[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

of him that way. Her one thought was to reach the open air and daylight. Once
out in the tunnel she climbed the stairs in a mad all-fours scramble that
brought her back to the main passage.
Then she turned to her right and ran, gambling that she could run in this
thick gloom without disaster, rather than delay the fraction of a second
needed to get the flashlight from her costume's pocket.
Daylight had all but disappeared when Marge reached the cave mouth. In her
terror she saw this fact as another phase of an attack aimed at her. Sobbing,
she threw herself down at the base of the barred gate that held her in the
cave, fumbling in a mad panic to loosen again the padlock and the chain. With
every second stretched in terror she heard imagined footfalls of pursuit. And
yet no horror arrived to seize her from behind. Somehow the lock did open in
her fingers; the chain rattled through them, tearing at her skin.
Marge burst the freed door clanging open and ran out. A few heavy, preliminary
drops of rain were striking on the paved court, on the stone table with its
obscure sundial. A statue gaped in her path, glaring at her with dead gray
eyes; she ran around it. The heat of the day had dissipated now in the damp
hush before the storm; the shadow of the castle lay enormous on the woods
around her now. She scraped her shin, uncaring, on the low stone fence that
rimmed the courtyard from the woods. Tree branches hanging motionless in gloom
scraped at her as she fled. The path was not really visible now, but here
there was only one level route a path could take. Marge sped along it gasping,
the branches that clawed at her threatening to turn into apparitions.
Even with the forest altered by dusk the intersection of paths was
unmistakable. She turned downhill, running without pause. In what seemed
nightmare slowness the switchback curves of the descending path flowed past
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her. It was now so dark that she was sure the sun was down. A single raindrop
struck her cheek. Through gaps in the trees, by the light of an odd sky, she
saw clouds coursing thick and low, like airborne giants hunting across the
valley of the Sauk.
The ugly realization overtook Margie as she ran: there would be no boat
waiting at the landing below.
Simon would already have taken it back across the river.
Then she would plunge into the water, swim, wade, do whatever she had to do to
get away. At least, thank
God, no one was chasing her.
And then she heard, from up the hill behind her, that someone was. Or
something. Not even human feet.
In a moment the sound identified itself to her fear as a pounding, four-legged
run, as of some monstrous dog.
Terror compounded, escalating into something approaching madness. Just as
Marge rounded the last steep descending turn of path, exhausted muscles failed
and her foot slipped, the ankle starting to twist. She came down heavily, in
rough grass and weeds. With superhuman speed her pursuer was catching up. The
file:///G|/rah/Fred%20Saberhagen/Fred%20Saberhagen%20-%20Dracula%2005%20-%20Do
minion.htm (60 of 186) [2/5/2004 12:21:15 AM]
Saberhagen, Fred - [Dracula 05] Dominion sound of onrushing feet was mixed now
with a hideous growling and snuffling, the noises of a menacing dog amplified
to the proportions of a bear.
Marge screamed, her mind gone in blind panic. Just as she lunged to regain her
feet, a shaggy, stinking shape loomed over her. What felt like a furred muzzle
struck her on the cheek, hard enough to knock her down again. She had a
moment's glimpse of literally glowing eyes, and monstrous fangs.
Marge screamed again, a hopeless quavering. The pressure of a paw at her
throat kept her down on her back. At last with pure relief she heard the
running arrival of a pair of human feet, she cared not whose.
The black man's soft voice, panting, was hot with anger now. "You got her.
Good." It sounded as if he were speaking to another person, not a beast. Then
his tone shifted, purring at Marge: "One more yell, and he'll take a chunk out
of you where you won't like it. Believe me?"
"Yes," said Marge. And the animal, as if her answer had satisfied it, at once
removed its pinning weight.
"Get up," the man said. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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