In the shadow-crowded room, on the bed, Lavelle breathed deeply and
rapidly. In fact, he was panting like an animal.
His hands were curled at his sides, fingers hooked and rigid, as if they
were talons. For the most part, his hands were still, but now and then
they erupted in sudden violent movement, striking at the empty air or
clawing frantically at the sheets.
He shivered almost continuously. Once in a while, he jerked and
twitched as if an electric current had snapped through him; on these
occasions, his entire body heaved up, off the bed, and slammed back
down, making the mattress springs squeal in protest.
Deep in a trance, he was unaware of these spasms.
He stared straight up, eyes wide, seldom blinking, but he wasn’t seeing
the ceiling or anything else in the room.
He was viewing other places, in another part of the city, where his
vision was held captive by the eager pack of small assassins with which
he had established psychic contact.
He hissed.
Groaned.
Gnashed his teeth.
He jerked, flopped, twisted.
Then lay silent, still.
Then clawed the sheets.
He hissed so forcefully that he sprayed spittle into the dark air around
him.
His legs suddenly became possessed. He drummed his heels furiously upon
the mattress.
He growled in the back of his throat.
He lay silent for a while.
Then he began to pant. He sniffed. Hissed again.
He smelled the girl. Penny Dawson. She had a wonderful scent. Sweet.
Young. Fresh. Tender.
He wanted her.
Faye opened the door, saw Jack’s revolver, gave him a startled look, and
said, “My God, what’s that for?
What’re you doing? You know how I hate guns. Put that thing away.”
From Faye’s demeanor as she stepped back to let them in, Jack knew the
kids were all right, and he sagged a little with relief. But he said,
“Where’s Penny?
Where’s Davey? Are they okay?”
Faye glanced at Rebecca and started to smile, then realized what Jack
was saying, frowned at him, and said, “Okay? Well, of course, they’re
okay. They’re perfectly fine. I might not have kids of my own, but I
know how to take care of them. You think I’d let anything happen to
those two little monkeys? For heaven’s sake, Jack, I don’t-”
“Did anyone try to follow you back here from the school? ” he asked
urgently.
“And just what was all that nonsense about, anyway? ” Faye demanded.
“It wasn’t nonsense. I thought I made that clear. Did anyone try to
follow you? You did look out for a tail, like I told you to-didn’t you,
Faye?”
“Sure, sure, sure. I looked. No one tried to follow me. And I don’t
think-”
They had moved out of the foyer, into the living room, while they had
been talking. Jack looked around, didn’t see the kids.
He said, “Faye, where the hell are they?”
“Don’t take that tone, for goodness sake. What are you-”
“Faye, damnit!”
She recoiled from him. “They’re in the guest room.
With Keith,” she said quickly and irritably. “They were put to bed at
about a quarter past nine, just as they should have been, and we thought
they were just about sound asleep when all of a sudden Penny screamed-”
“Screamed? ”
“-and said there were rats in their room. Well, of course, we don’t
have any-”
Rats!
Jack bolted across the living room, hurried along the short hall, and
burst into the guest room.
The bedside lamps, the standing lamp in the corner and the ceiling light
were all blazing.
Penny and Davey were standing at the foot of one of the twin beds, still
in their pajamas. When they saw Jack, they cried out happily-“Daddy!
Daddy!”-and ran to him, hugged him.
Jack was so overwhelmed at finding them alive and unhurt, so grateful,
that for a moment he couldn’t speak. He just grabbed hold of them and
held them very tightly.
In spite of all the lights in the room, Keith Jamison was holding a
flashlight. He was over by the dresser holding the flash above his
head, directing the beam into the darkness beyond the vent plate that
covered the outlet in the heating duct. He turned to Jack, frowning,