Dreaming Jewels (14 page)

“And they’ve grown that much?”

“It doesn’t take as long as it did,” he said.

“It did start slowly,” she said.

He looked at her, seemed about to ask a question, and then went on. “One night at Club Nemo he walked in with her. I’d never dreamed that I’d seen them together—I know what you’re thinking! I always thought of them at the same time! Ah, but that was check and balance. Good and evil. Well…” He drank coffee. “They sat right where I could hear them talk. He was the oily wolf and she was the distressed maiden. It was pretty disgusting. So, he got up to powder his nose, and I made like Lochinvar. I mixed right in. I gave her some succinct language and some carfare, and she got away, after promising him a date for the next night.”

“You mean she got away from him for the moment.”

“Oh no. She got clear away, by train. I don’t know where she went. Well, I sat there chording that guitar and thinking hard. You said that I’d always know when it was time. I knew that night that it was time to get Armand Bluett. Time to start, that is. He gave me a treatment once that lasted for six years. The least I could do was to give him a long stretch too. So I made my plans. I put in a tough night and day.” He stopped, smiling without humor.

“Horty—”

“I’ll tell it, Zee. It’s simple enough. He got his date. Took the gal to a sybaritic little pest-hole he had hidden away in the slums. He was very easy to lead along the primrose paving. At the critical point his ‘conquest’ said a few well-chosen words about cruelty to children and left him to mull them over while staring at the three fingers she had chopped off as souvenirs.”

Zena glanced at his left hand again. “Uh! What a treatment! But Horty—you got ready in one night and day?”

“You don’t know the things I can do,” he said. He rolled back his sleeve. “Look.”

She stared at the brown, slightly hairy right forearm. Horty’s face showed deep concentration. There was no tension; his eyes were quiet and his brow un-furrowed.

For a moment the arm remained unchanged. Suddenly the hair on it moved—
writhed.
One hair fell off; another; a little shower of them, finding their way down among the small checks of the tablecloth. The arm remained steady and, like his brow, showed no tension beyond its complete immobility. It was naked now, and the creamy brown color that was typical of both him and Zena. But—was it? Was it the effect of staring with such concentration? No; it was actually paler, paler and more slender as well. The flesh on the back of the hand and between the fingers contracted until the hand was slim and tapered rather than square and thick as it had been.

“That’s enough,” said Horty conversationally, and smiled. “I can restore it in the same length of time. Except for the hair, of course. That will take two or three days.”

“I knew about this,” she breathed. “I did know, but I don’t think I ever really believed… your control is quite complete?”

“Quite. Oh, there are things I can’t do. You can’t create or destroy matter. I could shrink to your size, I suppose. But I’d weigh the same as I do now, pretty much. And I couldn’t become a twelve-foot giant overnight; there’s no way to assimilate enough mass quickly enough. But that job with Armand Bluett was simple. Hard work, but simple. I compacted my shoulders and arms and the lower part of my face. Do you know I had twenty-eight toothaches the whole time? I whitened my skin. The hair was a wig, of course, and as for the female form deevine, that was taken care of by what Elliot Springs calls the ‘bust-bucket and torso-twister trade.’”

“How can you joke about it?”

His voice went flat as he said, “What should I do; grind my teeth
every
minute? This kind of wine needs a shot of bubbles every now and then, honey, or you can’t swallow much. No; what I did to Armand Bluett was just a starter. I’m making him do it himself. I didn’t tell him who I am. Kay’s out of the picture; he doesn’t know who she is or who I am or, for that matter, who he is himself.” He laughed; an unpleasant sound. “All I gave him was a powerful association with three ruined fingers from ’way back. They’ll work in his sleep. The next thing I do to him will be as good—and nothing like that at all.”

“You’ll have to change your plans some.”

“Why?”

“Kay isn’t out of the picture. I’m beginning to understand now. She came out to the carnival to see the Maneater.”

“Kay
did? But why?”

“I don’t know. Anyway, the Judge followed her there. She left, but Bluett and the Maneater got together. I know one thing, though. Havana told me—the Judge is terrified of Kay Hallowell.”

Horty slapped the table. “With her hand intact! Oh, how wonderful! Can you imagine what that must have been?”

“Horty, darling—it isn’t all fun. Don’t you see that that’s what started all this—that’s what made the Maneater suspect that ‘Kiddo’ was something else besides a girl midget? Don’t you realize that the Maneater thinks you and Kay are the same one, no matter what the Judge thinks?”

