Free Weaveworld by Clive Barker Page B

certainty that nothing of value would have survived this clearance, and that she’d have to go back to Mimi empty-handed; and on the other, an undeniable relief that this was so: that the stage was deserted. Though her imagination hung the missing pictures on the walls, and put the furniture back in place, it was all in her mind. There was nothing here to spoil the calm good order of the life she lived.
    She moved through from the parlour into the hallway, glancing into the small sitting room before turning the comer to the stairs. They were not so mountainous; nor so dark. Butbefore she could climb them she heard a movement on the floor above.
    ‘Who’s there?’ she called out –

2
    – the words were sufficient to break Immacolata’s concentration. The creatures she’d summoned, the by-blows, halted their advance towards Cal, awaiting instruction.
    He took his opportunity, and threw himself across the room, kicking at the beast closest to him.
    The thing lacked a body, its four arms springing straight from a bulbous neck, beneath which clusters of sacs hung, wet as liver and lights. Cal’s blow connected, and one of the sacs burst, releasing a sewer stench. With the rest of the siblings close upon him. Cal raced for the door, but the wounded creature was fastest in pursuit, sidling crab-like on its hands, and spitting as it came. A spray of saliva hit the wall close to Cal’s head, and the paper blistered. Revulsion gave heat to his heals. He was at the door in an instant.
    Shadwell moved to intercept him, but one of the beasts got beneath his feet like an errant dog, and before he could regain his equilibrium Cal was out of the room and on to the landing.
    The woman who’d called out was at the bottom of the stairs, face upturned. She stood as bright day to the night he’d almost succumbed to in the room behind him. Wide grey-blue eyes, curls of dark auburn hair framing her pale face, a mouth upon which a question was rising, but which his wild appearance had silenced.
    ‘Get out of here!’ he yelled as he hurtled down the stairs.
    She stood and gaped.
    ‘The door’.’ he said. ‘For God’s sake open the door.’
    He didn’t look to sec if the monsters were coming in pursuit, but he heard Shadwell cry out:
    ‘Stop, thief!’
    from the top of the stairs.
    The woman’s eyes went to the Salesman, then back to Cal, then to the front door.
    ‘Open it!’ Cal yelled, and this time she moved to do so. Either she distrusted Shadwell on sight or she had a passion for thieves. Whichever, she flung the door wide. Sunlight poured in, dust dancing in its beams. Cal heard a howl of protest from behind him, but the girl did nothing to arrest his flight.
    ‘Get out of here!’ he said to her, and then he was over the threshold and into the street outside.
    He took half a dozen steps from the door and then turned around to see if the woman with the grey eyes was following, but she was still standing in the hallway.
    ‘Will you come on? he yelled at her.
    She opened her mouth to say something to him, but Shadwell was at the bottom of the stairs by now, and pushing her out of the way. He couldn’t linger; there were only a few paces between him and the Salesman. He ran.
    The man with the greased-back hair made no real attempt at pursuit once his quarry was out in the open. The young man was whippet-lean, and twice as fleet; the other was a bear in a Savile Row suit. Suzanna had disliked him from the moment she’d set eyes on him. Now he turned and said:
    ‘Why’d you do that, woman?’
    She didn’t grace the demand with a reply. For one thing, she was still trying to make sense of what she’d just seen; for another, her attention was no longer on the bear but on his partner – or keeper – the woman who had now followed him down the stairs.
    Her features were as blank as a dead child’s, but Suzanna had never seen a face that exercised such fascination.
    ‘Get out of my way,’ the woman said as she reached