terrified either to cry or shake, in a storm’s-eye calm, cradling her
injured hand in the other, she had to find room in her for a sense of
wonder too. Thomas?
Psychically gifted? Could it be true that all the time she worried
about taking care of him, he was to some extent taking care of her?
She heard a strange sound approaching from the front of the house. A
moment later, at least twenty cats poured into the kitchen through the
hall doorway, tails sweeping over one another.
Among the pack came the Pollard twins, long-legged and barefoot, one in
panties and a red T-shirt, the other in panties and a white T-shirt, as
sinuous as their cats. They were as pale as spirits, but there was
nothing soft or ineffectual about them. They were lean and vital,
filled with that tightly coiled energy that you always knew was in a cat
even when it appeared to be lazing in the sun. They were ethereal in
some ways, yet at the same time earthy and strong, powerfully sensual.
Their I presence in the house must have cranked up the unnatural
tensions in their brother, who was dolibly male in the matter testes but
lacking the crucial valve that would have allow release.
They approached the table. One of them stared down Julie, while the
other hung on her sister and averted her ey The bold one said,
“Are you Candy’s girlfriend?” Thereunmistakable mockery of her brother
in the question.
–you shut up,” Candy said.
“If you’re not his girlfriend,” the bold one said, in a voice as soft as
rustling silk,
“you could come upstairs with us, have a bed, the cats wouldn’t mind,
and I think I’d like you
“Don’t you talk like that in your mother’s house,” Candy said fiercely.
His anger was real, but Julie could see that he was also more than a
little unnerved by his sister.
Both women, even the shy one, virtually radiated wildn as if they might
do anything that occurred to them, regard! of how outrageous, without
compunctions or inhibitions.
Julie was nearly as scared of them as she was of Candy From the front of
the moldering house, echoing ahoveroar of the rain on the roof, came a
knocking.
As one, the cats dashed from the kitchen, down the hall the front door,
and less than a minute later they returned escort to Bobby and Frank.
ENTERING THE KITCHEN, Bobby was overcome with gra tude-to God, even to
Candy-at the sight of Julie alive. She was haggard, gaunt with fear and
pain, but she had never looked more beautiful to him.
She had never been so subdued, either, or so unsure of herself, and in
spite of the banshee chorus of emotions that roar and shrieked in him,
he found capacity to contain a separ sadness and anger about that.
Though he was still hoping that Frank would come through for him, Bobby
had been prepared to use his revolver if worst came to worst or if an
unexpected advantage presented itself, But as soon as he walked in the
room, the madman said,
” move your gun from your holster and empty the cartridges of it.” As
Bobby had entered, Candy had moved behind the chair in which Julie sat,
and had put one hand on her throat, his fingers hooked like talons.
Inhumanly strong as he was, he could no doubt tear her throat out in a
second or two, even though he lacked real talons.
Bobby withdrew the Smith & Wesson from his shoulder holster, handling it
in such a way as to demonstrate that he had no intention of using it. He
broke out the cylinder, shook the five cartridges onto the floor, and
put the revolver down on a nearby counter.
Candy Pollard’s excitement grew visibly second by second, from the
moment Bobby and Frank appeared. Now he removed his hand from Julie’s
throat, stepped away from her, and glared triumphantly at Frank.
As far as Bobby could tell, it was a wasted glare. Frank was there in
the kitchen with them-but not there. If he was aware of everything that
was happening and understanding the meaning of it, he was doing a good