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ned at the end of its thread； following him。
'Fushing feef！' it suddenly squealed at him。
Jack screamed and clutched Richard against him with panicky； galvanic force。 His scream echoed across the high…ceilinged dining room。 Somewhere in the shadows beyond； there was a hollow metallic clank； and something laughed。
'Fushing feef； fushing FEEF！' the spider squealed； and then suddenly it scuttled back up into its web below the scrolled tin ceiling。
Heart thumping； Jack crossed the dining room and put Richard on one of the tables。 The boy moaned again； very faintly。 Jack could feel the twisted bumps under Richard's clothes。
'Got to leave you for a little while； buddy；' Jack said。
From the shadows high above： '。 。 。 I'll take 。 。 。 take good 。 。 。 good care of him you fushing 。 。 。 fushing feef 。 。 。' There was a dark； buzzing little giggle。
There was a pile of linen underneath the table where Jack had laid Richard down。 The top two or three tablecloths were slimy with mildew； but halfway through the pile he found one that wasn't too bad。 He spread it out and covered Richard with it to the neck。 He started away。
The voice of the spider whispered thinly down from the angle of the fan…blades； down from a darkness that stank of decaying flies and silk…wrapped wasps。 '。 。 。 I'll take care of him； you fushing feef 。 。 。'
Jack looked up； cold； but he couldn't see the spider。 He could imagine those cold little eyes； but imagination was all it was。 A tormenting； sickening picture came to him： that spider scuttling onto Richard's face； burrowing its way between Richard's slack lips and into Richard's mouth； crooning all the while fushing feef； fushing feef； fushing feef 。 。 。
He thought of pulling the tablecloth up over Richard's mouth as well； and discovered he could not bring himself to turn Richard into something that would look so much like a corpse…it was almost like an invitation。
He went back to Richard and stood there； indecisive； knowing that his very indecision must make whatever forces there were here very happy indeed…anything to keep him away from the Talisman。
He reached into his pocket and came out with the large dark green marble。 The magic mirror in the other world。 Jack had no reason to believe it contained any special power against evil forces； but it came from the Territories 。 。 。 and； Blasted Lands aside； the Territories were innately good。 And innate goodness； Jack reasoned； must have its own power over evil。
He folded the marble into Richard's hand。 Richard's hand closed； then fell slowly open again as soon as Jack removed his own hand。
From somewhere overhead； the spider chuffed dirty laughter。
Jack bent low over Richard； trying to ignore the smell of disease…so like the smell of this place…and murmured； 'Hold it in your hand； Richie。 Hold it tight； chum。'
'Don't 。 。 。 chum；' Richard muttered； but his hand closed weakly on the marble。
'Thanks； Richie…boy；' Jack said。 He kissed Richard's cheek gently and then started across the dining room toward the closed double doors at the far end。 It's like the Alhambra； he thought。 Dining room giving on the gardens there； dining room giving on a deck over the water here。 Double doors in both places； opening on the rest of the hotel。
As he crossed the room； he felt that dead hand pushing against him again…it was the hotel repelling him； trying to push him back out。
Forget it； Jack thought； and kept going。
The force seemed to fade almost at once。
We have other ways； the double doors whispered as he approached them。 Again； Jack heard the dim； hollow clank of metal。
You're worried about Sloat； the double doors whispered； only now it wasn't just them…now the voice Jack was hearing was the voice of the entire hotel。 You're worried about Sloat； and bad Wolfs； and things that look like goats； and basketball coaches who aren't really basketball coaches； you're worried about guns and plastic explosive and magic keys。 We in here don't worry about any of those things； little one。 They are nothing to us。 Morgan Sloat is no more than a scurrying ant。 He has only twenty years to live； and that is less than the space between breaths to us。 We in the Black Hotel care only for the Talisman…the nexus of all possible worlds。 You've e as a burglar to rob us of what is ours； and we tell you once more： we have other ways of dealing with fushing feeves like you。 And if you persist； you'll find out what they are…you'll find out for yourself。
4
Jack pushed open first one of the double doors； then the other。 The casters squealed unpleasantly as they rolled along their recessed tracks for the first time in years。
Beyond the doors was a dark hallway。 That'll go to the lobby； Jack thought。 And then； if this place really is the same as the Alhambra； I'll have to go up the main staircase one flight。
On the second floor he would find the grand ballroom。 And in the grand ballroom； he would find the thing he had e for。
Jack took one look back； saw that Richard hadn't moved； and stepped into the hallway。 He closed the doors behind him。
He began to move slowly along the corridor； his frayed and dirty sneakers whispering over the rotting carpet。
A little farther down； Jack could see another set of double doors； with birds painted on them。
Closer by were a number of meeting…rooms。 Here was the Golden State Room； directly opposite the Forty…Niner Room。 Five paces farther up toward the double doors with the painted birds was the Mendocino Room （hacked into a lower panel of the mahogany door： YOUR MOTHER DIED SCREAMING！）。 Far down the corridor…impossibly far！…was watery light。 The lobby。
Clank。
Jack wheeled around fast； and caught a glimmer of movement just beyond one of the peaked doorways in the stone throat of this corridor…
（？stones？） （？peaked doorways？）
