The Silver Glove by Suzy McKee Charnas Page A

want to gag.
    â€œBut this is only a seeming thing,” she said. “I am the true wife, the one he keeps by him always and comes back to always. A little ‘dating’ is completely nothing.”
    Maybe she actually didn’t know what kind of monster she was married to?
    â€œIf he’s such a nice guy, then what’s he got going downstairs,” I said, “poor people sleeping in what you tell them is a safe place, while you steal their—their  . . . ” I didn’t know what to call the shadows.
    â€œOh, those?” she said casually. “Mere shavings from the soul, totally harmless, of course.”
    â€œI’ll bet,” I said, with a shudder. I was glad she couldn’t see me. “How do you—make it come out of the people?”
    â€œThe food is very special food, you see, not just wholesome and good-tasting! While our guests sleep, they dream. They dream their fears, and flying from them, they fly out of their bodies a little. The part that flies out, the fear, is gathered by my husband so that the lucky sleeper wakes refreshed and relieved of all this fearfulness. He brings great peace to so many troubled souls this way.”
    In a pig’s eye, I thought. Could she really be innocent in all this? I wanted to think so. That would mean that at least I had some chance of persuading her to let me go before Brightner came back from Buffalo or ice-skating or wherever he was.
    â€œHe’s sure got a nice deal worked out,” I said. “He chases other women while you stay here and run things for him.”
    She laughed. “Of course, this is the way things are. Men, even great men, even such men who have found their destined mate and partner, even they have this urge to pursue other ladies. It has happened before, but it is Ushah he does not leave, and so Ushah stays with him. All the others he puts away, one after the other.”
    â€œAll?” I said, horrified all over again. “How many are there?”
    â€œOh, I don’t even bother to keep count,” she said airily. “It doesn’t matter, as I told you.”
    Like heck it didn’t! I was talking with the number-one wife of Bluebeard. And he was after my mom. After, nothing—he had her! The rich spice smell was making me a little sick to my stomach; or maybe it was just fear.
    I shouted, “Well, whatever he usually does with his—his ladies and those other poor people, he won’t get away with it this time!”
    â€œOh, my poor husband,” she mocked. “To have you so angry with him! He will explain to you when he comes, and then you can apologize for these rude things you are saying. Luckily for you, he will be in a very good mood when I tell him how you came by all on your own, after hours, when there was no one around to notice if you got yourself locked in the spice pantry.”
    I heard her walking away. I yelled after her, but she didn’t come back.
    Well, there was some comfort: she might have poor Dirty Rose down there in the basement, but she didn’t have Gran. She’d have boasted of it if she did.
    On the other hand, she did have me . I had to find a way out of the spice pantry.
    I started by checking over every inch of it in the pitch-darkness. There weren’t a whole lot of inches. I even pulled down some of the spice buckets and climbed up the shelves to try getting a window open. There was one, tiny and gritty-silled, but it was completely painted over and jammed shut. It wouldn’t budge. I tried for a long time.
    Eventually I conked out. I remember feeling hopelessly convinced that I would never see the light of day again, except past the bulk of my deadly enemy, Dr. Brightner.
    I woke up very thirsty and with a runny nose and eyes that itched like crazy. I was allergic to something in here. Sitting by the locked door, I sniffled like a baby, shaking and scared. I couldn’t even tell what time