Summary

For more than two decades, Clive Barker has twisted the worlds of horrific and surrealistic fiction into a terrifying, transcendent genre all his own. With skillful prose, he enthralls even as he horrifies; with uncanny insight, he disturbs as profoundly as he reveals. Evoking revulsion and admiration, anticipation and dread, Barker's works explore the darkest contradictions of the human condition: our fear of life and our dreams of death.

Author Biography

Clive Barker is the bestselling author of over twenty novels and collections, including Weaveworld, Imajica, and Galilee. He regularly shows his art in Los Angeles and New York, and produces and directs for both large screen and small. He lives in California with his partner.

CABAL

(196)

PART ONE LOCO

The Truth

(7)

Academy

(5)

The Rhapsodist

(7)

Necropolis

(6)

A Different Ape

(5)

Feet of Clay

(6)

PART TWO DEATH'S A BITCH

Rough Roads

(7)

Where He Fell

(5)

Touched

(6)

Sun and Shade

(14)

PART THREE DARK AGES

The Stalking Ground

(9)

Above and Below

(11)

The Prophetic Child

(6)

Tabernacle

(10)

PART FOUR SAINTS AND SINNERS

The Toll

109

(9)

Now or Never

118

(6)

Delirium

124

(10)

The Wrath of the Righteous

134

(7)

PART FIVE THE GOOD NIGHT

A Friendless Face

141

(6)

Driven

147

(6)

That Desire

153

(13)

Triumph of the Mask

166

(9)

The Harrowing

175

(10)

Cabal

185

(8)

Abide with Me

193

(4)

The Life of Death

197

(38)

How Spoilers Bleed

235

(34)

Twilight at the Towers

269

(34)

The Last Illusion

303

Supplemental Materials

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Excerpts

Chapter One: The Truth Of all the rash and midnight promises made in the name of love, none, Boone now knew, was more certain to be broken than"I'll never leave you."What time didn't steal from under your nose, circumstance did. It was useless to hope otherwise, useless to dream that the world somehow meant you good. Everything of value, everything you clung to for your sanity, would rot or be snatched in the long run, and the abyss would gape beneath you, as it gaped for Boone now, and suddenly, without so much as a breath of explanation, you were gone. Gone to hell or worse, professions of love and all.His outlook hadn't always been so pessimistic. There'd been a time -- not all that long ago -- when he'd felt the burden of his mental anguish lifting. There'd been fewer psychotic episodes, fewer days when he felt like slitting his wrists rather than enduring the hours till his next medication. There'd seemed to be a chance for happiness.It was that prospect that had won the declaration of love from him, that"I'll never leave you,"whispered in Lori's ear as they lay in the narrow bed he'd never dared hope would hold two. The words had not come in the throes of high passion. Their love life, like so much else between them, was fraught with problems. But where other women had given up on him, unforgiving of his failure, she'd persevered, told him there was plenty of time to get it right, all the time in the world. I'm with you for as long as you want me to be, her patience had seemed to say.Nobody had ever offered such a commitment, and he wanted to offer one in return. Those words -- "I'll never leave you" -- were it.The memory of them, and of her skin almost luminous in the murk of his room, and of the sound of her breathing when she finally fell asleep beside him -- all of it still had the power to catch his heart, and squeeze it till it hurt.He longed to be free of both the memory and the words, now that circumstance had taken away any hope of their fulfillment. But they wouldn't be forgotten. They lingered on to torment him with his frailty. His meager comfort was thatshe-- knowing what she must now know about him -- would be working to erase her memory; and that with time she'd succeed. He only hoped she'd understand his ignorance of himself when he'd voiced that promise. He'd never have risked this pain if he'd doubted health was finally within his grasp.Dream on!Decker had brought an abrupt end to those delusions, the day he'd locked the office door, drawn the blinds on the Alberta spring sunshine, and said, in a voice barely louder than a whisper:"Boone, I think we're in terrible trouble, you and I."He was trembling, Boone saw, a fact not easily concealed in a body so big. Decker had the physique of a man who sweated out the day's angst in a gym. Even his tailored suits, always charcoal, couldn't tame his bulk. It had made Boone edgy at the start of their work together; he'd felt intimidated by the doctor's physical and mental authority. Now it was the fallibility of that strength he feared. Decker was a Rock; he was Reason; he was Calm. This anxiety ran counter to all he knew about the man."What's wrong?" Boone asked."Sit, will you? Sit and I'll tell you."Boone did as he was told. In this office, Decker was lord. The doctor leaned back in the leather chair and inhaled through his nose, his mouth sealed in a downward curve."Tell me..." Boone said."Where to start.""Anywhere.""I thought you were getting better," Decker said, "I really did. Webothdid.""I still am," Boone said.Decker made a small shake of his head. He was a man of considerable intellect, but little of it showed on his tightly packed features, except perhaps in his eyes, which at the moment were not watching the patient, but were fixed on the table between them."You've started to talk in your sessions," Decker said, "about crimes you think