"You!" sneered the genius."O shadow-being of a mortal's irrational fancy, I can erase you with a wink. Behold!" Tukiphat waved his hand, and the super-Stark was hoisted six feet into the air."Interfere not, and fear not for this temerarious imbecile's safety. Tukiphat is above such petty vengeance. Now, Jean-Prosper de Nash or whatever you call yourself, answer me truly, for the fate of your plane may depend on your veracity. Where is the Star of Wisdom?"
"Far as I know it's on the mundane plane," said Nash. This being might have too many inherent, built-in powers to monkey with."I sent my girl friend down there with it when the Aryans cornered us, and I guess she looked up my friend Monty Stark as I told her to, and he imagined this fellow and his army."
Tukiphat snorted."Well enough, but tell me not that you stole the Stone of Sages merely to have it handy in such emergencies. What seduced you to this mad enterprise?"
"Well, you see, I've really got a mundane soul; the demon Bechard stole my mundane body—"
"Demon? Bechard?" Tukiphat gave a groan at which the whole field trembled slightly."Pater Omnipotens! Mean you that a demon is on the same plane as the Shamir?"
"Looks that way. He told me to get it for him, or else."
"Quickly, the rest of your tale!"
Nash told him. Tukiphat went through the motions of tearing nonexistent hair."I might have "known! Should Bechard obtain the jewel, your plane will be overrun with demons and your people enslaved or wiped out!"
"But... why... what—"
"Since Lerajie became their ruler, they have been incubating a plot to obtain more living space, as they put it. Bechard will bring his whole host in, body and soul, by means of the Shamir."
"Gosh! But my mag... I was told the Shamir only transports one at a time."
"Child of unwisdom, among demons the one is many and the many are one. 'Bechard' is but the name of a legion, all as alike as so many belocoli. But I will not burden your so-called mind with the metaphysics thereof. We must act quickly, if it be not already too late!"
Chapter XVI.
Tukiphat bent over, extended a bony finger, and drew a circle in the earth. He added an ellipse, a couple of crosses, and a labarum; then sketched a smaller diagram tangent to the first. He did not seem perturbed by the fact that, because Of the weeds, his pentacles lacked something of clarity.
"I conjure thee, Bechard, and constrain thee, in like manner, by the most holy names of God: Eloi, Adonai, Eloi, Agla, Samalbactai; come without delay or evasion! Do thou obey me and fulfill my commands, by the nut and the moon! Come, Bechard!"
And there was the demon in the smaller pentacle, looking smaller than Nash remembered. Bechard was a little flickery around the edges, and there was something very peculiar about his manner.
"Wazzis?" muttered Bechard.
Tukiphat shouted: "Answer my questions truly and in a seemly manner, O Bechard, else I will torment thee with the holy words—"
"Questions? Regret. Got a hangover. Can't answer."
"Tagla in Oarios, Almoazin on Membrot!"
"Ouch!" said Bechard. Then, sulkily: "Don't know anything. Go peddle your papers—"
"Sulphae, Gabots, and Zariatnatmik!"
"Ow! All right, you big bully. Ask away."
"Where is the Shamir?"
"Shush-shamir? Dunno. Told young gentleman to get. Lessee." Bechard moved his head as if peering blearily."That young gentleman! Ho, you, Prasper Nosh, where ish Samir?"
"Be silent!" snapped Tukiphat. Bechard sat down in the center of his pentacle and covered his face with his hands. Tukiphat turned a worried look on Nash."I cannot destroy him and I cannot release him. He will be dangerous unless translated back to the demoniac plane, and that will require a double exorcism. Not even I can be on two planes at once."
Bechard looked up and pointed a wobbly finger at Nash."Young gentleman's maindun... mundane body. Die. In coma. Heh. Good joke on you."
"What?" yelled Nash.
"It is true," said Tukiphat."Your mundane body, having now no tenant, is in coma and will soon die."
Nash began to dance with alarm."Hey, can't you—"
"A matter of no importance, O Nash, compared with this. Interrupt me not; I must cerebrate—"
"Hey!" cried Nash."Isn't your trouble that you've got to have an exorcist ready to catch Bechard when he reaches the mundane plane, and give him the yeo-heave-ho down to the demoniac plane?"
"True, but—"
"Well, what's wrong with me?"
"You! O worm who would be an eagle—"
"I mean it! You exorcise me back into my own body, and then send Bechard—"
"What, a mere— O boy, perhaps I misjudge you. It could be... but you are no exorcist! And, lacking the Shamir, I cannot send any material object with you. You could not remember the details of the spell, without a writing—"
"Sure I could! Remembering details is the one thing I am good at! I carry all my addresses and phone numbers in my head—"
"So be it, then!" Tukiphat rapidly dictated instructions for drawing the pentacles and pronouncing the exorcism that would pitch Bechard back to that dark region from which he had come.
"One more thing," said the genius."As soon as you have disposed of Bechard, seek out your Alicia Woodson and instruct her to return to this plane at once with the Shamir, lest such a catastrophe threaten the harmony of the spheres again!"
"But," protested Nash, "I'm in love with the gal-"
"That, O youth, is your misfortune. It must be, lest worse befall. Change not your mind, for I can conjure your spirit back hither as easily as Bechard's. And now farewell; the grace of Adonai Elohim go with you—"
It seemed to Nash that Tukiphat had hardly begun the exorcism when he felt again that terrible rushing, falling sensation—
He was lying, dressed, on a rumpled bed. His mouth tasted like nothing in heaven or earth or the waters under the earth.
He blinked sticky eyelids, pulled himself up with cricks and twinges, and fumbled for his glasses.
Gosh, Bechard must have taken his body on a rare bender!
There was something he had to do—the exorcism!
He looked around his narrow room. Chalk— none. A pencil? Might; might not. Soap!
He drew the pentacles with a piece of soap and stood in the larger one, waiting.
He waited a long time, or so it seemed until he looked at the clock. It was quarter of ten; he had been waiting ten minutes. No doubt Tukiphat was allowing him plenty of time to get ready. Did he remember the exorcism? Sure!
"Whass the idea? Mundane plane, astral plane, can't let a poor demon rest—"
There the spook was. Nash shouted: "I exorcise thee, Bechard, by the holy names—" He raced through it in half the time it had taken Tukiphat to give it to him—and Bechard went out like a match-flame.
Nash drew a long breath. He felt his unshaven chin, and tried to raise Monty Stark on the telephone.
No answer. Monty would have left for school long before.
Nash looked distastefully at his rumpled suit, then at himself in the mirror. The face was pale and puffy; the eyes bloodshot. But it was at least his own face. He'd almost forgotten what it looked like.
He went downstairs, and sighted Robert S, Lanby at the cashier's window. He said; "Hi, Bob!"
Lanby looked at him, without surprise but still a little oddly, in fact with a suggestion of horror.
Then Nash remembered."It's O. K., Bob. I'm me again. Say, what happened to you?" He had observed that Lanby had a dark stain down the side of his face.
"I... uh... you better ask Monty. All I know is a girl that looked like Alice came in here just after I went on duty. She was wearing some sort of pajamas under her coat, and she was panting as if she'd run a mile, and she asked to see Monty.