was buried under a smooth blanket of virgin snow, and she headed toward
the cathedral, never looking back, never, afraid of what she might see
behind her, pursued (at least in her imagination) by all the monsters
she had seen in the foyer of that brownstone apartment house earlier
tonight. The cathedral steps were hidden under deep snow, but Penny
grabbed the brass handrail and used it as a guide, stomped all the way
up the steps, suddenly wondering if the doors would be unlocked at this
late hour. Wasn’t a cathedral always open? If it was locked now, they
were dead. She went to the center-most portal, gripped the handle,
pulled, thought for a moment that it was locked, then realized it was
just a very heavy door, seized the handle with both hands, pulled harder
than before, opened the door, held it wide, turned, and finally looked
back the way she’d come.
Davey was two-thirds of the way up the steps, his breath puffing out of
him in jets of frost-white steam.
He looked so small and fragile. But he was going to make it.
Rebecca came down off the ridge of snow at the curb, onto the sidewalk,
stumbled, fell to her knees.
Behind her, two goblins reached the top of the piledup snow.
Penny screamed. “They’re coming! Hurry!”
When Rebecca fell to her knees, she heard Penny scream, and she got up
at once, but she took only one step before the two goblins dashed past
her, Jesus, as fast as the wind, a lizard-thing and a cat-thing, both of
them screeching. They didn’t attack her, didn’t nip at her or hiss,
didn’t even pause. They weren’t interested in her at all; they just
wanted the kids.
Davey was at the cathedral door now, standing with Penny, and both of
them were shouting at Rebecca.
The goblins reached the steps and climbed half of them in what seemed
like a fraction of a second, but then they abruptly slowed down, as if
they had realized they were rushing toward a holy place, although that
realization didn’t stop them altogether. They crept slowly and
cautiously from step to step, sinking half out of sight m the snow.
Rebecca yelled at Penny-“Get in the church and close the door!”-but
Penny hesitated, apparently hoping that Rebecca would somehow make it
past the goblins and get to safety herself (if the cathedral actually
was safe), but even at their slower pace the goblins were almost to the
top of the steps. Rebecca yelled again.
And again Penny hesitated. Now, moving slower by the second, the
goblins were within one step of the top, only a few feet away from Penny
and Davey . . . and now they were at the top, and Rebecca was
shouting frantically, and at last Penny pushed Davey into the cathedral.
She followed her brother and stood just inside the door for a moment,
holding it open, peering out. Moving slower still, but still moving,
the goblins headed for the door. Rebecca wondered if maybe these
creatures could enter a church when the door was held open for them,
just as (according to legend) a vampire could enter a house only if
invited or if someone held the door for him. It was probably crazy to
think the same rules that supposedly governed mythical vampires would
apply to these very real voodoo devils. Nevertheless, with new panic in
her voice, Rebecca shouted at Penny again, and she ran halfway up the
steps because she thought maybe the girl couldn’t hear her above the
wind, and she screamed at the top of her voice, “Don’t worry about me!
Close the door! Close the door!” And finally Penny closed it, although
reluctantly, just as the goblins arrived at the threshold.
The lizard-thing threw itself at the door, rebounded from it, and rolled
onto its feet again.
The cat-thing wailed angrily.
Both creatures scratched at the portal, but neither of them showed any
determination, as if they knew that, for them, this was too great a
task. Opening a cathedral door-opening the door to any holy
place-required far greater power than they possessed.
Frustrated, they turned away from the door. Looked at Rebecca. Their