the temptation to partake of his power was too much for
us. In that, we were guilty. Then things got out of hand.
We did not handle him correctly, I'll admit. We forgot
that he would have to be watched very closely; he looks
so human it's easy to do, you know. And he acts so
stupidly at times, he made us a little contemptuous of
him."
"Of The Child?" the swordsman said. "I think you are
the stupid ones. He is not an adult yet, you know, so you
can't expect him to act like one. Anyway, I doubt the
adulthood of any of you Ogs."
Vivienne, looking then at Childe, said, "We've been
talking in English!"
She burst into a spew of a language which he had
heard before even if it was unintelligible to him. It was
the same language that his captors had used when he was
a prisoner in Igescu's.
Though he did not understand what followed, he was
able to determine the name of the swordsman. It was
Hindarf.
Hindarf seemed inclined to run Vivienne through, but
she talked him out of it. Finally, Hindarf pricked him
with a needle, and presently he was able to function al-
most normally. He got dressed and allowed himself to
be escorted out of the house. He was still too shaky to
drive, so Hindarf drove while the two men followed in
their car. Hindarf refused to answer Childe's questions.
His only comment was that Childe should stay away
from the Ogs. Apparently, he had believed Vivienne's
story that Childe was the intruder in this case.
A few blocks before they came to the turnoff to
Topanga Canyon, Hindarf stopped the car. "I think you
can drive from here on."
He got out and held the door open for a moment while
rain fell into the car and wet the driver's seat and the
steering wheel.
He stuck his face into the car and said, "Please don't
go near that bunch again. They're deadly. You should
know that. If it weren't ..."
He was silent for several seconds and then said,
"Never mind. We'll be seeing you."
He slammed the door shut. Childe scooted over into
the driver's seat and watched Hindarf and the others
drive away. Their car swung around and went down
Topanga Canyon.
As he sat in the front room and tried to watch TV
while he swigged Jack Daniels, he thought of that even-
ing. Almost nothing made sense. But he did believe that
Igescu and Krautschner and Bending Grass and Pao and
the others had not been vampires, werewolves, were-
bears, or what have you. They were very strange, bor-
dering on the unnatural, or what humans thought of as
unnatural. The theory advanced by Igescu, and pre-
sumably invented by the early 19th century Belgian, "ex-
plained" the existence of these creatures. But Childe was
beginning to think that Igescu had led him astray. He
did not know why he would lie to him, but there seemed
to be many things he did not know about this business.
If he had any sense, he would follow Hindarf's advice.
That was the trouble. He had never shown too much
common sense.
Fools rush in, and so forth.
After four shots of mash whiskey on an empty stom-
ach, one also unaccustomed to liquor, he went to bed.
He slept uneasily and had a number of dreams and
nightmares.
The persistent ringing of the telephone woke him. He
came up out of a sleep that seemed drugged, and was,
if alcohol was a drug. He knocked the phone off while
groping for it. When he picked it up, an unfamiliar male
voice said, "Is this McGivern's?"
"What number did you want?" Childe said.
The phone clicked. He looked at the luminous hands
of his wristwatch. Three o'clock in the morning.
He tried to go back to sleep but couldn't. At ten after
three, he got up and went into the bathroom for a drink
of water. He did not turn on the light. Going out of the
bathroom, he decided to check on the condition of the
street before he went back to bed. It was still raining
heavily, and the street had been ankle-deep in water when
he had driven up before the house.
He pulled the curtain back and looked out. The car
that had been parked under the oak tree was pulling
away. The lights from the car behind it showed that a
man was driving it. The car swung around and started
slowly down the street towards Topanga Canyon. The
lights of the other car shone on the pale face of Fred
Pao, the Chinese he had seen at Igescu's. His lights threw
the profiles of the three men in the other car into silhou-
ette. One of them looked like Bending Grass, the Crow
Indian, or Crow werebear, but that could not be. Bend-
ing Grass had died under the wheels, of his car when
Childe had escaped from the burning Igescu mansion.
He turned and ran into the bedroom and slipped into
a pair of pants and shoes without socks. He ran into
the front room, put on a rainhat and raincoat and
picked up his wallet and car keys from the dining room
table. He got into the car and took off backwards, splash-
ing water as if he were surfriding as he backed onto the
street. He drove faster than he should have and twice
skidded and once the motor sputtered and he thought he
had killed it.
