He held her a moment, patting her tousled black head with his massive,
delicate fingered hand. Then he released her, turning to Nick. "This the stuff?" he asked, brusquely, indicating the cabinet of
bottles, with its splintered front. Nick nodded. Pat sank to the chair beside the table and watched Horker
as he scanned the array of containers. He pulled out a tiny wooden case
and snapped it open to reveal a number of steel needles that glinted
brightly in the yellow light. He grunted in satisfaction and continued
his inspection. "Atropine," he muttered, reading the labeled boxes. "Cocaine, daturine,
hyoscine, hyoscyamine--won't do!" "What do you need?" the girl queried faintly. "A mild hypnotic," said the Doctor abstractedly, still searching. "Pretty good substitutes for psychoanalysis--certain drugs. Dulls the
conscious mind, but not to complete unconsciousness. Good means of
getting at the subconscious. See?" "Sort of," said Pat. "If it only works!" "Oh, it'll work if we can find--ah!" He seized a tiny cardboard box. "Scopolamine! This'll do the work." He extracted a tiny glassy something from one or other of the boxes he
held, and frowned down at it. He seized the carafe of water, plunged
something pointed and shiny into it. "Antiseptic," he muttered thoughtfully. He seized a brown bottle from
the case, held it toward the light, and shook it. "Peroxide's gone
flat," he growled. "Nothing but water." He pulled a silver cigar-lighter from his pocket and snapped a yellow
flame to it. He passed the point of the hypodermic rapidly back and
forth through the little spear of fire. Finally he turned to Nick. "Take off your coat," he ordered. "Roll up your shirt sleeve--the left
one. And sit over there." He indicated the couch along the wall. The youth obeyed without a word. The only indication of emotion was a
long, miserable, wistful look at Pat as he seated himself impassively
on the spot that the girl had so recently occupied. "Now!" said the Doctor briskly, approaching the youth. "This will make
you drowsy, sleepy. That's all it'll do. Don't fight the effect. Just
relax, let the thing take its course, and I'll see what I can get out
of you." Pat gasped and Nick winced as he drove the needle into the bared arm. "So!" he said. "Now relax. Lean back and close your eyes." He stepped to the door, dragged in a battered chair from the hall,
and occupied it. He sat beside Pat, watching the pale features of the
youth, who sat quietly with closed eyes, breathing slowly, heavily. "Long enough," muttered Horker. He raised his voice. "Can you hear me?" he called to the motionless figure on the couch. There was no response,
but Pat fancied she saw a slight change in Nick's expression. "Can you hear me?" repeated Horker in louder tones. "Yes, I can hear you," came in icy tones from the figure on the couch. Pat started violently as the voice sounded. The eyes opened, and she
saw in sudden terror the ruddy orbs of the demon! 30

The Demon Free


Pat emitted a small, startled shriek, and heard it echoed by a
surprised grunt from Dr. Horker. "Queer!" he muttered. "The stuff must be mislabeled. Scopolamine
doesn't act like this; it's a narcotic." "He's--the other!" gasped Pat, while the being on the couch grinned
sardonically. "Eh? An attack? Can't be!" The Doctor shook his head emphatically. "It's not Nick!" cried the girl in panic. "You're not, are you?" she
appealed to the grim entity. "Not your sweetheart?" queried the creature, still with his mocking
leer. "A few hours ago you were lying here all but naked, confessing
you were mine. Have you forgotten?" She shuddered at the reference, and shrank back in her chair. She heard
the Doctor's ominous, angry rumble, and the evil tittering chuckle of
the other. "Pathological or not," snapped Horker, "I can resent your remarks! I've
considered several times varying my treatment with another solid cut to
the jaw!" He rose from his chair, stamping viciously toward the other. "A moment," said Nicholas Devine. "Do you know what you've done? Have
you any idea what you've done?" He turned cool, mocking, red-glinting
eyes on the Doctor. "Huh?" Horker paused as if puzzled. "What _I've_ done? What do you
mean?" "You don't know, then." The other gave a satyric smile. "You're stupid;
I gave you the clue, yet you hadn't the intelligence to follow it. Do you know what I am?" He leaned forward, his eyes leering evilly
into the Doctor's. "I'll tell you. I'm a question of synapses. That's
all--merely a question of synapses!" He tittered again, horribly. "It
still means nothing to you, doesn't it, Doctor?" "I'll show you what it means!" Horker clenched a massive fist and
strode toward the figure, whose eyes stared, steadily, unwinkingly into
his own. "Back!" the being snapped as the great form bent over him. The Doctor
paused as if struck rigid, his arm and heavy fist drawn back like the
conventional fighting pose of a boxer. "Go back!" repeated the other,
rising. Pat whimpered in abject terror as she heard Horker's surprised
grunt, and saw him recede slowly, and finally sink into his chair. His
bewildered eyes were still fixed on those of Nicholas Devine. "I'll tell you what you've done!" said the strange being. "You've freed
me! There was nothing wrong with your scopolamine. It worked!" He
chuckled. "You drugged _him_ and freed me!" Horker managed a questioning grunt. "I'm free!" exulted the other. "For the first time I haven't _him_ to
fight! He's here, but helpless to oppose me--he's feeble--feeble!" He
gave again the horrible tittering chuckle. "See how weak the two of you
are against my unopposed powers!" he jeered. "Weaklings--food for my
pleasures!" He turned his eyes, luminous and avid, on Pat. "This time," he said,
"there'll be no interruptions. A witness to our experiment will add a
delicate touch of pleasure--"

He broke off at the Doctor's sudden movement. Horker had snatched
a glistening blue revolver from his pocket, held it leveled at the
lust-filled eyes. "Huh!" growled the Doctor triumphantly. "Do you think I come trailing a
maniac without some protection? Especially a vicious one like you?" Nicholas Devine turned his eyes on his opponent. He stared long and
intently. "Drop it!" he commanded at length. Pat felt a surge of chaotic terror
as the weapon clattered to the floor. She turned a frightened glance on
Horker's face, and her fright redoubled at the sight of his straining
jaw, the perspiration-beaded forehead, and his bewildered eyes. The
demon kicked the gun carelessly aside. "Puerile!" he said contemptuously. He backed away from them, re-seating
himself on the couch whence he had risen. He surveyed the pair in
sardonic mirth. "Pat!" muttered the Doctor huskily. "Get out of here, Honey! He's got
some hellish trick of fascination that's paralyzed me. Get out and get
help!" The girl moved as if to rise.