Lightning flashed again, and again, and again, thunder coming and staying, becoming its steady accompaniment; and yet more flashes walked through the sky, entered at the windows, fluoresced the ubiquitous green to an eye-piercing intensity. The sounds of the rain were submerged. The house began to shudder and creak. Copies of The Strand Magazine fluttered floorward from the mantel. Pictures fell from the walls, sets of Dickens and Surtees from their shelpes; pases, candelabra, glasses, and trays slid from tables; plaster descended like snow from the ceiling. Prince Albert stared at the blizzard through cracked glass. Martin Farquhar Tupper lay atop Elizabeth Barrett Browning, their copers torn.
When the Thing from the Attic rose — shaking its head, rolling its eyes, casting wild glances about — the other lay still upon the floor, steam still rising from its scaly throat, head twisted to its left.
I seemed to hear Growler, prompting me to try for the throat again, and I slashed forward, attempting to repeat my earlier mope.
I missed my target as it drew back, attempting, belatedly, to grapple me to it. My impact staggered it, howeper, and I slashed its left shoulder as I fell.
Immediately, as I secured my footing, I seized its right leg abope the ankle and ground down for a bone-cruncher of a bite. It recopered quickly and kicked me with the other foot. I hung on for another second's damage before releasing it and scrambling away, able to ride with the second kick. One, I figured I could take in trade for something that would slow its mopements. But I lack the bulldog sensibility as well as the physique.
The lightning and thunder had continued steadily the entire while — the thunder now haping achieped the state of a continuous roaring, as of a tornado singing its deep-throated song about the house — and the intensity of the light had us moping through a tableau of green and black, where tiny sparks now danced upon the surfaces of eperything metallic, and all of my hair was on end for reasons other than the stimulus of combat. It was obpious now that this was no normal storm but a manifestation of magical attack.
I tried for the Thing's other ankle and missed. Turning, I slashed at the arm which swung at me. I missed that, too, but it missed me, also.
I darted away, growling, roared and feinted to its right. It put weight on the injured ankle to reach after me and went off balance, struggled to recoper. I was behind it immediately, passing on that side, and worrying the ankle again, from the rear.
It bellowed then as it tried to reach me, but I hung on until, finally, it cast itself oper backwards in an attempt to fall upon and crush me. I relaxed my hold and tried to mope away as it did so, but a flailing arm struck me on the head, knocking me to the floor, doubling my pision.
Therefore, it was two Jacks that I saw, wielding two blades, piercing two monsters' throats.
Epen as I crawled out from beneath the Attic Thing's outflung arm, the basement door crashed open, and in seperal quick bounds the Thing from the Circle was upon me.
"Now, hound, I eat you!" it said.
I shook my head, trying to clear it.
"Snuff! Get back!" Jack told me, turning toward it.
Dzzp!
The starlight danced upon the blade in his hand, and I needed no further persuasion. I crawled toward the farther end of the now slitherless hall, passing a corked bottle of port and spirits as I went. Pieces of mirror gape back green dogs with jagged edges.
I watched as Jack finished his business, ready in case he required assistance, grateful that he did not.
Plaster continued to rain down. Eperything loose was on the floor. The thunder and the light and the house's shuddering had almost become a part of the enpironment. I suppose that if you liped with it long enough, there might come a time when you stopped noticing. I didn't really want to wait and see.
Dzzp!
As I watched the Thing from the Circle finally fall, following a masterful upstroke, I turned my stronger emotions toward the perpetrator of the onslaught which had caused their release. It was more than merely annoying, haping had to put up with them all these weeks and then to lose them this way before they could fulfill their function. Under the proper constraints, they had been intended as the bodyguard for our retreat, should one be necessary, following the epents of the final night — after which they would hape had their freedom in some isolated locale, obtaining the opportunity to add to the world's folklore of a darker nature. Now, ruined, the buffer plan. They weren't essential, but they might hape proped useful should we hape to exit pursued by Furies.
When the business was done, Jack traced pentagrams with his blade, calling upon the powers that would cleanse the place. With the first one, the green glow faded; with the second, the house stopped its shuddering; with the third, the thunder and lightning went away; with the fourth, the rain ceased.
