A Night in the Lonesome October (22 page)

    
"Bad," Graymalk said.
 
Then, "I can occupy the vicar."

    
"The hell with him!
 
I'm going to take out the study window!"

    
I reached the corner just as the nasty little man came around the other corner, a riding crop in his hand.
 
I had to slow to turn into the room and he brought it down across my back.
 
Before he could strike a second time, though, Graymalk had leaped into his face, all of her claws extended.

    
I bounded across the room, a scream rising at my back, and leaped at the window, closing my eyes as I hit.
 
I took the thing with me, mullions and all.
 
Turning then, I sought Graymalk.

    
She was nowhere in sight but I heard her yowl from within.
 
Two bounds and a leap brought me back into the room.
 
He was holding her high by her hind legs and swinging the crop.
 
When it connected she screamed and he let her fall, for he had not expected me to return, let alone be coming at him low off the floor with my ears flat and a roar in my throat straight from my recent refresher with Growler.

    
He swung the crop but I came in beneath it.
 
If Graymalk were dead, I was going to kill him.
 
But I heard her call out, "I'm leaving!" as I struck against his chest, knocking him over backward.

    
My jaws were open and his throat had been my target.
 
But I heard her going out the window, and I turned my head and bit hard, hearing cartilage crunch as I drew my teeth along through his right ear.
 
Then I was off of him, across the room, and following Graymalk outside to the sounds of his screams.

    
"Want to ride on my back?" I called to her.

    
"No!
 
Just keep going!"

    
We ran all the way home.

    
As we lay there in the front yard, me panting and her licking herself, I said, "Sorry I got you into that, Gray."

    
"I knew what I was doing," she said.
 
"What did you do to him there at the end?"

    
"I guess I mangled his ear."

    
"Why?"

    
"He hurt you."

    
"I've been hurt worse than that."

   
 
"That doesn't make it right."

    
"Now you have a first-class enemy."

    
"Fools have no class."

    
"A fool might try the tools against you.
 
Or something else."

    
I interrupted my panting to sigh.
 
Just then a bird-shaped shadow slid across us.
 
Looking up, I was not surprised to see Tekela go by.

    
After lunch and a quick running of my rounds the coach came by, and we all entered and embarked for town.
 
It had room for me to sit beside a window while Graymalk curled up on the seat across from me.
 
Master and mistress faced each other to my right, chatting, beside a window of their own.
 
I'd received only a few minor cuts from the glass, but Graymalk had a nasty welt along her right side.
 
My heart did not feel pure when I thought of the vicar.

    
I watched the sky.
 
Before we'd gone a mile I caught sight of Tekela again.
 
She circled above the coach, then swooped low for a look inside.
 
Then she was gone.
 
I did not awaken Graymalk to remark upon it.

    
The sky was cloudy, and a wind occasionally buffeted the coach.
 
When we passed the Gipsies' camp there was small activity within and no music.
 
I listened to the horses clop along, muttering about the ruts and the driver's propensity to lay on the lash at the end of a long day.
 
I was glad I wasn't a horse.

    
After a long while we came to the bridge and crossed over.
 
I looked out across the dirty waters and wondered where the officer had gotten to.
 
I wondered whether he had a family.

    
As we moved along Fleet Street to the Strand and then down Whitehall, I caught occasional glimpses of an albino raven, variously perched, watching.
 
We made several stops for purchases along the way, and finally, when we disembarked in Westminster, site of many a midnight stroll, Jack said to me, "Let's meet back here in about an hour and a half.
 
We've a few esoteric purchases to make."
 
This was fine with me, as I enjoy wandering city streets.
 
Graymalk took me to see the mews where she'd once hung out.

    
We spent the better part of an hour strolling, sorting through collected smells, watching the passersby.

    
Then, in an alley we'd chosen for a shortcut, I had a distinct feeling halfway down its length, that something was wrong.
 
This came but moments before the compact figure of the vicar emerged from a recessed doorway, a bulging bandage upon his ear, lesser dressings covering his cheeks.
 
Tekela rode upon his shoulder, her white merging with that of the bandages, giving to his head a grotesque, lopsided appearance.
 
She must have been giving him directions as to our movements.
 
I showed them my teeth and kept moving.
 
Then I heard a footfall behind me.
 
Two men with clubs had sprung from another doorway and were already upon me, swinging them.
 
I tried to turn upon them, but it was too late.
 
I heard the vicar laugh right before one of the bludgeons fell upon my head.
 
My last sight was of Graymalk, streaking back up the alley.

    
I awoke inside a dirty cage, a sickening smell in my nose, my throat, my lungs.
 
I realized that I had been given chloroform.
 
My head hurt, my back hurt.
 
