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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d1b325d --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #65017 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/65017) diff --git a/old/65017-0.txt b/old/65017-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index f2dec95..0000000 --- a/old/65017-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,2296 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Soul Stealers, by Chester S. Geier - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The Soul Stealers - -Author: Chester S. Geier - -Release Date: April 07, 2021 [eBook #65017] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SOUL STEALERS *** - - - - - THE SOUL STEALERS - - by Chester S. Geier - - Wraithlike, they came out of the darkness--dead - men who walked among the living. What grim secret lay - in their sightless eyes--a warning to all other men! - - [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from - Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy - October 1950 - Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that - the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - -A chill touched Bryan as he looked down at the figure on the hospital -bed. He had seen dead men before--too many of them. He had seen them -sprawled on European battlefields, had seen them huddled in wrecked -cars or lying waxen and stiff on morgue slabs. - -But he had never seen a dead man like the one who lay there on the bed. -For, paradoxically, this man was still alive. He still breathed, his -heart still pulsed. Yet it was clear that these were little more than -automatic processes. In the only respect that mattered, he was as truly -dead as though in the last stages of dissolution and decay. - -He lay on the bed with an unnatural supineness, his head lolling at a -slack angle. His eyes were open in a blank stare, eyes as empty as a -waiting grave. He did not move. He made no sound. A thread of saliva -ran from a corner of his gaping mouth and made a glistening path down -the side of his jaw. - -A mindless idiot would have shown more animation than this man. -Something vital and precious had gone from him, leaving him a mere -shell. His was a death-in-life, a thing somehow more terrible than a -shattered skull or a torn chest. - -Bryan fought back a shudder and turned to the balding white-clad man at -his side. "What can you tell me, Dave? Just what seems to be wrong with -this fellow?" - -The doctor sighed. "Wish I knew, Terry. I've never seen anything like -it in over twenty years of medical practice. Not even the specialists -seem to know. And we have several good ones here, who donate their -services to the hospital--men with experience in unusual cases." - -"But don't you have any idea at all about how he got this way?" Bryan -persisted. "Isn't there any possibility that he has some sort of rare -brain disease?" - -"We gave him a careful examination, Terry," the doctor returned. "We -could find no evidence of disease--no evidence of concussion or injury, -either. Except, maybe, for one thing." - -"What's that?" Bryan asked quickly. - -"When he was first brought in, we found a sort of reddish mark near -his left shoulder. As though something hot had touched him. The skin -wasn't broken or burned, however." The doctor shrugged. "It's gone now. -I doubt if anything so light and temporary could have been important, -anyway." - -"This might be a case for the psychiatrists," Bryan suggested slowly. -"Maybe this fellow had a terrific shock of some kind--a psychic trauma, -or whatever they call it." - -"That's quite possible. But we've done the best we could at this end." -The doctor's voice dropped. "I don't think there's going to be time for -anything else, Terry." - -"You mean that he--" - -The doctor nodded. "He's dying. I've seen the signs. It's as though -he's lost all will to live." - - * * * * * - -Bryan looked at the man on the bed again, grim speculation in his -eyes. His voice was solemn and soft. "Maybe I'm just a superstitious -Irishman, Dave--but I think I know what's the matter with this -fellow. I knew it the first time I looked at him. He's lost -something--something you can't see with microscopes or X-ray machines. -It's something damned important--and that's why he's dying. What he's -lost, Dave, is ... his soul." - -"I'm not laughing, Terry. Oddly enough, I have the same opinion. A -doctor keeps running into situations like this, where ideas thrown into -the discard by the so-called scientific attitude have to be dusted off -and put back to work." - -There was silence. An elevator made distant noises somewhere in the -building. White-clad nurses moved crisply by in the hall beyond the -open door. Late Spring sunshine was bright behind the drawn shade at -the window. Life and movement, the mundane and familiar. But in this -room thoughts probed beyond the earthly facade and found a mystery, a -wonder as old as Man. - -Bryan moved his muscular shoulders as though against an invisible -resistance. Then, slowly, still fighting that resistance, he reached -into the breast pocket of his rumpled tweed jacket and produced a -pencil and a wrinkled but otherwise clean envelope. Most reporters -carried notepads about with them; some even went in for stenographers' -shorthand notebooks. But to Bryan news was something more than mere -details. It was a thing of human and emotional qualities, and these -he carried in his head like songs--some gay and humorous, many more -tragic and sad. This characteristic had given his by-line its great -popularity with _Courier_ readers. When he needed to remember details -at all--comparatively unimportant facts like dates and numbers--he -recorded them on envelopes. - -"Anything else you can tell me about this man, Dave? Who he is, where -he lives?" - -The doctor fingered a slip of paper from a pocket of his white smock. -"Here's his name and address. I had an interne copy them down from the -stuff we found in his clothes. Knew you'd want them, Terry." He grinned -briefly, a grin of real affection, then sobered. "The police did some -checking on him. I talked to a detective just before you showed up. - -"Seems this patient lived alone at a rooming house. A widower. No -family. Worked as a dental technician for a small company in the Loop. -It appears he was in the habit of spending his evenings in Grant Park. -He was found there this morning, you know, just the way he is now." - -"Grant Park," Bryan echoed. "That makes three. Three, Dave." - -The doctor looked puzzled. "I don't get it, Terry." - -"I didn't get around to this business until now, but two other men were -found in Grant Park. Like this. They were taken to private hospitals." - -"Good Lord!" the doctor breathed, startled. "This goes deeper than I -thought. There must be something in Grant Park--" - -"Something that I intend to look into," Bryan said quietly. "There's a -story here--if I can dig it out." - -He thrust the envelope and pencil back into his jacket, together with -the slip of paper he had been given. "I'll be running along, Dave. -Thanks for your tip. It was swell of you to remember me." - -The other gestured as he followed Bryan into the hall and toward the -elevators. "Maybe I had an ulterior motive. Ruth and I have been -wondering why you never drop in any more." - -"I've been running a rat-race," Bryan said. - -"You look it, Terry. You don't look as well as you did when you first -came back from overseas." - -"What a big medicine bottle you have, doc!" - -"I'm serious, Terry. I've had an idea you weren't happy about things, -and now I'm sure of it. What seems to be the trouble? Your job?" - -"The job's all right." - -"You won't tell an old friend?" - -Bryan lifted his hands. "Hell, Dave, I don't know just what is wrong. -But it might be something like this. I fought a little war of my own, -a personal war, to make the world a better place. Now that I'm back, -though, it's the same old world--only a lot worse. And a reporter -gets to see too much of the worse side." - -"One man can't change the world, Terry," the doctor said. "All he can -do it make the best of his small piece of it.... What you need to do -is to get married and raise a family. And while on the subject, what -became of that pretty girl reporter you brought around with you a -couple of times?" - -"Joyce? She's still with the paper." - -"She seemed like a sensible person. Make a nice wife." - -"Yes," Bryan said. He stopped in front of the elevator and held out his -hand. "Thanks again, Dave. I'll drop in some evening, when the rat-race -slows up a little. My love to Ruth." - -"Take care of yourself, Terry." The doctor stood watching as the -elevator doors closed on Bryan's figure. A worried frown deepened the -lines in his forehead. - - * * * * * - -Outside, on the sidewalk before the hospital, Bryan lighted a -cigarette. He stood there for some minutes, a big man in a rumpled -tweed suit, his hat pushed back on thick brown hair that had a coppery -glint in the bright sunshine. He had powerful shoulders, and the hands -that went with them, but his face was fine-carved and sensitive--the -face of an artist, or a dreamer. There was that paradox in him. And -in that paradox was his personal tragedy. For while his strength took -him easily through the deceit and cruelty of life, the stupidity and -ugliness, the memory of each encounter remained with him like a scar. - -The scars were beginning to show a bit too plainly. It had taken Dave -to make him realize that. - -Dave.... What was it Dave had said? There was an importance in the -words. - -"_One man can't change the world, Terry._" - -That was it. Bryan considered the remark now, intently. - -Was that what he really wanted to do--change the world? He groped among -old ideals and ambitions for the answer. - -In the beginning he had wanted to create--to create by writing about -people, about life. But to write about life required knowing it. He had -become a reporter. - -What he had learned of life was evilness, greed, suffering, ignorance. -He could not write of that and still create as he had dreamed. But -he could fight it. He could fight it wherever he found it, little by -little. And he had fought. It was all that had kept him going. - -A fool's mission, doomed to failure. Dave was right. - -Bryan had his answer now. He didn't want to change the world. He wanted -to do something even more impossible--he wanted to make a world of his -own. - -He grinned sourly and flipped the remains of the cigarette away. -Hailing a cab, then, he rode to the _Courier_ Building. - - * * * * * - -The city room was filled with the old familiar clamor, the rattle of -typewriters and teletypes, the shrilling of telephones, the undulant -babble of voices. Bryan waved in answer to greetings as he threaded -his way to his desk. He rolled a sheet of paper into his typewriter, -lighted a cigarette, and rubbed his face. Then he straightened with a -jerk and began hitting the typewriter keys with the first and second -fingers of each hand. - -Managing Editor Frank Sanders hurried past with a bulging file -envelope, his vest open and his stiff white hair a usual disorderly -tangle. He whirled as though Bryan's presence had only then registered -on him. - -"Terry! Where the hell have you been?" He jerked a thumb. "My office. -Right away." - -Bryan finished a paragraph and then followed Sanders into his -glass-enclosed cubicle. He slumped into a chair and waited. - -Sanders tried without success to light a clogged pipe. He dropped it -back into the ashtray and said abruptly, "That Holzheimer story, Terry. -You did a nice job clearing the kid, but your copy was pretty rough on -the district attorney. Too rough, Terry." - -"I should have thrown a street-car at him," Bryan said. "Trying to -frame a kid and build up a record." - -"Circumstantial evidence and re-election, Terry. It happens all the -time--you ought to know. And you ought to know we're politically on the -D.A.'s side of the fence. Stories like the one you wrote about the -Holzheimer case will only hurt the campaign this paper is putting on." - -"Sometimes there's too much incompetence to whitewash--even if it comes -from the right side of the fence." - -Sanders shook his disorderly thatch. "You ought to know better than -that, Terry. You've been around long enough. This is no time to get a -rush of ideals to the head." - -"I've never pulled my punches," Bryan returned quietly. - -"I know. But we just can't have any more stories like the one on the -Holzheimer case." Sanders leaned forward at his desk, his eyes suddenly -shrewd. "What's eating on you, Terry?" - -Bryan shrugged. "Things like the Holzheimer business." - -"It's all part of a system," Sanders said slowly. "You can't change -that system any more than you can change human nature, Terry. All you -can do is make the best of it. I hope you'll look at it that way. I've -seen too many good reporters go sour over what they keep running into." - -A telephone jangled on the desk. Sanders spoke into it briefly and -returned his attention to Bryan. - -"Working on anything now, Terry?" - -Bryan explained about the three weirdly afflicted men who had been -found in Grant Park. "I'm planning to look into it," he finished. - -"Sounds like something big is involved," Sanders approved. "Go ahead -with it, Terry.... And take things easy, will you?" he added as Bryan -started toward the door. - -"Sure," Bryan said. - -Back at his desk, Bryan finished typing his copy. He was pencilling -corrections when Joyce Mayhew appeared. - -"Hi, Terry!" She perched on the edge of a neighboring desk, a slim -dark girl with a wide humorous mouth and expressive hazel eyes. She -was simply dressed as always, but gave a characteristic impression of -fashionable elegance. "What have you got there--a scoop, or a love -letter?" - -"It could be my last will and testament," Bryan said. He stood up and -called to a copyboy. "Have you had lunch?" he asked Joyce, then. - -"I was hoping somebody would ask me. Somebody like you, Terry." - -"Consider yourself asked. Let's go." - - * * * * * - -They sat in a booth in a small restaurant on a side street near the -_Courier_ Building. Joyce's eyes were grave as she studied Bryan's face -over the top of her menu. - -"Anything in that last will and testament crack you made, Terry?" she -asked at last. "I saw you come out of Sanders' office." - -He shrugged, mobile lips twisting into a wry grin. "Nothing that -serious. I just had my wrist slapped. Over the way I handled the -Holzheimer story." - -"There was quite a bit of talk about that up at the office. Sanders let -you off easy. But Terry, you seem to have been hitting out at things a -little too hard. What's the matter--a disappointed love life?" - -"You know as much about my love life as I do." - -"Really?" She looked down to finger a spoon, sudden pain and -wistfulness in her averted face. - -"I saw Dave at the County Hospital," he went on. "You remember Dave." - -"Yes--and his wife's cooking and his lovely children." - -"Dave mentioned you. He seemed to feel I've been neglecting him." - -"Maybe you've been neglecting a lot of people, Terry." - -He drew a deep breath and let it out slowly, an action compounded of -agreement, weariness--and despair. "I suppose that's true. People and -I seem to have been going off in opposite directions. Take Dave. He's -satisfied with what he's doing. I can't talk to him without being -reminded of my own dissatisfaction. He can't talk to me without knowing -that something's wrong." - -Joyce reached across the table and caught his hand. "Terry--don't let -it get you!" - -He forced a grin. "With me it's work as usual. And this time it's -something off the beaten path--something darned queer." He told her of -the dead-alive man at the hospital and of the link to the other Grant -Park victims. He straightened, animation quickening in his face, his -melancholy forgotten. - -"Three men," he finished grimly. "There's a kind of continuity to the -thing. I'm going to watch the park, Joyce. I have the idea that what -happened is going to happen again. I want to know just what was done to -those men, just what sort of agency is at the bottom of it." - -Her face was troubled. "Terry ... it frightens me! If something strange -is really going on, you might get hurt--the way those men were hurt. -I wish--" She broke off with a helpless gesture. "Be careful, Terry! -Please be careful!" - - * * * * * - -Bryan sat on a stool in one corner of a small dimly lighted bar, -frowning down at an envelope on which he had drawn a diagram of -Grant Park. He had spent part of the afternoon checking on the -locations where the three men had been found. These, it appeared, -were concentrated roughly near the middle of the park, around a large -sandstone memorial pavilion which was the center of numerous converging -walks. He had visited the spot while daylight remained, familiarizing -himself with it in preparation for his night vigil. - -Glancing at his watch now, Bryan slid off the stool and went to a -telephone alcove. He dialed a number quickly. There was a delay while -an extension connection was made. - -"Dave?" he said, then. "Terry at this end. How's the patient?" - -"Dead, Terry. Not half an hour ago. We tried everything--oxygen, heart -stimulants. It was no use. I knew it was going to happen all along and -stayed to do what I could. I was just getting ready to go home." - -"I checked up on the others who were found in the park," Bryan resumed. -"They died, too. In about the same length of time as your patient." - -"Good Lord, Terry! It ... it's horrible somehow. What in the name of -reason could be back of it?" - -"I'm working on that angle right now. I'll let you know if I turn up -anything.... Thanks, Dave." Bryan hung up and went back to the bar. He -finished his drink, lighted a cigarette, and strode outside. - -Darkness had thickened along the street, a soft warm darkness, rich -with the promise of approaching summer. A block's walk brought Bryan -to the boulevard. Grant Park lay just across from him, lights shining -fairy-like throughout its shadowed length. - -He crossed with the traffic light, hands in his pockets, a man just -strolling along on a pleasant evening. But his gray eyes were alert and -grim. Vivid in his mind was the memory of a man in a hospital bed, a -man who breathed and yet was not alive. - -The park swallowed him. He walked directly toward the memorial -pavilion, moving without haste, without apparent purpose or destination. - -The pavilion took shape in the quiet gloom, a temple-like place -of flowerbeds and radiating walks. On the benches around it was a -scattering of romantic couples and lonely men sprawled in sleep. The -atmosphere was one of serenity and peace. To Bryan it seemed briefly -incredible that danger could threaten here. Yet in this vicinity three -men had been struck down by something that had left them mere shells of -flesh without the will to live. - -He made a complete circuit of the pavilion without a glimpse of -anything unusual or suspicious. Finally, choosing a bench thick in -shadow and partly screened by bushes, he sat down to wait. - -Time passed slowly in the lulling murmur of leaves and the distant -drone of passing automobiles. The sleeping men on neighboring benches -awoke one by one, stretched, and plodded away into the darkness. The -spooning couples shared a last embrace and vanished in turn. Before -much longer the benches around Bryan were deserted. But he knew that -other persons might still be lingering in spots not visible to him. - -The quiet had deepened. Bryan shifted cramped and protesting muscles -and peered impatiently at the radium dial of his watch. The hour was -already a late one. Soon it would be too late for what he had hoped -would happen. Everyone would have left the neighborhood of the pavilion. - -Hope was fading in Bryan, but he forced himself to remain where he -was. More time passed. A deep somnolent hush lay over the pavilion. -Even the continual rustling of leaves now seemed muted and remote. The -sky pressed down, a soft dark blanket lavishly strewn with points of -brilliance. In the silver gloom the lamps spaced along the walks shone -with an ethereal phosphorescent quality. - -Bryan slumped on the bench in resignation. He was certain now that -nothing would happen. Not tonight, at least. And in his disappointment -he wondered if there had been some warning of his presence. Or had what -he had been waiting for already taken place, without his having been -aware of it? - -His tiredness blunted the question. Rest