cb.booksofblood-第10章

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


　　Elated；　the　demon　raced　through　the　house；　determined　to　capitalize　on　its　victory。　It　opened　and　slammed　every　door。　It　smashed　vases。　It　set　the　lampshades　swinging。
　　Polo　just　cleaned　up　the　cat。
　　The　Yattering　threw　itself　downstairs；　tore　up　a　pillow。　Impersonated　a　thing　with　a　limp　and　an　appetite　for　human　flesh　in　the　attic；　and　giggling。
　　Polo　just　buried　Freddy　III；　beside　the　grave　of　Freddy　II；　and　the　ashes　of　Freddy　I。
　　Then　he　retired　to　bed；　without　his　pillow。
　　The　demon　was　utterly　stumped。　If　the　man　could　not　raise　more　than　a　flicker　of　concern　when　his　cat　was　exploded　in　the　dining…room；　what　chance　had　it　got　of　ever　breaking　the　bastard？
　　There　was　one　last　opportunity　left。
　　It　was　approaching　Christ's　Mass；　and　Jack's　children　would　be　ing　home　to　the　bosom　of　the　family。　Perhaps　they　could　convince　him　that　all　was　not　well　with　the　world；　perhaps　they　could　get　their　fingernails　under　his　flawless　indifference；　and　begin　to　break　him　down。　Hoping　against　hope；　the　Yattering　sat　out　the　weeks　to　late　December；　planning　its　attacks　with　all　the　imaginative　malice　it　could　muster。
　　Meanwhile；　Jack's　life　sauntered　on。　He　seemed　to　live　apart　from　his　experience；　living　his　life　as　an　author　might　write　a　preposterous　story；　never　involving　himself　in　the　narrative　too　deeply。　In　several　significant　ways；　however；　he　showed　his　enthusiasm　for　the　ing　holiday。　He　cleared　his　daughters〃　rooms　immaculately。　He　made　their　beds　up　with　sweet…smelling　linen。　He　cleaned　every　speck　of　cat's　blood　out　of　the　carpet。　He　even　set　up　a　Christmas　tree　in　the　lounge；　hung　with　iridescent　balls；　tinsel　and　presents。
　　Once　in　a　while；　as　he　went　about　the　preparations；　Jack　thought　of　the　game　he　was　playing；　and　quietly　calculated　the　odds　against　him。　In　the　days　to　e　he　would　have　to　measure　not　only　his　own　suffering；　but　that　of　his　daughters；　against　the　possible　victory。　And　always；　when　he　made　these　calculations；　the　chance　of　victory　seemed　to　outweigh　the　risks。
　　So　he　continued　to　write　his　life；　and　waited。
　　Snow　came；　soft　pats　of　it　against　the　windows；　against　the　door。　Children　arrived　to　sing　carols；　and　he　was　generous　to　them。　It　was　possible；　for　a　brief　time；　to　believe　in　peace　on　earth。
　　Late　in　the　evening　of　the　twenty…third　of　December　the　daughters　arrived；　in　a　flurry　of　cases　and　kisses。　The　youngest；　Amanda；　arrived　home　first。　From　its　vantage　point　on　the　landing　the　Yattering　viewed　the　young　woman　balefully。　She　didn't　look　like　ideal　material　in　which　to　induce　a　breakdown。　In　fact；　she　looked　dangerous。　Gina　followed　an　hour　or　two　later；　a　smoothly…polished　woman　of　the　world　at　twenty…four；　she　looked　every　bit　as　intimidating　as　her　sister。　They　came　into　the　house　with　their　bustle　and　their　laughter；　they　re…arranged　the　furniture；　they　threw　out　the　junk…food　in　the　freezer；　they　told　each　other　（and　their　father）　how　much　they　had　missed　each　other's　pany。　Within　the　space　of　a　few　hours　the　drab　house　was　repainted　with　light；　and　fun　and　love。
　　It　made　the　Yattering　sick。
　　Whimpering；　it　hid　its　head　in　the　bedroom　to　block　out　the　din　of　affection；　but　the　shock…waves　enveloped　it。　All　it　could　do　was　sit；　and　listen；　and　refine　its　revenge。
　　Jack　was　pleased　to　have　his　beauties　home。　Amanda　so　full　of　opinions；　and　so　strong；　like　her　mother。　Gina　more　like　his　mother：　poised；　perceptive。　He　was　so　happy　in　their　presence　he　could　have　wept；　and　here　was　he；　the　proud　father；　putting　them　both　at　such　risk。　But　what　was　the　alternative？　If　he　had　cancelled　the　Christmas　celebrations；　it　would　have　looked　highly　suspicious。　It　might　even　have　spoiled　his　whole　strategy；　waking　the　enemy　to　the　trick　that　was　being　played。
