‘You’re hardly that. Do friends stalk one another?’
‘Stalk!’ Ewan found this incredibly funny and slapped a thigh. ‘You haven’t seen anything.’ And he fixed Seb against his chair with his eyes alone. Eyes bloated with inebriation but shining with diabolical intent. ‘But I think you’re waking up now and getting the picture. And about time, I’d say. About time you got a bit real. If you were worried enough to run away on the beach, you’ll be quite surprised, shall we say, by what else I can do. I might show you sometime. But I wouldn’t be in any hurry to see it, if I were you. It’s not some magician’s illusion. I’d say that only a tiny handful of people in this world have ever pulled off what I can pull off.’
Seb did his best not to react to the threat and kept his voice calm. ‘What picture can I not see? I still don’t follow.’
‘Oh, don’t be coy. Some of us have spent our time a bit more wisely, instead of writing silly stories about . . . about . . .’ The drink appeared to be affecting his memory. ‘Ghosties and things. But you don’t understand what’s really out there, or here, and really close by, do you? Not really. You’re in the dark like everyone else. You don’t even know what it is that you’re trying to write about. That’s all fantasy. So I thought I’d show you something real, something special, something that requires a lot more skill than just sitting around in here, pulling some ridiculous story out of your head. Ha! And you are privileged to have seen what you have seen, but you don’t even know it. You can’t handle it. Just like I suspected. Dearie, dearie me, you really have missed the boat. But at least I’m here to help you now.’
Seb wasn’t sure whether his fear or his loathing would choke him first, but the situation felt akin to being taunted by someone who was pointing a gun at him. ‘Help me with what? I’m fine as I am.’
Ewan looked at his glass. ‘We can get into all of that later. Today, I just wanted to say hello and have a drink with an old mate. Get reacquainted before the fun begins.’
‘Fun?’
‘Oh, yes. You’ve got a lot to learn.’
‘About what?’
Ewan grinned. ‘About what’s really going on. Where it all leads.’ He gazed around the room again. ‘I thought your stuff would have a bit of edge, like I tried to show you, when I started you off, back at uni. But you’ve lost the plot.’
‘You started me off, did you?’
‘Don’t deny it.’ Ewan looked at the bookshelves. ‘You wouldn’t have written one of those books if I hadn’t helped you.’
‘I don’t think that’s—’
‘You hadn’t read anything until you met me. You didn’t know anything. Think about it. You could say that all of this –’ again his hands took in his surroundings – ‘is mostly down to me. My influence. And you’ve never acknowledged it.’
To make such a declaration would have entailed Ewan checking the acknowledgements in each of his books, as well as reading the interviews he’d given about his origins as a writer. This made Seb consider the fresh spate of trolling reviews. He wondered if Ewan had been behind those from the start. Perhaps, for years, Ewan had been maliciously harassing his books online. ‘Do you really believe that, Ewan?’
‘Believe it? It’s a fact. You’d never read Machen or Wakefield, or Aickman, Blackwood, none of the believers, until you met me. I even lent you my books. And, judging by what you’ve written, you didn’t read them all that carefully.’
Now Seb’s entire body was rigid, white and uncomfortable with suppressed rage. He stood up. ‘I’m not getting into this. I’m not debating my books with you, or anything else for that matter. But I can understand why you’re upset. It doesn’t appear that things have worked out for you, Ewan, though that has nothing to do with me. But I’m not really surprised that you’re pissed off and pissed up. Nothing’s changed there, has it? Same old resentful Ewan. But you made your bed and I have made mine, and it’s time you took off.’
‘I’ve only just arrived. I’m not ready to go yet.’ He winked and grinned his yellowy grin. ‘You must be a little dissatisfied with how it’s gone, surely?’
‘No, as a matter of fact, I—’
Ewan interrupted, raising his slurred voice. ‘Was it worth it? Not very rock and roll is it? Gadgets and baubles, trinkets! I remember you telling me how you were going to drive across America. Live in a forest in Norway. Or was it a Greek island? Have you done any of that?’
‘No. But I—’