seemed more important now. -He'd go to his furnished room and sleep. This was just the first night. -There would be other nights. He'd wait and watch until something -finally happened. - -But right now there was no further need for caution. He could have a -smoke. He could stand up to ease his aching muscles. - - * * * * * - -He was reaching for his cigarettes when he heard the sound rising above -the murmur of leaves. The sound of wings. There was a rushing power to -them, a massive beat. And listening, Bryan had the swift certainty -that it was nothing familiar that flew through the night. He crouched -on the bench, frozen, searching the jeweled sky. - -Then another sound--a girl's questioning voice, shrill with alarm. - -Bryan swung and saw two figures against the pale outlines of the -pavilion, one evidently the girl he had heard and the other that of a -man accompanying her. They must have been nearby without his having -noticed them. The sound of approaching wings had drawn them into view. - -Bryan's pulses leaped in dread excitement. Was it going to happen -now--like this? Did whatever it was that had deprived three men of the -will to live ride the air on great wings? - -The thought brought a chill dismay. His eyes widened on the two figures -before the pavilion. If some strange attack portended, he could not -stand idly by and watch it happen. The man and girl were too clearly -exposed, in possible great danger. - -Bryan was tensing his muscles when the beating wings swept by overhead. -His glance jerked upward. He stared in numbed disbelief. - -A huge bird-like shape was gliding down toward the pavilion. Flying -beside it, grotesquely like fighter planes escorting a giant bomber, -were a number of smaller shapes--vaguely man-like. But it was not this -sight alone that filled Bryan with nightmare amazement. For astride -the bird-thing was a slender-limbed figure in veil-like garments--a -girl. And against the dark backdrop of the sky, girl and winged -creatures alike all seemed to shine with an eerie glow, a luminous -radiance. - -Impossibility! Madness! Bryan's thoughts whirled in chaos. This bizarre -scene couldn't be real. He was suffering a delusion. His long vigil -on the bench had lulled him into a dream-like state in which he was -experiencing a fantastic vision. - -But even as he told himself this, he knew he was very much awake. And -he knew that what he saw was no mere vision. For a scream from the girl -before the pavilion testified that she and her companion saw it also. - -The fantastic winged shapes were slanting downward. Bryan realized -they were moving directly toward the man and girl. The couple stood -immobile, rigid, as though spell-bound by the utter weirdness of what -they saw. - -Bryan shouted a hoarse warning and started forward. He did not know -what he could possibly do. No rational purpose motivated him. His -action was instinctive, an appalled protest against what he feared was -about to take place. - -Bryan's warning registered upon the couple. They seemed abruptly aware -of their danger. The man caught at the girl's arm as if to draw her -with him in flight. But now terror struck her with its full impact, -and her body began crumpling in a faint even as she turned to follow. -Her companion hesitated in dismay, concern for the girl obviously -struggling against desire for escape. - -One of the smaller flying monstrosities had pulled ahead of the others. -Skimming several feet above the ground, it darted at the man. - -Closer now, Bryan was able to make out details that previously had -escaped him. The creature was the size of a child, with two pairs of -arms, its lean body human in shape. It had large bulging eyes in a -small hairless head. Its face projected in a long tapering needle-like -proboscis, which together with delicate gauzy wings gave the appearance -of an enormous insect--a mosquito. The luminous radiance that -glowed from the thing was not the only remaining unearthly feature; -Bryan discovered that it was mistily transparent as well, somehow -unsubstantial. - -The man saw the winged apparition coming at him. His hands lifted in -defense, but in the next instant the creature's needle-shaped snout -plunged into his chest like a thrust sword. Then, with a blur of wings, -the creature pulled free and circled away. The man did not move again. -He stood with hands still defensively raised, statuesque, frozen. It -was as if a lightning paralysis had struck him. - - * * * * * - -Bryan checked himself sharply, shocked by what he had seen. There was -a wrenching unexpectedness about it, a chilling weirdness. And yet -it held a certain logic, a deadly significance. For Bryan recalled -what Dave had told him about the previous park victim. The man had -been found with a queer reddish mark near the shoulder--a mark that -presently had vanished. Now Bryan thought he knew how it had been -caused. But how could an object penetrate flesh and bone--as he had -seen the flying thing's needle-like proboscis pierce the chest of the -man before the pavilion--and still make no wound, leave only a reddish -mark that soon faded? - -Only a few instants had passed. The winged band was still descending -toward the pavilion. But Bryan's presence on the scene had been -noticed. Two of the mosquito-men--their appearance automatically -suggested the term--were even now curving toward him. - -Bryan saw them approach. He tensed, fighting back his dismay. - -Flight was out of the question. He had seen the mosquito-men in action -and knew they could easily overtake him. That left only-- - -Bryan whipped off his jacket. He flailed at his attackers with it as -they closed in. They darted back, their huge eyes widening as if in -startled confusion. There was a quality about them as child-like as -their shapes, appealing--and somehow not evil. It was a thing Bryan did -not understand and which at the moment he had no time to fathom. - -He pressed his advantage, beating at the shapes with the jacket. It was -as though he beat at phantoms. He could feel no contact with solidity -through the cloth. And the mosquito-men seemed to realize their -immunity, for abruptly they closed in, their sharp snouts thrusting at -him. He twisted aside to evade one--but the second reached him before -he could move again. Its needle-shaped organ speared his shoulder. - -Bryan felt a brief pain, a sensation as though electricity had surged -through him. Then a complete terrible numbness gripped his body. He -could not move. He could still see, could still think, but his muscles -were fettered by an overwhelming paralysis. - -He could still think--but it was difficult. His mind seemed detached -and vague, and somehow touched by a pulse of thought not his own. Alien -rhythms beat in it, formless, confused. And then-- - -"Leeta! This one resisted! He did not fear us as did the others." - -Child-like, piping, filled with excitement. And yet through the thought -ran an undercurrent of wistful yearning, of trembling hope. - -Then another thought: "Take him, Leeta! He is brave." - -"Patience, little ones." Strangely soft and clear, this thought, -ringing like delicate silver chimes. - -At the edge of his field of vision, through eyes he could no longer -control, Bryan saw movement--the sweep and flutter of great wings. -Then a slim figure moved into his sight, a figure in a simple draped -garment, walking as lightly and gracefully as though on air. - -[Illustration: There was danger in the presence of this girl--and yet -somehow, Terry Bryan knew he must reach her....] - -Leeta, he knew. Wonder rose in him--and sudden fascination. - -Spectre? Witch? He could not decide. His eyes told him that she was -woman--a woman like few he had seen, slender yet softly rounded, -dainty yet with a suggestion of strength. Her small features held an -odd startling loveliness, elfin, somehow ... _other-race_. Her eyes -were tilted and strangely large, the nostrils of her tiny nose deeply -indented and flaring, her chin pointed. Her gleaming black hair was -long, thick, gently curling, a contrasting frame for flawless white -skin. - -She glowed luminously. And--he could see through her. Like the -mosquito-men, like the giant bird, she was mistily transparent, -inexplicably unsubstantial. - - * * * * * - -She stood before him, then. Her great liquid eyes gazed at him in -wonder, with a searching curiosity. There was a tenseness and urgency -about her, as though she were driven by some desperate all-important -purpose. And there was an air of tragedy about her, a despair, -a quality of wistful yearning like that Bryan had sensed in the -child-like piping thoughts. The mystery of this woman caught at him, -drew him. - -Witch? Again he wondered. He could find nothing evil in her face, -nothing of cruelty or guile. Behind the compelling anxiety in her eyes, -the sadness that touched her full lips, was ... innocence. - -The curiosity faded from her face. The tenseness and urgency that had -been lurking in her abruptly became dominant. - -Her hands lifted. Bryan saw now that she held an object in them, a -globe of cloudy gray crystal, within which seemed to lay a core of -pale rose light. And the light, he noticed, waxed and waned in a slow -pulsing. - -Bryan detected a sudden eagerness in the winged shapes that hovered -beyond. And with the eagerness came the child-like piping. - -"Take him, Leeta! He has courage. This time you may succeed." - -An answering thought; soft, holding a delicate note. "Patience...." - -Then Bryan saw the crystal globe being lifted still higher--toward his -face. Behind it the girl's large exotic eyes seemed very intent. Within -the globe the pulsing of the pale rose core quickened. - -Bryan felt something draw at him. A strange force--like insistent -hands. Hands immaterial and yet tangible, that reached into him ... and -pulled. - -It was not a physical sensation. Nor was it purely mental. It was -something that went beyond even this--something that gripped at the -very foundation of being. - -Bryan felt himself being drawn. And he did not understand. There was a -purpose here and a means he could not grasp. - -He resisted. - -In a moment the force left him. - -The globe lowered. Over it the girl peered at him, startled, perplexed. -And from the background came a piping despair. - -"Failed.... It has failed...." - -"He has a strength I have not met before." An echo of that other -despair lay in the silver chiming. And an overtone of awe. "He cannot -be taken--and that is strange. He has qualities I cannot quite explain. -But his will is great--great enough, I think, to penetrate the veil -unaided." - -"He cannot be taken...." The piping again, sorrowfully resigned. - -Bryan was aware of the girl's eyes on him. The wistfulness in them -seemed to have grown. And from some deep recess within him rose a -sudden queer aching. - -"Farewell...." - -Farewell? Protest surged in him. He struggled to make a detaining -gesture--but it was futile. She turned away. - - * * * * * - -The hovering winged shapes followed her. Moving swiftly and lightly, -she went toward the pavilion, before which the statuesque man stood -beside the prone figure of the unconscious girl. - -She lifted the globe to the man ... its inner pulsing quickened. A -radiance grew in it, as though some energy were being absorbed. The -pulsing was very rapid now--triumphant. - -Then the girl turned, hurrying back to the giant bird, which was -waiting nearby. Behind her, even as she turned, the man swayed--fell. -He fell loosely, emptily, his eyes open. - -The girl leaped to the bird's back. In another moment it sprang -into the air, huge wings beating. Higher it lifted, and higher. The -mosquito-men followed. All soared beyond Bryan's range of vision, and -the beating of wings faded ... died. - -Slowly the paralysis left Bryan. He flexed his limbs stiffly. His -muscles ached, as though from cramp. - -He went over to the sprawled figures of the man and the girl, then. The -man had the same terrible unresponsive limpness as the man Bryan had -seen at the hospital. He was beyond any aid Bryan could give. - -Bryan turned his attention to the girl in an effort to quicken her -return to consciousness. Shortly her eyes opened--then flared with -recollection. She glanced swiftly about her, fright twisting at her -face. - -In the next instant she saw her fallen escort and seemed to realize for -the first time that Bryan was a stranger. She went quickly to the other -man and lifted his head. - -"Tom!" she cried. "Tom! What is the matter?" Horror grew in her voice. -"Why don't you answer me?" - -Empty eyes that looked sightlessly into the night. Slack gaping lips -that did not move. - -The girl turned to Bryan with an expression of bewildered grief. -"How ... how did this terrible thing happen?" - -Bryan hesitated. What he had experienced now seemed too wildly -improbable to discuss. The very improbability of it could only add to -the girl's suffering. And for a reason he did not fully understand -he wanted to keep to himself the knowledge of that strangely lovely -apparition whose name, it appeared, was Leeta. - -He shook his head. "I'm afraid I don't know." - -The girl's control seemed to break. She covered her face with her -hands, convulsive sobs shaking her. - -Bryan waited helplessly, with a feeling of guilt. In another moment, -over the muffled sobbing, he heard the sound of approaching feet. A -flashlight beam bobbed into view up one of the radiating walks, and -presently Bryan was able to make out the blue-clad running figure of a -patrolman. - -"What's going on?" the patrolman demanded. "I heard a scream." He moved -his flashlight beam from the girl and the prostrate man, to Bryan. He -added in surprise, "You here, Terry?" - -Bryan nodded a greeting, recognizing the other now as Pat Mulvaney, a -park officer. "This man seems to be hurt, Pat. We'd better get him to a -hospital." - -Mulvaney bent over the sprawling figure, then returned to Bryan, -speaking low-voiced. "Hurt ain't the word for it, Terry. This case is -like the other ones we found in the park. And it would have to happen -tonight. Olson was supposed to be on duty at this end, but he sprained -an ankle. We're short-handed, what with the Department being on a -budget." - -With the girl tearfully following, Bryan and Mulvaney carried the -stricken man to a call box, where Mulvaney telephoned his report and -requested that an ambulance be sent. Bryan was asked to accompany the -girl to headquarters, in a squad car, for questioning. - - * * * * * - -It wasn't until shortly before dawn that Bryan reached his room and -began undressing for bed. He examined his bare shoulder in a mirror. -There was a reddish patch on the skin, the size of a half-dollar -piece, where the sharp snout of the mosquito-man had pierced him. -The mark convinced him further that the whole thing had been no mere -hallucination. - -He felt no pain--but his body seemed faintly, oddly feverish. And he -had a light-headed feeling that could not have been entirely due to -tiredness. - -He took a stiff drink of whisky and crawled into bed. Sleep would not -come at once. Confused thoughts revolved in his mind. - -He saw himself at police headquarters, answering questions. The girl -had told her story up to the instant she had fainted, mentioning the -flying shapes. She was unable to describe them, except to say the -strangeness of their appearance had terrified her. Bryan was reluctant -to discuss his own experience, but the girl had told of hearing his -warning, and this placed him squarely on the scene. He could not claim -ignorance of ensuing events without laying himself open to suspicion. - -He had told of seeing the flying shapes also, but claimed he had been -unable to make out details. They had moved too swiftly, his explanation -went, it had been too dark. One had rushed at the man, knocking him -down, then all had flown out of sight. A vague story--evasive. But the -police had seemed satisfied, to the extent that the story checked with -the girl's. - -The flying shapes ... Leeta.... A curious excitement surged in him as -he thought of the wraithlike girl. Who was she? Where had she come from? - -He recalled something she had said--something about his will being -strong enough to penetrate the veil unaided. It seemed important. But -what had she meant by that? What--and where--was the veil? - -And--how had he been able to understand her? He realized now that -neither she nor the others had used audible speech, yet he had the -impression of intelligible spoken words, of voice tones. - -He pondered the mystery with a growing fogginess. He slept. - -And then he was not sleeping. - -He was standing on a mountain ridge, looking down into a broad green -valley. It was daylight. In the sky hung a great red-tinged sun, -which immediately struck him as--alien. But for the moment his wonder -remained concentrated on the valley. There was something there that -drew him--that had drawn him there. A bond of some sort existed, an -indefinable ethereal linking, over which he had crossed like a bridge. -A bond, he sensed, that even now was somehow fading ... dissolving. - -The valley was a pleasant place, idyllic. Peace and quiet were cupped -within it. He had the sudden, insistent feeling that he had been -seeking a place like this, a place where he could be happy, where his -blind strivings would find fulfillment. A place--_where_? - -He turned to gaze on the other side of the ridge. And saw--horror. -The land here was a ghostly desolation, blackened, charred, lifeless, -bathed in an eery shimmering blue radiance. An unutterably deadly -radiance, he knew in some strange way. And he knew, too, that the -radiance lay everywhere--except in this lone valley. - -He returned his attention to it with a mounting urgency. The scene was -growing dim, blurring. It was escaping him. He made a frantic exertion -of will, seeking in what few moments that remained an answer to a -certain question. - -There was ... a shifting. The ridge was gone. He stood within the -valley, at the foot of a rocky slope, up which ran a curving stairway -of a building of some pink stone. The building was exotic in design, -terraced, domed, fairy-like. All around it strangely beautiful flowers -and shrubs grew in riotous profusion. He had the nostalgic impression -of heady fragrance and warm breeze, of serenity and peace. And he felt -a queer ache of longing. - -Then, breaking abruptly through the deep stillness, he seemed to hear -a faint piping. He turned in search and saw a flagstone path through -a lane of trees. At the end of the lane was movement, a flutter as of -wings. - - * * * * * - -He willed himself toward it. Again there was a shifting. And now he -stood at the edge of a broad shallow depression, like a sunken garden. -The path dipped down into this by a short stairway and ran on to circle -what appeared to be a pool at the center. All around the pool flowers -grew with an incredible luxuriance and splendor, thick masses of -flowers, startling in their size and beauty, that made the air almost -solid with their mingled perfume. It was as though they found some -abnormally rich nourishment here that stimulated their fantastically -prolific growth. - -The very atmosphere of this place seemed charged with a vital energy. -Bryan had a feeling of surging life, of boundless power. And he sensed -that it came from the pool. Something more than water was contained -within it, something strange, supernal--god-like. - -The pool was filled with a pearly opalescence, alive and seething -with delicate pastel hues, swirling, changing. Sparkles of chromatic -brilliance raced over its surface, blazing and vanishing. A glow rose -from it like a gorgeous rainbow-colored mist, spreading, charging the -air with vibrant energy. - -But the weird magnificence of the pool held Bryan's attention only -momentarily. For kneeling at its brink like a nymph in an enchanted -setting was ... Leeta. In a semi-circle behind her a score or more of -the grotesque mosquito-men made a fascinated audience. The giant bird, -too, was visible, squatting, motionless. - -In her hands the girl held the crystal globe, shining with its stolen -radiance. Now she leaned forward, lowering the globe to the surface -of the pool. It seemed to float, pulsing. Sparkles from the pool ran -to it in a growing boil of motion--and were absorbed. The activity -grew swifter and yet swifter, until the pool seethed and foamed with -brilliance. The air turned electric with a sensation of vast striving, -of super-human effort. - -Watching puzzled, from his vantage point above the depression, -Bryan