The Omen by David Seltzer Read Free Book Online

perplexed.
    "One more thing, sir. One more thing that's very wrong."
    "What's that, Horton?" asked Thorn.

    "She uses the telephone and she calls long distance to Rome."
    Finished with what he had to say, Horton resumed his driving, finding a gap in the traffic and quickly pulling away. As the landscape moved by them, Katherine and Thorn pondered in silence, eventually finding each other's eyes.
    "She was openly defiant today," said Katherine.
    "You want to dismiss her?"
    "I don't know. Do you?"
    Thorn shrugged.
    "Damien seems to enjoy her."
    "I know."
    "That counts for something."
    "Yes," sighed Katherine. "I guess it does."
    "You can let her go if you want."
    Katherine paused, gazing out the window.
    "I think perhaps she'll go on her own."
    Sitting between them, Damien stared at the floor, his eyes unmoving as they sailed toward town.
    All Saints Church was a mammoth building. Seventeenth-century architecture, melded with eighteenth, nineteenth, and twentieth in an ongoing flow of construction. The massive front doors were always open, the inside lighted day and night. Today the staircase leading to the doors was knee-deep in iris, and morning-coated ushers creating a stately path. The event had brought a crowd of people, some of them carrying picket signs with Communist party slogans, obvious defectors from a rally in Piccadilly who preferred to gawk here instead. The one great leveler for people of all stations and political persuasion was the presence of celebrities. People were gathered there in swarms; the crowd was beginning to burgeon, and security guards were having difficulty holding them back. It delayed the proceedings, and the arriving limousines had to queue up in single file and wait until they were directly in front of the church before they could discharge their passengers.
    The Thorn limousine was a late arrival, taking its position near the end of the block. The security forces were thin here, and people crowded around the car, staring in unabashedly. As they inched through, the mob thickened, and Damien, who had dozed, began to rouse, startled and confused by the faces peering in. Katherine pulled him close, gazing uneasily ahead, but the bodies around them multiplied and began to push; the grotesque face of a hydrocephalic shoved close to the window beside Katherine and began to knock as though trying to get inside.
    She turned to the face and flinched, for the man had begun to laugh, emitting a cascade of drool.
    "Good lord," she gasped. "What is going on?"
    "It's jammed up here for a good long block," replied Horton.
    "Can't you get around it?" Katherine asked.
    "We're bumper to bumper, front and back."
    The knocking continued beside her and she closed her eyes, trying to shut out the sound, but it only grew, as others outside became amused by it and began to knock on the other windows as well.
    "Look up ahead," said Horton. "Communists."
    "Can't we get out of here?" begged Katherine.
    And beside her Damien's eyes began to register fear, picking up his mother's alarm.
    "It's all right . .. it's all right," soothed Thorn, seeing the fear in the child's eyes. "These people can't hurt us, they just want to see who's inside."
    But the child's eyes began to widen, and they were not focused on the people but on a point high above them; the towering spires of the church.
    "There's nothing to be afraid of, Damien," said Thorn. "We're just going to a wedding."
    But the child's fear grew, his face gripped with tension as they inched inexorably closer to the massive, towering church.
    ''Damien .. ."
    Thorn glanced at Catherine, directing her eyes to the child. His face was stony, his body tightening as the crowds slid away and the cathedral suddenly loomed into view.
    "It's all right, Damien," whispered Katherine, "the people are gone .. ."
    But his eyes were riveted to the church, growing wider with each moment.
    "What's wrong with him?" asked Thorn quickly.
    "I don't know."
    "What is it, Damien?"
    "He's