tiny bit of bluing that's wrong, anything … he won't have it. Just throws it in the reject room and forgets it."
"He doesn't return them?"
"No, never."
"That's the place for us, then. Take one of his favorite guns and he'd probably miss it. Where are the servants' quarters?"
"That way," she said, pointing. "First floor, in the back."
"Come on. 1 want to check there, too."
The servants' quarters were all empty.
"That answers another question," Sam said. "Come on, we'd better hurry." He wondered how long the ceremony at the circle of stones would last.
"It breaks up just before dawn," she said, reading his thoughts.
"Pretty good gimmick we have going," Sam said with a grin. "It may really come in handy before all this is over. I wonder how far we can project and read each other's thoughts?"
"We'll try tomorrow." She tugged at his arm. "Today, I mean. Come on, let's get to the reject room."
Sam selected a good shotgun and a high-powered rifle, then picked a pistol for Nydia. The weapons were all in good condition, except for needing cleaning and oiling. They were fine weapons, from old and skilled manufacturers. He stuffed his pockets with cartridges and had Nydia do the same. She was nervous, wanting to leave, but Sam wanted to prowl. He found a tarp-covered cache of camping equipment, loading them both down with shelter halves and blankets, rope and tent pegs. They filled two packs, then filled two smaller knapsacks. Finally Sam picked up two pairs of binoculars and steered Nydia toward the door.
"I feel like a beast of burden," she complained on the way back to their rooms. "Why do we need all these coils and coils of rope?"
Sam stopped in the dimly lit hall.
"What's wrong, Sam?"
"Beast. Why did that word spark something in me?"
"Black hasn't been trying to frighten you, has he?"
"What do you mean?"
"He likes to tell people about monsters that roam the timber in back of the house. No, he wouldn't tell you. He likes to tell girls, frighten them."
"No, it's more than that. Has something to do with Whitfield. Rumors of Beasts—Devil creatures. Are there beasts in the timber?"
"I … don't know, Sam. I've seen … something. Heard noises and sounds that … were not human, but yet, really not animal, either. But more animal than human. If that makes any sense. And once, when I was about, oh, twelve or thirteen, I suppose, I went walking one afternoon, back where Mother had told me never to go. The smell that came out of that hole in the ground was hideous. When I walked closer … I don't know how to explain this … the growl that came out of the hole was … not menacing as much as it sounded like a warning. To me. As if whatever it was in there was telling me to stay away. This sounds funny—odd, I mean—but it seemed to me like it was saying it didn't want to hurt me.
"Your mother, Falcon, Black … do they ever go back there?"
"Sure! It's just in back of the circle of stones. Big hole in the ground. I've been to the circle dozens of times since then. But no farther."
Sam thought of the tales the kids used to tell back in Whitfield: stories about monsters and Devil-Beasts, and about what happened to cause the state to fence off the area known as The Digging. And he remembered stories about deep holes in the ground: holes that emit a very foul odor. A hideous odor.
Just as they began walking the hall, a door slammed in the house. "Run!" Sam whispered, and they raced down the hallway, up the steps, and to their rooms. In their haste, neither noticed the cartridge fall from Nydia's pocket, the brass gleaming dully on the dark carpet.
Footsteps slowly tracked them, shuffling up the steps, down the hallway. They stopped, a hand reaching down, long, bony, pale fingers closing around the brass. Jimmy Perkins looked at the cartridge, grinning grotesquely. He put the cartridge in his pocket, then shuffled down the hall to Nydia's room. He stood for a moment, listening, his ear to the door.
Had to be that young man that Sam Balon fathered, he thought. Snooping with Nydia. Found Mr. Falcon's gun room. Both up to something. But, he grinned, almost chuckling, I won't tell Mr. Falcon. His smile grew more obscene. Maybe Miss Nydia would give him some of that tight young pussy in return for keeping his mouth shut? It was worth