The Eyes of Darkness

if I'm some sort of lunatic. You're wondering if maybe I've messed with Tina's mind."
    "Which definitely isn't the case," Tina said.
    "Right," Elliot said. "Her mind was messed up. before I ever met her."
    The joke seemed to relax Sandstone, as Elliot had hoped it would. Lunatics and just plain irrational people didn't intentionally try to amuse.
    Elliot said, "I assure you, Billy, we haven't lost our marbles. And this is a matter of life and death."
    "It really is," Tina said.
    "Okay," Billy said. "You don't have time to tell me about it now. I'll accept that. But will you tell me one day when you aren't in such a damn rush?"
    "Absolutely," Tina said. "I'll tell you everything. Just please, please, put me in a trance."
    "All right," Billy Sandstone said.
    He was wearing a gold signet ring. He turned it around, so the face of it was on the wrong side—the palm side—of his finger. He held his hand in front of Tina's eyes.
    "Keep your eyes on the ring and listen only to my voice."
    "Wait a second," she said.
    She pulled the cap off the red felt-tip pen that Elliot had purchased at the hotel newsstand just before they'd caught a taxi to Sandstone's house. Elliot had suggested a change in the color of ink, so they would be able to tell the difference between the meaningless scribbles that were already on the map and any new marks that might be made.
    Putting the point of the pen to the paper, Tina said, "Okay, Billy. Do your stuff."
    Elliot was not sure when Tina slipped under the hypnotist's spell, and he had no idea how this smooth mesmerism was accomplished. All Sandstone did was move one hand slowly back and forth in front of Tina's face, simultaneously speaking to her in a quiet, rhythmic voice, frequently using her name.
    Elliot almost fell into a trance himself. He blinked his eyes and tuned out Sandstone's melodious voice when he realized that he was succumbing to it.
    Tina stared vacantly into space.
    The hypnotist lowered his hand and turned his ring around as it belonged. "You're in a deep sleep, Tina."
    "Yes."
    "Your eyes are open, but you are in a deep, deep sleep."
    "Yes."
    "You will stay in that deep sleep until I tell you to wake up. Do you understand?"
    "Yes."
    "You will remain relaxed and receptive."
    "Yes."
    "Nothing will startle you."
    "No."
    "You aren't really involved in this. You're just the method of transmission—like a telephone."
    "Telephone," she said thickly.
    "You will remain totally passive until you feel the urge to use the pen in your hand."
    "All right."
    "When you feel the urge to use the pen, you will not resist it. You will flow with it. Understood?"
    "Yes."
    "You will not be bothered by anything Elliot and I say to each other. You will respond to me only when I speak directly to you. Understood?"
    "Yes."
    "Now . . . open yourself to whoever wants to speak through you."
    They waited.
    A minute passed, then another.
    Billy Sandstone watched Tina intently for a while, but at last he shifted impatiently in his chair. He looked at Elliot and said, "I don't think this spirit writing stuff is—"
    The map rustled, drawing their attention. The corners curled and uncurled, curled and uncurled, again and again, like the pulse of a living thing.
    The air was colder.
    The map stopped curling. The rustling ceased.
    Tina lowered her gaze from the empty air to the map, and her hand began to move. It didn't swoop and dart uncontrollably this time; it crept carefully, hesitantly across the paper, leaving a thin red line of ink like a thread of blood.
    Sandstone was rubbing his hands up and down his arms to ward off the steadily deepening chill that had gripped the room. Frowning, glancing up at the heating vents, he started to get out of his chair.
    Elliot said, "Don't bother checking the air-conditioning. It isn't on. And the heat hasn't failed either."
    "What?"
    "The cold comes from the ... spirit," Elliot said, deciding to stick with the occult terminology, not wanting to get bogged down in the real story about Danny.
    "Spirit?"
    "Yes."
    "Whose spirit?"
    "Could be anyone's."
    "Are you serious?"
    "Pretty much."
    Sandstone stared at him as if to say, You 're nuts, but are you dangerous?
    Elliot pointed to the map. "See?"
    As Tina's hand moved slowly over the paper, the corners of the map began to curl and uncurl again.
    "How is she doing that?" Sandstone asked.
    "She isn't."
    "The ghost, I suppose."
    "That's right."
    An expression of pain settled over Billy's face, as if he were suffering