Ruler of the Realm

Ninety-nine

Henry said, ‘I don’t think I can be hypnotised, Mr Fogarty.’

Fogarty was scrabbling about in one of his tin boxes. ‘What makes you say that?’ he asked.

‘I went up on stage once when I was a little kid. The Illustrious Svengali couldn’t put me under.’

‘The Illustrious what?’ Fogarty snorted.

‘I don’t think it was his real name,’ Henry said.

‘Ah!’ Fogarty exclaimed. He dragged an old pocket watch out of the box and began to free its chain from a tangle of electrical wiring. To Henry he said, ‘Little kids aren’t all that easy – attention spans of goldfish. Might do better with you now.’

Henry watched with trepidation as Mr Fogarty liberated his watch. Despite his negative experience with the Illustrious Svengali, he had a nervous feeling Mr Fogarty might just manage it. ‘You won’t… make me do things?’ he asked.

‘Christ sake, Henry!’ Fogarty exclaimed impatiently. ‘We’ve a war on, the demons are invading, you got implanted by the Prince of Darkness and you’re worried I’ll make you stick your finger up your bum and bark like a dog? This is serious.’

‘Sorry, Mr Fogarty,’ Henry said. It didn’t matter. It probably wouldn’t work. ‘What do you want me to do?’

‘Just sit there and watch the watch.’ Fogarty began to swing the ancient timepiece on the end of its chain. ‘Let your eyes follow the watch.’

The Illustrious Svengali hadn’t used a watch. He’d just stared into people’s eyes and made peculiar hand movements. Henry hoped Mr Fogarty knew what he was doing. What happened if he did put Henry under, but couldn’t wake him up again? All the same, he did let his eyes follow the watch, which was swinging like a long, slow pendulum.

‘Heavy,’ Mr Fogarty remarked. ‘Your eyes are getting heavy…’

Henry’s eyes actually were getting heavy, but that wasn’t exactly surprising. If you kept swinging your eyes back and forth, they got tired and when they got tired, they felt heavy. Didn’t mean you were being hypnotised.

‘So heavy you can hardly keep them open,’ Mr Fogarty intoned.

Henry found his eyes were sliding shut and jerked them open wide. He knew if he let his eyes close he was in trouble. He’d watched Paul McKenna on television. They didn’t show you how he did it – probably to stop people at home getting hypnotised by accident – but his subjects always ended up with their eyes shut doing stupid stuff. When you had your eyes shut you were putty in Paul McKenna’s hands. He wasn’t sure he wanted to be putty in Mr Fogarty’s hands.

Then he remembered why they were doing this in the first place. It was important to find out what Beleth and his demons were really up to. Because there was definitely something wrong with the story they’d told Blue.

‘Heavy,’ Mr Fogarty repeated in a heavy sort of voice.

Heavy, Henry thought as his eyelids slid south again. He felt really comfortable. He’d always thought of hypnosis as a battle of wills, but it wasn’t like that with Mr Fogarty. Interesting that he’d never noticed Mr Fogarty had such a nice voice before.

‘So heavy you can’t keep them open,’ said Mr Fogarty in his nice voice.

Henry gratefully allowed his eyes to close. It didn’t really matter that his eyes were closed. Mr Fogarty might be a nut, but he was a nice nut and Henry trusted him. Sort of. No, completely. He had such a nice restful voice. And besides which, Henry wasn’t putty yet. If he wanted, he could open his eyes at any time. It was just that he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to offend Mr Fogarty by opening his eyes.

‘Falling,’ said Mr Fogarty. ‘Falling backwards into darkness, safe, warm darkness. Safe and well. Happy and relaxed.’

Henry felt safe and well, happy and relaxed. He was floating through the darkness, a safe, warm darkness inside his head that came about when you closed your eyes and listened -

‘Listen to my voice,’ Mr Fogarty droned.

Henry wasn’t under, of course. He knew that. But he didn’t want to contradict Mr Fogarty because that would be rude. Much better to float in the safe, warm darkness and let Mr Fogarty think he was asleep when actually he was wide awake and knew everything that was going on and could open his eyes whenever he wanted, even though he didn’t want to just yet.

Mr Fogarty reached across and touched his right arm. ‘Heavy arm,’ remarked Mr Fogarty; and immediately Henry’s arm felt as heavy as lead. It was very peculiar. He tried to lift it, but it was too heavy to lift.

‘But now it’s growing light,’ said Mr Fogarty. ‘Lighter than the air. So light it’s floating in the air.’

Henry almost giggled. His arm really did feel light, like a gas-filled balloon. It was lighter than the air. It wanted to float in the air. Henry relaxed and watched, eyes closed, as his arm began to move of its own accord. First it twitched, then it shifted, then it lifted. Mr Fogarty was right – it was floating in the air! How cool was that?

‘Your arm will now float of its own accord until your hand touches your face. And when your hand touches your face, you will fall at once into a deep… dreamless… sleep.’

Henry knew he wasn’t gone, of course. He was absolutely wide awake and in complete control. He could do anything he wanted, say anything he wanted. He could jump up and do a tap dance if he wanted. But best not to mention that to Mr Fogarty, who was working hard to put him under. Besides, it was interesting to sit with your arm floating in the air.

‘Deep… dreamless… sleep,’ repeated Mr Fogarty. ‘When your hand touches your face.’

There was no way at all he was going to fall into a deep, dreamless sleep. That was very obvious. Henry wasn’t sleepy, wasn’t remotely sleepy, just warm and safe and very, very relax Henry’s hand touched Henry’s face.

‘Open your eyes!’ commanded Mr Fogarty firmly.

Henry opened his eyes. Madame Cardui was standing behind Mr Fogarty – when did she come in? – and both of them were looking grave.

‘Didn’t work, eh?’ Henry remarked sympathetically.

Mr Fogarty said, ‘Beleth has implanted Blue.’