The Touch by Brian Lumley

Author:Brian Lumley [Lumley, Brian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Macmillan
Published: 2010-04-01T06:00:00+00:00

The heat had now gone out of the situation, and Zek—knowing full well what had been going on—nevertheless asked, “Well then, who is going to tell me what the problem is? Or perhaps I should simply call the police and let you explain it all to them?”

Kostas, crawling away on hands and knees, with his whimpering dog close behind, looked back and mumbled, “Yes, and you can also tell them about my broken nose, about my broken mouth and teeth!”

“No,” Zek called out to him. “Instead I’ll report how you threatened to break into my house with a loaded shotgun—also how you said you would . . . you would make a toilet of my house—you filthy beast!”

He made no reply but crawled away, up toward the road.

Then the younger men told Zek about a wild dog (no, they didn’t believe it was Wolf), and about its thievery, its savaging of chickens and such. They had tracked this wild dog along the shore, where the trackers must have picked up the scent of Wolf, which in turn had led them here. It was strange, but the scent had brought them here before, and on several occasions.

“Then blame your silly tracker dogs!” said Zek. “For it’s obvious they’re not worth their keep. There are rabbits in the woods, and that’s what they’ve been tracking! But wait: my dog has a collar with an address; he has a name, and a licence. He is a legitimate house dog, and sleeps in the house every night keeping guard. Now tell me: do your dogs have licences? I know Sergeant Dendrinos in Argasi; he is a personal friend of mine. He tells me there are many unlicenced local dogs. Why don’t we go to Sergeant Dendrinos and tell him of your suspicions about my Wolf? And what if I then ask him to check your dog licences, eh?”

Suddenly the young men were most apologetic. Backing away, they would have left it at that. Zek stopped them with a single word and called them back. Scott unloaded their weapons, handed them over, and said, “Maybe you’ll give your fat friend a helping hand on your way home. Or then again you might think to ask yourselves: is Kostas really the kind of friend you want?”

And Zek added, “You can tell Kostas that from now on he’d do well to keep out of my husband’s way. You know Jazz Simmons, I’m sure. When I tell Jazz what happened here there’ll be a lot more blood, I can promise you that! Make sure it’s not yours!”

A moment later, when they had gone: “Damn them!” said Zek, stamping her foot. “Now I’m the one who’ll be cleaning up this blood!” But after she fetched a mop and a pail of water, Scott did it for her . . .

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