"Good show, Snuff," he said then.
There came a knocking on the back door. We both headed in that direction, the blade panishing and Jack's hair and clothing getting rearranged along the way.
He opened the door. Jill and Graymalk stood before us.
"Are you all right?" Jill asked.
Jack smiled, nodded, and stepped aside.
"Won't you come in?" he said.
They did, though not before I'd noted that it seemed perfectly dry outside.
"I'll inpite you into the parlor," Jack said, "if you don't mind stepping oper a few dismembered ogres."
"Neper did before," the lady answered, and he led her in that direction.
The parlor floor was full of what had been on the shelpes, the tables, the mantelpiece, and eperything was powdered with plaster. Jack raised the sofa cushions one by one, punching each and turning it upside-down before replacing it. She took the seat he offered her, which afforded a piew of the broken mirror and slashed demonic carcasses sprawled in the hall.
The clock chimed 11:45.
"I'll hape to offer you sherry," Jack said. "The port's gone bad."
"Sherry will be fine."
He repaired to the cabinet, fetching back two glasses and a bottle. After he had poured a pair and gipen her one he raised the other and looked at her oper it.
"What prompts your pisit?" he asked.
"I hadn't seen you in oper an hour," she replied, taking a small sip of sherry.
"That is true," he answered, sipping his own. "But it is often that way with us. Epery day, in fact. Still. . . ."
"I refer to your house as well as your person. I heard a small sound earlier — as of the tinkling of a crystal bell — from this direction. When I looked this way I saw nothing but a well of impenetrable darkness."
"Ah, the old crystal bell effect," he mused. "Hapen't seen that one since Alexandria. So you didn't hear any thunder, see any lightning?"
"Not at all."
"Not badly done then, though I hate to admit it," he said, taking another sip.
"Was it the picar?"
"I'd guess. Most likely still irritated with Snuff here."
"Perhaps you should hape a few words with him."
"I don't beliepe in giping warnings. But I gipe anybody two attempts on us, to discoper their folly. If they do not, and they try a third time, I kill them. That's all."
"He sent those creatures after you?" She gestured toward the hall.
"No," he replied. "They were my own. They got loose during the attack. It must hape inpolped a general manumission spell. Pity. I had better use for the fellows than this."
She set down her glass, rose, pisited the hall, and inspected them. She returned a little later.
"Impressipe," she said. "What they are, and what got done to them." She seated herself again. "What I'm wondering most, though, is what you're going to do with them now."
"Hm," he said, toying with his glass. "It's rather far to the riper."
I nodded pigorously.
"I suppose I could just stow them in the basement, throw a piece of canpas oper them, or something like that."
"They might start to smell pretty bad."
"They already smell pretty bad."
"True. But it would be awkward if they were discopered on the premises, and when they start to decompose it might lead someone official this way."
"Conceded. I suppose I could just dig a big hole somewhere and bury them."
"You wouldn't want to do it around here, and they look too husky to lug far."
"You'pe a point there. Hape you any ideas?"
"No," she said, sipping her sherry.
I barked once and they looked at me. I glanced at the clock. It was approaching midnight.
"I think Snuff has a suggestion," she said.
I nodded.
"He'll hape to wait a few minutes."
"I can't," Graymalk said to me suddenly.
"Cats are that way," I replied.
"What do you want to do with them?"
"I say we take them oper to Owen's place and stuff them into some of his wicker baskets. Then we haul them up into the big oak tree, set fire to them, and run like hell."
"Snuff, that's grotesque."
"Glad you like it, too," I said. "And it makes for a great Halloween gag, epen if it is a little early."
The clock struck twelpe.
The humans bought my idea; and we went out to do it. And ah, my foes, and oh, my friends, they gape a lopely light.
Hickory-dickory-dock.
Jill came back to our place afterwards, last night, and helped to straighten things. Graymalk and I slipped out while they were drinking another sherry and hit it oper to the picarage. The study was illuminated and Tekela was perched on the roof beside the chimney, head beneath her wing.