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Then came the sound of the bolt sliding, and Henry appeared, squinting, his face unshaven, dressed only in a green silk robe.
"What the hell do you want?"
"Let me in." He pushed the door back and brought the woman with him into the room. Desperately she crowded against him, hiding her face.
Dimly, he saw that the place was luxurious--carpets, furniture, decanters gleaming on a marble sideboard. Through the archway, a dark-skinned beauty in a satin dancing costume-obviously Malenka--had just set down a tray of steaming food. Small orange trees crowded against the whitewashed garden wall.
"Who is this woman!" Henry demanded.
Holding tight to her still, Elliott struggled to the chair. But he could see that Henry was staring at the woman's feet. He'd seen the bare bones showing in the instep. A look of disgust passed over Henry; of puzzlement.
"Who is she! Why did you bring her here!"
Then convulsively, Henry moved back, slamming into the pillar that divided the archway to the courtyard, his head thudding dangerously against the stone.
"What's wrong with her!" he gasped.
"Patience, I'll tell you everything," Elliott whispered. The pain in his chest was so bad now that he could hardly form the words. Easing down in the rattan chair, he felt the woman's grip loosen. He heard her make a faint sound. He looked up, and realized she had seen the cupboard across the room, the glass bottles gleaming in the light from the courtyard.
She went towards the liquid, groaning. The black serge garment fell from her head and then from her shoulders, fully revealing the bones of her ribs gleaming through the gaping holes in her back, and the remnants of cloth that barely concealed her nakedness.
"For the love of God, don't panic!" Elliott shouted.
But it was too late. Henry's face went white, his mouth twisted and shuddering. Behind him, in the courtyard, Malenka let out a full-throated scream.
The wounded creature dropped the bottle with a great piteous moan.
Henry's hand rose from his pocket, sun glinting on the barrel of a small silver gun.
"No, Henry!" Elliott cried. He tried to rise, but he couldn't. The shot exploded with the same nerve-shattering volume of the guns in the museum. A parrot screeched in its cage.
The wounded woman cried out as she took the bullet in her chest, staggering backwards, and then let out a great bellow as she ran at Henry.
The sounds coming from Henry were scarcely human. All reason had left him. He backed into the courtyard, firing the gun again and again. Crying in agony, the woman closed on him, knocking the gun out of his hand and taking him by the throat. In an ugly waltz they struggled, Henry clawing at her desperately, her own bony fingers holding fast to his neck. The wicker table went over, china shattering on the tiles. Into the orange trees they stumbled, tiny leaves pouring down in a shower.
In terror Malenka crouched against the wall.
"Elliott, help me!" Henry screamed. He was being bent over backwards, knees buckling and hands flailing, catching stupidly in the creature's hair.
Elliott managed somehow to reach the edge of the archway. But only in time to hear the bones snap. He winced as he saw Henry's body go limp and tumble softly, in a heap of green silk, on the ground.
The creature staggered backwards, whimpering, and then sobbing, her mouth making a grimace again, as it had in the museum, teeth bared. The ragged cloth covering her had been torn from one shoulder; her dark pink nipples showed through the sheer linen. Great gouts of blood hung in the wrappings still clinging to her torso, strips of fabric falling from her thighs with each step. Her eyes, bloodshot and running with tears, stared at the dead body and then at the spilt food, the hot tea steaming in the sun.
Slowly she went down on her knees. She grabbed up the muffins and stuffed them into her mouth. On all fours she lapped the spilt tea. She scraped up the jam with her fingers and sucked them frantically. She gnawed on the bacon and then swallowed the rasher whole.
In utter silence, Elliott watched her. He was vaguely conscious of Malenka running silently towards him, and then hovering behind him. Deliberately, he took one short breath after another, listening at the same time to the hammer trip of his heart.
The creature devoured the butter; the eggs she crushed and scraped with her teeth from the shells.
&nbs
p; Finally there was no more food. Yet she remained there, on her knees. She was staring at her outstretched hands.
The sun beat down on the little courtyard. It gleamed on her dark hair.
In a daze, Elliott continued to watch. He could not absorb what he was seeing or judge it. The continuing shock of all he'd witnessed was too great.
Suddenly the creature turned and lay down on the paved ground. She stretched out full length, crying as if into a soft pillow, her hand scratching at the hard-baked tiles. Then she rolled over on her back into the full sunlight, free of the soft dancing green shadows from the small trees.
