Best Little Witch-House in Arkham. Mark McLaughlin

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СКАЧАТЬ were probably red, but the light of the yellow bulbs gave them a pumpkin-orange cast.

      She followed the stairs downward. They were slippery, so she had to hang on to the filthy banister. Soon her hands were smeared with black mildew.

      She walked down another hall. The damp floor was surfaced with thousands of small, flat stones. She began to hear faint splashing sounds. She figured she had to be underground—how far, she couldn’t even guess.

      Hey, I’m not scared, she thought. She was impressed with herself. Even though she was in some strange underground passage, she really wasn’t frightened. That horrible fish-woman had been terrifying, but she’d managed to escape that. Surely she’d find an exit pretty soon. Surely this nightmare was nearing its end.

      Then the hall brought her to a large open area.

      A cave.

      The people gathered in the cave, lounging on rocks around an algae-choked pool, were totally naked. But that was not the most startling aspect of the sight that confronted her.

      All of these pale, flabby people had scales and wild eyes, like Mrs. Hamogeorgakis. Then she noticed they all looked a little like Kyle—in fact, one of them was his uncle Carl. But he was covered with scales now, and had webbed fingers, claws, and needlelike teeth. She had to cover her mouth with her hands so not to cry out, or scream, or even laugh hysterically. So this was what had happened to those relatives of his. They had…changed…with age. They had to be one of those families from the sea the horrible old woman had mentioned…

      The sea-people turned and glared at her. But they didn’t try to attack her—they didn’t even change their positions. A few simply bared their needle-teeth in smiles—cruel smiles that said, We know something that you don’t.

      Then she saw a statue, half-hidden in a shadowed alcove. It was carved from pale yellow stone, and stood almost eight feet tall. It looked like a bloated man with scaly skin and a wide, fish-lipped, horribly pouting mouth. The eyes were huge black gems. She saw gnawed bones piled around the base of the statue. Dry, rotten loops of intestines were wrapped around the body and legs, as though bored, monstrous children that tried to clothe the thing.

      She moved quickly along the wall of the cave, desperately hoping to get to the far end without touching any of the creatures. The other side had to have an opening to the outside world. Maybe it led to an opening behind the rocks—the ones at the base of the cliff that she and Kyle had seen from the seaside pavilion.

      When she reached the other side, she found only a low passage hewn out of the dirt and stone, shored up with timber and rocks. The yellow bulbs did not go down this path—probably because it was so wet. The muddy walls dripped and ran with moisture. The tunnel led off into midnight blackness.

      Tired but determined, she crawled in.

      She closed her eyes, even though she was in total darkness, and crawled and crawled, on and on, through mud and slime. Soon her pants were soaked with cold water and filth, and the air in the tunnel took on the stench of rotting fish.

      I wish I had my vanilla cigarettes. They’d make this place smell better, she thought. A half-laugh, half-sob escaped her lips. God, I’m trying to find my way out of Hell and I’m thinking about cigarettes.

      Suddenly she realized: her lighter was in the breast pocket of her blouse.

      She dried off one hand as best she could on her shirt, and then found the lighter. She flipped up the cover and lit it.

      The tunnel floor was littered not only with dead fish, but with bits of dead dogs and other animals as well. She wanted to throw up. Then she saw that side tunnels branched out from the path every few feet. She had just been proceeding straight ahead in the dark.

      There was no way of telling which of the paths led to the outside.

      She snapped the lighter shut and stuck it back in her pocket—and kept moving. All her turns before had been bad choices. This time, she was just going straight ahead. She couldn’t keep going much longer—the exertion was too draining. She had to find a way out, and soon.

      In a few minutes, she could hear an odd, wet, slithering sound. Or rather, a series of sounds. She tried to imagine what it could possibly be. If several people were to start dragging around big sacks of wet laundry, it might sound like that…Or perhaps it was just the echoes of water running and trickling…It was hard to tell.

      Soon the floor of the tunnel changed. Instead of mud and rocks, she found herself on a smooth, flat surface. The stench in the air was even worse than before.

      She felt overhead—no boards or dirt. She was out of the tunnel. Suddenly she had a horrible thought. Had all her wandering led her right back into the mansion?

      She stood up, dug out the lighter and flicked it on again. The small wavering flame cast writhing shadows.

      She was now in a small cave with a floor of slick gray stone. To one side was a pool with long bones and chunks of raw meat floating in it. Odd, flat, wet things were moving through the pool and around its rim. They were what made that slithering sound. At first she couldn’t tell what they were. They appeared to be shiny blankets—some beige, some pink, some olive-brown—moving aimlessly like misshapen slugs.

      One worked its way toward her and she saw it was coated with fine scales, and parts of it were fringed with hair…some parts seemed to be shaped like stockings, and those ended in flattened, boneless toes…

      She screamed when she realized that the sluglike creatures were in fact living skins.

      She heard something moving in the passage behind her.

      Then something hit her on the back of the head, and she passed out.

      * * * *

      When she woke up, she found herself in a warm, comfortable bed.

      Kyle was standing by the bed looking down at her, and so was Kiwi.

      “Oh, no,” she whispered.

      “Do not alarm yourself,” Kiwi said. “I’m not going to hurt you.” She put a hand on Kyle’s shoulder. “Your friend’s uncle brought you to us.”

      “Where is that thing—that monster?” Melina said.

      Kiwi sighed wearily. “I hope you are not referring to Mrs. Hamogeorgakis. That’s not a nice way to talk about your hostess. Now follow us. It’s time to eat. You’ve been asleep for quite a long time. Surely you must be hungry.”

      Kiwi and Kyle then left the room.

      Melina got out of bed. Someone had dressed her in a white silk dressing gown.

      “Kyle!” she shouted, running after them. “What the hell is going on? I can’t believe you were in on this whole thing.”

      In the hallway, the two turned to face her. “Please,” the thin woman said, “there’s no need for raised voices. And we won’t be having any more calls to the police.” She smiled as she looked toward Kyle. “It took quite a while to convince the police that his call was simply a prank. Later he came back, and well—we dealt with him. You know.”

      Melina shook her head. “No, I don’t know. What are you talking about?”

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