"Right. She's a Westphalen. Someday when we have lots of time, I'll explain it to you."
"When will it all end?"
"Tonight, if things go right."
"Dangerous?”
"Naw. Routine stuff." He didn't want to add to her worries.
“Jack..." She paused and he thought he detected a quaver in her voice. "Be careful, Jack."
She would never know how much those words meant to him.
"Always careful. I like my body in one piece. See you later.”
He didn't hang up. Instead he depressed the plunger for a few seconds, then released it. After checking for the dial tone, he stuffed the receiver under the seat cushion of his chair. It would start howling in a few minutes, but no one would hear that...and no one could call and wake Kolabati. With luck, he could take care of Kusum, get back here and replace the necklace without her ever knowing he’d taken it. And with considerably more luck, she might not ever know for sure that he had anything to do with the fiery explosion that took her brother and his rakoshi to a watery grave.
He picked up his variable frequency beeper and hurried down to the street, intending to head immediately for the Isher Sports Shop. But as he passed the alley, he paused. He had no time to spare, yet he could not resist viewing the remains of the Mother rakosh.
A jolt of panic shot through him when he saw no corpse in the alley. Then he came upon the smoldering pile of ashes. The fire had completely consumed the Mother, leaving only her fangs and talons. He picked up a few of each—still hot—and shoved them in his pocket. Someday he might want to prove to himself that he’d really faced something called a rakosh.
24
Gia cradled the phone and thought about what Jack had said about all this being over tonight.
She fervently hoped so. If only Jack weren't so evasive about everything. What was he hiding? Something he was afraid to tell her? God, she hated this. She wanted to be home in her own little apartment in her own bed with Vicky down the hall in hers.
Gia started back toward the bedroom and then stopped. She was wide awake. No use trying to go back to sleep just yet. She pulled the bedroom door closed, then searched through the kitchen for something to drink. The MSG in Chinese food always left her thirsty. When she came across the box of tea bags she grabbed them. With the kettle on, she spun the television dial looking for something to watch. Nothing but old movies...
The kettle started to boil. Gia made a cup of tea and sugared it, filled a tall glass with ice, and poured the tea over the ice. There: iced tea. Needed some lemon, but this would do.
As she approached the couch with her drink she caught a rotten odor. Just a whiff and it was gone. Something oddly familiar about it. If she could catch it again, she was sure she could identify it. She waited but it didn't return.
Gia turned her attention to the television. Citizen Kane was on. She hadn't seen that one in ages. It made her think of Jack...how he'd go on and on about Welles's use of light and shadow throughout the film. He could be a real pain when you just wanted to sit and watch a movie.
She sat and sipped her tea.
25
Vicky shot up to a sitting position in bed.
"Mommy?" she called softly.
She trembled with fear. She was alone. And there was an awful, pukey smell. She glanced at the window. Something they’re...outside the window. The screen had been pulled out. That's what had awakened her.
A hand—or something that looked like a hand but really wasn't—slipped over the windowsill. Then another. The dark shadow of' a head rose into view and two glowing yellow eyes trapped her and pinned her where she sat in mute horror. The thing crawled over the ledge and flowed into the room like a snake.
Vicky opened her mouth to scream out her horror but something moist and hard and stinking jammed against her face, cutting off her voice. A hand, but like no hand she’d ever imagined. Only be three fingers—three huge fingers—and the taste of the palm against her lips brought what was left of her Chinese dinner boiling to the back of her throat.
As she fought to get free, she caught a fleeting close-up glimpse of what held her—the smooth, blunt-snouted face, the fangs showing above the scarred lower lip, the glowing yellow eyes…every fear of what's in the closet or what's in that shadowed corner, every bad dream, every night horror rolled into one.
She had to get away! Tears of fear and revulsion streamed down her face. After an instant of paralyzed panic she kicked and twisted convulsively, clawed with her fingernails—nothing she did seemed to matter in the slightest. She was lifted like a toy and carried to the window—
—and out! They were twelve floors up! Mommy! They were going to fall!
But they didn't fall. Using its free hand and its clawed feet, the monster crawled down the wall like a spider. Then it was running along the ground, through parks, down alleys, across streets. The grip across her mouth loosened but Vicky was clutched so tightly against the monster's flank that she couldn't scream—could barely breathe.
"Please don't hurt me!" she whispered into the night. "Please don't hurt me!"
Vicky didn't know where they were or what direction they were traveling. Her mind could barely function through the haze of terror that enveloped it. But soon she heard the lapping sound of water, smelled the river. The monster leaped, they seemed to fly for an instant, and then water closed over them. She couldn't swim!
Vicky screamed as they plunged beneath the waves and gulped a mouthful of foul, brackish water. She broke the surface choking and retching. Her throat was locked—air all around her but she couldn't breathe! Finally, when she thought she was going to die, her windpipe opened and air rushed into her lungs.
She opened her eyes. The monster had slung her onto its back and was now cutting through the water. She clung to the slick, slimy skin of its shoulders. Her pink nightie was plastered to her goose-fleshed skin, her hair hung in her eyes. Cold, wet, and miserable with terror, she wanted to jump off and get away from the monster, but knew she'd go down under that water and never come back up.
Why was this happening to her? She'd been good. Why did this monster want her?
Maybe it was a good monster, like in that book she had, Where the Wild Things Are. It hadn't hurt her. Maybe it was taking her someplace to show her something.
She looked around and recognized the Manhattan skyline off to her right, but something sat between them and Manhattan. Dimly she remembered the island—Roosevelt Island—in the river at the end of Aunt Nellie's and Grace's street.
Were they going to swim around it and go back to Manhattan? Was the monster going to take her back to Aunt Nellie's?
No. They passed the end of the island, but the monster didn't turn toward Manhattan. It kept swimming in the same direction down river. Vicky shivered and began to cry.
26
Gia's chin dropped forward onto her chest and she awoke with a start. Only half an hour into the movie and already she was nodding off. She wasn't nearly as wide awake as she’d thought. She flicked it off and went back to the bedroom.
Fear stabbed her like a knife in the ribs as she opened the door. A rotten odor filled the room. Now she recognized it—the same stench as in Nellie's room the night she disappeared.
Her gaze shot to the bed and her heart stopped when she saw no familiar little lump of curled-up child under the covers.
"Vicky?" Her voice cracked as she said the name and turned on the light. She has to be here!
Without waiting for an answer, Gia rushed to the bed and pulled down the covers.
"Vicky?" Her voice was almost a whimper. She's here—she has to be!
She ran to the closet and fell to her knees, checking the floor with her hands. She found only Vicky's Ms. Jelliroll Carry Case. Next she crawled over to the bed and looked under it. No Vicky there either.