[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
.But it seemed too absurd, like an old movie on Night Owl Theatre with Christopher Lee, and she wondered how many of those Tom and Charlie had seen in their lives.Maybe it was easy for them to believe such things with the evidence they had.But Laura was different from them.Laura had gazed upon the face of true evil in a lantern-lit tent on a summer night, and she would know forever after that what she had then seen was the true magic, the new magic, the twentieth century magic of madness and hate that no incantation could drive away.No mystic words or charms or gestures could defeat the magic of nameless Gilbert Rodman and his faceless kind.Only force, heavy and terrible, could destroy that heavy and terrible magic.No weaving of spells, as delicate as a tapestry, would do.Instead of a tapestry, this new magic called for a plastic bag, thick as lead, tied over the face of this new evil to suffocate it in the breath of its own depravity.Instead of a quartz amulet, it called for a bullet in the head, a knife under the heart, a shotgun blast to the face.Only such things could wipe away its smug, confident leer, its expression of power, supreme and lofty, knowing and unknown.Laura's hands drifted over her collection of firearms, picking them up one by one, feeling the superb balance, the craftsmanship visible in the fit of the housing, the silken polish of the wood, beautifully grained and finished.She hefted a twelve-gauge Purdy that had been her father's, held the butt to her shoulder, aimed across the room at the opposite wall, felt the warmth of the wood against her cheek, caught the scent, light and spectral and momentary, of her father, then the odor of burnt gunpowder, power released.She brought the shotgun down and touched the stock where her cheek had rested.It was still warm from her skin, beaded like dew with her sweat.She brushed away the light dampness, but the warmth remained, and the walnut wood seemed alive and stirring, like a pool into which her fingers might gladly plunge.Wood.This was wood too, wasn't it? Just like deadly pillars, fatal trunks, treacherous planks and boards.But this wood could protect her.This wood and this metal, for in it was power, power to kill the new magic, the modern magic that still haunted her, despite love and what she knew to be truth.She heard a car pull up outside and looked out the window, the shotgun still in her hand.It was Charlie's car, and Charlie and Tom were climbing out of it.Tom was carrying a backpack and biker's helmet, but whether he had the figure or not she neither knew nor cared.All she cared about was that he was safe and had not been caught.She put the shotgun back in the gun case, closed the glass door, and went out onto the porch.She met Tom on the steps, and held him without saying a word.When they finally separated, he smiled and told her that he had gotten the carving."All right," she said, "all right.But come in and have some lunch.You must be starving."He shook his head."I'm okay.The main thing I want to do now is to get that carving buried.If Spencer at the museum notices that it's missing and puts two and two together, I don't want it found in my knapsack.""Besides," Charlie said, "the faster we get it back where it belongs, the faster this place gets back to normal." Although she was not aware of it, Laura must have expressed her disbelief in some small way, for Charlie added dryly, "Believe it or not.""I'm sorry, Charlie," she said."I don't mean to throw a damper on your.burglary.""Don't use that word," he said."You want to send your boyfriend to Sing Sing for the rest of his natural life?" The teasing tone vanished from his voice as suddenly as it had come, and she could tell that he felt self-conscious about what he and Tom had done and were still planning to do."So.Do you want to come with us?""Do you want me to?""The more the merrier," Charlie said, "and I don't mean that facetiously.I really think that the more people who are there when we.re-inter this thing, the better.""The more people?" Laura asked."Or the more believers?"Charlie was silent for a moment."I don't know that it makes any difference.""I'd like to have you come, Laura," Tom said flatly."All right then.I will." She smiled more airily than she felt."Does this make me an accomplice?"Charlie nodded."But don't worry.They have coed cells in Sing Sing now."Tom got a small shovel from his woodshed, and the three of them went to the site of the former sawmill, where Tom dug a small hole directly above where he had reburied the bones of the Indians.Charlie took the quartz carving from the backpack, knelt, and placed it into the grave.Then Tom shoveled the dirt back over it, patted it down, and strewed dead leaves and grass over the bare earth.They stood there silently for a while, until Charlie cleared his throat."I, uh, thought it might be a good thing to use one of Grover Kraybill's.spells." He said the word as if he was embarrassed to."So I brought a copy of his Powwow book along.Not his, the police kept that.Just a copy." Charlie opened the thin, paperbound book."I didn't know which one to use, but I found a few that seem.relevant.This first one is to keep people from doing you an injury." He cleared his throat again, and Laura looked down at the ground."'Dullix, ix, ux.Yea, you can't come over Pontio; Pontio is above Pilato.In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Ghost.' Uh, I don't know what that one really means.The others make a little more sense."Laura looked at Tom and saw that he was having trouble keeping a smile off his face."This one," Charlie went on, "is to fasten or spellbind anything, it says, so I guess that would include spirits." He paused, then said, offended, "Tom, are you amused?""No, Charlie.""Well, look, I feel like enough of an asshole doing this, okay? So can we get serious?""I'm sorry, Charlie.I'm just.uncomfortable, I guess.Nervous, you know?"Charlie gave him another disdainful look, then turned back to the book."'Christ's cross and Christ's crown, Christ Jesus' colored blood, be thou every hour good.God, the Father, is before us; God, the Son, is beside us; God, the Holy Ghost, is behind us.Whoever now is stronger than these three persons may come, by day or night, to attack us.' We're supposed to say the Lord's Prayer now.Three times.'Our Father—'"The three of them prayed together, going through the prayer three times [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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.But it seemed too absurd, like an old movie on Night Owl Theatre with Christopher Lee, and she wondered how many of those Tom and Charlie had seen in their lives.Maybe it was easy for them to believe such things with the evidence they had.But Laura was different from them.Laura had gazed upon the face of true evil in a lantern-lit tent on a summer night, and she would know forever after that what she had then seen was the true magic, the new magic, the twentieth century magic of madness and hate that no incantation could drive away.No mystic words or charms or gestures could defeat the magic of nameless Gilbert Rodman and his faceless kind.Only force, heavy and terrible, could destroy that heavy and terrible magic.No weaving of spells, as delicate as a tapestry, would do.Instead of a tapestry, this new magic called for a plastic bag, thick as lead, tied over the face of this new evil to suffocate it in the breath of its own depravity.Instead of a quartz amulet, it called for a bullet in the head, a knife under the heart, a shotgun blast to the face.Only such things could wipe away its smug, confident leer, its expression of power, supreme and lofty, knowing and unknown.Laura's hands drifted over her collection of firearms, picking them up one by one, feeling the superb balance, the craftsmanship visible in the fit of the housing, the silken polish of the wood, beautifully grained and finished.She hefted a twelve-gauge Purdy that had been her father's, held the butt to her shoulder, aimed across the room at the opposite wall, felt the warmth of the wood against her cheek, caught the scent, light and spectral and momentary, of her father, then the odor of burnt gunpowder, power released.She brought the shotgun down and touched the stock where her cheek had rested.It was still warm from her skin, beaded like dew with her sweat.She brushed away the light dampness, but the warmth remained, and the walnut wood seemed alive and stirring, like a pool into which her fingers might gladly plunge.Wood.This was wood too, wasn't it? Just like deadly pillars, fatal trunks, treacherous planks and boards.But this wood could protect her.This wood and this metal, for in it was power, power to kill the new magic, the modern magic that still haunted her, despite love and what she knew to be truth.She heard a car pull up outside and looked out the window, the shotgun still in her hand.It was Charlie's car, and Charlie and Tom were climbing out of it.Tom was carrying a backpack and biker's helmet, but whether he had the figure or not she neither knew nor cared.All she cared about was that he was safe and had not been caught.She put the shotgun back in the gun case, closed the glass door, and went out onto the porch.She met Tom on the steps, and held him without saying a word.When they finally separated, he smiled and told her that he had gotten the carving."All right," she said, "all right.But come in and have some lunch.You must be starving."He shook his head."I'm okay.The main thing I want to do now is to get that carving buried.If Spencer at the museum notices that it's missing and puts two and two together, I don't want it found in my knapsack.""Besides," Charlie said, "the faster we get it back where it belongs, the faster this place gets back to normal." Although she was not aware of it, Laura must have expressed her disbelief in some small way, for Charlie added dryly, "Believe it or not.""I'm sorry, Charlie," she said."I don't mean to throw a damper on your.burglary.""Don't use that word," he said."You want to send your boyfriend to Sing Sing for the rest of his natural life?" The teasing tone vanished from his voice as suddenly as it had come, and she could tell that he felt self-conscious about what he and Tom had done and were still planning to do."So.Do you want to come with us?""Do you want me to?""The more the merrier," Charlie said, "and I don't mean that facetiously.I really think that the more people who are there when we.re-inter this thing, the better.""The more people?" Laura asked."Or the more believers?"Charlie was silent for a moment."I don't know that it makes any difference.""I'd like to have you come, Laura," Tom said flatly."All right then.I will." She smiled more airily than she felt."Does this make me an accomplice?"Charlie nodded."But don't worry.They have coed cells in Sing Sing now."Tom got a small shovel from his woodshed, and the three of them went to the site of the former sawmill, where Tom dug a small hole directly above where he had reburied the bones of the Indians.Charlie took the quartz carving from the backpack, knelt, and placed it into the grave.Then Tom shoveled the dirt back over it, patted it down, and strewed dead leaves and grass over the bare earth.They stood there silently for a while, until Charlie cleared his throat."I, uh, thought it might be a good thing to use one of Grover Kraybill's.spells." He said the word as if he was embarrassed to."So I brought a copy of his Powwow book along.Not his, the police kept that.Just a copy." Charlie opened the thin, paperbound book."I didn't know which one to use, but I found a few that seem.relevant.This first one is to keep people from doing you an injury." He cleared his throat again, and Laura looked down at the ground."'Dullix, ix, ux.Yea, you can't come over Pontio; Pontio is above Pilato.In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Ghost.' Uh, I don't know what that one really means.The others make a little more sense."Laura looked at Tom and saw that he was having trouble keeping a smile off his face."This one," Charlie went on, "is to fasten or spellbind anything, it says, so I guess that would include spirits." He paused, then said, offended, "Tom, are you amused?""No, Charlie.""Well, look, I feel like enough of an asshole doing this, okay? So can we get serious?""I'm sorry, Charlie.I'm just.uncomfortable, I guess.Nervous, you know?"Charlie gave him another disdainful look, then turned back to the book."'Christ's cross and Christ's crown, Christ Jesus' colored blood, be thou every hour good.God, the Father, is before us; God, the Son, is beside us; God, the Holy Ghost, is behind us.Whoever now is stronger than these three persons may come, by day or night, to attack us.' We're supposed to say the Lord's Prayer now.Three times.'Our Father—'"The three of them prayed together, going through the prayer three times [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]