saw the globe begin to swell. Its radiance blazed feverishly, -its pulsing increased to a frenzied beat. Larger, it grew--larger. -Became misty, unsubstantial, unreal. The rose core of it grew also, -elongating, paling to pink. And now it was taking shape--the shape of a -man. Features began forming, and then-- - -Stunned amazement hit Bryan as he peered intently at the figure being -so weirdly created. For recognition had come. He was looking at the man -who, a short time before, had been attacked in the park by Leeta and -her bizarre followers. - -The shape was taking on solidity. Dazed, Bryan recalled the events in -the park. Leeta's strange globe, he realized, had absorbed some vital -essence from its victim--perhaps the soul--and this essence was now -being released by the pool. Released, somehow, in a perfect replica of -the fleshly covering that originally had housed it. - -The man hung over the pool. His closed eyes fluttered, opened. -Animation touched his face. Fear showed in it, a rising horror, a -frantic desperation. He struggled. - -And began dissolving. - -The pool boiled and seethed as though in a mighty effort to hold its -creation intact. It did not succeed. The shape thinned, shrunk, -faded ... was gone. - -There was a moment of stricken stillness. The pool had quieted. Its -aura of supernal power had dimmed. An air of exhaustion lay over it -now, an exhaustion in which even the surrounding flowers seemed to pale -and droop. - -Then a piping murmur rose like a sigh of mourning. "Failed ... -again...." - -And Leeta covered her face with her hands, sagging. Her bowed shoulders -shook, with great sobs of mingled grief, disappointment and despair. - -Bryan wanted to make some sign of sympathy, of consolation--but again -the scene was growing blurred, fading. He fought to hold it together, -fought as the pool had fought ... futilely. And then a hovering -blackness rushed over him, and he seemed to whirl dizzily across an -enormous gulf. - -He awoke in bed, soaked with perspiration, breathing hard. He had a -feeling of anger, dejection. - -He swung his legs to the floor and glanced at his watch. He had been -asleep for less than an hour, but at the moment he was too upset by his -strangely realistic nightmare to return to bed. - -He lit a cigarette and fell to pacing the length of his room. Thinking -back over his disturbingly vivid dream, he wondered why he should have -experienced it in that particular way. The events of the preceding -night had been unnerving enough, but he felt there was a deeper reason. -Was it possible that the queer wound he had received in the park had -something to do with it? He recalled his feverishness, his light-headed -sensation. - -Then he thought of the man he had seen in the dream, and came to an -abrupt stop. In another instant he sprang back into motion, hurrying to -the telephone near the bed. He dialed the hospital to which the man -had been taken from the park, waiting impatiently while the doctor in -charge of the case was put on. - -Identifying himself, then, he asked quickly, "How is the fellow, -doctor?" - -"Afraid I have bad news. He died about five minutes ago. There didn't -seem to be a single thing I could do to prevent it." - -"I see...." Bryan muttered his thanks and hung up. He sat staring into -space. - -Five minutes ago.... That would be shortly before he had -awakened--about the time the image of the man, in the dream, had -dissolved and vanished.... - - * * * * * - -That afternoon Bryan sat at a secluded corner table in the small -restaurant he frequented near the _Courier_ Building. The remains of -a fourth cup of coffee stood before him, the saucer littered with -cigarette butts. He was staring into the cup, brooding. His mind kept -returning to his strange dream and its incredible implications. And -tangled in the thread of his thoughts was the picture of Leeta, dainty -and elfinly lovely, struggling toward an end he could only dimly grasp. - -A slim figure dropped into the chair opposite Bryan. It was Joyce, -crisp, fresh, giving her usual effect of elegance. - -"Hi! A little bird told me I'd find you here, Terry." She studied his -face in swift concern. "What on earth happened to you last night? You -look like a fugitive from a horror movie." - -"Maybe I am," Bryan grunted. And he grinned wryly at the element of -truth in his retort. - -Joyce was solemn, probing. "Terry, I heard what happened in the park -last night. One of our fellow wage slaves is posted at Headquarters, -you know. And from what he told me, I gather you were mixed up in -something with a spook angle. But, Terry, it seems the police have the -quaint idea you didn't give them the whole story." - -He shook his head. "I'm not ready for the booby-hatch just yet." - -"Then you didn't tell the whole story." She leaned forward, her face -eager. "I'm dying with curiosity over what really happened, Terry. Want -to tell me--or are you saving it for your memoirs?" - -He lighted a fresh cigarette, considering. Joyce was an understanding -person, he knew. And she had imagination. She could be trusted not to -misinterpret the fantastic nature of his experience. - -Speaking low-voiced, he told her of Leeta's arrival at the park, of -the attack on the other man and himself by the grotesque and somehow -unsubstantial mosquito-men, of the complete paralysis that had resulted. - -Joyce broke in, "But, Terry, if the things weren't solid, how could -they possibly have affected you?" - -"I've been trying to figure out that angle," he said. "I think they -were energy projections of some kind and were able to use this energy -to stun their victims. It should work both ways--that is, some forms -of energy from our end should be able to affect them, too." - -He went on to describe the crystal globe and the use Leeta had made -of it. Finally he mentioned his dream and his telephone call to the -hospital. - -Joyce looked shaken. "It ... it's gruesome, Terry. If anyone else -had told me those things, I'd have said they were plain crazy." She -hesitated. "This girl with the strange way of making men friends, what -was she like?" - -"She was ... beautiful," Bryan said. He stared into distance, seeing -Leeta in memory again. His voice softened. "I've never met anyone like -her." - -"She's a witch!" Joyce said abruptly, an unnatural sharpness in her -tone. "A vampire--a ghoul. What she's done is horrible, Terry. Someone -should put a stop to her." - -"She isn't a monster," Bryan returned in swift defense. "Not depraved -or vicious. I don't quite understand it, but I feel there's a good -reason for what she has been doing." - -"She's a murderess, Terry!" - -"According to our standards, yes. But I don't think she realizes she -has been causing harm." - -"That's generous of you," Joyce said. Her mockery held bitterness. "But -your lady Bluebeard has to be kept from doing any more killing, Terry. -Aren't you going to try to do something about it?" - -He nodded grimly. "I'm going to keep watching the park. If she shows -up again--and I think she will--I'll make an attempt to talk to her, -reason with her. I have an idea about how it can be done." - -"That's fine, Terry. I'm glad I don't have to do anything drastic to -make an honest man of you." - -He stared at her. "What do you mean by that?" - -"This is a serious business, Terry. Men have died--and more men might -die. If you don't do something about it, then somebody else will have -to." She reached for her purse and rose abruptly. "I'll be running -along. See you around." - -About to turn away, she paused and looked back at him. Her lips -quivered, her hazel eyes held an odd swimming brightness. Then, before -Bryan could overcome his bewilderment, she whirled and hurried toward -the door. - -He stared after her with a disturbing sense of alarm. He had always -considered Joyce a friend, but now he realized her own feelings went -deeper than that. Deep enough so that she seemed fiercely to resent his -interest and sympathy where Leeta was concerned. - -He felt--danger. Joyce, he knew now, had become an enemy. - - * * * * * - -He walked slowly through the darkness, a big man whose tweed suit -was more rumpled than usual. The park was oddly deserted tonight. No -couples strolled along the walks, no figures occupied the benches. - -And Bryan knew the reason for that. Patrolmen, on emergency duty, -guarded all the approaches to the park. People were being turned -away. He himself had gained admission only because he was personally -acquainted with the captain in charge of the guard detail. The only -formality had been a warning to remain alert. - -An expectant hush lay on the air. Even the warm spring breeze seemed -stilled, the rustling of leaves muted. Bryan felt the atmosphere of -tension, and his excitement grew. He wondered if Leeta would appear -again, if he would be able somehow to attract her notice, speak to her. - -Leeta.... He recalled the way she had looked when she had stood -close to him, with the crystal globe in her hands--lovely, strange, -wondering. He recalled the wistfulness that had radiated from her, the -urgency. And in his mind seemed to ring an echo of the delicate silver -chiming, voice-like, that seemed associated with her. - -He couldn't deny his longing. - -The pavilion took shape in the lamp-lit gloom. Bryan was walking toward -it, when a burly figure stepped out of a patch of shadow a few yards -ahead. - -"Hold it, mister! Nobody's allowed in the park tonight." - -Bryan chuckled, recognizing Pat Mulvaney. "Take it easy, Pat." - -"Oh, it's you, Terry." Mulvaney strode forward. "How did you get in -this time--sneak past the men we have around the front of the park?" - -"Miller passed me through," Bryan explained. He and the patrolman spent -several minutes discussing what had happened the previous night. Bryan -revealed nothing more than he had already told the police, but he -mentioned the death of the man he had seen attacked. - -Mulvaney was grim. "Think anything will happen tonight, Terry?" - -"There's a good chance it will." - -"Well, I'll be ready for it." Mulvaney slapped his holstered gun. He -left, then, to continue his patrol of the area around the pavilion. - -Bryan sat down on a bench and lighted a cigarette. An uneasy thought -had risen in his mind. He didn't know if Mulvaney would be able to -cause any real harm in the event that Leeta appeared, but he didn't -want the girl hurt. - -Time passed with tortuous slowness. The tense hush that lay over the -park seemed to deepen. Bryan spoke to Mulvaney when the patrolman -reached him on his rounds, but otherwise the monotony of the wait -remained unbroken. - -Bryan was fighting off a growing sleepiness, when at last he heard the -sound he had been alternately hoping and dreading would come--the sound -of wings. He saw the flying shapes, then, low against the star-studded -sky, beginning their descent toward the pavilion. The structure seemed -to be a favorite landmark, perhaps because it was situated in a -comparatively remote location and was easy to find in the darkness. - - * * * * * - -Mulvaney seemed to have heard the approaching sounds also. He came -running from some point on the opposite side of the pavilion, cutting -through the columned structure itself as he returned to Bryan. His -burly figure appeared on the pavilion steps--and then halted in amazed -surprise as he caught sight of the eerily glowing shapes that were now -winging downward. - -Eagerness had pulled Bryan to his feet. The soaring figures were -rapidly coming closer, growing more distinct. He saw the giant bird and -its escort of mosquito-men. He saw Leeta, slender-limbed, elfin, her -gossamer draperies fluttering behind her. - -The appearance of Mulvaney momentarily tore his attention from the -scene. He realized that the patrolman was silhouetted against the -pavilion's pale backdrop--a clear target. Leeta and the others would be -drawn to him, unaware this time that possible great danger impended. - -Anxiety hammering within him, Bryan launched himself into a headlong -run toward Mulvaney. Already two of the mosquito-men were pulling ahead -of the others, skimming directly at the patrolman. - -Mulvaney seemed to overcome the shock produced by his first sight of -the approaching shapes. He reached swiftly for his gun, raised it in -deliberate aim--fired. There was a burst of luminous brightness. One -of the two onrushing child-like winged figures was abruptly gone--gone -as swiftly and completely as though it had never been visible. - -Bryan stumbled in his frantic stride, caught himself, numbed by a -sudden dismay. Leeta and her people could be hurt! It was as though -the glowing energy of which they seemed composed existed in a state of -delicate balance that could be disrupted by the impact of a bullet or -its shock-wave. - -He reached the pavilion steps, leaped up them toward Mulvaney. He had -to keep the man from firing again. Somehow he had to show Leeta that -his intentions were friendly, sympathetic. He had to talk to her, make -her realize what she had been doing. Perhaps, even, he could help her. - -Mulvaney's blue-clad body loomed up before him. He caught desperately -at the patrolman's arm. - -"Wait!" he gasped. "Don't shoot!" - -"Are you out of your mind?" the other cried. "Let go of me!" - -They struggled. Bryan's foot slipped on the steps ... he fell. - -The mosquito-men seemed disconcerted by the loss of one of their band. -They swerved away, as though in sudden terrified realization of danger. -But the great bird, with Leeta astride its back, continued toward the -ground a short distance from the pavilion, its huge size evidently -preventing swift evasive action. - -Leeta was almost in point-blank range. And again Mulvaney was lifting -his gun. - -On hands and knees, Bryan threw himself back at the other. He caught -Mulvaney about the legs, pulled. The patrolman went down, his gun -blasting harmlessly into the air. - -Bryan was climbing back to his feet, when he saw the luminous -child-like shape of a mosquito-man darting at him, its needle-snout -spearing toward his chest. He sought to twist aside--too late. He felt -the brief pain: the electric sensation, and then paralysis held him in -its rigid grip. - -A second of the mosquito-men dove at Mulvaney as he, too, struggled -erect, its needle-snout piercing his back. Mulvaney remained bent-over, -frozen, statue-like. - -There was an odd hiatus, poignant, holding a realization of hopes -lost forever. Then a slim pale figure moved into Bryan's line of -sight--Leeta. She approached to stand before him, holding the crystal -globe, a vast wonder in her small face. He felt a pulse of thought, -soft and clear, holding a ring of silver chimes. - -"It is you--he whose will cannot be overcome. Strange that we should -meet again ... stranger still that you should save my life. I do not -understand ... But I am grateful. And I wish--" - -The silver melody broke as though against some cold unyielding wall. -Then it came again, sad, despairing. - -"But what I wish cannot be, man of the mighty will. For you would not -willingly journey through the veil. You are bound to this aspect of -existence, as all the others were bound. But somewhere must be one who -is not.... And so my quest must go on. Again--farewell...." - - * * * * * - -Once more she was slipping from him. And once more he could do nothing. -Despite his frantic, violent inner struggle, he could make no sound -or movement, could give no slightest indication of the purpose that -drove him. He was imprisoned within a cage of flesh as unresponsive and -immovable as stone. - -She turned to Mulvaney ... held the crystal globe to him. Its pulsing -quickened, it brightened. And Mulvaney fell, limp--empty. - -Watching through his despair, Bryan saw Leeta stand hesitating. Slowly -she glanced at him, as if somehow, throughout the weird proceedings, -he had been at the back of her mind. Her small face seemed to hold a -reluctance, a regret. - -Then she turned and moved beyond his sight. And presently he heard the -flapping of wings, drawing away, fading. Stillness closed over the park -again. - -Bryan felt the paralysis draining from him, more swiftly this time. It -was as though his body had adjusted to it since the first attack. - -He was straightening awkwardly, painfully, when he heard a sudden -faint rustling of branches, followed by the sound of light running -feet. A figure appeared in the open space before the pavilion, hurrying -toward him. The figure of a girl. And then he recognized her. Joyce! - -He felt a sharp surprise ... an unease. What was Joyce doing in the -park? - -"I saw what happened," she gasped breathlessly as he came up. Her face -looked pale and strained. "Are you all right?" - -He nodded. "Just getting back to normal." - -She bent to make a brief, repelled examination of Mulvaney. "Can't -something be done for this man?" - -"There isn't any hope for him," Bryan returned. "He's in the same -condition as the others." He studied Joyce for a moment, realizing that -she was oddly changed--somehow deliberate, hostile. "What are you doing -here?" - -"I wanted to see what your girl-friend looked like, Terry. I sneaked -past the police in front of the park." Her voice took on a sudden -accusing edge. "I saw what that half-naked witch did to this policeman. -And you helped her, Terry. I saw you knock him down so he couldn't -shoot her. It was murder, Terry--murder! He isn't dead yet, but you -know he's going to be." - -"I had to stop him," Bryan protested. "The girl deserved more of a -chance than she was getting. I told you she really didn't know she was -doing wrong. I thought I could reason with her, keep her from doing -any more harm--but things happened too fast." - -Joyce shook her head coldly. "It's still murder. And you're in it up -to your eyebrows, Terry. If the police find out what happened here, -they'll lock you up and throw away the key." - -In another moment her features softened, her voice grew pleading. "It -isn't too late, Terry. Forget that girl. Tip off the police so they'll -be ready for her the next time she shows up. They don't have to know -exactly what you saw--or what you did. We'll keep that to ourselves, -Terry. We'll start over again ... you and I." - - * * * * * - -Bryan stared at her, shocked by the bargain she was suggesting. She -was asking him to doom Leeta, to sacrifice his pride and his hopes in -return for her silence. It was a kind of blackmail, in which she was -seeking to use the tragedy of Mulvaney for her own purposes. He found -in this a wrong somehow vastly greater than in what Leeta had done--for -this was knowing, calculating. - -He had always regarded Joyce as a friend, understanding and -sympathetic. Now he realized these qualities were only a veneer, and -in the stress of what had happened the veneer had been stripped away. -An underlying ugliness was revealed--an ugliness that seemed to be the -very foundation of a world he had come to despise. - -Slowly, grimly, he shook his head. "You're asking too much for what -you have to sell, Joyce. If I have to pick between you and Leeta, -then...." - -She stiffened as though struck. "Leeta!" she spat. "So you know -her name, do you? Now I see you must have been cozy with her all -along--that's why you helped her commit murder!" - -Her voice grew shrill and breathless with fury. "All right, Terry! -You're asking for it. I've made a fool of myself in front of everyone, -chasing after you, throwing myself at you. This is where I even up the -score.... The police might not believe what I just saw, but I'll tell -them a story they'll swallow without tasting. They just love people -who help kill cops. And they already have a crush on you over the -run-around you gave them after the last killing. If you aren't sent -to the chair, you're dead certain to get a job cracking shells in a -nuthouse. Everybody knows you've been going to pieces, and they won't -be surprised to hear you've finally blown your top." - -She stood facing him a moment longer, her eyes blazing with deadly -promise. Then she whirled and was running swiftly toward one of the -paths that led away from the pavilion. - -Bryan gazed after her, realizing that he might have made a serious -mistake. But he was somehow unable to care. He had an enormous sense of -futility, defeat. All his hopes, the very course of his life, had come -to center about this evening's meeting with Leeta--and she had slipped -from him. There would not be another chance. Joyce had made it clear -that the sands of time were running out for him. - -He glanced down at the prone figure of Mulvaney, hesitated. It seemed -callous