D A Novel (George Right) - By George Right Page 0,53

it and dived under the roof just seconds before the helicopter rumbled deep-voiced over them, invisible in low overcast.

"Why did we hurry like that?" Greg exactingly asked, panting. The entire floor of the arbor had been covered by deep snow–a bit less in the center than along the edges.

"We had to," Santa conspiratorially winked, "I shouldn't be seen by adults now."

The noise of the helicopter gradually went away and at last completely faded out in the distance.

"Well, so when will we go to the sleigh?" the boy reminded.

"Later," Santa murmured, "the sleigh flies only when it is completely dark. And now..." he paused, listening, and, having heard no suspicious sounds, finished... "now you must undress."

"What?"

"Undress, be a good boy," demanded the voice which suddenly became hoarse, "you'll see, you will like it."

"Oh, just a minute," Greg answered with unexpected ease, though his heart beat already at some ultrasonic frequency and his fingers shivered when he unbuttoned his jacket. He carefully placed the plane on snow.

"Well, how long are you going to dawdle?" asked a dissatisfied voice.

"Just now," mumbled Gregory, resting his chin against his breast, "my button is stuck..."

The being in red bent down to him, ready to tear off the hindrance if necessary. At the very same time the boy jerked open his jacket, snatching out from the left inner pocket a bottle from which he had already taken out the glass stopper. The colorless liquid with a caustic smell splashed directly in the red face bent over him. Hydrochloric acid from a set for young chemists (which was intended for older schoolboys, but Greg had persuaded his mom) was not very concentrated–but it got into Santa's eyes and was quite sufficient to make him howl wildly with pain, crawling both hands about his face. At the next second a keen knife jerked from the right inner pocket sparkled in the air–it was Greg's main weapon upon which he put special hopes. He understood that his childish strength–and the length of his self-made knife–may be insufficient to punch through the red jacket and the flesh to the vital organs. Therefore he raised his hand and slashed the throat of the blinded and howling enemy with the sharp edge. Blood jetted fanlike, sprinkling the snow, Greg's clothing, and his face. The boy grasped the knife in his other hand and slashed Santa's throat from the other side.

His opponent who didn't even howl, but now only squealed, still made himself move one hand from his eyes and tried to seize the boy. Gregory quickly jumped aside. The enemy heavily moved forward, blindly ran into a column, started aside and, having lost his balance, fell down from the arbor porch to the snow outside. Gregory leaped onto his back like a wildcat. The previous wounds were only superficial, but now Greg, having seized with one hand Santa's hair from which the red cap had fallen, with the full force of his other arm, pricked and cut the hated neck. The enemy vainly tried moving his hands back to get rid of the little devil tormenting him. When one of his hands, which already lost a mitten, brushed Greg's face, the boy with all his strength sank his teeth into the enemy's finger (his mouth was immediately bit by acid).

The prostrated enemy didn't shout any more but only rattled and gurgled. His movements became more and more languid. At last, having ascertained that the opponent was already weak enough, Gregory arduously turned the heavy body on its back and unbuttoned the blood-sticky red jacket. Under it there was a gray sweater; Greg cut it, then a T-shirt, and bared pale skin and the left nipple from which a long black hair grew. The heart, as much as he knew, was a bit lower. A cut throat is good, but the procedure should be completed. Not without reason he had refused his initial idea to use an ordinary knife and, using a hammer and a file, had made a thin silver blade from the biggest spoon in his parents fine dinner set (luckily his parents hadn't noticed its disappearance ahead of time). A wooden handle from a toy sword suited to this knife excellently.

Certainly, no books explained how to kill Santa Claus. But if silver helps against werewolves and vampires, why won't it help in this case also? Certainly, Gregory didn't believe in werewolves and vampires. But mum said that legends contains particles of the truth in a fantastic form. Stabbing the heart played