Slawter Read Online Free

excitement building. “I’m his nephew, Grubitsch. I mean, Grubbs. Grubbs Grady. That’s me.” Can’t remember the last time I called myself Grubitsch. What a dork!
    “Grubbs,” the woman says, nodding shortly. “Yes. I know about you.”
    “You do?” Unable to hide my delight. “Dervish told you about me? Wow, that’s great! Uh, I mean, yeah, cool. I know about you too, of course.”
    “Really?” She sounds surprised.
    “Sure. I’ve been waiting all week for you.”
    “You knew I was coming?” Sharp this time.
    “Yeah. Dervish told me.”
    She taps the steering wheel with her fingernails. They’re cut short, down to the flesh. “Well, may I give you a lift home, Grubbs? That way you can direct me as we go.”
    “Sure!” I open the door and slide in. Put my seat belt on. Smile wide at David A. — I mean, Davida — Haym. She smiles back thinly. A narrow, pale face. Moody, if not down-right gloomy. Exactly the way I expected a horror producer to look. “Just go straight,” I tell her. “The road runs by our house. You can’t miss it — only mansion in the neighborhood.”
    Silence. Davida is focused on the road. I’m trying to think of something to say that’s casual and witty. But my mind’s a blank. So I check her out. Thin all over, a long neck, bony hands, straight black hair, dark eyes. Dull white shirt and skirt. Flat, plain shoes. No jewelry, except one ring on her left hand with a large gold “L” in the middle of a circle of flat silver.
    “How have you been, Grubbs?” she asks suddenly.
    “Fine.”
    “I know something of your past. What happened last year with Billy Spleen.”
    “What do you know about me and Bill-E?” I ask suspiciously, guard rising.
    “I know about the lycanthropy. How you fought it.”
    “Dervish told you
that?
” I cry, astonished.
    “How has Billy been? Any recurrences of his old patterns?”
    “Of course not! We cured him! He’s normal now!”
    “And you?” she says quietly, and her eyes flick across, cold and calculating.
    “Who the hell are you?” I ask, a tremble in my voice.
    “Who do you think I am?” she replies.
    “I thought you were David A. Haym. But you’re not... are you?”
    In answer she raises a finger and points. “That must be the mansion.”
    She pulls into our drive. I have a bad feeling in my gut, not sure who this woman is or how she knows about Bill-E. The woman kills the engine and looks at me calmly. Her eyes are
really
dark. A robot-like expression. No makeup. Thin lips, almost invisible. A small nose with a wartish mole on the right nostril.
    “Shall we go in together, or do you want to go ahead and tell your uncle that I’m here?” she asks.
    “That depends. What’s your name?” She only smiles in reply. She looks more normal when she smiles, like a teacher — stern, but human. I relax slightly. “You can come with me,” I decide, not wanting to leave her here in case she’s an old friend of Dervish’s and I appear rude.
    “Thank you,” she says and gets out of the car. She’s smoothing her skirt down and studying the mansion when I step out. “Nice place,” she comments, then raises a thin eye-brow, the signal for me to lead the way. I start ahead of her, whistling, not letting her see that I’m unnerved, acting like she’s an ordinary visitor. In through the oversized front doors. The juicy smell of sizzling steak drifts from the kitchen.
    “Goodness,” the woman says, looking at the high ceiling, the size of the rooms, the weapons on the walls, the staircase.
    “This way,” I tell her, heading for the kitchen. “You’re just in time for dinner.”
    She follows slowly, absorbing the surroundings. Obviously hasn’t been here before. I keep trying to put a name to her face, thinking of all the people Dervish has mentioned in the past.
    I reach the kitchen. Dervish is hard at work on the steak. “No!” he shouts before I say anything. “She hasn’t called and there’s been no sign of