to leave the patrolman like this. But there was nothing -that could be done for Mulvaney now. Except, perhaps, to answer the -questions of the police about what had happened to him. And Bryan -didn't feel like answering questions. He'd had little sleep that -morning, and exhaustion made his body leaden. And he had the feverish, -light-headed feeling again, the aftermath of his paralysis. - -He turned aimlessly and walked down one of the paths, until he found -himself at the edge of an invitingly dark grassy expanse. He dropped to -the ground behind some tall bushes and closed his eyes. He seemed to -be floating in a lightless, depthless sea. Soothing waves of sensation -washed over him. He drifted away on warm tides that held nothing of -sound or feeling. - - * * * * * - -And then the nothingness was gone. He stood on a flagstone path that -ran between a lane of trees. At one end the path led to a curving -stairway that wound up a rocky slope to a building of pink stone. -Peace and quiet lay over the scene, like a crystal blanket of supernal -clarity. - -Realization came to him, bringing with it an electrifying amazement. -He was back--back in that strange and exotically beautiful other-place -which seemed to be Leeta's home! - -Leeta! Eagerness and wild joy flamed in him, then. There was still a -chance. It was not hopeless after all--not too late.... - -His senses rushed toward the other end of the path, and now he detected -a muted piping, like the shrill whispers of excited children. He sent -himself toward it. - -The familiar shifting again. He stood at the edge of the broad shallow -depression he had seen before, with the pool of inexplicable force at -its center. The flowers that crowded here were as incredibly luxuriant -and gorgeous as he remembered them, filling the air with their thick -perfume. And once more he felt the aura of vital power that radiated -from the pool, boundless, awesome, god-like. - -And kneeling beside the pool as before was the slender figure he was -seeking--Leeta. Only dimly was he aware of the other shapes around -her, the giant bird, the mosquito-men. She was holding the mystically -shining crystal globe, even now she was bending to lower it to the -surface of the pool. - -Into his mind flashed the chilling picture of Mulvaney, horribly -sprawled, motionless-empty. He knew he had to prevent what was about to -take place. - -Urgency leaping in him, he sent himself toward the pool. Leeta had to -see him this time! He threw all his will into the thought in a mighty -burst of effort. She had to see him! - -And she saw him. - -With the globe extended in her hands, she stiffened. Her tilted liquid -eyes flared wide. A stark unbelieving amazement seemed to grip her slim -body. And in a fashion that was somehow a normal function of his senses -here, he realized that she saw him as he had seen her back at the park, -mistily unsubstantial, weirdly glowing. - -"You!" she said at last. The silvery chime of her thought held the -quality of a gasp. - -Her stunned incredulity was echoed by the other presences before the -pool. - -"He is the strange one--he is here!" - -"He of the great will has come!" - -Then the silvery chiming again, stronger now. "You followed me here, -man of the other aspect? Were you able so easily to penetrate the veil?" - -"I don't know just how I got here," Bryan returned. "But I do know that -this is where I wanted to be." - -She seemed to grasp the implications of the thought, for a sudden -delight stirred in her. Yet for the moment her wonder remained -dominant. "I do not understand how this can be. The others could not -penetrate the veil without the aid of the Vessel. It is as though they -were somehow bound to their aspect of existence--bound as you, man of -the mighty will, are not.... But why have you come?" - -His answer was grave, deliberate. "Partly to ask you to stop the harm -you have been causing in my world, Leeta." - -"Harm?" A silvery peal of shock burst from her. "I ... I do not -understand." - -"You took something from those men in my world, Leeta--something they -could not live without. And because of this, they died." - -"Died! But the pool could not incarnate them into this aspect. The -vital force escaped. I thought it returned to its shell in the other -aspect." - -Bryan clearly understood the meaning behind the terms she used. He -shook his head. "The vital force did not return--not once, Leeta. The -shells died." - -She looked stricken. "I had not thought that happened when the vital -force escaped. I had been certain that it returned through the veil, -drawn back by its bonds with the shell.... If it did not return, -then it must have perished here." The realization was one she found -startling, dismaying. - -Bryan nodded slowly. "It perished in this aspect, just as the energy -projection of one of your winged creatures perished in mine. For I -assume that the creature did perish, Leeta." - -"Yes," she whispered. "It was a thing I did not understand. But -now...." Her thought faded unhappily. Sorrow misted her eyes. - - * * * * * - -He dropped down beside her at the edge of the pool. For the moment, -driven by his intense purpose, he forgot that he was somehow -immaterial, a projection. He forgot the strangeness of that bizarre -other-world garden and the tensely watching shapes nearby. There was -only Leeta and himself. That was all that mattered. - -Earnestness heavily underscored his thought. "Leeta, you must stop what -you have been doing. You know now it has caused the deaths of those men -in my world. And there is another reason, Leeta--danger. My people will -be watching for you to appear again. They will try to destroy you." - -She shook her head with a mournful determination. "But I cannot -stop. I have a duty to fulfill that is greater than any harm I might -cause--greater even than my own life." - -"What do you mean, Leeta? What is this duty?" - -"I shall tell you. But first--you have seen something of this valley? -You have seen that it is beautiful?" - -"Very beautiful, Leeta." - -"But only the valley is like that. All the rest of my world is bathed -in a terrible fire that destroys any life it touches." - -"I have seen that, too," he said. "Was it always this way?" - -"Not always. Once the entire world was like the valley, beautiful, -filled with life. There were fully as many people as on your own world. -And they had great knowledge--too much knowledge, perhaps. They lived -in vast cities and had many wonderful machines to serve them. They -could have been happy, could have climbed to even greater heights--but -there was war." - -The silver chiming was dulled by sadness, and a kind of instinctive -horror. "It was a war fought with weapons of frightful, magic -power--weapons that used the very secrets of existence itself. Life of -all forms was wiped out, except in this valley. For a small group of -people had guessed what the war would do and had taken refuge here. -The valley, you see, was unique, not only well isolated from any -possibility of attack, but shielded on all sides by mountains which -contained an element capable of resisting the fire. Thus, while the -fire spread like a deadly blight into other refuges, it did not reach -here. Not entirely." - -Bryan felt an awed wonder at the picture Leeta had drawn. Behind -her chiming thought images had moved--images that seemed to hold a -tantalizing familiarity. He had been puzzling over the location of -Leeta's world, and now he speculated startledly whether it wasn't Earth -itself. He recalled that she had spoken of their individual worlds as -aspects, as though they were different views of the same place rather -than completely different and unrelated places. - -The possibility was supported by the fact that Leeta was undeniably -human. Further, he knew that the consuming fire she described was -radioactivity--and the people of his world were already well along in -their knowledge of atomic weapons. His wonder sharpened. Was Leeta's -world actually Earth--an Earth of the distant future? Was the veil that -separated them time itself? - - * * * * * - -She appeared not to have noticed his fleeting thoughts. It was as -though her awareness was gripped by the tragedy of what she had been -describing. - -Slowly she went on, "The fire's terrible breath touched the valley, -and its effects were felt by the creatures who had sought shelter -here--both human and animal. Some died, some ... changed. The winged -ones you see around you now are the results of that change. Even the -flowers and trees became different. And the pool was created. The fire -touched something in this particular spot--and the pool came into -being. The process was never understood, but I do know that the pool -has strange powers--that somehow it is alive ... intelligent. It is the -pool which made possible what I have done, supplying the knowledge, -tools and forces that were necessary." - -"But how does it happen that you're the only person left in the -valley?" Bryan asked. - -She moved her slim, gleaming shoulders. "There were not many here even -in the beginning, while the fire was still at its height. After its -destroying breath left the valley, only a very few were left--those, -that is, who were still human. And they somehow did not care to live. -My father was the last to die, but before he did he said I must find a -way to keep our race from perishing with me. He explained that I was -the first human truly adjusted to the changed conditions of the valley, -and only in me was there hope. - -"That was ... and remains ... my duty--to keep humans alive in this -aspect. The answer to my problem lay beyond the veil. Matter was held -by the energy field of the aspect in which it was situated, and thus -could not be made to cross without the use of enormous power. But the -vital force contained in living matter could be made to cross easily -enough--with, of course, the means of a tool like the Vessel. And the -pool could incarnate the vital force, give it matter in this aspect -according to the pattern of the original shell. All I had to do was -bring the vital force of a man through the veil--and my race could go -on. Still, I have been unsuccessful, for it seems that the vital force -is also held to its aspect." - -"I think that's because of what might be called psychic bonds," Bryan -said slowly. "The men you brought here, Leeta--they did not want to -come. And once here they did not want to stay. That, it seems, is why -you've failed." - -He indicated the globe she was holding. "And that's why you'll fail -again. It's wrong to destroy a life uselessly, Leeta. Wrong. Surely you -realize that. You must release this man--if it's at all possible." - -"It can be done," she said. Then her thought grew protesting, -rebellious. "But I cannot release him. I cannot give up my mission so -easily. I must keep trying until I succeed. Surely you in turn must -realize how great my duty is." - -"Will you persist in it even if you know you are doing wrong, bringing -pain and grief to people in my aspect? Don't you know what grief is, -Leeta? Didn't you feel grief when your father died--when that winged -creature of yours died?" - -"Yes," she said reluctantly. "Yes." - -"And don't you know what love is? Haven't you realized that you were -tearing those men away from persons they loved deeply and didn't want -to leave? I don't mean the kind of love you felt for your father, -Leeta, but the love that exists between a man and a woman who are -mated. Don't you know what that kind of love is like?" - - * * * * * - -She hesitated, startled, wondering. "No," she breathed at last. -"Then I'll show you," he said. Though he was somehow unsubstantial, -a projection, he knew he could still transmit feeling, just as the -mosquito-men had transmitted their paralysis to him. He bent toward -her, pressed his lips to hers. He felt her surprise--and then her -pleasure, her shy response. There was somehow a sweetness in that kiss, -an intensity, that moved him as no kiss had ever done. - -Finally he drew away. "That is love, Leeta--something that would bring -a man willingly to your aspect." - -Her small face was flushed, her liquid eyes shone. Then despair washed -over her. "But if you don't--" She gestured helplessly. "Where would -I find a man in whom there would be such a love?" - -He looked at her intently, searchingly, then gestured at the globe. -"Leeta, if I were willing to stay here with you, would you release this -man?" - -"For you--yes." In her was no guile, only an innocent directness. "I -have thought of you from the first moment we met," she admitted. "I -found qualities in you that were not present in any of the others--a -strength, and yet a gentleness, a sadness. I could not forget ... and -I know now that this was love. And if you will truly stay--" She broke -off eagerly. "Watch!" - -She extended the globe toward the pool. She did not lower it, but held -it over the surface. Her slim body grew very still. She seemed to be -concentrating ... communing. - -And as he watched, Bryan saw the mists from the pool thicken around the -globe. The supernal power that radiated from it took on an atmosphere -of tension, strain. For an instant, even though he still saw her, he -had the uncanny yet definite impression that the globe was--gone. - -Abruptly, then, dismayingly, the scene dimmed, began fading, as it -had done on his first visit. Panic swept him. He couldn't leave -now--he didn't want to leave! He fought to keep the garden around him, -summoning all the force of will of which he was capable. - -The scene steadied--but remained oddly blurred. He saw now that Leeta -had turned from the pool and was holding out the globe to him, smiling. -The globe's mystic brightness was gone. Once more it was a cloudy gray, -its core a faint rose, slowly pulsing. - -"It is done," Leeta said. "He has been returned safely to the other -aspect." Then her smile vanished. She stared at Bryan in swift concern. -"Why, what is the matter? What has happened to you?" - -Her questions seemed to come from a great distance. The scene was -dissolving again--and this time he could not hold it together. -Something was wrong, he knew, seriously wrong. He tried to send a last -message to Leeta ... failed. - -Darkness closed around him. And from a distance even greater than -before, he sensed an anguished chiming, stunned, broken. - -"A trick! It was just a trick!" - - * * * * * - -Someone was shaking his shoulder roughly and insistently. He strained -away in dull protest, groping blindly for the fragile ethereal thread -that had slipped from him. - -"Come on, snap out of it!" an impatient voice growled. - -He forced open his eyes, then squeezed them shut again as the beam of -a flashlight struck them. His awareness sharpened. He struggled to sit -up, felt grass under his fingers, and realized abruptly that he was -back in the park. - -Hands that were not gentle caught him under his armpits and helped -raise him to his feet. He saw the figures of two men now, one of them -in police uniform. This man held a gun, its muzzle pointed in silent -threat. - -"All right, cop-killer," the man in the suit said. He had a detective's -unemotional face and flat hard eyes. Something bright glinted in his -hands as he leaned close--and Bryan felt the cold steel of handcuffs -close around his wrists. - -"Let's go," the detective said, then. "We've got about two-dozen men -combing the park for you, friend. They won't like to be kept on the job -for nothing. Pete and I were just lucky enough to get to you first." - -Rough hands gripped Bryan's arms, pulled him into motion. He walked -leadenly, unsteadily, the two men flanking him. His body was clammy -with the perspiration that had bathed him in sleep. He felt exhausted, -weak, sick, as though from some tremendous labor. The energy of his -body, it seemed, had been heavily drawn upon in order to sustain the -projection of himself in Leeta's aspect. - -Leeta.... He thought of her with a crushing sense of tragedy. He knew -he loved her--incredible and weird as that love may have seemed. He -remembered the shyness of her kiss, the numbed horror of her belief -that she had been betrayed, that he had pretended love only as a ruse -to obtain Mulvaney's freedom. If only he were able to reassure her-- - -But he had the chill certainty that he would never see her again. For -she had learned the meaning of pain. - -Despair rose in him, a despair that submerged even his concern over -the situation in which he now found himself. _Cop-killer_.... The -implications brought a kind of remote wonder. Joyce, it appeared, had -made her threat good. She had told the police a story that they had -swallowed without tasting. It was a story that had resulted in a swift -and thorough search of the park, a story that had required handcuffs -and drawn guns. - -Bryan glanced at the detective beside him. "You boys taking me in -because of what happened to Mulvaney?" - -"Mostly because of Mulvaney," the other grunted. "We don't know what -you did to him, friend--but you're going to tell us about it. In the -back room at Headquarters. You're damned well going to tell us all -about it." - -"Mulvaney isn't dead," Bryan insisted. - -"Not yet. But he's going to kick off sooner or later--just like the -others. I know about that, friend." - -Bryan shook his head. "Mulvaney isn't going to die." - -"That so?" The detective's flat gaze studied him without surprise or -interest. "But the other guys did--four of them. Don't forget that." - -Bryan fell silent. Mulvaney wouldn't die--but he would tell of Bryan -knocking him down, of Bryan's co-operation with strange creatures that -had taken the lives of four men. Mulvaney, however, wasn't likely to -tell exactly what he had seen. His story, too, would be something that -could be swallowed without tasting.... - -Then Bryan saw that he and the others were crossing one edge of an open -space. The pavilion rose in the middle of it, a pale ghostly shape -against the darkness. It would remain a symbol for him. For within -sight of it his life had begun--and ended. - - * * * * * - -A path swallowed him and his captors. The pavilion faded from view. -Ahead was the sprawling bulk of the city, dotted and splashed with -light. - -It was against this backdrop that the sound came, rising out of -inaudibility. The flapping of great wings. - -_Wings!