SUMMONITORES LIBRO: PART 4

Mr. Column stood beneath a suspended plant pot, positioned atop the window outside, seemingly impervious to the heavy rain that cascaded around him. Neither his scraggly shoulder-length hair nor his coat were blowing with the wind. By this point, the rain was so heavy that large pools of water had formed in dips in the shingle where cars had driven through. I could see rainwater dropping onto his shoulders as it spilled from the pot, but there appeared to be no impact splash. He stared back and shrugged, as if to suggest I should be doing something I wasn’t. Then he pointed toward the entrance, pushed his index finger against his thumb, and made a turning motion with them.

I promptly informed Mrs. Tapscott of Mr. Column's arrival and the issue with entry. Perplexed, she ventured through the double doors to the offices and reception area. Turning back, I saw Mr. Column strolling calmly to my left. Racing after Mrs. Tapscott, I joined her through the double doors to find her conversing with Mr. Column through a letterbox. A beam of sunlight pierced the darkness of the windowless entrance hall. A tingling sensation crawled across my skin.

As Mrs. Tapscott searched for light switches, Mr. Column held open the letterbox, allowing sunlight to filter in. Peering through, I could see nothing but darkness outside, despite the illumination on our side of the door. Thunder rumbled, and heavy rain continued, but Mr. Column insisted he was bathed in winter sun, even stating in bad taste that the residents' behaviours were rubbing off.

After a thorough exploration of every accessible office from the reception, Mrs. Tapscott ascended a flight of stairs, instructing me to wait in the main hall. Mr. Column decided to retreat to his car. Following orders, I settled into the reading corner of the main hall, hoping that immersing myself in a book would ward off the feeling of impending doom and swiftly pass the time until the return of the bearded man.

I had been carrying Summonitores Libro in the back of my trousers, hidden under my school blazer. Having flicked through the first three pages, my interest had been instantly piqued by the bizarre images and I decided it was worth the risk - and the wrath of my father - to sneak it out of Victoria House and get it home. I had time to have a closer look and digest some of its content. Much to my annoyance, the book was written in a foreign language.

I examined the images, most of them animals reminiscent of the kind in Dungeons and Dragons. Along with beasts from known fantasy lore, like fairies and the manticore, were demons, horned clouds, and wisps riding bulls and warthogs. The images were illustrated beautifully in black ink, the vision of each monster realised with a shading style that made them bulge from the pages. One in particular caught my attention: a strikingly beautiful woman, dark tattoos covering her bare chest and donning a crown with horns. Her body invited lust. Her eyes dared me into a touch. I ran my fingers across the image.

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