pulled at his hair. It was then that all the lights in the house went out.

Even as he struggled, he realized someone had broken into another part of the house and found the main power switch. He tore himself away from the grasping hands, feeling his jacket rip and some of the hair pulled from his scalp. He collapsed on to the stairs, hearing the rush of footsteps in the darkness, the shrieks of the possessed, their cries of triumph. Hands groped at him through the banister rails as he forced himself upwards. They tore at his face and hands, ripping his clothes, trying to pin him down. A steel-like grip closed around his ankle and he was pulled back down the stairs. He groaned aloud as he held on to the balustrade, desperately trying to halt his descent back into the mob. Wild screams and laughter filled his head, then a voice, a voice that barely pierced the babble, but a voice he knew to be Jessica's. But the words made no sense.

'Close your eyes, Chris, close your eyes!'

The brilliant flash that lit up the hallway stung his vision and silver and red images danced beneath his closed eyelids for long seconds after. He felt himself released and heard the howls of anguish.

'Come on, Chris!' It was Kulek's voice this time. 'Up, up! While they are blinded!'

Bishop moved fast, even though dazzled; he knew which way was up. He reached the landing and fell against the facing wall, his vision still swimming with swirling lights. More hands grabbed him and he knew these were friendly.

'This way, into the bedroom,' he heard Kulek say.

Heavy footsteps came from the stairway as the blind man guided him into a nearby room and Jessica's fear-filled voice cried out, 'Close your eyes!' just before the brilliant flash froze everything into an eerie white stillness. Screams and the sounds of tumbling bodies came to them. Bishop felt rather than saw Jessica rush into the room and quickly close the door; he rubbed his eyes, trying to clear the dazzle from them.

'Quickly, we must barricade the door!' Kulek shook Bishop's arm.

Jessica locked the door, then hurried over to a heavy-looking dressing-table. 'Help me, Chris, Edith.' She began pulling it away from the wall it rested against.

Bishop blinked several times and gradually began to make out shapes in the room. Just enough light filtered through the long window-wall for him to see the two women struggling with the dressing-table. He joined them and soon the unit was up against the door.

'Let's get the bed!' Bishop shouted. They tipped it up and he was relieved to feel its heavy weight. It crashed against the dressing-table, reinforcing the barricade. Footsteps came running along the hallway and they heard movement in the room next to theirs. More running, then the footsteps stopped outside their door. The handle turned and Bishop leaned against the makeshift barricade, whispering to the others to do the same. The pounding that started made them all jump even though they were expecting it.

The door shook in its frame, but mercifully held.

'Who are they? Where have they come from?' Jessica was next to Bishop and he could just make out the white blur of her face in the gloom.

'Some of them are from the prison, I'm sure. They must have escaped in the riot.'

'But there are women among them, and other men. They're in a terrible state.'

'The missing people! It must be them! God knows how they got into that condition.'

'What condition?' asked Kulek, who was also pushing against the upturned bed.

'They're filthy, their clothes in rags. They look starved, too. The first one I tackled was as weak as a kitten.'

The banging against the door became louder as though those outside had found heavy objects to beat at the wood with.

Kulek's voice was grim. 'They were the first victims. Whatever it is that possesses them has no regard for their lives. It uses them and destroys them.'

'And the stronger are the more recent victims? Like the convicts?'

'It would seem so.'

The whole barricade trembled a fraction and Bishop knew the door lock had been broken. He dug his feet more firmly into the carpeted floor and pushed harder against the bed, one hand reaching round to steady the dressing-table behind it. He was vaguely aware that Edith Metlock had sunk to the floor and was swaying on her knees, head in her hands.

A crash from behind made them all turn sharply towards the long windows. Jessica covered her face, expecting the glass to shower inwards again, but as they watched, a black object sailed into view and smacked against the window again.

'They're throwing things at the window,' Bishop said breathlessly and was suddenly aware that the banging against the door had ceased. 'Keep pushing against the bed,' he told Jessica and her father as he crossed the room. In the gloom, he kicked something lying on the floor and he almost smiled when he saw it was a camera, a rectangular attachment fitted. Jessica had used the flashgun against the mob chasing him, blinding and stopping them with its brief but powerful light.

He reached the window just as another object crashed against it and he pulled away in reflex action. Fortunately the treated glass was extremely strong and, although a whitish crack appeared, the glass did not break. Cautiously, Bishop crept forward again and looked down into the grounds below. The bedroom overlooked the rear garden and he could see figures standing in the shadows of the shrubbery and trees. As he watched, a man began pulling at the brickwork of a low garden wall, then stepped out on to the lawn and raised the object of his efforts, his body leaning backwards for the throw. But the brick never came towards the window; it dropped from the man's fingers and thudded to the grass.

The man moved back, his gaze still on the window from where Bishop was watching; he sank into the shrubbery behind him and Bishop noticed that the other figures had now disappeared. The man became part of the shadows and then, like the others, was gone.

A movement by his side made Bishop turn his head; Edith Metlock was staring over the treetops at the city beyond. 'They're leaving,' she said simply. 'The voices have gone.'

Jessica and Kulek joined them at the window.

Bishop shook his head. 'Why should they suddenly go? We had no chance against them.'

There was a tiredness in Jacob Kulek's voice when he spoke and, as Bishop turned to him, he saw the tiredness was in his deeply lined face too. And, even as the blind man said the words, it occurred to Bishop that there was enough light to see him.

'The dawn is here,' Kulek said. 'There is a greyness in my eyes where before there was only blackness. They have fled from the morning light.'

'Thank God,' Jessica said softly as she leaned against Bishop and held on to his arm. 'Thank God it's over.'

Kulek's sightless eyes were still directed towards the approaching light, the world outside grey, almost colourless, but no longer black. 'No, it is not over. I'm afraid it has only just begun,' he said.

Part Three.

They will growl over it on that day, like the roaring of the sea, And if one look to the land, behold, darkness and distress.

and the light is darkened by its clouds.

Isaiah 5:30.

(R.S.V.).