“Oh, my God.”

“You remember everything you hear,” said Zena. “But you just don’t figure things out very fast, sweetheart.”

“But—but—getting smashed up like this… Zena, it’s my fault! It’s as if I’d done it to you!”

She came around the table and put her arms around him, pulling his head to her breast. “No, darling. That was coming to me, from years back. If you want to blame someone—besides the Maneater—blame me. It was my fault for taking you in twelve years ago.”

“What did you do it for? I never really knew.”

“To keep you away from the Maneater.”

“Away fr—but you kept me right next to him!”

“The last place in the world he’d think of looking.”

“You’re saying he was looking for me then.”

“He’s been looking for you ever since you were one year old. And he’ll find you. He’ll find you, Horty.”

“I hope he does,” grated Horty. The doorbell rang.

There was a frozen silence. It rang again.

“I’ll go,” said Zena, rising.

“You will like hell,” said Horty roughly. “Sit down.”

“It’s the Maneater,” she whimpered. She sat down.

Horty stood where he could look through the living room at the front door. Studying it, he said, “It isn’t. It’s—it’s—well, what do you know! Old Home Week!”

He strode out and flung the door open. “Bunny!”

“Wh-Excuse m—is this where…” Bunny hadn’t changed much. She was a shade more roly-poly, and perhaps a little more timid.

“Oh, Bunny…” Zena came running unevenly out, tripped on the hem of the bathrobe. Horty caught her before she could fall. The girls hugged each other frantically, shouting tearful endearments over the rich sound of Horty’s relieved laughter. “But darling, how did you find—” “It’s so good to—” “I thought you were—” “You doll! I never thought I’d—”

“Cut!”
roared Horty. “Bunny, come in and have some breakfast.”

Startled, she looked at him, her albino eyes round. Gently he asked, “How’s Havana?”

Without taking her eyes off his face, Bunny fumbled for Zena and held on. “Does he know Havana?”

“Honey,” said Zena, “That’s
Horty!”

Bunny shot Zena a rabbit-like glance, craned to peer behind Horty, and suddenly seemed to realize just what Zena had said. “That?” she demanded, pointing. “Him?” She stared. “He’s—Kiddo, too?”

Horty grinned. “That’s right.”

“He grew,” said Bunny inanely. Zena and Horty bellowed with laughter, and, as Horty had done once so long ago, so Bunny gaped from one to the other, sensed that they were laughing with and not at her, and joined her tinkling giggle to the noise. Still laughing, Horty went into the kitchen and called out, “You still take canned milk and half a teaspoon of sugar, Bunny?” and Bunny began to cry. Into Zena’s shoulder she sobbed happily. “It is Kiddo, it is, it is…”

Horty put the steaming cup on the end table and settled down beside the girls. “Bunny, how in time did you find me?”

“I didn’t find you. I found Zee. Zee, maybe Havana’s goin’ to die.”

“I—remember,” Zee whispered. “Are you sure?”

“The Maneater did what he could. He even called in another doctor.”

“He
did?
Since when has he taken to doctors?”

Bunny sipped her coffee. “You just can’t know how he’s changed, Zee. I couldn’t believe it myself until he did that, called a doctor in, I mean. You know about m-me and Havana. You know how I feel about what the Maneater did to him. But—it’s as if he had come up from under a cloud that he’s lived with for years. He’s really changed. Zee, he wants you to come back. He’s
so
sorry about what happened. He’s really broken up.”

“Not enough,” muttered Horty.

“Does he want Horty to come back too?”

“Horty—oh. Kiddo.” Bunny looked at him. “He couldn’t do an act now. I don’t know, Zee. He didn’t say.”

Horty noticed the swift, puzzled frown on Zena’s brow. She took Bunny’s upper arm and seemed to squeeze it impatiently. “Honey—start from the beginning. Did the Maneater send you?”

“Oh no. Well, not exactly. He’s changed so, Zee. You don’t believe me… Well, you’ll see for yourself. He needs you and I came to get you back, all by myself.”

“Why?”

“Because of Havana!” Bunny cried. “The Maneater might be able to save him, don’t you see? But not when he’s all torn apart by what he did to you.”

Zena turned a troubled face to Horty. He rose. “I’ll fix you a bite to eat, Bunny,” he said. A slight side-wise movement of his head beckoned to Zena; she acknowledged it with an eyelid and turned back to Bunny. “But how did you know where I was, honey?”

