Peculiar Tales Read Free Page A

straight ahead.
    We didn’t say much to one another after that, but instead drove deeper into the night. It took a couple of hours before either of us calmed down enough to trust our thoughts to words.
    “I’m sorry you had to go through that, Mr. Barrow.”
    “Please, call me Creighton.”
    “Yes...Creighton. It must have been an awful experience for you.”
    “You aren’t just whistling Dixie, baby! What in the hell was that all about?”
    “I guess it was pretty much what Helsinki told you—I was listening at the door, I confess. He was a monomaniac...and a megalomaniac at the same time. A pretty bad combination, I guess.”
    “I guess.”
    “Well, anyway, I was practically a prisoner back there. He...he’d taken me in when my parents were killed.”
    “I’m sorry...”
    “I’m pretty sure he killed them, too.”
    “What? Why?”
    “He’s...he was a collector. I suppose I was just one more specimen for him. I guess he must have thought I was beautiful.”
    She was all of that, all right. For all that he was a nut of the first order, I couldn’t fault him on his taste. I stole a quick glance toward the girl, just to confirm my conclusion that she was the most perfectly beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
    We drove along like that for hours, not saying much at all. I started to slow down and pay attention to where I was going as my nerves got back to normal. And as these things happened, I became more and more aware of the girl sitting quietly next to me. I was aware of the almost phosphorescent quality of her pale skin, which was the color of a cup of cream with a single drop of blood stirred into it, of the way her black hair glistened in the light of passing cars and street lamps, but mostly of that sweet, musky scent she had. It was almost unpleasant but never quite crossed that line. Instead, it seemed to get into my head like one of those tunes you hear and can’t shake for days.
    “It must be nearly dawn,” she said. They were the first words she’d spoken in hours and the sound of her voice startled me. I’d forgotten how husky and sibilant it was...or maybe I’d never noticed before. She was right, though. Dead ahead of us the sky was growing light.
    “I suppose it’s about time we thought about where we’re going,” I said. “I haven’t been paying a lot of attention. We must be in the middle of nowhere.”
    “It doesn’t matter to me. All I care about is being as far away as I can get from...from that cage!”
    I wouldn’t have thought it possible to hiss a word that had no S’s in it, but she managed to do it—and the vehemence with which she spit it out startled me. Scared me a little, too. I was a little surprised, too, at her use of the word “cage”. Helsinki had a pretty swank place, as near as I could tell, so “cage” seemed to me a little over-dramatic.
    “I guess I can’t imagine what Helskinki was doing to you back there.”
    “No, no you can’t. Nor what he has done.”
    “He had something to do with your parents’ death,” I said in a sudden flash of inspiration. “Didn’t he?”
    “Yes!” This time the word had an S in it and she used it. “And he forced me to marry him. It was easily done back in the old country. But he didn’t care about me...never loved me. I was nothing but a trophy wife to him. Just another trophy.”
    Well, I had to admit to myself I could hardly blame the man. The girl was a looker, for sure. But that was no reason for anyone to abuse her. There’s never a good excuse for abusing a woman. I’m a gentleman and I know better.
    “He collected were-animals; you know that now. He was obsessed with them and, to the were-world, he became a murderer. No, worse: a serial killer. A mad criminal to be hunted down and eliminated. They were determined to stop him...and finally did, as you saw last night.”
    “But what could all of that have to do with you? I know you’re not a were-something-or-another. I mean, we’ve been driving