　　No；　he　must　sit　tight。　Play　dumb；　the　way　the　enemy　had　e　to　expect　him　to　be。
　　The　time　would　e　for　action。
　　At　3。15　a。m。　on　Christmas　morning　the　Yattering　opened　hostilities　by　throwing　Amanda　out　of　bed。　A　paltry　performance　at　best；　but　it　had　the　intended　effect。　Sleepily　rubbing　her　bruised　head；　she　climbed　back　into　bed；　only　to　have　the　bed　buck　and　shake　and　fling　her　off　again　like　an　unbroken　colt。
　　The　noise　woke　the　rest　of　the　house。　Gina　was　first　in　her　sister's　room。
　　〃What's　going　on？〃
　　〃There's　somebody　under　the　bed。〃
　　〃What？〃　Gina　picked　up　a　paperweight　from　the　dresser　and　demanded　the　assailant　e　out。　The　Yattering；　invisible；　sat　on　the　window　seat　and　made　obscene　gestures　at　the　women；　tying　knots　in　its　genitalia。
　　Gina　peered　under　the　bed。　The　Yattering　was　clinging　to　the　light　fixture　now；　persuading　it　to　swing　backwards　and　forwards；　making　the　room　reel。
　　〃There's　nothing　there…〃
　　〃There　is。〃　Amanda　knew。　Oh　yes；　she　knew。
　　〃There's　something　here；　Gina；〃　she　said。　〃Something　in　the　room　with　us；　I'm　sure　of　it。〃
　　〃No。〃　Gina　was　absolute。　〃It's　empty。〃　Amanda　was　searching　behind　the　wardrobe　when　Polo　came　in。
　　〃What's　all　the　din？〃
　　〃There's　something　in　the　house　Daddy。　I　was　thrown　out　of　bed。〃　Jack　looked　at　the　crumpled　sheets；　the　dislodged　mattress；　then　at　Amanda。　This　was　the　first　test：　he　must　lie　as　casually　as　possible。
　　〃Looks　like　you've　been　having　nightmares；　beauty；〃　he　said；　affecting　an　innocent　smile。
　　〃There　was　something　under　the　bed；〃　Amanda　insisted。
　　〃There's　nobody　here　now。〃
　　〃But　I　felt　it。〃
　　〃Well；　I'll　check　the　rest　of　the　house；〃　he　offered；　without　enthusiasm　for　the　task。　〃You　two　stay　here；　just　in　case。〃　As　Polo　left　the　room；　the　Yattering　rocked　the　light　a　little　more。
　　〃Subsidence；〃　said　Gina。
　　It　was　cold　downstairs；　and　Polo　could　have　done　without　padding　around　barefoot　on　the　kitchen　tiles；　but　he　was　quietly　satisfied　that　the　battle　had　been　joined　in　such　a　petty　manner。　He'd　half…feared　that　the　enemy　would　turn　savage　with　such　tender　victims　at　hand。　But　no：　he'd　judged　the　mind　of　the　creature　quite　accurately。　It　was　one　of　the　lower　orders。　Powerful；　but　slow。　Capable　of　being　inveigled　beyond　the　limits　of　its　control。　Carefully　does　it；　he　told　himself；　carefully　does　it。
　　He　traipsed　through　the　entire　house；　dutifully　opening　cupboards　and　peering　behind　the　furniture；　then　returned　to　his　daughters；　who　were　sitting　at　the　top　of　the　stairs。　Amanda　looked　small　and　pale；　not　the　twenty…two…year…old　woman　she　was；　but　a　child　again。
　　〃Nothing　doing；〃　he　told　her　with　a　smile。　〃It's　Christmas　morning　and　all　through　the　house…〃　Gina　finished　the　rhyme。
　　〃Nothing　is　stirring；　not　even　a　mouse。〃
　　〃Not　even　a　mouse；　beauty。〃　At　that　moment　the　Yattering　took　its　cue　to　fling　a　vase　off　the　lounge　mantelpiece。
　　Even　Jack　jumped。
　　〃Shit；〃　he　said。　He　needed　some　sleep；　but　quite　clearly　the　Yattering　had　no　intention　of　letting　them　alone　just　yet。
　　〃Che　sera；　sera；〃　he　murmured；　scooping　up　the　pieces　of　the　Chinese　vase；　and　putting　them　in　a　piece　of　newspaper。　〃The　house　is　sinking　a　little　on　the　left　side；　you　know；〃　he　said　more　loudly。　〃It　has　been　for　years。〃
　　〃Subsidence；〃　said　Amanda　with　quiet　certainty；　〃would　not　throw　me　out　of　my　bed。〃　Gina　said　nothing。　The　options　were　limited。　The　alternatives　unattractive。
　　〃Well；　maybe　it　was　Santa　Claus；〃　said　Polo；　attempting　levity。
