Dean Koontz: The Servants of Twilight

"Witches don't wear green. She wasn't wearing a tall, pointed black hat, either.

He shrugged.

"And she didn't have a cat with her," Christine said.

"So?"

"A witch never goes anywhere without her cat."

"She doesn't?"

"No. It's her familiar."

"What's that mean?"

"The witch's familiar is her contact with the devil. It's through the familiar, through the cat, that the devil gives her magic powers.

Without the cat, she's just an ugly old woman."

"You mean like the cat watches her and makes sure she doesn't do something the devil wouldn't like?"

"That's right."

"I didn't see any cat," Joey said, frowning.

"There wasn't a cat because she wasn't a witch. You've got nothing to worry about, honey."

His face brightened." Boy, that's a relief! If she'd been a witch, she mightve turned me into a toad or something."

"Well, life as a toad might not be so bad," she teased." You'd get to sit on a lily pad all day, just taking it easy."

"Toads eat flies," he said, grimacing, "and I can't even stand to eat veal."

She laughed, leaned forward, and kissed his cheek.

"Even if she was a witch," he said, "I'd probably be okay because I've got Brandy, and Brandy wouldn't let any old cat get anywhere near."

"You can rely on Brandy," Christine agreed. She looked at the clown-faced dog and said, "You're the nemesis of all cats and witches, aren't you, fur-face?"

To her surprise, Brandy thrust his muzzle forward and licked her under the chin.

"Yuck," she said." No offense, fur-face, but I'm not sure whether kissing you is any better than eating flies."

Joey giggled and hugged the dog.

Christine returned to the den. The mound of paperwork seemed to have grown taller while she was gone.

She had no sooner settled into the chair behind the desk than the telephone rang. She picked it up.

"Hello? "

No one answered.

"Hello?" she said again.

"Wrong number," a woman said softly and hung up.

Christine put the receiver down and went back to work. She didn't give the call a second thought.

She was awakened by Brandy's barking, which was unusual because Brandy hardly ever barked. Then she heard Joey's voice.

"Mom! Come quick! Mommy!"

He wasn't merely calling her; he was screaming for her.

As she threw back the covers and got out of bed, she saw the glowing red numbers on the digital alarm clock. It was 1:20 A.M.

She plunged across the room, through the open door, into the hail, headed toward Joey's room, flipping up light switches as she went.

Joey was sitting in bed, pressing back against the headboard as if he were trying to pass through it and slip magically into the wall behind it, where he could hide. His hands were filled with twisted lumps of sheet and blanket. His face was pale.

Brandy was at the window, forepaws up on the sill. He was barking at something in the night beyond the glass. When Christine entered the room, the dog stopped barking, padded to the bed, and looked inquiringly at Joey, as if seeking guidance.

"Someone was out there," the boy said." Looking in. It was that crazy old lady."

Christine went to the window. There wasn't much light. The yellowish glow of the streetlamp at the corner didn't reach quite this far.

Although a moon ornamented the sky, it wasn't a full moon, and it cast only a weak, milky light that frosted the sidewalks, silvered the cars parked along the street, but revealed few of the night's secrets. For the most part, the lawn and shrubbery lay in deep darkness.

"Is she still out there?" Joey asked.

"No," Christine said.

She turned away from the window, went to him, sat on the edge of his bed.

He was still pale. Shaking.

She said, "Honey, are you sure-"

"She was there!"

"Exactly what did you see?"

"Her face."

"The old woman?"

"Yeah."

"You're sure it was her, not somebody else?"

He nodded." Her."

"It's so dark out there. How could you see well enough to-',

"I saw somebody at the window, just sort of a shadow in the moonlight, and then what I did was I turned on the light, and it was her. I could see. It was her."

"But, honey, I just don't think there's any way she could have followed us. I know she didn't. And there's no way she could've learned where we live. Not this soon, anyway."

He said nothing. He just stared down at his fisted hands and slowly let go of the sheet and blanket. His palms were sweaty.

Christine said, "Maybe you were dreaming, huh?"

He shook his head vigorously.

She said, "Sometimes, when you wake up from a nightmare, just a few seconds, you can be sort of confused about what's real and what's just part of the dream. You know? It's all right.

It happens to everybody now and then."

He met her eyes." It wasn't like that, Mom. Brandy started barking, and then I woke up, and there was the crazy old lady at the window. If it was just a dream. then what was Brandy barking at? He don't bark just to hear himself. Never does. You know how he is."

She stared at Brandy, who had plopped down on the floor beside the bed, and she began to feel uneasy again. Finally she got up and went to the window.

Out in the night, there were a lot of places where the grip of darkness was firm, places where a prowler could hide and wait.

" Mom?"

She looked at him.

He said, "This isn't like before."

"What do you mean?"

" This isn't a imaginary white snake under my bed. This is real stuff.

Cross my heart and hope to die."

A sudden gust of wind soughed through the caves and rattled a loose rain gutter.

"Come on," she said, holding out a hand to him.

He scrambled out of bed, and she took him into the kitchen.

Brandy followed. He stood in the doorway for a moment, his bushy tail thumping against both jambs, then came in and curled up in the corner.

Joey sat at the table in his blue pajamas with the words SATURN PATROL, in red, streaking across his chest. He looked anxiously at the windows over the sink, while Christine telephoned the police.

The two police officers stood on the porch and listened politely while Christine, in the open front door with Joey at her side, told them her story-what little there was to tell. The younger of the two men, Officer Statler, was dubious and quick to conclude that the prowler was merely a phantom of Joey's imagination, but the older man, Officer Templeton, gave them the benefit of the doubt. At Templeton's insistence, he and Statler spent ten minutes searching the property with their long-handled flashlights, probing the shrubbery, circling the house, checking out the garage, even looking in the neighbors' yards.

They didn't find anyone.

Returning to the front door where Christine and Joey waited, Templeton seemed somewhat less willing to believe their story than he had been a few minutes ago." Well, Mrs. Scavello, if that old woman was around here, she's gone now. Either she wasn't up to much of anything.

or maybe she was scared away when she saw the patrol car. Maybe both.

She's probably harmless."

"Harmless? She sure didn't seem harmless this afternoon at South Coast Plaza," Christine said." She seemed dangerous enough to me."

"Well. " He shrugged." You know how it is. An old lady.

maybe a little senile. saying things she really didn't mean."

"I don't think that's the case."

Templeton didn't meet her eyes." So. if you see her again or if you have any other trouble, be sure to give us a call."

"You're leaving?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"You're not going to do anything else?"

He scratched his head." Don't see what else we can do. You said you don't know this woman's name or where she lives, so we can't go have a chat with her. Like I said, if she shows up again, you call us soon as you spot her, and we'll come back."