The albino leaned forward and touched Zena’s cheek. “You poor darling. Does it hurt much?”

Horty, in the kitchen, called, “Zee! What did you do with the tabasco?”

“Be right back, Bun,” said Zee. She hobbled across to the kitchen. “It should be right there on the… yes. Oh—you haven’t started the toast! I’ll do it, Horty.”

They stood side by side at the stove, busily. Under his breath Horty said, “I don’t like it, Zee.”

She nodded. “There’s something… we’ve asked her twice, three times, how she found this place, and she hasn’t said.” She added clearly, “See?
That’s
the way to make toast. Only you have to watch it.”

A moment later, “Horty. How did you know who it was at the door?”

“I didn’t. Not really. I knew who it
wasn’t.
I know hundreds of people, and I knew it wasn’t any of them.” He shrugged. “That left Bunny. You see?”

“I can’t do that. Nobody I know can do that. ’Cept maybe the Maneater.” She went to the sink and clattered briskly. “Can’t you tell what people are thinking?” she whispered when she came close to him again.

“Sometimes, a little. I never tried, much.”

“Try now,” she said, nodding toward the living room.

His face took on that unruffled, deeply occupied expression. At the same moment there was a flash of movement past the open kitchen door. Horty, who had his back to it, turned and sprang through into the living room. “Bunny!”

Bunny’s pink lips curled back from her teeth like an animal’s and she scuttled to the front door, whipped it open and was gone. Zena screamed. “My purse! She’s got my purse!”

In two huge bounds Horty was in the hall. He pounced on Bunny at the head of the stairs. She squealed and sank her teeth into his hand. Horty clamped her head under his arm, jamming her chin against his chest. Having taken a bite, she was forced to keep it—and meanwhile was efficiently gagged.

Inside, he kicked the door closed and pitched Bunny to the couch like a sack of sawdust. Her jaws did not relax; he had to lean over her and pry them apart. She lay with her eyes red and glittering, and blood on her mouth.

“Now, what do you suppose made her go off like that?” he asked, almost casually.

Zena knelt by Bunny and touched her forehead. “Bunny. Bunny, are you all right?”

No answer. She seemed conscious. She kept her mad ruby eyes fixed on Horty. Her breath came in regular, powerful pulses like those of a slow freight. Her mouth was rigidly agape. “I didn’t do anything to her,” said Horty. “Just picked her up.”

Zena rescued her handbag from the floor and fumbled through it. Seemingly satisfied, she set it down on the coffee table. “Horty, what did you do in the kitchen just now?”

“I—sort of…” He frowned. “I thought of her face, and I made it kind of open like a door, or—well, blow away like fog, so I could see inside. I didn’t see anything.”

“Nothing at all?”

“She moved,” he said simply.

Zena began to knead her hands together. “Try again.”

Horty went to the couch. Bunny’s eyes followed him. Horty folded his arms. His face relaxed. Bunny’s eyes closed immediately. Her jaw slackened. Zena barked, “Horty—be careful!”

Without moving otherwise, Horty nodded briefly.

For a moment nothing happened. Then Bunny trembled. She threw out an arm, clenched her small hand. Tears appeared between her lids, and she relaxed. In a few seconds she began to move vaguely, purposelessly, as if unfamiliar hands tested her motor centers. Twice she opened her eyes; once she half sat up, and then lay back. At last she released a long, shuddering sigh, pitched almost as low as Zena’s voice, and lay still, breathing deeply.

“She’s asleep,” said Horty. “She fought me, but now she’s asleep.” He fell into a chair and covered his face for a moment. Zena watched him restore himself as he had restored his whitened arm earlier. He sat up briskly and said, his voice strong again, “It was more than her strength, Zee. She was full to the brim with something that wasn’t hers.”

“Is it all gone now?”

“Sure. Wake her and see.”

“You’ve never done anything like this before, Horty? You seem as sure of yourself as old Iwazian.” Iwazian was the carnival’s photo-gallery operator. He had only to take a picture to know how good it was; he never looked at a proof.

“You keep saying things like that,” said Horty with a trace of impatience. “There are things a man can do and things he can’t. When he does something, what’s the point of wondering whether or not he’s actually done it? Don’t you think he knows?”

“I’m sorry, Horty. I keep underestimating you.” She sat beside the albino midget. “Bunny,” she cooed. Bunny…