_ - -A vast wind seemed to blow through Bryan. He stopped dead, staring up -into the sky. - -The detective and his companion seemed to hear the sound also. They, -too, peered upward, puzzled. - -Bryan thought he knew where to look. And glancing back in the direction -of the pavilion, he saw a vague dark shape against the stars. Sudden -urgency roared in him like thunder. - -The pavilion! He had to go back! - -He lifted his imprisoned arms and swung them in a sweeping club-like -blow. The policeman dropped before he could move his gun back into -line. The detective swore in dismay, sent a hand darting under his -coat--but Bryan was already whirling toward him. He kneed the man in -the stomach, then felled him with a chopping blow to the back of the -head. - -Beyond hindrance now, Bryan ran. He ran recklessly, wildly, eagerness -driving away his exhaustion, sending an explosive power into his legs. - -Behind him voices shouted, a whistle shrilled. Then the sharp blast of -a gun split the air. - -He left the path and cut across a stretch of grass. A wall of shrubbery -rose before him, and he plunged into it without checking speed. -Branches lashed at him, tore at him. He fell, heaved himself erect, -fought his way clear. - -More grass, and then another path, running parallel to the one he had -fled. He followed this, and presently the pavilion took form in the -gloom. Above it a dark shape circled on huge wings. The giant bird--and -it was alone. Bryan could see no other shapes accompanying it. - -He was puzzling over the discovery, when a flashlight beam speared at -him out of an intersecting path. Shouts followed it, filled with a -swift excitement. - -"There he is!" - -"Stop, you!" - -Bryan plunged on. Again a whistle shrilled. Then the running sounds of -a group of men came in pursuit. - -The pavilion rose before him. He reached the open space around it, -halted, swung his bound hands in an urgent gesture at the sky. - -"Here I am!" he called, not knowing if his call would be heard. -"Here--quick!" - -If it did not actually hear him, the giant bird saw him. Swiftly it -descended. And as it dropped toward him, he saw it held an object in -its beak--the crystal globe. His perplexity mounted. For added to all -the other strangeness of this event, he now detected a desperation -about the bird, a consuming anxiety. - -He sent his thought to meet the pulse that was reaching toward him. -"Where is Leeta? Has something happened?" - -With a final sweep of its wings, the bird settled to the ground. Its -answer came, then, holding an odd deep twittering quality. - -"The fire! Leeta is sending herself into the fire! Only you can stop -her. She has commanded the winged ones not to interfere--a command we -cannot disobey." - -"Leeta--planning to destroy herself? But why?" - -"It is because of this thing called love that you awoke in her. She -felt that without you there was no longer any reason to live." Anxiety -sharpened in the twittering thought. "Will you help to save Leeta, man -of this aspect? Will you come with me through the veil?" - -"Yes," Bryan said. "Yes!" Eagerly he leaned close to the slowly pulsing -globe that the bird held out to him in its beak ... felt himself drawn -as though by immaterial hands that reached deep within him. - -From an increasing distance sounds came to him, the pounding of feet, -shouts, the roar of a gun. Something struck his shoulder, but only -dimly was he aware of it. The last physical bonds were parting. - -And then a pulsing darkness enclosed him. - - * * * * * - -Through the darkness came light, a flicker of motion and a flash of -color, like the beating wings of a butterfly. The light grew, the -darkness vanished. He floated in a gorgeous rainbow-hued brilliance -that shimmered and swirled with the throb of a supernal laboring. -Beyond the brilliance outlines were taking form. He had a sensation of -swift movement--and found himself standing at the edge of the pool in -that bizarrely beautiful other-world garden he remembered so well. - -"Haste! Haste!" - -"Leeta is going into the fire!" - -All around him the thoughts rose, beating at him. He saw the giant -bird, then, and the smaller winged shapes that hovered beyond. - -"Haste! Haste!" - -The dread anxiety communicated itself to him, kindled a swift purpose. -Sensing what was required of him, he hurried toward the waiting bird, -leaped to its back. It sprang skyward, its huge wings beating. The -garden dropped away, became a mere patch of bright color against the -mottled pattern of the valley floor. - -"Haste! Haste!" - -Swifter and swifter the huge wings beat. Bryan clutched at the feathers -under him, rocked by the surges of giant muscles, buffeted by the -torrent of air that rushed past. - -The valley wall rose ahead, and through a deep cleft in the towering -masses of rock he saw a deadly blue shimmer. The bird descended toward -the cleft--and abruptly he felt its stunned dismay. - -"Leeta has gone through the portal! She has reached the fire!" - -Anguish flamed in Bryan. He had done this. If Leeta died, it would be -as though he had killed her with his own hands. - -"Hurry!" he pleaded. "It may not be too late." - -The bird dropped to the rocky ground at the entrance to the cleft. -Sliding from its back, Bryan ran through the opening, to the brink of -that ghastly desolation he had seen once before. He glanced around in -frantic search--and then, below him, he caught sight of a slender white -figure moving through the shimmering blue radiance that blanketed the -desolate landscape. - -Too late! Leeta had entered the fire. For a moment the horrible -realization held him rigid, dazed, numbed beyond thought. Then, a -bleak purpose filling him, he hurried after her down a twisting rocky -descent. He might not be able to save Leeta now--but he could die with -her. - -The blue radiance rose around him, and he felt its lethal touch. Leeta -was some distance ahead of him, mistily unreal behind the shimmering -curtain. And even as he found her, he saw her stumble, fall. She did -not move again. - -With an inner desolation even greater than that of the scene itself, he -made his way over to the girl across the charred, tumbled floor. Gently -he lifted her, carried her back to the cleft. His steps were leaden, -faltering. A burning sensation was spreading through his body. Outlines -were blurring before his eyes, darkening. He forced himself on. - -It was not until he emerged through the cleft, not until he lowered -Leeta to the ground, that he gave his ravaged body the oblivion it had -been demanding. - -Oblivion--and yet.... In some dim, remote fashion he had a picture -of the great bird, hovering over Leeta and himself on beating wings, -grasping them carefully in its claws, carrying them through the air -over the valley, and then descending with them toward the pool. - -Down ... down.... And then a swirling brilliance, a sense of delicious -coolness, of returning strength. He found himself floating in the -pool. And beside him, her liquid eyes even now widening with returning -awareness, was Leeta. He felt the god-like power of the pool throbbing -through him, and he knew that he and Leeta had been cleansed of the -deadly radiation, that life and not death now lay before them. And the -knowledge was a music within him that swelled into a mighty paean of -exultation. - -Then he stood with Leeta at the edge of the pool, and she was staring -at him in wild disbelief. The silvery chiming of her thought held a -vast wonder. - -"Is it really you? Have you returned--through the veil? Or is this -somehow only a dream?" - -He shook his head gently, smiling. "Not a dream, Leeta. I've come -back--and through the veil. Back to stay." - -Joy was a sudden brimming brightness in her eyes. "Then the love of -which you told me--it was not just a trick?" - -"No--and I'm going to prove it, Leeta." He drew her to him ... and -knew, in the answering pressure of her lips, that he had convinced her. - -He felt a deep content. Here was the world of his own that he had -sought, and life had a meaning, a purpose it had lacked. Together he -and Leeta would create a new race, as two others long before them had -done, who had come from a place called Eden.... - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SOUL STEALERS *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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Geier</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Soul Stealers</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Chester S. Geier</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: April 07, 2021 [eBook #65017]</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net</div> - -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SOUL STEALERS ***</div> - -<div class="titlepage"> - -<h1>THE SOUL STEALERS</h1> - -<h2>by Chester S. Geier</h2> - -<p>Wraithlike, they came out of the darkness—dead<br /> -men who walked among the living. What grim secret lay<br /> -in their sightless eyes—a warning to all other men!</p> - -<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br /> -Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy<br /> -October 1950<br /> -Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br /> -the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>A chill touched Bryan as he looked down at the figure on the hospital -bed. He had seen dead men before—too many of them. He had seen them -sprawled on European battlefields, had seen them huddled in wrecked -cars or lying waxen and stiff on morgue slabs.</p> - -<p>But he had never seen a dead man like the one who lay there on the bed. -For, paradoxically, this man was still alive. He still breathed, his -heart still pulsed. Yet it was clear that these were little more than -automatic processes. In the only respect that mattered, he was as truly -dead as though in the last stages of dissolution and decay.</p> - -<p>He lay on the bed with an unnatural supineness, his head lolling at a -slack angle. His eyes were open in a blank stare, eyes as empty as a -waiting grave. He did not move. He made no sound. A thread of saliva -ran from a corner of his gaping mouth and made a glistening path down -the side of his jaw.</p> - -<p>A mindless idiot would have shown more animation than this man. -Something vital and precious had gone from him, leaving him a mere -shell. His was a death-in-life, a thing somehow more terrible than a -shattered skull or a torn chest.</p> - -<p>Bryan fought back a shudder and turned to the balding white-clad man at -his side. "What can you tell me, Dave? Just what seems to be wrong with -this fellow?"</p> - -<p>The doctor sighed. "Wish I knew, Terry. I've never seen anything like -it in over twenty years of medical practice. Not even the specialists -seem to know. And we have several good ones here, who donate their -services to the hospital—men with experience in unusual cases."</p> - -<p>"But don't you have any idea at all about how he got this way?" Bryan -persisted. "Isn't there any possibility that he has some sort of rare -brain disease?"</p> - -<p>"We gave him a careful examination, Terry," the doctor returned. "We -could find no evidence of disease—no evidence of concussion or injury, -either. Except, maybe, for one thing."</p> - -<p>"What's that?" Bryan asked quickly.</p> - -<p>"When he was first brought in, we found a sort of reddish mark near -his left shoulder. As though something hot had touched him. The skin -wasn't broken or burned, however." The doctor shrugged. "It's gone now. -I doubt if anything so light and temporary could have been important, -anyway."</p> - -<p>"This might be a case for the psychiatrists," Bryan suggested slowly. -"Maybe this fellow had a terrific shock of some kind—a psychic trauma, -or whatever they call it."</p> - -<p>"That's quite possible. But we've done the best we could at this end." -The doctor's voice dropped. "I don't think there's going to be time for -anything else, Terry."</p> - -<p>"You mean that he—"</p> - -<p>The doctor nodded. "He's dying. I've seen the signs. It's as though -he's lost all will to live."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Bryan looked at the man on the bed again, grim speculation in his -eyes. His voice was solemn and soft. "Maybe I'm just a superstitious -Irishman, Dave—but I think I know what's the matter with this -fellow. I knew it the first time I looked at him. He's lost -something—something you can't see with microscopes or X-ray machines. -It's something damned important—and that's why he's dying. What he's -lost, Dave, is ... his soul."</p> - -<p>"I'm not laughing, Terry. Oddly enough, I have the same opinion. A -doctor keeps running into situations like this, where ideas thrown into -the discard by the so-called scientific attitude have to be dusted off -and put back to work."</p> - -<p>There was silence. An elevator made distant noises somewhere in the -building. White-clad nurses moved crisply by in the hall beyond the -open door. Late Spring sunshine was bright behind the drawn shade at -the window. Life and movement, the mundane and familiar. But in this -room thoughts probed beyond the earthly facade and found a mystery, a -wonder as old as Man.</p> - -<p>Bryan moved his muscular shoulders as though against an invisible -resistance. Then, slowly, still fighting that resistance, he reached -into the breast pocket of his rumpled tweed jacket and produced a -pencil and a wrinkled but otherwise clean envelope. Most reporters -carried notepads about with them; some even went in for stenographers' -shorthand notebooks. But to Bryan news was something more than mere -details. It was a thing of human and emotional qualities, and these -he carried in his head like songs—some gay and humorous, many more -tragic and sad. This characteristic had given his by-line its great -popularity with <i>Courier</i> readers. When he needed to remember details -at all—comparatively unimportant facts like dates and numbers—he -recorded them on envelopes.</p> - -<p>"Anything else you can tell me about this man, Dave? Who he is, where -he lives?"</p> - -<p>The doctor fingered a slip of paper from a pocket of his white smock. -"Here's his name and address. I had an interne copy them down from the -stuff we found in his clothes. Knew you'd want them, Terry." He grinned -briefly, a grin of real affection, then sobered. "The police did some -checking on him. I talked to a detective just before you showed up.</p> - -<p>"Seems this patient lived alone at a rooming house. A widower. No -family. Worked as a dental technician for a small company in the Loop. -It appears he was in the habit of spending his evenings in Grant Park. -He was found there this morning, you know, just the way he is now."</p> - -<p>"Grant Park," Bryan echoed. "That makes three. Three, Dave."</p> - -<p>The doctor looked puzzled. "I don't get it, Terry."</p> - -<p>"I didn't get around to this business until now, but two other men were -found in Grant Park. Like this. They were taken to private hospitals."</p> - -<p>"Good Lord!" the doctor breathed, startled. "This goes deeper than I -thought. There must be something in Grant Park—"</p> - -<p>"Something that I intend to look into," Bryan said quietly. "There's a -story here—if I can dig it out."</p> - -<p>He thrust the envelope and pencil back into his jacket, together with -the slip of paper he had been given. "I'll be running along, Dave. -Thanks for your tip. It was swell of you to remember me."</p> - -<p>The other gestured as he followed Bryan into the hall and toward the -elevators. "Maybe I had an ulterior motive. Ruth and I have been -wondering why you never drop in any more."</p> - -<p>"I've been running a rat-race," Bryan said.</p> - -<p>"You look it, Terry. You don't look as well as you did when you first -came back from overseas."</p> - -<p>"What a big medicine bottle you have, doc!"</p> - -<p>"I'm serious, Terry. I've had an idea you weren't happy about things, -and now I'm sure of it. What seems to be the trouble? Your job?"</p> - -<p>"The job's all right."</p> - -<p>"You won't tell an old friend?"</p> - -<p>Bryan lifted his hands. "Hell, Dave, I don't know just what is wrong. -But it might be something like this. I fought a little war of my own, -a personal war, to make the world a better place. Now that I'm back, -though, it's the same old world—only a lot worse. And a reporter -gets to see too much of the worse side."</p> - -<p>"One man can't change the world, Terry," the doctor said. "All he can -do it make the best of his small piece of it.... What you need to do -is to get married and raise a family. And while on the subject, what -became of that pretty girl reporter you brought around with you a -couple of times?"</p> - -<p>"Joyce? She's still with the paper."</p> - -<p>"She seemed like a sensible person. Make a nice wife."</p> - -<p>"Yes," Bryan said. He stopped in front of the elevator and held out his -hand. "Thanks again, Dave. I'll drop in some evening, when the rat-race -slows up a little. My love to Ruth."</p> - -<p>"Take care of yourself, Terry." The doctor stood watching as the -elevator doors closed on Bryan's figure. A worried frown deepened the -lines in his forehead.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Outside, on the sidewalk before the hospital, Bryan lighted a -cigarette. He stood there for some minutes, a big man in a rumpled -tweed suit, his hat pushed back on thick brown hair that had a coppery -glint in the bright sunshine. He had powerful shoulders, and the hands -that went with them, but his face was fine-carved and sensitive—the -face of an artist, or a dreamer. There was that paradox in him. And -in that paradox was his personal tragedy. For while his strength took -him easily through the deceit and cruelty of life, the stupidity and -ugliness, the memory of each encounter remained with him like a scar.</p> - -<p>The scars were beginning to show a bit too plainly. It had taken Dave -to make him realize that.</p> - -<p>Dave.... What was it Dave had said? There was an importance in the -words.</p> - -<p>"<i>One man can't change the world, Terry.</i>"</p> - -<p>That was it. Bryan considered the remark now, intently.</p> - -<p>Was that what he really wanted to do—change the world? He groped among -old ideals and ambitions for the answer.</p> - -<p>In the beginning he had wanted to create—to create by writing about -people, about life. But to write about life required knowing it. He had -become a reporter.</p> - -<p>What he had learned of life was evilness, greed, suffering, ignorance. -He could not write of that and still create as he had dreamed. But -he could fight it. He could fight it wherever he found it, little by -little. And he had fought. It was all that had kept him going.</p> - -<p>A fool's mission, doomed to failure. Dave was right.</p> - -<p>Bryan had his answer now. He didn't want to change the world. He wanted -to do something even more impossible—he wanted to make a world of his -own.</p> - -<p>He grinned sourly and flipped the remains of the cigarette away. -Hailing a cab, then, he rode to the <i>Courier</i> Building.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The city room was filled with the old familiar clamor, the rattle of -typewriters and teletypes, the shrilling of telephones, the undulant -babble of voices. Bryan waved in answer to greetings as he threaded -his way to his desk. He rolled a sheet of paper into his typewriter, -lighted a cigarette, and rubbed his face. Then he straightened with a -jerk and began hitting the typewriter keys with the first and second -fingers of each hand.</p> - -<p>Managing Editor Frank Sanders hurried past with a bulging file -envelope, his vest open and his stiff white hair a usual disorderly -tangle. He whirled as though Bryan's presence had only then registered -on him.</p> - -<p>"Terry! Where the hell have you been?" He jerked a thumb. "My office. -Right away."</p> - -<p>Bryan finished a paragraph and then followed Sanders into his -glass-enclosed cubicle. He slumped into a chair and waited.</p> - -<p>Sanders tried without success to light a clogged pipe. He dropped it -back into the ashtray and said abruptly, "That Holzheimer story, Terry. -You did a nice job clearing the kid, but your copy was pretty rough on -the district attorney. Too rough, Terry."</p> - -<p>"I should have thrown a street-car at him," Bryan said. "Trying to -frame a kid and build up a record."</p> - -<p>"Circumstantial evidence and re-election, Terry. It happens all the -time—you ought to know. And you ought to know we're politically on the -D.A.'s side of the fence. Stories like the one you wrote about the -Holzheimer case will only hurt the campaign this paper is putting on."</p> - -<p>"Sometimes there's too much incompetence to whitewash—even if it comes -from the right side of the fence."</p> - -<p>Sanders shook his disorderly thatch. "You ought to know better than -that, Terry. You've been around long enough. This is no time to get a -rush of ideals to the head."</p> - -<p>"I've never pulled my punches," Bryan returned quietly.</p> - -<p>"I know. But we just can't have any more stories like the one on the -Holzheimer case." Sanders leaned forward at his desk, his eyes suddenly -shrewd. "What's eating on you, Terry?"</p> - -<p>Bryan shrugged. "Things like the Holzheimer business."</p> - -<p>"It's all part of a system," Sanders said slowly. "You can't change -that system any more than you can change human nature, Terry. All you -can do is make the best of it. I hope you'll look at it that way. I've -seen too many good reporters go sour over what they keep running into."</p> - -<p>A telephone jangled on the desk. Sanders spoke into it briefly and -returned his attention to Bryan.</p> - -<p>"Working on anything now, Terry?"</p> - -<p>Bryan explained about the three weirdly afflicted men who had been -found in Grant Park. "I'm planning to look into it," he finished.</p> - -<p>"Sounds like something big is involved," Sanders approved. "Go ahead -with it, Terry.... And take things easy, will you?" he added as Bryan -started toward the door.</p> - -<p>"Sure," Bryan said.</p> - -<p>Back at his desk, Bryan finished typing his copy. He was pencilling -corrections when Joyce Mayhew appeared.</p> - -<p>"Hi, Terry!" She perched on the edge of a neighboring desk, a slim -dark girl with a wide humorous mouth and expressive hazel eyes. She -was simply dressed as always, but gave a characteristic impression of -fashionable elegance. "What have you got there—a scoop, or a love -letter?"</p> - -<p>"It could be my last will and testament," Bryan said. He stood up and -called to a copyboy. "Have you had lunch?" he asked Joyce, then.</p> - -<p>"I was hoping somebody would ask me. Somebody like you, Terry."</p> - -<p>"Consider yourself asked. Let's go."