Sherlock Holmes vs. Cthulhu by Lois H. Gresh

Author:Lois H. Gresh
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Titan

20

PETER SMYTHE-BARTON

Lord Wiltshram’s Avebury mansion

The dagger gleamed o’er me eyes and descended. I rolled from its path just in time, and the blade ripped into the brocade of a chair.

Wiltshram grasped the ’andle with both fists and pulled.

“I’ll get you yet, you weasel!” ’e screamed. “You won’t take my gold… It belongs to Dagon! Fitzgerald will kill me if it’s lost. You’ll die for this, I swear!”

Me ’eart banged against me ribs ’til the bones ’urt. I gasped for breath. ’e’d broke me arm, wrenched it right out o’ the socket, and it ’urt like ’ell.

But with the gold, I’d get a good doctor to patch me up. So I scampered for the ’all. I’d left the door ajar for quick escape.

Somethin’ gurgled behind me. I stopped briefly and looked o’er me shoulder, and caught a flash o’ ’im.

Heavin’ and flushed—maybe ’e’d die on the spot, and I could only ’ope—’e wobbled and ’eld ’is belly, ’is mouth frothin’ blood. Then ’e saw me peekin’, and ’e growled and thundered after me like a roarin’ lion. Just as I swiveled and made for the door, ’e came down on me, ’is arm raised, ’is fist grippin’ the dagger.

I sidestepped the blade, quickly guessed the chance o’ gettin’ to the door alive—none—and raced toward the fireplace on the other end o’ the room. Right away ’e bellowed after me, but I was much faster, and ’e was bloated, the bugger, on cakes and fancy teas.

Besides, I ’ad me own knife.

I’d planned to force ’im to give me the stash, and then I was goin’ to kill ’im. ’adn’t planned on a broken arm. I ’adn’t planned on lettin’ ’im grab that dagger off the mantel.

Fast as I could, I scooped me knife from the floor. The ’ilt was loose, but I was good with it, even with me left ’and. I’d slaughtered many a night animal with this blade, and slit the throats o’ many a ’orse in the stables. They be sick, those ’orses, and Wiltshram knew not what to do about it.

Wiltshram’s ugly breath was near me face. It smelled o’ whiskey and tea as ’e tottered from foot to foot, face bright red, mouth blatherin’. Those stupid words ’e always shrieked as if anybody cared. It sounded like an infant’s gibberish.

“Stable runt, I’ll have your life for this!” ’e roared. “Ooooocheck ooouh laaaahwww check-Ooooo!”

Crazy as a man could be, but I’d have ’is gold. I’d missed ’im with me dagger, and I’d suffered for it, ’adn’t I? This time, I wouldn’t miss—’e ’adn’t the life left in ’im to fight me. There was the diadem, ’is ’eaddress, on the floor, and I’d ’ave that, too, I would. It was worth a mighty sum.

’e knew it was comin’ before I sent it ’ome.

“Wet nurse to your dogs?” I said. “A flea and a weasel, be me? Methinks not!”

With that I thrust me rusty blade, thrust it into ’is guts, but ’e was so fat the blade didn’t go all the way through.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.