Jack blinked uneasily。 The corridor was lined with dark mahogany panelling which had now begun to rot in the oceanside damp。 No stone。 And the doors giving on the Golden State Room and the Forty…Niner Room and the Mendocino Room were just doors； sensibly rectangular and with no peaks。 Yet for one moment he had seemed to see openings like modified cathedral arches。 Filling these openings had been iron drop…gates…the sort that could be raised or lowered by turning a windlass。 Drop…gates with hungry…looking iron spikes at the bottom。 When the gate was lowered to block the entrance； the spikes fitted neatly into holes in the floor。
No stone archways； Jack…O。 See for yourself。 Just doorways。 You saw drop…gates like that in the Tower of London； on that tour you went on with Mom and Uncle Tommy； three years ago。 You're just freaking a little； that's all 。 。 。
But the feeling in the pit of his stomach was unmistakable。
They were there； all right。 I flipped…for just a second I was in the Territories。
Clank。
Jack whirled back the other way； sweat breaking out on his cheeks and forehead； hair beginning to stiffen on the nape of his neck。
He saw it again…a flash of something metallic in the shadows of one of those rooms。 He saw huge stones as black as sin； their rough surfaces splotched with green moss。 Nasty； soft…looking albino bugs squirmed in and out of the large pores of the decaying mortar between the stones。 Empty sconces stood at fifteen… or twenty…foot intervals。 The torches that the sconces had once held were long since gone。
Clank。
This time he didn't even blink。 The world sideslipped before his eyes； wavering like an object seen through clear running water。 The walls were blackish mahogany again instead of stone blocks。 The doors were doors and not latticed…iron drop…gates。 The two worlds； which had been separated by a membrane as thin as a lady's silk stocking； had now actually begun to overlap。
And； Jack realized dimly； his Jason…side had begun to overlap with his Jack…side…some third being which was an amalgamation of both was emerging。
I don't know what that bination is； exactly； but I hope it's strong…because there are things behind those doors 。 。 。 behind all of them。
Jack began to sidle up the hallway again toward the lobby。
Clank。
This time the worlds didn't change； solid doors remained solid doors and he saw no movement。
Right behind there； though。 Right behind…
Now he heard something behind the painted double doors…written in the sky above the marsh scene were the words HERON BAR。 It was the sound of some large rusty machine that had been set in motion。 Jack swung toward
（Jason swung toward）
toward that opening door
（that rising drop…gate）
his hand plunging into
（the poke）
the pocket
（he wore on the belt of his jerkin）
of his jeans and closing around the guitar…pick Speedy had given him so long ago。
（and closing around the shark's tooth）
He waited to see what would e out of the Heron Bar； and the walls of the hotel whispered dimly： We have ways of dealing with fushing feeves like you。 You should have left while there was still time 。 。 。
。 。 。because now； little boy； your time is up。
5
Clank 。 。 。 THUD！
Clank 。 。 。 THUD！
Clank 。 。 。 THUD！
The noise was large and clumsy and metallic。 There was something relentless and inhuman about it which frightened Jack more badly than a more human sound would have done。
It moved and shuffled its way forward with its own slow idiot rhythm：
Clank 。 。 。 THUD！
Clank 。 。 。 THUD！
There was a long pause。 Jack waited； pressed against the far wall a few feet to the right of the painted doors； his nerves so tightly wound they seemed to hum。 Nothing at all happened for a long time。 Jack began to hope the clanker had fallen back through some interdimensional trapdoor and into the world it had e from。 He became aware that his back ached from his artificially still and tautly erect posture。 He slumped。
Then there was a splintering crash； and a huge mailed fist with blunt two…inch spikes sprouting from the knuckles slammed through the peeling blue sky on the door。 Jack shrank back against the wall again； gaping。
And； helplessly； flipped into the Territories。
6
Standing on the other side of the drop…gate was a figure in blackish； rusty armor。 Its cylindrical helmet was broken only by a black horizontal eye…slit no more than an inch wide。 The helmet was topped by a frowzy red plume…white bugs squirmed in and out of it。 They were the same sort； Jason saw； as those which had e out of the walls first in Albert the Blob's room and then all over Thayer School。 The helmet ended in a coif of mail which draped the rusty knight's shoulders like a lady's stole。 The upper arms and forearms were plated with heavy steel brassards。 They were joined at the elbows with cubitieres。 These were crusted with layers of ancient filth； and when the knight moved； the cubitieres squealed like the high； demanding voices of unpleasant children。
Its armored fists were crazy with spikes。
Jason stood against the stone wall； looking at it； unable in fact to look away； his mouth was dry as fever and his eyeballs seemed to be swelling rhythmically in their sockets in time to his heartbeat。
In the knight's right hand was le martel de fer…a battle…hammer with a rusty thirty…pound forged…steel head； as mute as murder。
The drop…gate； remember that the drop…gate is between you and it…
But then； although no human hand was near it； the windlass began to turn； the iron chain； each link as long as Jack's forearm； began to wind around the drum； and the gate began to rise。
7
The mailed fist was withdrawn from the door； leaving a splintered hole that changed the mural at once from faded pastoral romantic to surrealist bar…sinister： it now looked as if some apocalyptic hunter； disappointed by his day in the marshes； had put a load of birdshot through the sky itself in a fit of pique。 Then the head of the battle…hammer exploded through the door in a huge blunt swipe； obliterating one of the two herons struggling to achieve liftoff。 Jack raised his hand in front of his face to protect it from splinters。 The martel de fer was withdrawn。 There was another brief pause； al