or those bathrooms, or in the gable rooms overhead."
"I think you,re right," she said.
They looked at each other.
"Until we know," she said, "we won,t ever know whether we,re alone here, will we?"
"No, and that makes me absolutely furious," Reuben said. He was feeling protective of her, madly protective. He didn,t want to scare her. He didn,t say so, but he didn,t want them to be even a few yards apart.
They took the fire ax with them, and a flashlight they found in the shed, and a hammer.
But they found nothing. They explored and tapped on every inner wall throughout the second floor, and the same in the attic.
They also checked the cellar. Nothing there.
Finally Reuben was tired. It was past seven o,clock now and he prayed with all his heart that the change wouldn,t come, that he would be left in peace by it tonight. And yet he could not put the temptation out of his mind. He hadn,t really feasted on those men last night. The hunger for it wasn,t rooted in his gut, but somewhere else.
And then there were other things.
This morning, he felt that he had brought on the change simply by wishing for it, after he and Laura had made love. It had seemed more rapid, his muscles working with it rather than against it. He remembered swallowing over and over again, as if with his whole being, calling back into himself all that had been enlarged and hardened and had to dissolve.
He fastened his thoughts on the house, how to get into that secret space.
When the rain slackened he and Laura put on heavy sweatshirts and went for a walk outside the house. First thing they found were floodlights everywhere, but they couldn,t find a switch to turn them on. He,d have to ask Galton. They,d been on the first night he and Galton had met.
But the lighted windows made it easy for them to see their way through the oak forest that surrounded the entire east side of the house. These were lovable trees, Reuben said, because you could climb them, look at their low inviting limbs. He wanted to come out here in the sunshine, as soon as there was sunshine, and climb from limb to limb. Laura agreed with him.
They figured the house was easily sixty feet high, maybe higher. A grove of Douglas fir grew at its northwestern corner, with trees almost as tall, it seemed, as the nearby redwoods. And then the oak forest enclosed the gravel drive along the entire east side. It was English ivy that covered so much of the walls. It had been carefully clipped around the windows. Laura told him the names of many of the other trees - the western hemlock and the tan oak, which wasn,t an oak at all.
How would Reuben, as Little Reuben, ever get up on that roof without some professional help? It would be easy enough for a roofing company to get its big ladders up the front of the house, but that was just the sort of official involvement he wanted to avoid. Of course the Man Wolf could go up the rough mortared stone wall. But the Man Wolf would have to leave Laura alone, wouldn,t he?
Reuben had never thought about buying a gun in his entire life, but he was thinking about it now. Laura knew how to shoot a gun, yes. But she hated guns. Her father had never kept guns. Her husband had threatened her once with a gun. She veered off that subject quickly, and went on to talk about how she would be all right with the ax if he went up to the roof, and wouldn,t he hear her, just the way he had before, if she were to call for help?
The phone was ringing when they entered the house.
Reuben hurried to the library to answer it.
It was Simon Oliver.
"All right, now, don,t get upset about this till I finish explaining it," he said. "I tell you, Reuben, this is one of the most unusual situations I,ve ever encountered, but that does not mean that things are not going very well, all things considered, and they may continue to go well if we consider carefully what we do and say."
"Simon, please, what are you talking about?" Reuben said. He sat at his desk, barely able to contain himself. Laura was building up the fire.
"Now, you know how much respect I have for Baker, Hammermill, especially Arthur Hammermill," Simon went on, "and