cb.booksofblood-第13部分

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or　a　family　that　has　cheated　us。〃
　　〃I'm　tired；〃　the　Yattering　pleaded；　daring　to　approach　the　mirror。
　　〃Please。　I　beg　you。〃
　　〃Claim　this　man；〃　said　Beelzebub；　〃or　you　will　suffer　in　his　place。〃　The　figure　in　the　mirror　waved　its　black　and　yellow　trunk　and　faded。
　　〃Where　is　your　pride？〃　said　the　master's　voice　as　it　shrivelled　into　distance。　〃Pride；　Yattering；　pride。〃　Then　he　was　gone。
　　In　its　frustration　the　Yattering　picked　up　the　cat　and　threw　it　into　the　fire；　where　it　was　rapidly　cremated。　If　only　the　law　allowed　such　easy　cruelty　to　be　visited　upon　human　flesh；　it　thought。　If　only。　If　only。　Then　it'd　make　Polo　suffer　such　torments。　But　no。　The　Yattering　knew　the　laws　as　well　as　the　back　of　its　hand；　they　had　been　flayed　on　to　its　exposed　cortex　as　a　fledgling　demon　by　its　teachers。　And　Law　One　stated：　〃Thou　shalt　not　lay　palm　upon　thy　victims。〃　It　had　never　been　told　why　this　law　pertained；　but　it　did。
　　〃Thou　shalt　not　。　。　。〃　So　the　whole　painful　process　continued。　Day　in；　day　out；　and　still　the　man　showed　no　sign　of　yielding。　Over　the　next　few　weeks　the　Yattering　killed　two　more　cats　that　Polo　brought　home　to　replace　his　treasured　Freddy　（now　ash）。
　　The　first　of　these　poor　victims　was　drowned　in　the　toilet　bowl　one　idle　Friday　afternoon。　It　was　a　pretty　satisfaction　to　see　the　look　of　distaste　register　on　Polo's　face　as　he　unzipped　his　fly　and　glanced　down。　But　any　pleasure　the　Yattering　took　in　Jack's　disfiture　was　cancelled　out　by　the　blithely　efficient　way　in　which　the　man　dealt　with　the　dead　cat；　hoisting　the　bundle　of　soaking　fur　out　of　the　pan；　wrapping　it　in　a　towel　and　burying　it　in　the　back　garden　with　scarcely　a　murmur。
　　The　third　cat　that　Polo　brought　home　was　wise　to　the　invisible　presence　of　the　demon　from　the　start。　There　was　indeed　an　entertaining　week　in　mid…November　when　life　for　the　Yattering　became　almost　interesting　while　it　played　cat　and　mouse　with　Freddy　the　Third。　Freddy　played　the　mouse。　Cats　not　being　especially　bright　animals　the　game　was　scarcely　a　great　intellectual　challenge；　but　it　made　a　change　from　the　endless　days　of　waiting；　haunting　and　failing。　At　least　the　creature　accepted　the　Yattering's　presence。　Eventually；　however；　in　a　filthy　mood　（caused　by　the　re…marriage　of　the　Yattering's　naked　widow）　the　demon　lost　its　temper　with　the　cat。　It　was　sharpening　its　nails　on　the　nylon　carpet；　clawing　and　scratching　at　the　pile　for　hours　on　end。　The　noise　put　the　demon's　metaphysical　teeth　on　edge。　It　looked　at　the　cat　once；　briefly；　and　it　flew　apart　as　though　it　had　swallowed　a　live　grenade。
　　The　effect　was　spectacular。　The　results　were　gross。　Cat…brain；　cat…fur；　cat…gut　everywhere。
　　Polo　got　home　that　evening　exhausted；　and　stood　in　the　doorway　of　the　dining…room；　his　face　sickened；　surveying　the　carnage　that　had　been　Freddy　III。
　　〃Damn　dogs；〃　he　said。　〃Damn；　damn　dogs。〃　There　was　anger　in　his　voice。　Yes；　exulted　the　Yattering；　anger。　The　man　was　upset：　there　was　clear　evidence　of　emotion　on　his　face。
　　Elated；　the　demon　raced　through　the　house；　determined　to　capitalize　on　its　victory。　It　opened　and　slammed　every　door。　It　smashed　vases。　It　set　the　lampshades　swinging。
　　Polo　just　cleaned　up　the　cat。
　　The　Yattering　threw　itself　downstairs；　tore　up　a　pillow。　Impersonated　a　thing　with　a　limp　and　an　appetite　for　human　flesh　in　the　attic；　and　giggling。
　　Polo　just　buried　Freddy　III；　beside　the　grave　of　Freddy　II；　and　the　ashes　of　Freddy　I。
　　Then　he　retired　to　bed；　without　his　pillow。
　　The　demon　was　utterly　stumped。　If　the　man　could　not　raise　more　than　a　flicker　of　concern　when　his　cat　was　exploded　in　the　dining…room；　what　chance　had　it　got　of　ever　breaking　the　bastard？
　　There　was　one　last　opportunity　left。
　　It　was　approaching　Christ's　Mass；　and　Jack's　children　would　be　ing　home　to　the　bosom　of　the　family。　Perhaps　they　could　convince　him　that　all　was　not　well　with　the　world；　perhaps　they　could　get　their　fingernails　under　his　flawless　indifference；　and　begin　to　break　him　down。　Hoping　against　hope；　the　Yattering　sat　out　the　weeks　to　late　December；　planning　its　attacks　with　all　the　imaginative　malice　it　could　muster。