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>They sat in a booth in a small restaurant on a side street near the -<i>Courier</i> Building. Joyce's eyes were grave as she studied Bryan's face -over the top of her menu.</p> - -<p>"Anything in that last will and testament crack you made, Terry?" she -asked at last. "I saw you come out of Sanders' office."</p> - -<p>He shrugged, mobile lips twisting into a wry grin. "Nothing that -serious. I just had my wrist slapped. Over the way I handled the -Holzheimer story."</p> - -<p>"There was quite a bit of talk about that up at the office. Sanders let -you off easy. But Terry, you seem to have been hitting out at things a -little too hard. What's the matter—a disappointed love life?"</p> - -<p>"You know as much about my love life as I do."</p> - -<p>"Really?" She looked down to finger a spoon, sudden pain and -wistfulness in her averted face.</p> - -<p>"I saw Dave at the County Hospital," he went on. "You remember Dave."</p> - -<p>"Yes—and his wife's cooking and his lovely children."</p> - -<p>"Dave mentioned you. He seemed to feel I've been neglecting him."</p> - -<p>"Maybe you've been neglecting a lot of people, Terry."</p> - -<p>He drew a deep breath and let it out slowly, an action compounded of -agreement, weariness—and despair. "I suppose that's true. People and -I seem to have been going off in opposite directions. Take Dave. He's -satisfied with what he's doing. I can't talk to him without being -reminded of my own dissatisfaction. He can't talk to me without knowing -that something's wrong."</p> - -<p>Joyce reached across the table and caught his hand. "Terry—don't let -it get you!"</p> - -<p>He forced a grin. "With me it's work as usual. And this time it's -something off the beaten path—something darned queer." He told her of -the dead-alive man at the hospital and of the link to the other Grant -Park victims. He straightened, animation quickening in his face, his -melancholy forgotten.</p> - -<p>"Three men," he finished grimly. "There's a kind of continuity to the -thing. I'm going to watch the park, Joyce. I have the idea that what -happened is going to happen again. I want to know just what was done to -those men, just what sort of agency is at the bottom of it."</p> - -<p>Her face was troubled. "Terry ... it frightens me! If something strange -is really going on, you might get hurt—the way those men were hurt. -I wish—" She broke off with a helpless gesture. "Be careful, Terry! -Please be careful!"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Bryan sat on a stool in one corner of a small dimly lighted bar, -frowning down at an envelope on which he had drawn a diagram of -Grant Park. He had spent part of the afternoon checking on the -locations where the three men had been found. These, it appeared, -were concentrated roughly near the middle of the park, around a large -sandstone memorial pavilion which was the center of numerous converging -walks. He had visited the spot while daylight remained, familiarizing -himself with it in preparation for his night vigil.</p> - -<p>Glancing at his watch now, Bryan slid off the stool and went to a -telephone alcove. He dialed a number quickly. There was a delay while -an extension connection was made.</p> - -<p>"Dave?" he said, then. "Terry at this end. How's the patient?"</p> - -<p>"Dead, Terry. Not half an hour ago. We tried everything—oxygen, heart -stimulants. It was no use. I knew it was going to happen all along and -stayed to do what I could. I was just getting ready to go home."</p> - -<p>"I checked up on the others who were found in the park," Bryan resumed. -"They died, too. In about the same length of time as your patient."</p> - -<p>"Good Lord, Terry! It ... it's horrible somehow. What in the name of -reason could be back of it?"</p> - -<p>"I'm working on that angle right now. I'll let you know if I turn up -anything.... Thanks, Dave." Bryan hung up and went back to the bar. He -finished his drink, lighted a cigarette, and strode outside.</p> - -<p>Darkness had thickened along the street, a soft warm darkness, rich -with the promise of approaching summer. A block's walk brought Bryan -to the boulevard. Grant Park lay just across from him, lights shining -fairy-like throughout its shadowed length.</p> - -<p>He crossed with the traffic light, hands in his pockets, a man just -strolling along on a pleasant evening. But his gray eyes were alert and -grim. Vivid in his mind was the memory of a man in a hospital bed, a -man who breathed and yet was not alive.</p> - -<p>The park swallowed him. He walked directly toward the memorial -pavilion, moving without haste, without apparent purpose or destination.</p> - -<p>The pavilion took shape in the quiet gloom, a temple-like place -of flowerbeds and radiating walks. On the benches around it was a -scattering of romantic couples and lonely men sprawled in sleep. The -atmosphere was one of serenity and peace. To Bryan it seemed briefly -incredible that danger could threaten here. Yet in this vicinity three -men had been struck down by something that had left them mere shells of -flesh without the will to live.</p> - -<p>He made a complete circuit of the pavilion without a glimpse of -anything unusual or suspicious. Finally, choosing a bench thick in -shadow and partly screened by bushes, he sat down to wait.</p> - -<p>Time passed slowly in the lulling murmur of leaves and the distant -drone of passing automobiles. The sleeping men on neighboring benches -awoke one by one, stretched, and plodded away into the darkness. The -spooning couples shared a last embrace and vanished in turn. Before -much longer the benches around Bryan were deserted. But he knew that -other persons might still be lingering in spots not visible to him.</p> - -<p>The quiet had deepened. Bryan shifted cramped and protesting muscles -and peered impatiently at the radium dial of his watch. The hour was -already a late one. Soon it would be too late for what he had hoped -would happen. Everyone would have left the neighborhood of the pavilion.</p> - -<p>Hope was fading in Bryan, but he forced himself to remain where he -was. More time passed. A deep somnolent hush lay over the pavilion. -Even the continual rustling of leaves now seemed muted and remote. The -sky pressed down, a soft dark blanket lavishly strewn with points of -brilliance. In the silver gloom the lamps spaced along the walks shone -with an ethereal phosphorescent quality.</p> - -<p>Bryan slumped on the bench in resignation. He was certain now that -nothing would happen. Not tonight, at least. And in his disappointment -he wondered if there had been some warning of his presence. Or had what -he had been waiting for already taken place, without his having been -aware of it?</p> - -<p>His tiredness blunted the question. Rest seemed more important now. -He'd go to his furnished room and sleep. This was just the first night. -There would be other nights. He'd wait and watch until something -finally happened.</p> - -<p>But right now there was no further need for caution. He could have a -smoke. He could stand up to ease his aching muscles.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>He was reaching for his cigarettes when he heard the sound rising above -the murmur of leaves. The sound of wings. There was a rushing power to -them, a massive beat. And listening, Bryan had the swift certainty -that it was nothing familiar that flew through the night. He crouched -on the bench, frozen, searching the jeweled sky.</p> - -<p>Then another sound—a girl's questioning voice, shrill with alarm.</p> - -<p>Bryan swung and saw two figures against the pale outlines of the -pavilion, one evidently the girl he had heard and the other that of a -man accompanying her. They must have been nearby without his having -noticed them. The sound of approaching wings had drawn them into view.</p> - -<p>Bryan's pulses leaped in dread excitement. Was it going to happen -now—like this? Did whatever it was that had deprived three men of the -will to live ride the air on great wings?</p> - -<p>The thought brought a chill dismay. His eyes widened on the two figures -before the pavilion. If some strange attack portended, he could not -stand idly by and watch it happen. The man and girl were too clearly -exposed, in possible great danger.</p> - -<p>Bryan was tensing his muscles when the beating wings swept by overhead. -His glance jerked upward. He stared in numbed disbelief.</p> - -<p>A huge bird-like shape was gliding down toward the pavilion. Flying -beside it, grotesquely like fighter planes escorting a giant bomber, -were a number of smaller shapes—vaguely man-like. But it was not this -sight alone that filled Bryan with nightmare amazement. For astride -the bird-thing was a slender-limbed figure in veil-like garments—a -girl. And against the dark backdrop of the sky, girl and winged -creatures alike all seemed to shine with an eerie glow, a luminous -radiance.</p> - -<p>Impossibility! Madness! Bryan's thoughts whirled in chaos. This bizarre -scene couldn't be real. He was suffering a delusion. His long vigil -on the bench had lulled him into a dream-like state in which he was -experiencing a fantastic vision.</p> - -<p>But even as he told himself this, he knew he was very much awake. And -he knew that what he saw was no mere vision. For a scream from the girl -before the pavilion testified that she and her companion saw it also.</p> - -<p>The fantastic winged shapes were slanting downward. Bryan realized -they were moving directly toward the man and girl. The couple stood -immobile, rigid, as though spell-bound by the utter weirdness of what -they saw.</p> - -<p>Bryan shouted a hoarse warning and started forward. He did not know -what he could possibly do. No rational purpose motivated him. His -action was instinctive, an appalled protest against what he feared was -about to take place.</p> - -<p>Bryan's warning registered upon the couple. They seemed abruptly aware -of their danger. The man caught at the girl's arm as if to draw her -with him in flight. But now terror struck her with its full impact, -and her body began crumpling in a faint even as she turned to follow. -Her companion hesitated in dismay, concern for the girl obviously -struggling against desire for escape.</p> - -<p>One of the smaller flying monstrosities had pulled ahead of the others. -Skimming several feet above the ground, it darted at the man.</p> - -<p>Closer now, Bryan was able to make out details that previously had -escaped him. The creature was the size of a child, with two pairs of -arms, its lean body human in shape. It had large bulging eyes in a -small hairless head. Its face projected in a long tapering needle-like -proboscis, which together with delicate gauzy wings gave the appearance -of an enormous insect—a mosquito. The luminous radiance that -glowed from the thing was not the only remaining unearthly feature; -Bryan discovered that it was mistily transparent as well, somehow -unsubstantial.</p> - -<p>The man saw the winged apparition coming at him. His hands lifted in -defense, but in the next instant the creature's needle-shaped snout -plunged into his chest like a thrust sword. Then, with a blur of wings, -the creature pulled free and circled away. The man did not move again. -He stood with hands still defensively raised, statuesque, frozen. It -was as if a lightning paralysis had struck him.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Bryan checked himself sharply, shocked by what he had seen. There was -a wrenching unexpectedness about it, a chilling weirdness. And yet -it held a certain logic, a deadly significance. For Bryan recalled -what Dave had told him about the previous park victim. The man had -been found with a queer reddish mark near the shoulder—a mark that -presently had vanished. Now Bryan thought he knew how it had been -caused. But how could an object penetrate flesh and bone—as he had -seen the flying thing's needle-like proboscis pierce the chest of the -man before the pavilion—and still make no wound, leave only a reddish -mark that soon faded?</p> - -<p>Only a few instants had passed. The winged band was still descending -toward the pavilion. But Bryan's presence on the scene had been -noticed. Two of the mosquito-men—their appearance automatically -suggested the term—were even now curving toward him.</p> - -<p>Bryan saw them approach. He tensed, fighting back his dismay.</p> - -<p>Flight was out of the question. He had seen the mosquito-men in action -and knew they could easily overtake him. That left only—</p> - -<p>Bryan whipped off his jacket. He flailed at his attackers with it as -they closed in. They darted back, their huge eyes widening as if in -startled confusion. There was a quality about them as child-like as -their shapes, appealing—and somehow not evil. It was a thing Bryan did -not understand and which at the moment he had no time to fathom.</p> - -<p>He pressed his advantage, beating at the shapes with the jacket. It was -as though he beat at phantoms. He could feel no contact with solidity -through the cloth. And the mosquito-men seemed to realize their -immunity, for abruptly they closed in, their sharp snouts thrusting at -him. He twisted aside to evade one—but the second reached him before -he could move again. Its needle-shaped organ speared his shoulder.</p> - -<p>Bryan felt a brief pain, a sensation as though electricity had surged -through him. Then a complete terrible numbness gripped his body. He -could not move. He could still see, could still think, but his muscles -were fettered by an overwhelming paralysis.</p> - -<p>He could still think—but it was difficult. His mind seemed detached -and vague, and somehow touched by a pulse of thought not his own. Alien -rhythms beat in it, formless, confused. And then—</p> - -<p>"Leeta! This one resisted! He did not fear us as did the others."</p> - -<p>Child-like, piping, filled with excitement. And yet through the thought -ran an undercurrent of wistful yearning, of trembling hope.</p> - -<p>Then another thought: "Take him, Leeta! He is brave."</p> - -<p>"Patience, little ones." Strangely soft and clear, this thought, -ringing like delicate silver chimes.</p> - -<p>At the edge of his field of vision, through eyes he could no longer -control, Bryan saw movement—the sweep and flutter of great wings. -Then a slim figure moved into his sight, a figure in a simple draped -garment, walking as lightly and gracefully as though on air.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus.jpg" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p>There was danger in the presence of this girl—and yet somehow, Terry Bryan knew he must reach her....</p> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>Leeta, he knew. Wonder rose in him—and sudden fascination.</p> - -<p>Spectre? Witch? He could not decide. His eyes told him that she was -woman—a woman like few he had seen, slender yet softly rounded, -dainty yet with a suggestion of strength. Her small features held an -odd startling loveliness, elfin, somehow ... <i>other-race</i>. Her eyes -were tilted and strangely large, the nostrils of her tiny nose deeply -indented and flaring, her chin pointed. Her gleaming black hair was -long, thick, gently curling, a contrasting frame for flawless white -skin.</p> - -<p>She glowed luminously. And—he could see through her. Like the -mosquito-men, like the giant bird, she was mistily transparent, -inexplicably unsubstantial.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>She stood before him, then. Her great liquid eyes gazed at him in -wonder, with a searching curiosity. There was a tenseness and urgency -about her, as though she were driven by some desperate all-important -purpose. And there was an air of tragedy about her, a despair, -a quality of wistful yearning like that Bryan had sensed in the -child-like piping thoughts. The mystery of this woman caught at him, -drew him.</p> - -<p>Witch? Again he wondered. He could find nothing evil in her face, -nothing of cruelty or guile. Behind the compelling anxiety in her eyes, -the sadness that touched her full lips, was ... innocence.</p> - -<p>The curiosity faded from her face. The tenseness and urgency that had -been lurking in her abruptly became dominant.</p> - -<p>Her hands lifted. Bryan saw now that she held an object in them, a -globe of cloudy gray crystal, within which seemed to lay a core of -pale rose light. And the light, he noticed, waxed and waned in a slow -pulsing.</p> - -<p>Bryan detected a sudden eagerness in the winged shapes that hovered -beyond. And with the eagerness came the child-like piping.</p> - -<p>"Take him, Leeta! He has courage. This time you may succeed."</p> - -<p>An answering thought; soft, holding a delicate note. "Patience...."</p> - -<p>Then Bryan saw the crystal globe being lifted still higher—toward his -face. Behind it the girl's large exotic eyes seemed very intent. Within -the globe the pulsing of the pale rose core quickened.</p> - -<p>Bryan felt something draw at him. A strange force—like insistent -hands. Hands immaterial and yet tangible, that reached into him ... and -pulled.</p> - -<p>It was not a physical sensation. Nor was it purely mental. It was -something that went beyond even this—something that gripped at the -very foundation of being.</p> - -<p>Bryan felt himself being drawn. And he did not understand. There was a -purpose here and a means he could not grasp.</p> - -<p>He resisted.</p> - -<p>In a moment the force left him.</p> - -<p>The globe lowered. Over it the girl peered at him, startled, perplexed. -And from the background came a piping despair.</p> - -<p>"Failed.... It has failed...."</p> - -<p>"He has a strength I have not met before." An echo of that other -despair lay in the silver chiming. And an overtone of awe. "He cannot -be taken—and that is strange. He has qualities I cannot quite explain. -But his will is great—great enough, I think, to penetrate the veil -unaided."</p> - -<p>"He cannot be taken...." The piping again, sorrowfully resigned.</p> - -<p>Bryan was aware of the girl's eyes on him. The wistfulness in them -seemed to have grown. And from some deep recess within him rose a -sudden queer aching.</p> - -<p>"Farewell...."</p> - -<p>Farewell? Protest surged in him. He struggled to make a detaining -gesture—but it was futile. She turned away.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The hovering winged shapes followed her. Moving swiftly and lightly, -she went toward the pavilion, before which the statuesque man stood -beside the prone figure of the unconscious girl.</p> - -<p>She lifted the globe to the man ... its inner pulsing quickened. A -radiance grew in it, as though some energy were being absorbed. The -pulsing was very rapid now—triumphant.</p> - -<p>Then the girl turned, hurrying back to the giant bird, which was -waiting nearby. Behind her, even as she turned, the man swayed—fell. -He fell loosely, emptily, his eyes open.</p> - -<p>The girl leaped to the bird's back. In another moment it sprang -into the air, huge wings beating. Higher it lifted, and higher. The -mosquito-men followed. All soared beyond Bryan's range of vision, and -the beating of wings faded ... died.</p> - -<p>Slowly the paralysis left Bryan. He flexed his limbs stiffly. His -muscles ached, as though from cramp.</p> - -<p>He went over to the sprawled figures of the man and the girl, then. The -man had the same terrible unresponsive limpness as the man Bryan had -seen at the hospital. He was beyond any aid Bryan could give.</p> - -<p>Bryan turned his attention to the girl in an effort to quicken her -return to consciousness. Shortly her eyes opened—then flared with -recollection. She glanced swiftly about her, fright twisting at her -face.</p> - -<p>In the next instant she saw her fallen escort and seemed to realize for -the first time that Bryan was a stranger. She went quickly to the other -man and lifted his head.</p> - -<p>"Tom!" she cried. "Tom! What is the matter?" Horror grew in her voice. -"Why don't you answer me?"</p> - -<p>Empty eyes that looked sightlessly into the night. Slack gaping lips -that did not move.</p> - -<p>The girl turned to Bryan with an expression of bewildered grief. -"How ... how did this terrible thing happen?"</p> - -<p>Bryan hesitated. What he had experienced now seemed too wildly -improbable to discuss. The very improbability of it could only add to -the girl's suffering. And for a reason he did not fully understand -he wanted to keep to himself the knowledge of that strangely lovely -apparition whose name, it appeared, was Leeta.</p> - -<p>He shook his head. "I'm afraid I don't know."</p> - -<p>The girl's control seemed to break. She covered her face with her -hands, convulsive sobs shaking her.