On the Far Side of Darkness by R. C. Graham Page B

that she attended one class, returned home for a short time then went to the university library. She’s been there for nearly six hours now and is still inside.”
    “Thank you,” I say, “well done.”
    “Thank you, sir. Good night.” His job is finished for now and he hangs up. Neither of us have time to waste.
    After I replace the receiver I think for several minutes. My fury has receded somewhat. Darkness no longer fills me or directs my actions, much. I want this silly conflict to end. The reasons behind it are foolish and Ms. Richardson has not the slightest idea of what she is dealing with. Perhaps it is time she knew. If done properly, that is privately, the revelation of what I am might be enough to make her cease this stupid game. Without other witnesses Ms. Richardson won’t say a word about our confrontation.
    I head to the library. It will be open for another hour yet and that will give me time to confront her. It’s also public which will limit our actions. Nothing extreme will happen when there are likely to be others to observe what we say and do..
    Through that short journey, I work through what has happened. Most mysterious are the complete and extreme changes that Mandy can cause in her victims. I sort through all the methods by which such things can be done. Only one, that I know of, can affect a person as quickly and thoroughly as the shift I observed in Diane.
    A shudder of pain passes through me at the thought of her. It takes a major effort of will to keep myself reined in.
    I return to my thoughts, recheck my premise and conclude it is the most likely explanation. I realize I’m going to have to be very careful if I wish to survive.
    On reaching the library, I go to the front desk. There’s only one librarian on duty. After giving a description, I inquire where Ms. Richardson is.
    “I can’t tell you that, sir. We aren’t required to te…”
    I haven’t time for this. I look into her eyes and she goes blank.
    “Where is she?” I ask once more.
    “The reading room on the third floor,” comes in a flat reply.
    “Is she alone?”
    “Yes.”
    “What has she been doing?”
    “Going through our rare history section. She’s been working backwards through the last two centuries.”
    “You won’t remember I was here. Ignore me for the rest of the night.”
    “Yes,” she tells me.
    I release her and she turns away, goes back to her work.
    Once I climb to the third floor, I go to where my adversary is working. This late in the evening the level is empty. The door of the reading room is locked. As I shake my head in distaste, I place my hand on the wood and push with all of my strength. The jamb shatters and I swing the portal open. Mandy looks up with shock in her eyes, astounded at my sudden presence.
    My gaze meets those startled irises. I doubt this will work but things will be much easier if it does. I exert my power, try to grab my opponent’s mind and bend her will to me.
    My effort to mesmerize her slides past her awareness like water over metal. Some other power, as dark a mine, saturates her, makes Mandy immune to my ability to influence her mind or memories. I can tell she isn’t even aware I tried such a thing.
    It’s as I feared. So we’ll have to do this the hard way.
    Since my first gambit has failed I saunter over and place myself in a chair, just beyond her reach.
    I glance at the book she has spread on the table. It’s an old one and is turned to a reproduction of a painting. I know the work well. It was done in the early 1790’s, just before I left France for the first time. The subject of the portrait is me. The artist captured my sardonic mien, my world weary and cynical smile, perfectly.
    When I look at Ms. Richardson again, I place that expression on my face. She rapidly moves her gaze back and forth between me and my avatar. Confusion grows each time her eyes shift.
    “Oh yes, that is me.” I tell her. Her disquiet fades. Her mouth drops as my revelation