coming… But it hadn’t looked like an animal. It had been stiff, and manlike in shape, if not size. Like a little monkey made of twigs.
A crash from Ali’s room brought Frankie’s head sharply around.
“Now look what you’ve done!” she heard Ali say crossly.
I’m going mad, Frankie thought. She stepped quickly to the door of Ali’s bedroom, flung it open and found herself standing face to face with an enormous stag.
* * *
Just before he heard the door of the back porch creak open, Valenti became aware of the wind. It had been steadily building, stirring the leaves and remnants of dried autumn weeds with a crackling whisper of sound. Years of working the streets had given him an acute sixth sense. As he sat here now, feeling the wind, hearing the fey music that piped low and breathy in the distance, that same intuition began to tickle the nerves along his spine. Then he heard the porch door open and looked across the darkened lawn to see Ali step outside.
She had her head cocked as though she were listening to something. The music. Valenti realized that she was hearing it, too. He was about to call out to her, but that hunter’s sixth sense stopped him before he did. Something. There was something…
When he saw the stag step silently from the woods not a half-dozen yards from where he sat, the sheer wonder of its presence—its size, its silence—made his mouth go dry. His pulse began a quick tattoo as the huge beast moved slowly out onto the lawn. Ali was out there. Maybe the stag would just be spooked and take off when it caught her scent, but maybe it would charge her instead. Valenti started to stand, but then a voice called out softly from the tree above him.
“Don’t move.”
He looked up. Slanted cat’s eyes reflected the light from Ali’s house.
“ Madonna mia ,” he muttered. The words came out in a barely audible rasp.
But he couldn’t move now if he’d wanted to. Those eyes had done something to him. Sapped the strength from his legs so that he couldn’t stand. Stolen his voice so that he couldn’t call out a warning to Ali. The slanted eyes blinked, then dropped toward him. The owner of those eyes landed catlike beside him. Curly hair spilled from under the brim of a big floppy hat, framing a narrow foxlike face. The eyes were very close to him now, inches from his own.
It’s just a girl, he thought. Just a kid. But her eyes weren’t a child’s eyes. They were old and worldly-wise.
“Watch,” she said. Sitting back, she pointed out toward the lawn where the stag was drawing nearer to Ali.
* * *
The stag moved out from the trees and onto the lawn. Ali’s breath caught in her lungs and she trembled—first from excitement, then with a touch of fear as she realized just how far from the house she was and that the stag was drawing closer to her with each deliberate step.
Jeez, what if it charged her? She started to back away, but suddenly the stag was looming right over her and she was too scared to move.
“N-nice boy,” she said. She swallowed thickly. “Good boy. E-easy now…”
The stag dipped its head, antlers bobbing with the movement, then it looked up to where the light she’d left on in her bedroom was spilling out the window. Ali didn’t want to take her gaze off the animal, but at last she too shot a quick glance up at that square of light.
* * *
Frankie stared at the stag. It was so close, and the light was so bright that she could make out every detail. The broad black nose, the lighter-colored hairs of its muzzle, the ruddy hair on its brow, the liquid eyes, the huge antlers lifting up to almost touch the ceiling of Ali’s bedroom. Ali…
The stag never moved. From the attic above she heard the scurrying of what sounded like a dozen rats or squirrels crossing the floorboards up there, tiny claws clicking on the wooden surface. Frankie looked upward, then took a step back from the stag in the doorway.
I’m going crazy, she
A crash from Ali’s room brought Frankie’s head sharply around.
“Now look what you’ve done!” she heard Ali say crossly.
I’m going mad, Frankie thought. She stepped quickly to the door of Ali’s bedroom, flung it open and found herself standing face to face with an enormous stag.
* * *
Just before he heard the door of the back porch creak open, Valenti became aware of the wind. It had been steadily building, stirring the leaves and remnants of dried autumn weeds with a crackling whisper of sound. Years of working the streets had given him an acute sixth sense. As he sat here now, feeling the wind, hearing the fey music that piped low and breathy in the distance, that same intuition began to tickle the nerves along his spine. Then he heard the porch door open and looked across the darkened lawn to see Ali step outside.
She had her head cocked as though she were listening to something. The music. Valenti realized that she was hearing it, too. He was about to call out to her, but that hunter’s sixth sense stopped him before he did. Something. There was something…
When he saw the stag step silently from the woods not a half-dozen yards from where he sat, the sheer wonder of its presence—its size, its silence—made his mouth go dry. His pulse began a quick tattoo as the huge beast moved slowly out onto the lawn. Ali was out there. Maybe the stag would just be spooked and take off when it caught her scent, but maybe it would charge her instead. Valenti started to stand, but then a voice called out softly from the tree above him.
“Don’t move.”
He looked up. Slanted cat’s eyes reflected the light from Ali’s house.
“ Madonna mia ,” he muttered. The words came out in a barely audible rasp.
But he couldn’t move now if he’d wanted to. Those eyes had done something to him. Sapped the strength from his legs so that he couldn’t stand. Stolen his voice so that he couldn’t call out a warning to Ali. The slanted eyes blinked, then dropped toward him. The owner of those eyes landed catlike beside him. Curly hair spilled from under the brim of a big floppy hat, framing a narrow foxlike face. The eyes were very close to him now, inches from his own.
It’s just a girl, he thought. Just a kid. But her eyes weren’t a child’s eyes. They were old and worldly-wise.
“Watch,” she said. Sitting back, she pointed out toward the lawn where the stag was drawing nearer to Ali.
* * *
The stag moved out from the trees and onto the lawn. Ali’s breath caught in her lungs and she trembled—first from excitement, then with a touch of fear as she realized just how far from the house she was and that the stag was drawing closer to her with each deliberate step.
Jeez, what if it charged her? She started to back away, but suddenly the stag was looming right over her and she was too scared to move.
“N-nice boy,” she said. She swallowed thickly. “Good boy. E-easy now…”
The stag dipped its head, antlers bobbing with the movement, then it looked up to where the light she’d left on in her bedroom was spilling out the window. Ali didn’t want to take her gaze off the animal, but at last she too shot a quick glance up at that square of light.
* * *
Frankie stared at the stag. It was so close, and the light was so bright that she could make out every detail. The broad black nose, the lighter-colored hairs of its muzzle, the ruddy hair on its brow, the liquid eyes, the huge antlers lifting up to almost touch the ceiling of Ali’s bedroom. Ali…
The stag never moved. From the attic above she heard the scurrying of what sounded like a dozen rats or squirrels crossing the floorboards up there, tiny claws clicking on the wooden surface. Frankie looked upward, then took a step back from the stag in the doorway.
I’m going crazy, she
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