　　Meanwhile；　Jack's　life　sauntered　on。　He　seemed　to　live　apart　from　his　experience；　living　his　life　as　an　author　might　write　a　preposterous　story；　never　involving　himself　in　the　narrative　too　deeply。　In　several　significant　ways；　however；　he　showed　his　enthusiasm　for　the　ing　holiday。　He　cleared　his　daughters〃　rooms　immaculately。　He　made　their　beds　up　with　sweet…smelling　linen。　He　cleaned　every　speck　of　cat's　blood　out　of　the　carpet。　He　even　set　up　a　Christmas　tree　in　the　lounge；　hung　with　iridescent　balls；　tinsel　and　presents。
　　Once　in　a　while；　as　he　went　about　the　preparations；　Jack　thought　of　the　game　he　was　playing；　and　quietly　calculated　the　odds　against　him。　In　the　days　to　e　he　would　have　to　measure　not　only　his　own　suffering；　but　that　of　his　daughters；　against　the　possible　victory。　And　always；　when　he　made　these　calculations；　the　chance　of　victory　seemed　to　outweigh　the　risks。
　　So　he　continued　to　write　his　life；　and　waited。
　　Snow　came；　soft　pats　of　it　against　the　windows；　against　the　door。　Children　arrived　to　sing　carols；　and　he　was　generous　to　them。　It　was　possible；　for　a　brief　time；　to　believe　in　peace　on　earth。
　　Late　in　the　evening　of　the　twenty…third　of　December　the　daughters　arrived；　in　a　flurry　of　cases　and　kisses。　The　youngest；　Amanda；　arrived　home　first。　From　its　vantage　point　on　the　landing　the　Yattering　viewed　the　young　woman　balefully。　She　didn't　look　like　ideal　material　in　which　to　induce　a　breakdown。　In　fact；　she　looked　dangerous。　Gina　followed　an　hour　or　two　later；　a　smoothly…polished　woman　of　the　world　at　twenty…four；　she　looked　every　bit　as　intimidating　as　her　sister。　They　came　into　the　house　with　their　bustle　and　their　laughter；　they　re…arranged　the　furniture；　they　threw　out　the　junk…food　in　the　freezer；　they　told　each　other　（and　their　father）　how　much　they　had　missed　each　other's　pany。　Within　the　space　of　a　few　hours　the　drab　house　was　repainted　with　light；　and　fun　and　love。
　　It　made　the　Yattering　sick。
　　Whimpering；　it　hid　its　head　in　the　bedroom　to　block　out　the　din　of　affection；　but　the　shock…waves　enveloped　it。　All　it　could　do　was　sit；　and　listen；　and　refine　its　revenge。
　　Jack　was　pleased　to　have　his　beauties　home。　Amanda　so　full　of　opinions；　and　so　strong；　like　her　mother。　Gina　more　like　his　mother：　poised；　perceptive。　He　was　so　happy　in　their　presence　he　could　have　wept；　and　here　was　he；　the　proud　father；　putting　them　both　at　such　risk。　But　what　was　the　alternative？　If　he　had　cancelled　the　Christmas　celebrations；　it　would　have　looked　highly　suspicious。　It　might　even　have　spoiled　his　whole　strategy；　waking　the　enemy　to　the　trick　that　was　being　played。
　　No；　he　must　sit　tight。　Play　dumb；　the　way　the　enemy　had　e　to　expect　him　to　be。
　　The　time　would　e　for　action。
　　At　3。15　a。m。　on　Christmas　morning　the　Yattering　opened　hostilities　by　throwing　Amanda　out　of　bed。　A　paltry　performance　at　best；　but　it　had　the　intended　effect。　Sleepily　rubbing　her　bruised　head；　she　climbed　back　into　bed；　only　to　have　the　bed　buck　and　shake　and　fling　her　off　again　like　an　unbroken　colt。
　　The　noise　woke　the　rest　of　the　house。　Gina　was　first　in　her　sister's　room。
　　〃What's　going　on？〃
　　〃There's　somebody　under　the　bed。〃
　　〃What？〃　Gina　picked　up　a　paperweight　from　the　dresser　and　demanded　the　assailant　e　out。　The　Yattering；　invisible；　sat　on　the　window　seat　and　made　obscene　gestures　at　the　women；　tying　knots　in　its　genitalia。
　　Gina　peered　under　the　bed。　The　Yattering　was　clinging　to　the　light　fixture　now；　persuading　it　to　swing　backwards　and　forwards；　making　the　room　reel。
　　〃There's　nothing　there…〃
　　〃There　is。〃　Amanda　knew。　Oh　yes；　she　knew。
　　〃There's　something　here；　Gina；〃　she　said。　〃Something　in　the　room　with　us；　I'm　sure　of　it。〃
　　〃No。〃　Gina　was　absolute。　〃It's　empty。〃　Amanda　was　searching　behind　the　wardrobe　when　Polo　came　in。
　　〃What's　all　the　din？〃
　　〃There's　something　in　the　house　Daddy。　I　was　thrown　out　of　bed。〃　Jack　looked　at　the　crumpled　sheets；　the　dislodged　mattress；　then　at　Amanda。　This　was　the　first　test：　he　must　lie　as　casually　as　poss