The Servants of Twilight

"Harmless? She sure didn't seem harmless this afternoon at South Coast Plaza," Christine said." She seemed dangerous enough to me."

"Well. " He shrugged." You know how it is. An old lady.

maybe a little senile. saying things she really didn't mean."

"I don't think that's the case."

Templeton didn't meet her eyes." So. if you see her again or if you have any other trouble, be sure to give us a call."

"You're leaving?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"You're not going to do anything else?"

He scratched his head." Don't see what else we can do. You said you don't know this woman's name or where she lives, so we can't go have a chat with her. Like I said, if she shows up again, you call us soon as you spot her, and we'll come back."

With a nod of his head, he turned away and went down the walk, toward the street, where his partner waited.

A minute later, as Christine and Joey stood at the living room windows, watching the patrol car drive away, the boy said, "She was out there, Mom. Really, really. This isn't like the snake."

She believed him. What he had seen at the window could have been a figment of his imagination or an image left over from a nightmare-but it hadn't been that. He had seen what he thought he'd seen: the old woman herself, in the flesh. Christine didn't know why she was so sure of that, but she was. Dead sure.

She gave him the option of spending the rest of the night in her room, but he was determined to be brave.

"I'll sleep in my bed," he said." Brandy'll be there. Brandy'll smell that old witch coming a mile away. But. could we sorta leave a lamp on?"

"Sure," she said, though she had only recently weaned him away from the need for a night light.

In his room she closed the draperies tight, leaving not even a narrow crack through which someone might be able to see him.

She tucked him in, kissed him goodnight, and left him in Brandy's care.

Back in her own bed once more, with the lights out, she stared at the tenebrous ceiling. She was unable to sleep. She kept expecting a sudden sound-glass shattering, a door being forcedbut the night remained peaceful.

Only the February wind, with an occasional violent gust, marred the nocturnal stillness.

In his room Joey switched off the lamp that his mother had left on for him. The darkness was absolute.

Brandy jumped onto the bed, where he was never supposed to be (one of Mom's rules: no do, in bed), but Joey didn't push him off.

Brandy settled down and was welcome.

Joey listened to the night wind sniffing and licking at the house, and it sounded like a living thing. He pulled the blanket all the way up to his nose, as if it were a shield that would protect him from all harm.

After a while he said, "She's still out there somewhere."

The dog lifted his square head.

"She's waiting, Brandy."

The dog raised one ear.

"She'll be back."

The dog growled in the back of his throat.

Joey put one hand on his furry companion." You know it, too, don't you, boy? You know she's out there, don't you?"

Brandy woofed softly.

The wind moaned.

The boy listened.

The nilit ticked toward dawn.

4

In the middle of the night, unable to sleep, Christine went downstairs to Joey's room to look in on him. The lamp she had left burning was off now, and the bed-room was tomb-black. For a moment fear pinched off her breath. But when she snapped on the light, she saw that Joey was in bed, asleep, safe.

Brandy was comfortably ensconced in the bed, too, but he woke when she turned on the light. He yawned and licked his chops, and gave her a look that was rich with canine guilt.

"You know the rules, fuzzy-butt," she whispered." On the floor."

Brandy got off the bed without waking Joey, slunk to the nearest corner, and curled up on the floor. He looked at her sheepishly.

"Good dog," she whispered.

He wagged his tail, sweeping the carpet around him.

She switched off the light and started back toward her own room. She had gone only a step or two when she heard movement in the boy's room, and she knew it was Brandy returning to the bed. Tonight, however, she just didn't care all that much whether he got dog hairs on the sheets and blankets. Tonight, the only thing that seemed to matter was that Joey was safe.

She returned to her bed and dozed fitfully, tossing and turning, murmuring in her sleep as night crept toward dawn. She dreamed of an old woman with a green face, green hair, and long green fingernails that hooked wickedly into sharp claws.

Monday morning came at last, and it was sunny. Too damned sunny. She woke early, and light speared through her bedroom windows, making her wince. Her eyes were grainy, sensitive, bloodshot.

She took a long, hot shower, steaming away some of her weariness, then dressed for work in a maroon blouse, simple gray skirt, and gray pumps.