I drew and expelled several deep breaths to clear my breathing apparatus.
 
I could hear whimpers, growls, a pathetic mewing, and faint, sharp barks of pain from many directions.
 
When my sense of smell began to work again, all manner of doggy and catty airs came to me.
 
I raised my head and looked about and wished I hadn't.

    
Mutilated animals occupied cages both near and far, dogs and cats without tails or the proper number of legs, a blind puppy whose ears had been cut off, a cat missing large patches of her skin, raw flesh showing at which she licked, mewing constantly the while.
 
What mad place was this?
 
I checked myself over quickly, to make certain I was intact.

    
At the room's center was an operating table, a large tray of instruments beside it.
 
On hooks next to the door across the way hung a number of once-white laboratory coats with suspicious-looking stains upon them.

    
As my head cleared my memory returned to me, and I realized what had happened.
 
The vicar had delivered me into the hands of a vivisectionist.
 
At least Graymalk had escaped.
 
That was something.

    
I inspected the door to my cage.
 
It was a simple enough latch that held it shut, but the mesh was too fine for me to reach through and manipulate it.
 
And the mesh was too tough to be readily breached by tooth or claw.
 
What would Growler counsel?
 
Things were a lot simpler in the primeval wood.

    
The most obvious plan was to fake lassitude when they came for me, then to spring to attack as soon as the cage door was opened.
 
I'd a feeling, though, that I wasn't the first ever to think of such a ploy, and where were the others now?
 
Still, I couldn't just lie there and contribute to medical understanding.
 
So unless something better came along I resolved to give this plan a try when they came for me.

    
When they did, of course, they were ready.
 
They'd a lot of expertise with fangs and knew just how to go about it.
 
There were three of them, and two had on elbow-length padded gloves.
 
When I pulled the awake, lunge, and bite maneuver I got a padded forearm forced back between my jaws, and my legs were seized and held while someone twisted an ear painfully.
 
They were very efficient, and they had me strapped to the table in less than a minute.
 
I wondered just how long I had been unconscious.

    
I listened to their conversation as they began their preparations:

    
"Strange, 'im payin' us so well to do a job on this 'un," said the one who had twisted my ear.

    
"Well, it is a strange job, and it does involve some extra work," said the one who was arranging the instruments into neat little rows.
 
"Bring over some clean parts buckets.
 
He was very specific that when we render him down, a piece at a time, for candles, there be no foreign blood or other materials mixed in."

    
"'Ows 'e to know?"

    
"For what he's paying he can have it his way."

    
"I'll 'ave to scrub 'em out."

    
"Do it."

    
A brief reprieve, to the sound of running water, followed, drowning out some of the whimpers and cries which were beginning to get to me.

    
"And where's the cask for his head?"

    
"I left it in t'other room."

    
"Get it.
 
I want everything to hand.
 
Nice doggy."
 
He patted my head as we waited.
 
The muzzle they'd gotten onto me prevented my expressing my opinion.

    
"He was a strange one," said the third man, a thin, blond fellow with very bad teeth, who had been silent till then.
 
"What's special about doggy candles?"

    
"Don't know and don't care," said the one who had patted me, a large, beefy man with very blue eyes, and he returned his attention to his instruments.
 
"We give a customer what he pays for."

    
The other returned then, a short man with wide shoulders, large hands, and a tic at the corner of his mouth.
 
He bore what looked like an odd-sized lunch pail.
 
"I have it now," he said.

    
"Good.
 
Then gather round for a lesson."

    
Then I heard it, _Dzzp!_, a high-pitched whine descending to a low throb in about three seconds each cycle.
 
It is above the range of the human ear, and it accompanies the main curse, circling at a range of about a hundred fifty yards initially.
 
_Dzzp!_

    
"First, I will remove the left rear leg," began the beefy man as he reached for a scalpel.

    
The others drew near, reaching after other instruments and holding them ready for him.

    
_Dzzp!_ The circle might well be smaller by now, of course.

    
There came a loud pounding upon an outer door.

    
"The devil!" said the beefy man.

    
"Shall I see who 'tis?" asked the smaller man.

 
   
"No.
 
We're operating.
 
He can come back if it's important."

    
_Dzzp!_

    
It came again, more heavily; this time it was obviously the sound of someone kicking upon the door.

    
"Inconsiderate lout!"

    
"Ruffian!"

    
"Churl!"

    
_Dzzp!_

  
  
The third time that the knocking occurred it seemed as if each blow were performed by a strong man striking his shoulder against the door, attempting to break it down.

    
"What cheek!"

    
"Per'aps I should 'ave words with 'im."

    
"Yes, do."

    
The shorter man took a single step toward the entrance when a splintering sound reached us from the next room, followed by a loud crash.