　　He　parcelled　up　the　pieces　of　the　vase　and　wandered　through　into　the　kitchen；　certain　that　he　was　being　shadowed　every　step　of　the　way。　〃What　else　can　it　be？〃　He　threw　the　question　over　his　shoulder　as　he　stuffed　the　newspaper　into　the　waste　bin。　〃The　only　other　explanation…〃　here　he　became　almost　elated　by　his　skimming　so　close　to　the　truth；　〃the　only　other　possible　explanation　is　too　preposterous　for　words。〃　It　was　an　exquisite　irony；　denying　the　existence　of　the　invisible　world　in　the　full　knowledge　that　even　now　it　breathed　vengefully　down　his　neck。
　　〃You　mean　poltergeists？〃　said　Gina。
　　〃I　mean　anything　that　goes　bang　in　the　night。　But；　we're　grown…up　people　aren't　we？　We　don't　believe　in　Bogeymen。〃
　　〃No；〃　said　Gina　flatly；　〃I　don't；　but　I　don't　believe　the　house　is　subsiding　either。〃
　　〃Well；　it'll　have　to　do　for　now；〃　said　Jack　with　nonchalant　finality。　〃Christmas　starts　here。　We　don't　want　to　spoil　it　talking　about　gremlins；　now　do　we。〃　They　laughed　together。
　　Gremlins。　That　surely　bit　deep。　To　call　the　Hell…spawn　a　gremlin。
　　The　Yattering；　weak　with　frustration；　acid　tears　boiling　on　its　intangible　cheeks；　ground　its　teeth　and　kept　its　peace。
　　There　would　be　time　yet　to　beat　that　atheistic　smile　off　Jack　Polo's　smooth；　fat　face。　Time　aplenty。　No　half…measures　from　now　on。　No　subtlety。　It　would　be　an　all　out　attack。
　　Let　there　be　blood。　Let　there　be　agony。　They'd　all　break。
　　
　　Amanda　was　in　the　kitchen；　preparing　Christmas　dinner；　when　the　Yattering　mounted　its　next　attack。　Through　the　house　drifted　the　sound　of　King's　College　Choir；　〃0　Little　Town　of　Bethlehem；　how　still　we　see　thee　lie。　。　。〃　The　presents　had　been　opened；　the　G　and　T's　were　being　downed；　the　house　was　one　warm　embrace　from　roof　to　cellar。
　　In　the　kitchen　a　sudden　chill　permeated　the　heat　and　the　steam；　making　Amanda　shiver；　she　crossed　to　the　window；　which　was　ajar　to　clear　the　air；　and　closed　it。　Maybe　she　was　catching　something。
　　The　Yattering　watched　her　back　as　she　busied　herself　about　the　kitchen；　enjoying　the　domesticity　for　a　day。　Amanda　felt　the　stare　quite　clearly。　She　turned　round。　Nobody；　nothing。　She　continued　to　wash　the　Brussels　sprouts；　cutting　into　one　with　a　worm　curled　in　the　middle。　She　drowned　it。
　　The　Choir　sang　on。
　　In　the　lounge；　Jack　was　laughing　with　Gina　about　something。
　　Then；　a　noise。　A　rattling　at　first；　followed　by　a　beating　of　somebody's　fists　against　a　door。　Amanda　dropped　the　knife　into　the　bowl　of　sprouts；　and　turned　from　the　sink；　following　the　sound。　It　was　getting　louder　all　the　time。　Like　something　locked　in　one　of　the　cupboards；　desperate　to　escape。　A　cat　caught　in　the　box；　or　a…Bird。
　　It　was　ing　from　the　oven。
　　Amanda's　stomach　turned；　as　she　began　to　imagine　the　worst。
　　Had　she　locked　something　in　the　oven　when　she'd　put　in　the　turkey？　She　called　for　her　father；　as　she　snatched　up　the　oven　cloth　and　stepped　towards　the　cooker；　which　was　rocking　with　the　panic　of　its　prisoner。　She　had　visions　of　a　basted　cat　leaping　out　at　her；　its　fur　burned　off；　its　flesh　half…cooked。
　　Jack　was　at　the　kitchen　door。
　　〃There's　something　in　the　oven；〃　she　said　to　him；　as　though　he　needed　telling。　The　cooker　was　in　a　frenzy；　its　thrashing　contents　had　all　but　beaten　off　the　door。
　　He　took　the　oven　cloth　from　her。　This　is　a　new　one；　he　thought。　You're　better　than　I　judged　you　to　be。　This　is　clever。　This　is　original。
　　Gina　was　in　the　kitchen　now。
　　〃What's　cooking？〃　she　quipped。
　　But　the　joke　was　lost　as　the　cooker　began　to　dance；　and　the　pans　of　boiling　water　were　twitched　off　the　burners　on　to　the　floor。　Scalding　water　seared　Jack's　leg。　He　yelled；　stumbling　back　into　Gina；　before　diving　at　the　cooker　with　a　yell　that　wouldn't　have　shamed　a　Samurai。
　　The　oven　handle　was　slippery　with　heat　and　grease；　but　he　seized　it　and　flung　the　door　down。
　　A　wave　of　steam　and　blistering　heat　rolled　out　of　the　oven；　smelling　of