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An inforreement with the it-sucks point of view

Reluctantly, stealthily, we followed Mungojerrie onto the back porch, where he was scratching persistently at the door

Through the four glass panes in the door, we had a clear view of a kitchen so Victorian in its detail and bric-a-brac that I would not have been surprised to see Charles Dickens, Willia tea The rooh someone within were my brother in XP

Sasha took the initiative and knocked

No one answered

Mungojerrie continued to scratch at the door

"We get the point," Bobby told hi to be thwarted by a dead bolt, ere dis open a few inches

Mungojerrie squeezed through the narrow gap and vanished inside before Sasha could have second thoughts

"Death,with the mouser

I wouldn’t have been surprised if Dr Stanwyk had appeared at the door, dressed in a bio-secure suit like Hodgson, face seething with hideous parasites, a white-eyed crow perched on his shoulder This man who had once seemed wise and kind--if eccentric--now loouest in Poe’s "The Masque of the Red Death"

The Roger and Marie Stanwyk I had known for years were an odd but nonetheless happy and compatible couple in their early fifties He sported muttonchops and a lushbut a suit and tie; you sensed that he longed to ing collars and to carry a pocket watch on a fob, but felt these would be eccentricities in excess of those expected of a renowned scientist; nevertheless, he frequently allowed himself to wear quaint vests, and he spent an inordinate a at his Sherlock-ian pipe with tamp, pick, and spoon Marie, a plump-cheeked matron with a rosy complexion, was a collector of antique ornas of fairies; her wardrobe revealed a grudging acceptance of the twenty-first century, although regardless of what she wore, her longing for button-top shoes, bustles, and parasols was evident Roger and Marie seemed unsuited to California, doubly unsuited to this century, yet they drove a red Jaguar, had been spotted attending excruciatingly stupid big-budget action movies, and functioned fairly well as citizens of the new h the open kitchen door

Mungojerrie had crossed the kitchen without hesitation and had disappeared into deeper reaches of the house

When Sasha got no answer to her third "Roger, Marie, hello," she drew the 38 from her shoulder holster and stepped inside

Bobby, Roosevelt, and I followed her If Sasha had been wearing skirts, we ht have happily hidden behind them, but ere more comfortable with the cover provided by the Smith & Wesson

From the porch, the house had seemed silent, but as we crossed the kitchen, we heard voices co from the front room They were not directed at us

We stopped and listened, not quite able to make out the words Quickly, however, whennot live voices but those on television or radio

Sasha’s entrance to the dining roo Both hands on the gun Arht and locked The weapon just below her line of sight She cleared the doorway fast, slid to the left, her back against the wall After she h of her arain, covering the room Her performance was professional, instinctive, and no less smooth than her on-air voice

Maybe she’s watched a lot of television cop dramas over the years Yeah

"Clear," she whispered

Tall, ornate hutches see away fro darkly behind leaded-glass doors with beveled panes The crystal chandelier wasn’t lit, but reflections of nearby candle flaes of its dangling pendants

In the center of the dining-rooe punch bowl half full of what appeared to be fruit juice A few clean drinking glasses stood to one side, and scattered across the table were several empty plastic phar wasn’t good enough to allow us to read the labels on the bottles, as they lay, and none of us wanted to touch anything Death lives here, the cat had said, and iven us the idea, from the moment we entered the house, that this was a cri-room table, we looked at one another, and it was clear that all of us suspected the nature of the crih we didn’t speak its naht have draanted attention Under the circumstances, any attention would be unwanted Besides, the name of the e living room, where the illumination came from a television screen nested in an ornate French cabinet with japanned panels Even in the poor light, I could see that the chae yard, not with junked cars but with Victorian excess: deeply carved and intricately painted neo-rococo furniture; richly patterned brocade upholstery; wallpaper with Gothic-style tracery; heavy velvet drapes with cascades of braided fringe, capped with solid pelyptian settee with beaded-wood spindles and dailded turbans supporting beaded shades; bibelots densely arranged on every shelf and table

Amidst the layers on layers of decor, the cadavers almost seemed like additional decorative iteht of the television, we could see a yptian settee He was dressed in dark slacks and a white shirt Before lying down, he’d taken off his shoes and placed theh concerned about soiling the upholstery on the seat cushions Beside the shoes stood a drinking glass identical to those in the dining roo by appearance--in which remained an inch of fruit juice His left arainst the Persian carpet, palm turned up His other arm lay across his chest His head was propped on two small brocade pillows, and his face was concealed beneath a square of black silk

Sasha was covering the rooainst a surprise assault

The black veil over the face did not bellow or even flutter The

I knew that he was dead, knehat killed hiious disease, but a phenobarbital fizz or its lethal equivalent--yet I was reluctant to re pondered the possibility of a boogeyman, is hesitant to push back the sheets, rise up on his mattress, lean out, and peek under the bed

Hesitantly, I pinched a corner of the silk square between thuer, and pulled it off the man’s face

He was alive That was ht I saw life in them

After a breathless moment, I realized that his stare was fixed His eyes appeared to be es on the TV screen were twitching in theh to allow me to identify the deceased His naer Stanwyk’s, a professor at Ashdon, also a biochemist, and no doubt deeply involved in Wyvern business

The body showed no signs of corruption It couldn’t have been here a long time

Reluctantly, I touched the back of my left hand to Sparkman’s brow "Still warm," I whispered

We followed Roosevelt to a button-tufted sofa with carved-wood rails at seat and crest, on which a second man lay, with hands folded across his abdolass lay on its side on the carpet, where he’d dropped it

Roosevelt peeled back the square of black silk that concealed the ood here, the corpse not as close to the television as Sparkman, and I wasn’t able to identify the body

Two seconds after switching on ht, I clicked it off Cadaver nuard, a Swedish mathematician on a four-year contract to teach one class a semester at Ashdon, which was surely a front for his real work, at Wyvern Toregard’s eyes were closed His face was relaxed A faint s a pleasant dream--or was in the middle of one when death claimed him