</p> - -<p>Bryan waited helplessly, with a feeling of guilt. In another moment, -over the muffled sobbing, he heard the sound of approaching feet. A -flashlight beam bobbed into view up one of the radiating walks, and -presently Bryan was able to make out the blue-clad running figure of a -patrolman.</p> - -<p>"What's going on?" the patrolman demanded. "I heard a scream." He moved -his flashlight beam from the girl and the prostrate man, to Bryan. He -added in surprise, "You here, Terry?"</p> - -<p>Bryan nodded a greeting, recognizing the other now as Pat Mulvaney, a -park officer. "This man seems to be hurt, Pat. We'd better get him to a -hospital."</p> - -<p>Mulvaney bent over the sprawling figure, then returned to Bryan, -speaking low-voiced. "Hurt ain't the word for it, Terry. This case is -like the other ones we found in the park. And it would have to happen -tonight. Olson was supposed to be on duty at this end, but he sprained -an ankle. We're short-handed, what with the Department being on a -budget."</p> - -<p>With the girl tearfully following, Bryan and Mulvaney carried the -stricken man to a call box, where Mulvaney telephoned his report and -requested that an ambulance be sent. Bryan was asked to accompany the -girl to headquarters, in a squad car, for questioning.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>It wasn't until shortly before dawn that Bryan reached his room and -began undressing for bed. He examined his bare shoulder in a mirror. -There was a reddish patch on the skin, the size of a half-dollar -piece, where the sharp snout of the mosquito-man had pierced him. -The mark convinced him further that the whole thing had been no mere -hallucination.</p> - -<p>He felt no pain—but his body seemed faintly, oddly feverish. And he -had a light-headed feeling that could not have been entirely due to -tiredness.</p> - -<p>He took a stiff drink of whisky and crawled into bed. Sleep would not -come at once. Confused thoughts revolved in his mind.</p> - -<p>He saw himself at police headquarters, answering questions. The girl -had told her story up to the instant she had fainted, mentioning the -flying shapes. She was unable to describe them, except to say the -strangeness of their appearance had terrified her. Bryan was reluctant -to discuss his own experience, but the girl had told of hearing his -warning, and this placed him squarely on the scene. He could not claim -ignorance of ensuing events without laying himself open to suspicion.</p> - -<p>He had told of seeing the flying shapes also, but claimed he had been -unable to make out details. They had moved too swiftly, his explanation -went, it had been too dark. One had rushed at the man, knocking him -down, then all had flown out of sight. A vague story—evasive. But the -police had seemed satisfied, to the extent that the story checked with -the girl's.</p> - -<p>The flying shapes ... Leeta.... A curious excitement surged in him as -he thought of the wraithlike girl. Who was she? Where had she come from?</p> - -<p>He recalled something she had said—something about his will being -strong enough to penetrate the veil unaided. It seemed important. But -what had she meant by that? What—and where—was the veil?</p> - -<p>And—how had he been able to understand her? He realized now that -neither she nor the others had used audible speech, yet he had the -impression of intelligible spoken words, of voice tones.</p> - -<p>He pondered the mystery with a growing fogginess. He slept.</p> - -<p>And then he was not sleeping.</p> - -<p>He was standing on a mountain ridge, looking down into a broad green -valley. It was daylight. In the sky hung a great red-tinged sun, -which immediately struck him as—alien. But for the moment his wonder -remained concentrated on the valley. There was something there that -drew him—that had drawn him there. A bond of some sort existed, an -indefinable ethereal linking, over which he had crossed like a bridge. -A bond, he sensed, that even now was somehow fading ... dissolving.</p> - -<p>The valley was a pleasant place, idyllic. Peace and quiet were cupped -within it. He had the sudden, insistent feeling that he had been -seeking a place like this, a place where he could be happy, where his -blind strivings would find fulfillment. A place—<i>where</i>?</p> - -<p>He turned to gaze on the other side of the ridge. And saw—horror. -The land here was a ghostly desolation, blackened, charred, lifeless, -bathed in an eery shimmering blue radiance. An unutterably deadly -radiance, he knew in some strange way. And he knew, too, that the -radiance lay everywhere—except in this lone valley.</p> - -<p>He returned his attention to it with a mounting urgency. The scene was -growing dim, blurring. It was escaping him. He made a frantic exertion -of will, seeking in what few moments that remained an answer to a -certain question.</p> - -<p>There was ... a shifting. The ridge was gone. He stood within the -valley, at the foot of a rocky slope, up which ran a curving stairway -of a building of some pink stone. The building was exotic in design, -terraced, domed, fairy-like. All around it strangely beautiful flowers -and shrubs grew in riotous profusion. He had the nostalgic impression -of heady fragrance and warm breeze, of serenity and peace. And he felt -a queer ache of longing.</p> - -<p>Then, breaking abruptly through the deep stillness, he seemed to hear -a faint piping. He turned in search and saw a flagstone path through -a lane of trees. At the end of the lane was movement, a flutter as of -wings.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>He willed himself toward it. Again there was a shifting. And now he -stood at the edge of a broad shallow depression, like a sunken garden. -The path dipped down into this by a short stairway and ran on to circle -what appeared to be a pool at the center. All around the pool flowers -grew with an incredible luxuriance and splendor, thick masses of -flowers, startling in their size and beauty, that made the air almost -solid with their mingled perfume. It was as though they found some -abnormally rich nourishment here that stimulated their fantastically -prolific growth.</p> - -<p>The very atmosphere of this place seemed charged with a vital energy. -Bryan had a feeling of surging life, of boundless power. And he sensed -that it came from the pool. Something more than water was contained -within it, something strange, supernal—god-like.</p> - -<p>The pool was filled with a pearly opalescence, alive and seething -with delicate pastel hues, swirling, changing. Sparkles of chromatic -brilliance raced over its surface, blazing and vanishing. A glow rose -from it like a gorgeous rainbow-colored mist, spreading, charging the -air with vibrant energy.</p> - -<p>But the weird magnificence of the pool held Bryan's attention only -momentarily. For kneeling at its brink like a nymph in an enchanted -setting was ... Leeta. In a semi-circle behind her a score or more of -the grotesque mosquito-men made a fascinated audience. The giant bird, -too, was visible, squatting, motionless.</p> - -<p>In her hands the girl held the crystal globe, shining with its stolen -radiance. Now she leaned forward, lowering the globe to the surface -of the pool. It seemed to float, pulsing. Sparkles from the pool ran -to it in a growing boil of motion—and were absorbed. The activity -grew swifter and yet swifter, until the pool seethed and foamed with -brilliance. The air turned electric with a sensation of vast striving, -of super-human effort.</p> - -<p>Watching puzzled, from his vantage point above the depression, -Bryan saw the globe begin to swell. Its radiance blazed feverishly, -its pulsing increased to a frenzied beat. Larger, it grew—larger. -Became misty, unsubstantial, unreal. The rose core of it grew also, -elongating, paling to pink. And now it was taking shape—the shape of a -man. Features began forming, and then—</p> - -<p>Stunned amazement hit Bryan as he peered intently at the figure being -so weirdly created. For recognition had come. He was looking at the man -who, a short time before, had been attacked in the park by Leeta and -her bizarre followers.</p> - -<p>The shape was taking on solidity. Dazed, Bryan recalled the events in -the park. Leeta's strange globe, he realized, had absorbed some vital -essence from its victim—perhaps the soul—and this essence was now -being released by the pool. Released, somehow, in a perfect replica of -the fleshly covering that originally had housed it.</p> - -<p>The man hung over the pool. His closed eyes fluttered, opened. -Animation touched his face. Fear showed in it, a rising horror, a -frantic desperation. He struggled.</p> - -<p>And began dissolving.</p> - -<p>The pool boiled and seethed as though in a mighty effort to hold its -creation intact. It did not succeed. The shape thinned, shrunk, -faded ... was gone.</p> - -<p>There was a moment of stricken stillness. The pool had quieted. Its -aura of supernal power had dimmed. An air of exhaustion lay over it -now, an exhaustion in which even the surrounding flowers seemed to pale -and droop.</p> - -<p>Then a piping murmur rose like a sigh of mourning. "Failed ... -again...."</p> - -<p>And Leeta covered her face with her hands, sagging. Her bowed shoulders -shook, with great sobs of mingled grief, disappointment and despair.</p> - -<p>Bryan wanted to make some sign of sympathy, of consolation—but again -the scene was growing blurred, fading. He fought to hold it together, -fought as the pool had fought ... futilely. And then a hovering -blackness rushed over him, and he seemed to whirl dizzily across an -enormous gulf.</p> - -<p>He awoke in bed, soaked with perspiration, breathing hard. He had a -feeling of anger, dejection.</p> - -<p>He swung his legs to the floor and glanced at his watch. He had been -asleep for less than an hour, but at the moment he was too upset by his -strangely realistic nightmare to return to bed.</p> - -<p>He lit a cigarette and fell to pacing the length of his room. Thinking -back over his disturbingly vivid dream, he wondered why he should have -experienced it in that particular way. The events of the preceding -night had been unnerving enough, but he felt there was a deeper reason. -Was it possible that the queer wound he had received in the park had -something to do with it? He recalled his feverishness, his light-headed -sensation.</p> - -<p>Then he thought of the man he had seen in the dream, and came to an -abrupt stop. In another instant he sprang back into motion, hurrying to -the telephone near the bed. He dialed the hospital to which the man -had been taken from the park, waiting impatiently while the doctor in -charge of the case was put on.</p> - -<p>Identifying himself, then, he asked quickly, "How is the fellow, -doctor?"</p> - -<p>"Afraid I have bad news. He died about five minutes ago. There didn't -seem to be a single thing I could do to prevent it."</p> - -<p>"I see...." Bryan muttered his thanks and hung up. He sat staring into -space.</p> - -<p>Five minutes ago.... That would be shortly before he had -awakened—about the time the image of the man, in the dream, had -dissolved and vanished....</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>That afternoon Bryan sat at a secluded corner table in the small -restaurant he frequented near the <i>Courier</i> Building. The remains of -a fourth cup of coffee stood before him, the saucer littered with -cigarette butts. He was staring into the cup, brooding. His mind kept -returning to his strange dream and its incredible implications. And -tangled in the thread of his thoughts was the picture of Leeta, dainty -and elfinly lovely, struggling toward an end he could only dimly grasp.</p> - -<p>A slim figure dropped into the chair opposite Bryan. It was Joyce, -crisp, fresh, giving her usual effect of elegance.</p> - -<p>"Hi! A little bird told me I'd find you here, Terry." She studied his -face in swift concern. "What on earth happened to you last night? You -look like a fugitive from a horror movie."</p> - -<p>"Maybe I am," Bryan grunted. And he grinned wryly at the element of -truth in his retort.</p> - -<p>Joyce was solemn, probing. "Terry, I heard what happened in the park -last night. One of our fellow wage slaves is posted at Headquarters, -you know. And from what he told me, I gather you were mixed up in -something with a spook angle. But, Terry, it seems the police have the -quaint idea you didn't give them the whole story."</p> - -<p>He shook his head. "I'm not ready for the booby-hatch just yet."</p> - -<p>"Then you didn't tell the whole story." She leaned forward, her face -eager. "I'm dying with curiosity over what really happened, Terry. Want -to tell me—or are you saving it for your memoirs?"</p> - -<p>He lighted a fresh cigarette, considering. Joyce was an understanding -person, he knew. And she had imagination. She could be trusted not to -misinterpret the fantastic nature of his experience.</p> - -<p>Speaking low-voiced, he told her of Leeta's arrival at the park, of -the attack on the other man and himself by the grotesque and somehow -unsubstantial mosquito-men, of the complete paralysis that had resulted.</p> - -<p>Joyce broke in, "But, Terry, if the things weren't solid, how could -they possibly have affected you?"</p> - -<p>"I've been trying to figure out that angle," he said. "I think they -were energy projections of some kind and were able to use this energy -to stun their victims. It should work both ways—that is, some forms -of energy from our end should be able to affect them, too."</p> - -<p>He went on to describe the crystal globe and the use Leeta had made -of it. Finally he mentioned his dream and his telephone call to the -hospital.</p> - -<p>Joyce looked shaken. "It ... it's gruesome, Terry. If anyone else -had told me those things, I'd have said they were plain crazy." She -hesitated. "This girl with the strange way of making men friends, what -was she like?"</p> - -<p>"She was ... beautiful," Bryan said. He stared into distance, seeing -Leeta in memory again. His voice softened. "I've never met anyone like -her."</p> - -<p>"She's a witch!" Joyce said abruptly, an unnatural sharpness in her -tone. "A vampire—a ghoul. What she's done is horrible, Terry. Someone -should put a stop to her."</p> - -<p>"She isn't a monster," Bryan returned in swift defense. "Not depraved -or vicious. I don't quite understand it, but I feel there's a good -reason for what she has been doing."</p> - -<p>"She's a murderess, Terry!"</p> - -<p>"According to our standards, yes. But I don't think she realizes she -has been causing harm."</p> - -<p>"That's generous of you," Joyce said. Her mockery held bitterness. "But -your lady Bluebeard has to be kept from doing any more killing, Terry. -Aren't you going to try to do something about it?"</p> - -<p>He nodded grimly. "I'm going to keep watching the park. If she shows -up again—and I think she will—I'll make an attempt to talk to her, -reason with her. I have an idea about how it can be done."</p> - -<p>"That's fine, Terry. I'm glad I don't have to do anything drastic to -make an honest man of you."</p> - -<p>He stared at her. "What do you mean by that?"</p> - -<p>"This is a serious business, Terry. Men have died—and more men might -die. If you don't do something about it, then somebody else will have -to." She reached for her purse and rose abruptly. "I'll be running -along. See you around."</p> - -<p>About to turn away, she paused and looked back at him. Her lips -quivered, her hazel eyes held an odd swimming brightness. Then, before -Bryan could overcome his bewilderment, she whirled and hurried toward -the door.</p> - -<p>He stared after her with a disturbing sense of alarm. He had always -considered Joyce a friend, but now he realized her own feelings went -deeper than that. Deep enough so that she seemed fiercely to resent his -interest and sympathy where Leeta was concerned.</p> - -<p>He felt—danger. Joyce, he knew now, had become an enemy.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>He walked slowly through the darkness, a big man whose tweed suit -was more rumpled than usual. The park was oddly deserted tonight. No -couples strolled along the walks, no figures occupied the benches.</p> - -<p>And Bryan knew the reason for that. Patrolmen, on emergency duty, -guarded all the approaches to the park. People were being turned -away. He himself had gained admission only because he was personally -acquainted with the captain in charge of the guard detail. The only -formality had been a warning to remain alert.</p> - -<p>An expectant hush lay on the air. Even the warm spring breeze seemed -stilled, the rustling of leaves muted. Bryan felt the atmosphere of -tension, and his excitement grew. He wondered if Leeta would appear -again, if he would be able somehow to attract her notice, speak to her.</p> - -<p>Leeta.... He recalled the way she had looked when she had stood -close to him, with the crystal globe in her hands—lovely, strange, -wondering. He recalled the wistfulness that had radiated from her, the -urgency. And in his mind seemed to ring an echo of the delicate silver -chiming, voice-like, that seemed associated with her.</p> - -<p>He couldn't deny his longing.</p> - -<p>The pavilion took shape in the lamp-lit gloom. Bryan was walking toward -it, when a burly figure stepped out of a patch of shadow a few yards -ahead.</p> - -<p>"Hold it, mister! Nobody's allowed in the park tonight."</p> - -<p>Bryan chuckled, recognizing Pat Mulvaney. "Take it easy, Pat."</p> - -<p>"Oh, it's you, Terry." Mulvaney strode forward. "How did you get in -this time—sneak past the men we have around the front of the park?"</p> - -<p>"Miller passed me through," Bryan explained. He and the patrolman spent -several minutes discussing what had happened the previous night. Bryan -revealed nothing more than he had already told the police, but he -mentioned the death of the man he had seen attacked.</p> - -<p>Mulvaney was grim. "Think anything will happen tonight, Terry?"</p> - -<p>"There's a good chance it will."</p> - -<p>"Well, I'll be ready for it." Mulvaney slapped his holstered gun. He -left, then, to continue his patrol of the area around the pavilion.</p> - -<p>Bryan sat down on a bench and lighted a cigarette. An uneasy thought -had risen in his mind. He didn't know if Mulvaney would be able to -cause any real harm in the event that Leeta appeared, but he didn't -want the girl hurt.</p> - -<p>Time passed with tortuous slowness. The tense hush that lay over the -park seemed to deepen. Bryan spoke to Mulvaney when the patrolman -reached him on his rounds, but otherwise the monotony of the wait -remained unbroken.</p> - -<p>Bryan was fighting off a growing sleepiness, when at last he heard the -sound he had been alternately hoping and dreading would come—the sound -of wings. He saw the flying shapes, then, low against the star-studded -sky, beginning their descent toward the pavilion. The structure seemed -to be a favorite landmark, perhaps because it was situated in a -comparatively remote location and was easy to find in the darkness.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Mulvaney seemed to have heard the approaching sounds also. He came -running from some point on the opposite side of the pavilion, cutting -through the columned structure itself as he returned to Bryan. His -burly figure appeared on the pavilion steps—and then halted in amazed -surprise as he caught sight of the eerily glowing shapes that were now -winging downward.</p> - -<p>Eagerness had pulled Bryan to his feet. The soaring figures were -rapidly coming closer, growing more distinct. He saw the giant bird and -its escort of mosquito-men. He saw Leeta, slender-limbed, elfin, her -gossamer draperies fluttering behind her.</p> - -<p>The appearance of Mulvaney momentarily tore his attention from the -scene. He realized that the patrolman was silhouetted against the -pavilion's pale backdrop—a clear target. Leeta and the others would be -drawn to him, unaware this time that possible great danger impended.</p> - -<p>Anxiety hammering within him, Bryan launched himself into a headlong -run toward Mulvaney. Already two of the mosquito-men were pulling ahead -of the others, skimming directly at the patrolman.</p> - -<p>Mulvaney seemed to overcome the shock produced by his first sight of -the approaching shapes. He reached swiftly for his gun, raised it in -deliberate aim—fired. There was a burst of luminous brightness. One -of the two onrushing child-like winged figures was abruptly gone—gone -as swiftly and completely as though it had never been visible.