blurry and indistinct, like somebody talking in their sleep.
âIâm sorry,â said Jim. âI donât understand you. What language is that?â
Again, the woman didnât reply. Underneath her veil, her face appeared to alter, again and again, but it could have been nothing but the smoky chiffon, stirring in the wind.
âWere you here, inside my kitchen?â he repeated. âWhat were you looking for? What did you want?â He paused. âWere you looking for me ?â
Without a word, the woman pushed past him and into the open door of his apartment. Her silk robe slid against his hands and it was slippery and cold. â Hey! â he protested. He took a step back and almost lost his balance. He lifted his cane, but what was he going to do, hit her with it? She slithered along the corridor until she reached his bedroom.
âExcuse me, maâam, but where exactly do you think youâre going?â Jim asked her. âYou really need to get out of here, now. Like, exit, stage right.â
She stood staring at him, as if she expected him to follow her. Then, without any further hesitation, she disappeared into his bedroom door.
Jim went after her. When he reached his bedroom, he saw that she was standing on the opposite side of his bed, waiting for him.
âI donât know what the hell you think youâre doing here,â he told her. âI donât have anything worth stealing, so far as I can make out.â
The woman drew her left arm out of her right sleeve and pointed stiffly to the bed. She was wearing gray leather gloves, but instead of having five separate fingers they were divided only in two, and each half was very long, more than two inches longer than a normal finger.
âYou want sex ?â Jim asked her. âIâm a little too decrepit for that, Iâm afraid. Besides, I hardly know you.â
The woman continued to point at the bed with her gray cleft glove. Then she raised her right glove, and pointed at Jim.
âYou want me to lie down on the bed? Is that it?â
Still the woman didnât speak, but she kept on rigidly pointing with both arms, as if she were sending a semaphore signal.
âI think Iâm going to call the police,â Jim told her. âIt seems to me like youâve managed to escape from someplace that you seriously need to go back to.â
He went across to the nightstand and picked up the phone. Right next to it, there was a glass tumbler with a dental bridge soaking in it. Until now, Jim hadnât realized that he had three molars missing at the back of his lower jaw.
He held up the receiver and said, âThis is your last chance, OK? If you leave here nice and quiet, Iâll forget that you ever pushed your way in here. Otherwise, Iâm sorry, itâs the cops.â
He waited, but the woman stayed where she was, still pointing.
âIâm real sorry that I have to do this,â he said. âItâs not like I want to get you into any trouble. But you donât leave me any choice, do you?â
He prodded 911, but the instant he did it, the woman let out a screech that sounded like a hundred animals having their legs torn off â agonized, but hoarse with rage. It was so unexpected and so deafening that Jim staggered backward against the nightstand, and the bedside lamp toppled on to the floor.
The womanâs screeching went on and on, relentlessly, and she didnât pause once to take a breath. As she screeched, she started to grow, both in height and in bulk. Underneath her veil, her face changed in shape, becoming narrower and longer and more pointed, like a fox, and behind the chiffon her eyes gleamed a septic yellow. Her black hat toppled backward, her veil fell away, and her gray silk robe burst open. Her gloves exploded to reveal four long claws on each of her hands. Now Jim could see that she wasnât a woman at all, but a huge black-haired creature
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