Weaveworld by Clive Barker

looked, and how dangerous the shark they’d invited into their midst.
    But what would they do, when he’d shouted himself hoarse? Laugh behind their hands, and quietly remind each other that he had a madman’s blood in his veins?
    He’d find no allies here. This was Shadwell’s territory. The safest thing would be to keep his head down, and negotiate a route to the door. Then get away, as far as possible as fast as possible.
    He acted upon the plan immediately. Thanking God for the lack of light, he began to slip between the dancers, keeping his eyes peeled for the man with the coat of many colours.
    There was a shout behind him. He glanced round, and through the milling figures caught sight of Elroy, who was thrashing about like an epileptic, yelling blue murder. Somebody was calling for a doctor.
    Cal turned back towards the door, and the shark was suddenly at his side.
    ‘Calhoun.’ said Shadwell, soft and low. ‘Your father told me I’d find you here.’
    Cal didn’t reply to Shadwell’s words, merely pretended he hadn’t heard. The Salesman wouldn’t dare do anything violent in such a crowd, surely, and he was safe from the man’s jacket as long as he kept his eyes off the lining.
    ‘Where are you going?’ Shadwell said, as Cal moved off. ‘I want a word with you’
    Cal kept walking.
    ‘We can help each other …’
    Somebody called Cal’s name, asking him if he knew what was wrong with Elroy. He shook his head, and forged on through the crowd towards the door. His plan was simple. Tell the bouncers to find Geraldine’s father, and have Shadwell thrown out.
    ‘… tell me where the carpet is,’ the Salesman was saying, ‘and I’ll make sure her sisters never get their hands on you.’ His manner was placatory. ‘I’ve no argument with you,’ he said. ‘I just want some information.’
    ‘I told you,’ said Cal, knowing even as he spoke that any appeal was a lost cause. ‘I don’t know where the carpet went.’
    They were within a dozen yards of the vestibule now, and with every step they took Shadwell’s courtesy decayed further.
    ‘They’ll drain you dry,’ he warned. ‘Those sisters of hers. And I won’t be able to stop them, not once they’ve got their hands on you. They’re dead, and the dead don’t take discipline.’
    ‘Dead?’
    ‘Oh yes. She killed them herself, while the three of them were still in the womb. Strangled them with their own cords.’
    True or not, the image was sickening. And more sickening still, the thought of the sisters’ touch. Cal tried to put both from his mind as he advanced, Shadwell still at his side. All pretence to negotiation had vanished; there were only threats now.
    ‘You’re a dead man. Mooney, if you don’t confess. I won’t lift a finger to help you –’
    Cal was within hailing distance of the men.
    He shouted across to them. They broke off their drinking, and turned in his direction.
    ‘What’s the problem?’
    ‘This man –’ Cal began, looking towards Shadwell.
    But the Salesman had gone. In the space of seconds he’d left Cal’s side and melted into the crowd, an exit as skilful as his entrance.
    ‘Got some trouble?’ the bigger of the two men wanted to know.
    Cal glanced back at the man, fumbling for words. There was no use his trying to explain, he decided.
    ‘No …’ he said, ‘… I’m all right. I just need some air.’
    ‘Too much to drink?’ said the other man, and stood aside to let Cal step out into the street.
    It was chilly after the suffocation of the hall, but that was fine by Cal. He breathed deeply, trying to clear his head. Then, a familiar voice.
    ‘Do you want to go home?’
    It was Geraldine. She was standing a short way from the door, a coat draped over her shoulders.
    ‘I’m all right,’ he told her. ‘Where’s your father?’
    ‘I don’t know. Why do you want him?’
    ‘There’s somebody in there who shouldn’t be,’ said Cal, crossing to where she stood. To his drunken gaze