He caught up with them about a quarter of a mile up
Topanga. The lead car was slowing down even more and
looked as if it would swing into a private road that went
up the steep hill. He had never been up it, but he knew
that it led to a huge three-storied house that had been
built when the road was a dirt trail. It stood on top of a
hill and overlooked much of the area, including his own
house.
Abruptly, the lead car stopped. The car behind it
also stopped. He had to go on by them; they would be-
come suspicious if he also stopped. At the top of the
hill he slowed down, found a driveway, turned in, and
backed out. He came down the hill again in time to see
the two cars heading back down Topanga Canyon.
He wondered what had made them change their
minds? Had they become suspicious of him? Perhaps they
had seen his lights as he turned onto Topanga.
Childe followed them into Los Angeles. The cars pro-
ceeded cautiously through the heavy rain and flooded
streets until they reached San Vicente and La Cienega.
When the light changed to green, the two cars suddenly
roared into life. Shooting wings of water, their tires howling
even on the wet pavement, they sped away. He acceler-
ated after them. They swung left on reaching Sixth and
skidded into the traffic island, bounced off, and continued
back up San Vicente on the other side of the boulevard,
then skidded right as they turned on Orange.
The green light was with them and with Childe, who
was about a block behind. His rear tires hit the curb of
the island
and one wheel went over and there was a
crash. He supposed his right rear fender had struck the
traffic light, but it did not seem to impair the operation
of the car. He shot after the other two cars, though he
wondered why he was risking his limb and life. But the
fact that they were trying so desperately to get away,
that they had deliberately led him astray from that road
up to the house on top of the hill kept him going.
Nevertheless, when the car turned west onto Wilshire
Boulevard, he began to think strongly about giving up
the chase. They had gone through a red light without
stopping and by the time he reached the intersection, he
saw their taillights a block away. They were still casting
out great sheafs of water.
He continued after them, increasing his speed. He did
not know what he would do if he caught up with them.
Four against one? And at least one of them, and probably
all four, was a being with some very strange and deadly
powers. He remembered Hindarf's words.
At Wilshire and San Vicente, the two cars went
through a red light two seconds after it had changed.
Two cars coming south on San Vicente met them. The
lead car slammed broadside into Fred Pao's automobile,
and the car behind the lead car smashed into its rear.
The car following Pao rammed into his rear. A moment
later, Childe's car, turning around and around on the wet
pavement, slammed its rear into the car that had been
following Pao's. The whole mass, five cars jammed into
each other, swung around like a five-pointed star, around
and around.
28
"Very well, Forry," Heepish said. "If you want it that
badly …"
He bowed and made a flourish. Forry felt his cheeks
warming up. He said, "Do I want it? It's mine! I paid
for it with my money! You stole it, like a common thief!"
"No common thief would touch it," Heepish said.
Forry, deciding that absolutely nothing was to be
gained by standing there, plunged on ahead. The others
opened a way for him, and Heepish even ran up and
opened the door for him.
"See you, Forry," he said.
"Yeah. In jail, maybe!"
As soon as he was in his own house, Forry placed the
painting on the wall and then checked the doors to make
sure they were locked. The Dummocks had not come
home yet, so he decided to stay and sleep on the couch
that night. Then he remembered that he was supposed to
get the latest edition of Vampirella out. He had com-
pletely forgotten about it!
He made himself some coffee and went into a rear
room, where his "office" was. He worked away steadily
until 2:30, when he heard a slight noise somewhere in
the house. He rose and started out of the office when
the lights went out. That was all he needed to put him
hopelessly behind schedule!
He fumbled around in the desk drawer for matches,
which he did not think he would have, since he had
never smoked. Finding none, he groped through to the
kitchen. The pantry shelves were filled with books and
magazines. He did not eat at the house but took all his
meals out or ate at Wendy's. The icebox, except for some
cream for coffee and a few goodies, was filled with
microfilm.
As he felt around in the porch room for a flashlight,
the lights suddenly came back on. He continued until he
found the flashlight. If the power failed again, he would
work by its light.
On the way back to the office, he looked into the
front room. The Stoker painting was gone!
There was no time to stand around and think. He put
on his rainhat and raincoat and rubbers and walked as
fast as his heart would let him out to the car. He got
into the big green Cadillac and backed out into the lake
which Sherbourne Drive had become. He went as fast
as he dared and within two minutes was before Woolston—.
