Night Things: A Novel of Supernatural Terror (16 page)

“You will have to wait until tomorrow night and sneak out after she thinks you have gone to bed,” it said.

The idea of making his way to Fugate’s house after dark frightened him even more, but the importance of his mission steeled him.

“And how will I let you know what I’ve found out?”

“Tomorrow night after you have returned to the house I will come to you again and you will tell me then.”

“Okay.”

It turned and started to leave.

“Wait!” he called after it.

It stopped and slowly pivoted.

“If I’m going to do this for you, will you at least tell me what your name is?”

It turned and once again started for the door, and for several seconds he thought it wasn’t going to answer. But then, just before it vanished into the darkness of the hallway, it murmured its reply.

“I have no name.”

The next morning Lauren was awakened by a sensation of movement, and when she opened her eyes she found Stephen nuzzling up against her and showing every indication of wanting to make love. Her first reaction was surprise at the ease with which he had apparently put their argument behind him. But before she had a chance to think about the matter any further, the memory of her experience from the night before came rushing back to her.

“Stephen, we’ve got to talk some more,” she said, pulling away from him.

“Oh, do we have to?” He pouted boyishly as he reached for her again.

“Yes, we have to,” she said, getting out of bed and putting on her robe.

“Okay.” He sighed. “Now what is it?”

His prefacing of the question with the word “now” annoyed her, but she let it pass. “I saw someone outside the house last night.”

He frowned. “You mean a prowler?”

“Yes, a prowler. Last night while I was sitting in the drawing room I suddenly had the feeling I was being watched, and when I got up and looked out the window I saw a man standing in the fog at the edge of the lake.”

“Oh, honey, it was probably just Mr. Foley.”

“Stephen, I shined a flashlight on the man, and it wasn’t Mr. Foley.”

“But you said it was foggy. How good a look could you get of him at that distance and in the fog?”

“Good enough to know it wasn’t Mr. Foley.”

“But how can you be so sure?”

“Because I—” She stopped in midsentence and looked at him angrily. “Oh, why is it that lately whenever I try to tell you about something I think we should both be concerned about, all you do is pooh-pooh me and treat me like some kind of over-imaginative child?”

“Because lately you seem to think there’s something menacing lurking in just about every shadow you look into,” he shot back.

She became even more upset. “How can you say that? Why is it so difficult for you to believe that when I say something, it’s because I’ve given it some thought and it’s something I really do believe?”

He faltered, anguishing over whatever it was he wanted to say. “Because I think it’s that kid!” he blurted out. “I think he’s got you so spooked with all of his talk about monsters and things waking him up in the middle of the night, and green, splishy blood, you’re ready to believe just about anything. I mean, if you would just stop and think about it for a moment you would realize how ludicrous this prowler business is.”

His using Garrett as a scapegoat maddened her all the more.

“Why is it so ludicrous to believe there might have been a prowler outside the house?” she demanded hotly.

“Think about it, Lauren. We’re in the middle of miles and miles of wilderness out here. It’s obvious you didn’t hear a car, or you would have mentioned it. That means your would-be prowler would have had to have walked here. But why would someone do that? People don’t just stroll for hours down dark country roads just to stand in other people’s yards.”

An almost dazed feeling passed through her. The persuasiveness of his reasoning caused her to waver a little.

“But this man’s eyes glowed when the beam of the flashlight hit them,” she said in one last feeble effort to support the ominousness of her claim.

“So?”

His disinterest in this caused her to become completely engulfed by doubt. She suddenly wondered if she was just being stupid.

Suddenly another voice entered the conversation. “Human eyes don’t glow like that when light hits them.”

They turned with surprise to see Garrett standing in the bedroom doorway.

“What the hell are you doing, coming in here without knocking!” Stephen barked.

“I heard my mom shouting and I wanted to see what was wrong!” Garrett fired back, standing his ground.

“Well, you can just get the hell out before I—”

“Wait!” Lauren cried. She turned back toward her son. “What did you say, Garrett?”

“Oh, come on, Lauren, he—” Stephen started to protest.

“I want to hear what he said,” she said in a voice that made him realize she meant business. She looked once again at Garrett.

“I said human eyes don’t reflect light at night,” he stated again.

“How do you know that?” she asked as Stephen grunted and shifted his weight behind her.

“I learned about it in a nature movie I saw at the Natural History Museum. Only the eyes of things that hunt at night glow like that when a light is shined in them—you know, like predators and stuff. The reason is that animals that have to see at night have a layer of cells behind their retinas that acts like a mirror. It helps them see better in the dark. But human beings don’t have it, only night things.” Lauren gaped at Stephen in triumphant anger, but before she could say anything he exploded. “Oh, Jesus! Great! This is all I need, the two of you wandering around this house thinking there is some guy with glowing eyes traipsing around out there after dark! For chrissakes, Lauren, will you just listen to yourself? You’re beginning to sound like you belong in some kind of loony bin!”

“She does not!” Garrett shouted, stepping forward belligerently in his mother’s defense.

His insolence was more than Stephen could handle. Wrapping the sheet clumsily around his waist, he stormed out of bed and jabbed his finger infuriatedly in Garrett’s direction. “Listen, you little brat!” he roared. “I’ve had just about all I’m going to take out of you!” After he delivered the lines the air was so charged with tension that for several seconds time almost seemed to stand still. But then just as suddenly they all seemed to realize how dangerously out of hand things were becoming.

Stephen allowed his finger to drop as he shook. “Lauren, would you please send Garrett to his room. I’d like to talk to you alone.”

Something in the tone of Stephen’s voice told Lauren it was probably wise of her to comply.

