The Servants of Twilight by Dean Koontz Read Free Book Online Page B

damn all hypocrites.
    She wanted to hit Wilford, kick him and hit him and take out her frustration on him, but she only watched as he got into the patrol car where his partner waited for him. He looked back at her, raised one hand, and gave her a curt little wave through the window.
    She returned to the front door.
    Joey was waiting for her.
    She wanted to say something reassuring to him. He looked as if he needed that. But even if she’d been able to find the words, she wouldn’t have been able to deceive him by speaking them. Right now, until they knew what the hell was happening, it was probably better to be scared. If he was frightened, he would be careful, watchful.
    She felt disaster coming.
    Was she being melodramatic?
    No.
    Joey felt it coming, too. She could see a dreadful anticipation in his eyes.

6
     
    She stepped into the house, closed the door, locked it.
    She ruffled Joey’s hair. “You okay, honey?”
    “I’m gonna miss Brandy,” he said in a shaky voice, trying to be a brave little man but not quite succeeding.
    “Me too,” Christine said, remembering how funny Brandy had looked in the role of Chewbacca the Wookie.
    Joey said, “I thought . . .”
    “What?”
    “Maybe it would be a good idea . . .”
    “Yeah?”
    “. . . a good idea to get another dog soon.”
    She hunkered down to his level. “You know, that’s a very mature idea. Very wise, I think.”
    “I don’t mean I want to forget Brandy.”
    “Of course not.”
    “I couldn’t ever forget him.”
    “We’ll always remember Brandy. He’ll always have a special place in our hearts,” she said. “And I’m sure he’d understand about us getting another dog right away. In fact, I’m sure that’s what he’d want us to do.”
    “So I’ll still be protected,” Joey said.
    “That’s right. Brandy would want you to be protected.”
    In the kitchen, the telephone rang.
    “Tell you what,” she said, “I’ll just answer the phone, and then we’ll make arrangements for burying Brandy.”
    The phone rang again.
    “We’ll find a nice pet cemetery or something, and we’ll lay Brandy to rest with all the right honors.”
    “I’d like that,” he said.
    The phone rang a third time.
    Heading toward the kitchen, she said, “Then later we’ll look for a puppy.” She picked up the phone just as it completed a fifth ring. “Hello?”
    A woman said, “Are you part of it?”
    “Excuse me?”
    “Are you part of it—or don’t you know what’s happening?” the woman asked.
    Although the voice was vaguely familiar, Christine said, “I think you’ve got the wrong number.”
    “You are Miss Scavello, aren’t you?”
    “Yes. Who’s this?”
    “I’ve got to know if you’re part of it. Are you one of them ? Or are you an innocent? I’ve got to know.”
    Suddenly Christine recognized the voice, and a chill crept up her spine.
    The old woman said, “Do you know what your son really is? Do you know the evil in him? Do you know why he’s got to die?”
    Christine slammed the phone down.
    Joey had followed her into the kitchen. He was standing just this side of the door to the dining room, chewing on a thumbnail. In his striped shirt and jeans and somewhat tattered sneakers, he looked pathetically small, defenseless.
    The phone began to ring again.
    Ignoring it, Christine said, “Come on, Skipper. Stay with me. Stay close to me.”
    She led him out of the kitchen, through the dining room and living room, upstairs to the master bedroom.
    He didn’t ask what was wrong. From the look on his face, she thought he probably knew.
    The phone kept ringing.
    In the bedroom she pulled the top drawer out of the highboy, rummaged under a stack of folded sweaters, and came up with a wicked-looking pistol, a selective doubleaction Astra Constable .32 automatic with a snub-nosed barrel. She had purchased it years ago, before Joey was born, when she’d begun living alone, and she had learned how to use it. The gun had given her a