Heepish's. Fred Pao, the painting in his arms, was just
turning away from the car.
Forry blasted his horn at him and flicked his brights
on. The Chinese was startled and almost dropped the
painting. Forry cried out in anguish and then lowered the
window to shout at Pao.
"I'll call the police!"
Pao opened the rear door of the car and shoved the
painting into it. He ran around to the other side, got in,
and the motor roared. His Mercury took off with a
screaching of tires and sped towards Olympic. Forry
stared at him for several seconds and then, biting his
lip, took off with a similar screeching of tires. At the
same time, he honked furiously at the Chinese. The man
was taking his beloved Dracula where he could hide it
until the search was up. And then Woolston Heepish
would receive it!
But not if Forrest J Ackerman, the Gray Lensman of
Los Angeles, had anything to do with it! Just as Buck
Rogers trailed Killer Kane to his lair, so FJA would
track down the thief!
Pao's car swung west on Olympic. Forry started to go
through the stop sign, too, but had to slam on his brakes
as a car going west on Olympic, sheets of water flying
from its sides, honked at him. His car skidded and slid
sidewise out onto the main boulevard. The oncoming car
swerved and skidded also, turned around once, and ended
up still going westward. Forry straightened out the
Cadillac and ran it as if it were a speedboat. Waves curl-
ing out on both sides, he passed the car he had almost hit
and then continued building up speed until he saw Pao's
taillights going right on Robertson. He went through a red
light, causing two drivers to apply their brakes and honk
their horns. He chased Pao up Robertson and down
Charleville Boulevard. Despite its multiplicity of stop
signs, neither stopped once. Then Pao turned up to Wil-
shire, went westward back to Robertson, up Robertson,
through all intersections with stop signs and signal lights,
red or green, and skidded right on Burton Way. He ran a
red light going to San Vicente and so did Forry. In the
distance, a police siren whooped, and Forry almost
slowed down. But he decided that he could justify his
speeding and, even if he couldn't, a fine would be worth
it if the cops caught Pao with the stolen goods. He
hoped the cops would show up in time. If they didn't,
they might find one dead Chinese.
Pao continued down San Vicente, ran another red
light at Sixth, with Forry two car-lengths behind him.
Despite their recklessness, neither was going over forty.
The water was too solid; at higher speeds it struck the
bottom of the car like a club.
At Wilshire and San Vicente the light was green for
them, but two cars raced through the red, and Pao hit
the lead car broadside. Forry applied his brakes and
slowed down the car somewhat, but it crashed into the
rear of the Chi
nese's car. His head hit something, and
he blacked out.
29
Childe was half-dazed. After the screaming of metal, the
crashing and ripping and rending of metal, and the shat-
ter and tinkle of glass, there was a moment of silence—
except for the rain and a siren in the distance. Some
of the cars still had operating headlights, and these cast
a pale rain-streaked halo over the wreckage. Then a huge
black fox leaped onto the top of his hood, paused to grin
through the windshield at him, leaped down onto the
street, and trotted off into the darkness behind Stats
Restaurant.
The police car, its siren dying, pulled up by the cars,
and two officers got out. At the same time; a big dog—
no, a wolf—passed by him, also on the way to the rear of
the restaurant.
An officer, looking into the cars, swore and called
to his partner. "Hey, Jeff, look at this! Two piles of
clothes in this one and another pile in this car and no-
body around that could have worn them! What the hell
is this?"
The policeman had a genuine mess in more ways
than one. No one seemed to be dead or even seriously
hurt. Childe's car was bashed in in the front and side but
was still operable. The car of a Mr. Ackerman had a
smashed radiator and would have to be towed away.
Pao's car was destroyed. The others were leaking badly
from the radiators and could not be driven far.
One policeman set out flares. The other still could not
get over the abandoned clothing. He kept muttering, "I've
seen some freak things, but this tops them all."
Another patrol car arrived after ten minutes. The
officers determined that no one needed to be hospitalized.
They took down the necessary information, gave out some
tickets, and then dismissed the participants. The case
was far from over, but there had been so many accidents
because of the rain and so many other duties to perform
that the police had to streamline normal procedures.
One did say that Mr. Pao and Mr. Batlang would be
sought for leaving the scene of an accident. And if the
clothes meant anything, they might be arrested for public
nudity, indecent exposure and, probably, would be sub-