“Garrett, go to your room. It’ll be okay,” she said as she took hold of his shoulders and gently aimed him toward the door. He looked at her entreatingly one last time, but she only shook her head and sent him on his way. She shut the door behind him.

Stephen looked at her calmly. “Lauren, I know you think you saw something out there. And you know I think it’s hogwash. So I think all that’s left for us to do on this one is agree to disagree.”

She was still so tingling with anger that even his vaguely conciliatory suggestion left her unappeased. “Stephen, I think—”

“No, hear me out,” he said, cutting her off, with a quaver of emotion in his voice. “Listen, Lauren, I’m going to tell you something I’ve never really told you before, no bullshit. I’ve had a lot of women. I mean, in my business it’s just one of the occupational hazards. And I’m not going to lie to you, the truth is I’m not proud of the way I’ve treated some of the women that have been in my life. I guess... well... I guess some of them would probably say I was a real prick. But I think the problem has always been that I didn’t love any of them. In fact, I didn’t even think I could fall in love, until I met you.” He stopped and shook his head as if it anguished him to have to admit what he was admitting. “I don’t know. I know I don’t say it that often, but I really do love you. We’ve got to stop this arguing.”

He stared at her searchingly, something strangely beseeching mingling with the anger in his eyes.

“Oh. Stephen, I love you too, but I know what I saw, and I’m frightened. And if you won’t take that seriously—”

“Look, honey. You know I’ll protect you from whatever’s out there.”

He took her in his arms, and she started to cry softly. He rocked her and stroked her hair gently.

After their emotions had subsided, Stephen went down to check if the telephone was working. Lauren got dressed and went to prepare breakfast.

When the food was ready, she went to the entrance hall to get Stephen. As she got closer she heard his voice coming from the coachmen’s waiting room. What struck her as odd was how softly he was speaking, almost as if he did not want anyone to overhear him. She crept up very quietly and stood just outside the door.

“Ah, you know how women are, Marty,” he said under his breath.

Her curiosity was aroused, and she leaned even closer.

“Yeah, she finds something to be freaked out about pretty much every day now. This time I had to tell the bitch what a he-man I was before I could get her to calm down.”

At first Lauren thought he was talking about someone else. These contemptuous and unfeeling remarks could not refer to her. But still the searing words continued.

“Yeah, of course it worked. She’s a woman, isn’t she?” He gave a dirty snicker, and the dark, queasy void opening inside her grew a little larger.

“No, getting her to agree to send the kid away to boarding school is going to take a little longer than I thought.... Yeah, she’s dead set against the idea.... Naw, of course I’ll get her to do it eventually. She’s willful, but she’s basically controllable.”

A wave of sickly, almost suffocating horror passed through her as she realized with a jolt that she too had never been anything more to Stephen than just an object, another pawn in the tangle of his schemes and treacheries. She heard him mumble something else, but she no longer cared to listen and stalked into the room.

“Lauren,” he gasped, looking up at her with surprise. “Marty, I’ll call you back.” He rattled the phone back into its receiver and gave her a nervous smile. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Obviously,” she said very quietly.

He studied her face, searching for some clue as to how much she had overheard. And then, on the off chance she had heard nothing, he stood and nonchalantly slapped his hands against the sides of his legs.

“So, how’s breakfast coming?”

“You piece of shit!” she said, rushing forward and trying to beat him with her fists.

“Oh, I guess you overheard?”

“Yes, I overheard!”

“Oh, come on, Lauren,” he huffed, holding her hands to stop the blows. “Don’t take any of what I said too seriously. I was just letting off a little steam.”

But his words were lost on her.

“It’s all just a game with you, isn’t it? You’ve been treating me the same way you treated that junior exec and that singer you were worried about.”

“Lauren, will you just give me a chance to explain—”

“It doesn’t matter what lies you have to tell or how ruthless you have to be. All that matters is that you get your own way. You’ll do anything just to get things your own way, won’t you?”

“Goddammit, Lauren—”

“Won’t you?”

“Yes!” he roared. “You’re goddam fucking right! I don’t want your fucking kid around. I never have. And yes, I will do whatever I goddam have to to have things exactly the way I want them in my life. And I’ll tell you another thing. I don’t see what’s so fucking wrong about it. I mean, you seem to think playing by the rules is somehow better than playing by no rules. Well, it’s time you woke up and smelled the coffee. It’s survival of the fittest out there. It’s the people who play by no rules who always end up on top.” He pointed his finger up toward the heavens. “And if your little brat is right and there’s anyone else out there, you can be goddam sure they don’t play by any rules either.”

After he finished his tirade he looked almost relieved, as if he had held the truth inside for so long it had begun to fester. But his words only anguished and infuriated her more. A thousand ways to challenge the logic of his argument rose up in her, followed closely by a thousand angry questions. But before she had a chance to ask any of them he stormed by her and toward the front door. “Where are you going?” she demanded.

“I’m leaving!” he snapped.

Despite her anger toward him, the announcement sent a shock wave of panic through her. “What do you mean, leaving?”

“Splitting, going away!”

“But going where? For how long?”

“I don’t know!” he shrieked as he ran down the front steps and got into the Porsche.

As he drove off a spray of gravel flew up toward the porch, and one of the tiny projectiles hit her in the ankle, causing it to bleed. But the pain of the wound was nothing compared to the pain she felt inside. As she went back into the house the tears started to flood her eyes.

Garrett came bounding down the stairs. Not wanting him to see how devastated she was, she tried to stifle her sobbing. But it was no use.

“Mom, what is it?” he gasped.