</p> - -<p>Bryan stumbled in his frantic stride, caught himself, numbed by a -sudden dismay. Leeta and her people could be hurt! It was as though -the glowing energy of which they seemed composed existed in a state of -delicate balance that could be disrupted by the impact of a bullet or -its shock-wave.</p> - -<p>He reached the pavilion steps, leaped up them toward Mulvaney. He had -to keep the man from firing again. Somehow he had to show Leeta that -his intentions were friendly, sympathetic. He had to talk to her, make -her realize what she had been doing. Perhaps, even, he could help her.</p> - -<p>Mulvaney's blue-clad body loomed up before him. He caught desperately -at the patrolman's arm.</p> - -<p>"Wait!" he gasped. "Don't shoot!"</p> - -<p>"Are you out of your mind?" the other cried. "Let go of me!"</p> - -<p>They struggled. Bryan's foot slipped on the steps ... he fell.</p> - -<p>The mosquito-men seemed disconcerted by the loss of one of their band. -They swerved away, as though in sudden terrified realization of danger. -But the great bird, with Leeta astride its back, continued toward the -ground a short distance from the pavilion, its huge size evidently -preventing swift evasive action.</p> - -<p>Leeta was almost in point-blank range. And again Mulvaney was lifting -his gun.</p> - -<p>On hands and knees, Bryan threw himself back at the other. He caught -Mulvaney about the legs, pulled. The patrolman went down, his gun -blasting harmlessly into the air.</p> - -<p>Bryan was climbing back to his feet, when he saw the luminous -child-like shape of a mosquito-man darting at him, its needle-snout -spearing toward his chest. He sought to twist aside—too late. He felt -the brief pain: the electric sensation, and then paralysis held him in -its rigid grip.</p> - -<p>A second of the mosquito-men dove at Mulvaney as he, too, struggled -erect, its needle-snout piercing his back. Mulvaney remained bent-over, -frozen, statue-like.</p> - -<p>There was an odd hiatus, poignant, holding a realization of hopes -lost forever. Then a slim pale figure moved into Bryan's line of -sight—Leeta. She approached to stand before him, holding the crystal -globe, a vast wonder in her small face. He felt a pulse of thought, -soft and clear, holding a ring of silver chimes.</p> - -<p>"It is you—he whose will cannot be overcome. Strange that we should -meet again ... stranger still that you should save my life. I do not -understand ... But I am grateful. And I wish—"</p> - -<p>The silver melody broke as though against some cold unyielding wall. -Then it came again, sad, despairing.</p> - -<p>"But what I wish cannot be, man of the mighty will. For you would not -willingly journey through the veil. You are bound to this aspect of -existence, as all the others were bound. But somewhere must be one who -is not.... And so my quest must go on. Again—farewell...."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Once more she was slipping from him. And once more he could do nothing. -Despite his frantic, violent inner struggle, he could make no sound -or movement, could give no slightest indication of the purpose that -drove him. He was imprisoned within a cage of flesh as unresponsive and -immovable as stone.</p> - -<p>She turned to Mulvaney ... held the crystal globe to him. Its pulsing -quickened, it brightened. And Mulvaney fell, limp—empty.</p> - -<p>Watching through his despair, Bryan saw Leeta stand hesitating. Slowly -she glanced at him, as if somehow, throughout the weird proceedings, -he had been at the back of her mind. Her small face seemed to hold a -reluctance, a regret.</p> - -<p>Then she turned and moved beyond his sight. And presently he heard the -flapping of wings, drawing away, fading. Stillness closed over the park -again.</p> - -<p>Bryan felt the paralysis draining from him, more swiftly this time. It -was as though his body had adjusted to it since the first attack.</p> - -<p>He was straightening awkwardly, painfully, when he heard a sudden -faint rustling of branches, followed by the sound of light running -feet. A figure appeared in the open space before the pavilion, hurrying -toward him. The figure of a girl. And then he recognized her. Joyce!</p> - -<p>He felt a sharp surprise ... an unease. What was Joyce doing in the -park?</p> - -<p>"I saw what happened," she gasped breathlessly as he came up. Her face -looked pale and strained. "Are you all right?"</p> - -<p>He nodded. "Just getting back to normal."</p> - -<p>She bent to make a brief, repelled examination of Mulvaney. "Can't -something be done for this man?"</p> - -<p>"There isn't any hope for him," Bryan returned. "He's in the same -condition as the others." He studied Joyce for a moment, realizing that -she was oddly changed—somehow deliberate, hostile. "What are you doing -here?"</p> - -<p>"I wanted to see what your girl-friend looked like, Terry. I sneaked -past the police in front of the park." Her voice took on a sudden -accusing edge. "I saw what that half-naked witch did to this policeman. -And you helped her, Terry. I saw you knock him down so he couldn't -shoot her. It was murder, Terry—murder! He isn't dead yet, but you -know he's going to be."</p> - -<p>"I had to stop him," Bryan protested. "The girl deserved more of a -chance than she was getting. I told you she really didn't know she was -doing wrong. I thought I could reason with her, keep her from doing -any more harm—but things happened too fast."</p> - -<p>Joyce shook her head coldly. "It's still murder. And you're in it up -to your eyebrows, Terry. If the police find out what happened here, -they'll lock you up and throw away the key."</p> - -<p>In another moment her features softened, her voice grew pleading. "It -isn't too late, Terry. Forget that girl. Tip off the police so they'll -be ready for her the next time she shows up. They don't have to know -exactly what you saw—or what you did. We'll keep that to ourselves, -Terry. We'll start over again ... you and I."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Bryan stared at her, shocked by the bargain she was suggesting. She -was asking him to doom Leeta, to sacrifice his pride and his hopes in -return for her silence. It was a kind of blackmail, in which she was -seeking to use the tragedy of Mulvaney for her own purposes. He found -in this a wrong somehow vastly greater than in what Leeta had done—for -this was knowing, calculating.</p> - -<p>He had always regarded Joyce as a friend, understanding and -sympathetic. Now he realized these qualities were only a veneer, and -in the stress of what had happened the veneer had been stripped away. -An underlying ugliness was revealed—an ugliness that seemed to be the -very foundation of a world he had come to despise.</p> - -<p>Slowly, grimly, he shook his head. "You're asking too much for what -you have to sell, Joyce. If I have to pick between you and Leeta, -then...."</p> - -<p>She stiffened as though struck. "Leeta!" she spat. "So you know -her name, do you? Now I see you must have been cozy with her all -along—that's why you helped her commit murder!"</p> - -<p>Her voice grew shrill and breathless with fury. "All right, Terry! -You're asking for it. I've made a fool of myself in front of everyone, -chasing after you, throwing myself at you. This is where I even up the -score.... The police might not believe what I just saw, but I'll tell -them a story they'll swallow without tasting. They just love people -who help kill cops. And they already have a crush on you over the -run-around you gave them after the last killing. If you aren't sent -to the chair, you're dead certain to get a job cracking shells in a -nuthouse. Everybody knows you've been going to pieces, and they won't -be surprised to hear you've finally blown your top."</p> - -<p>She stood facing him a moment longer, her eyes blazing with deadly -promise. Then she whirled and was running swiftly toward one of the -paths that led away from the pavilion.</p> - -<p>Bryan gazed after her, realizing that he might have made a serious -mistake. But he was somehow unable to care. He had an enormous sense of -futility, defeat. All his hopes, the very course of his life, had come -to center about this evening's meeting with Leeta—and she had slipped -from him. There would not be another chance. Joyce had made it clear -that the sands of time were running out for him.</p> - -<p>He glanced down at the prone figure of Mulvaney, hesitated. It seemed -callous to leave the patrolman like this. But there was nothing -that could be done for Mulvaney now. Except, perhaps, to answer the -questions of the police about what had happened to him. And Bryan -didn't feel like answering questions. He'd had little sleep that -morning, and exhaustion made his body leaden. And he had the feverish, -light-headed feeling again, the aftermath of his paralysis.</p> - -<p>He turned aimlessly and walked down one of the paths, until he found -himself at the edge of an invitingly dark grassy expanse. He dropped to -the ground behind some tall bushes and closed his eyes. He seemed to -be floating in a lightless, depthless sea. Soothing waves of sensation -washed over him. He drifted away on warm tides that held nothing of -sound or feeling.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>And then the nothingness was gone. He stood on a flagstone path that -ran between a lane of trees. At one end the path led to a curving -stairway that wound up a rocky slope to a building of pink stone. -Peace and quiet lay over the scene, like a crystal blanket of supernal -clarity.</p> - -<p>Realization came to him, bringing with it an electrifying amazement. -He was back—back in that strange and exotically beautiful other-place -which seemed to be Leeta's home!</p> - -<p>Leeta! Eagerness and wild joy flamed in him, then. There was still a -chance. It was not hopeless after all—not too late....</p> - -<p>His senses rushed toward the other end of the path, and now he detected -a muted piping, like the shrill whispers of excited children. He sent -himself toward it.</p> - -<p>The familiar shifting again. He stood at the edge of the broad shallow -depression he had seen before, with the pool of inexplicable force at -its center. The flowers that crowded here were as incredibly luxuriant -and gorgeous as he remembered them, filling the air with their thick -perfume. And once more he felt the aura of vital power that radiated -from the pool, boundless, awesome, god-like.</p> - -<p>And kneeling beside the pool as before was the slender figure he was -seeking—Leeta. Only dimly was he aware of the other shapes around -her, the giant bird, the mosquito-men. She was holding the mystically -shining crystal globe, even now she was bending to lower it to the -surface of the pool.</p> - -<p>Into his mind flashed the chilling picture of Mulvaney, horribly -sprawled, motionless-empty. He knew he had to prevent what was about to -take place.</p> - -<p>Urgency leaping in him, he sent himself toward the pool. Leeta had to -see him this time! He threw all his will into the thought in a mighty -burst of effort. She had to see him!</p> - -<p>And she saw him.</p> - -<p>With the globe extended in her hands, she stiffened. Her tilted liquid -eyes flared wide. A stark unbelieving amazement seemed to grip her slim -body. And in a fashion that was somehow a normal function of his senses -here, he realized that she saw him as he had seen her back at the park, -mistily unsubstantial, weirdly glowing.</p> - -<p>"You!" she said at last. The silvery chime of her thought held the -quality of a gasp.</p> - -<p>Her stunned incredulity was echoed by the other presences before the -pool.</p> - -<p>"He is the strange one—he is here!"</p> - -<p>"He of the great will has come!"</p> - -<p>Then the silvery chiming again, stronger now. "You followed me here, -man of the other aspect? Were you able so easily to penetrate the veil?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know just how I got here," Bryan returned. "But I do know that -this is where I wanted to be."</p> - -<p>She seemed to grasp the implications of the thought, for a sudden -delight stirred in her. Yet for the moment her wonder remained -dominant. "I do not understand how this can be. The others could not -penetrate the veil without the aid of the Vessel. It is as though they -were somehow bound to their aspect of existence—bound as you, man of -the mighty will, are not.... But why have you come?"</p> - -<p>His answer was grave, deliberate. "Partly to ask you to stop the harm -you have been causing in my world, Leeta."</p> - -<p>"Harm?" A silvery peal of shock burst from her. "I ... I do not -understand."</p> - -<p>"You took something from those men in my world, Leeta—something they -could not live without. And because of this, they died."</p> - -<p>"Died! But the pool could not incarnate them into this aspect. The -vital force escaped. I thought it returned to its shell in the other -aspect."</p> - -<p>Bryan clearly understood the meaning behind the terms she used. He -shook his head. "The vital force did not return—not once, Leeta. The -shells died."</p> - -<p>She looked stricken. "I had not thought that happened when the vital -force escaped. I had been certain that it returned through the veil, -drawn back by its bonds with the shell.... If it did not return, -then it must have perished here." The realization was one she found -startling, dismaying.</p> - -<p>Bryan nodded slowly. "It perished in this aspect, just as the energy -projection of one of your winged creatures perished in mine. For I -assume that the creature did perish, Leeta."</p> - -<p>"Yes," she whispered. "It was a thing I did not understand. But -now...." Her thought faded unhappily. Sorrow misted her eyes.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>He dropped down beside her at the edge of the pool. For the moment, -driven by his intense purpose, he forgot that he was somehow -immaterial, a projection. He forgot the strangeness of that bizarre -other-world garden and the tensely watching shapes nearby. There was -only Leeta and himself. That was all that mattered.</p> - -<p>Earnestness heavily underscored his thought. "Leeta, you must stop what -you have been doing. You know now it has caused the deaths of those men -in my world. And there is another reason, Leeta—danger. My people will -be watching for you to appear again. They will try to destroy you."</p> - -<p>She shook her head with a mournful determination. "But I cannot -stop. I have a duty to fulfill that is greater than any harm I might -cause—greater even than my own life."</p> - -<p>"What do you mean, Leeta? What is this duty?"</p> - -<p>"I shall tell you. But first—you have seen something of this valley? -You have seen that it is beautiful?"</p> - -<p>"Very beautiful, Leeta."</p> - -<p>"But only the valley is like that. All the rest of my world is bathed -in a terrible fire that destroys any life it touches."</p> - -<p>"I have seen that, too," he said. "Was it always this way?"</p> - -<p>"Not always. Once the entire world was like the valley, beautiful, -filled with life. There were fully as many people as on your own world. -And they had great knowledge—too much knowledge, perhaps. They lived -in vast cities and had many wonderful machines to serve them. They -could have been happy, could have climbed to even greater heights—but -there was war."</p> - -<p>The silver chiming was dulled by sadness, and a kind of instinctive -horror. "It was a war fought with weapons of frightful, magic -power—weapons that used the very secrets of existence itself. Life of -all forms was wiped out, except in this valley. For a small group of -people had guessed what the war would do and had taken refuge here. -The valley, you see, was unique, not only well isolated from any -possibility of attack, but shielded on all sides by mountains which -contained an element capable of resisting the fire. Thus, while the -fire spread like a deadly blight into other refuges, it did not reach -here. Not entirely."</p> - -<p>Bryan felt an awed wonder at the picture Leeta had drawn. Behind -her chiming thought images had moved—images that seemed to hold a -tantalizing familiarity. He had been puzzling over the location of -Leeta's world, and now he speculated startledly whether it wasn't Earth -itself. He recalled that she had spoken of their individual worlds as -aspects, as though they were different views of the same place rather -than completely different and unrelated places.</p> - -<p>The possibility was supported by the fact that Leeta was undeniably -human. Further, he knew that the consuming fire she described was -radioactivity—and the people of his world were already well along in -their knowledge of atomic weapons. His wonder sharpened. Was Leeta's -world actually Earth—an Earth of the distant future? Was the veil that -separated them time itself?</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>She appeared not to have noticed his fleeting thoughts. It was as -though her awareness was gripped by the tragedy of what she had been -describing.</p> - -<p>Slowly she went on, "The fire's terrible breath touched the valley, -and its effects were felt by the creatures who had sought shelter -here—both human and animal. Some died, some ... changed. The winged -ones you see around you now are the results of that change. Even the -flowers and trees became different. And the pool was created. The fire -touched something in this particular spot—and the pool came into -being. The process was never understood, but I do know that the pool -has strange powers—that somehow it is alive ... intelligent. It is the -pool which made possible what I have done, supplying the knowledge, -tools and forces that were necessary."</p> - -<p>"But how does it happen that you're the only person left in the -valley?" Bryan asked.</p> - -<p>She moved her slim, gleaming shoulders. "There were not many here even -in the beginning, while the fire was still at its height. After its -destroying breath left the valley, only a very few were left—those, -that is, who were still human. And they somehow did not care to live. -My father was the last to die, but before he did he said I must find a -way to keep our race from perishing with me. He explained that I was -the first human truly adjusted to the changed conditions of the valley, -and only in me was there hope.</p> - -<p>"That was ... and remains ... my duty—to keep humans alive in this -aspect. The answer to my problem lay beyond the veil. Matter was held -by the energy field of the aspect in which it was situated, and thus -could not be made to cross without the use of enormous power. But the -vital force contained in living matter could be made to cross easily -enough—with, of course, the means of a tool like the Vessel. And the -pool could incarnate the vital force, give it matter in this aspect -according to the pattern of the original shell. All I had to do was -bring the vital force of a man through the veil—and my race could go -on. Still, I have been unsuccessful, for it seems that the vital force -is also held to its aspect."</p> - -<p>"I think that's because of what might be called psychic bonds," Bryan -said slowly. "The men you brought here, Leeta—they did not want to -come. And once here they did not want to stay. That, it seems, is why -you've failed."</p> - -<p>He indicated the globe she was holding. "And that's why you'll fail -again. It's wrong to destroy a life uselessly, Leeta. Wrong. Surely you -realize that. You must release this man—if it's at all possible."</p> - -<p>"It can be done," she said. Then her thought grew protesting, -rebellious. "But I cannot release him. I cannot give up my mission so -easily. I must keep trying until I succeed. Surely you in turn must -realize how great my duty is."</p> - -<p>"Will you persist in it even if you know you are doing wrong, bringing -pain and grief to people in my aspect? Don't you know what grief is, -Leeta? Didn't you feel grief when your father died—when that winged -creature of yours died?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," she said reluctantly. "Yes."</p> - -<p>"And don't you know what love is? Haven't you realized that you were -tearing those men away from persons they loved deeply and didn't want -to leave? I don't mean the kind of love you felt for your father, -Leeta, but the love that exists between a man and a woman who are -mated. Don't you know what that kind of love is like?"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>She hesitated, startled, wondering. "No," she breathed at last. -"Then I'll show you," he said. Though he was somehow unsubstantial, -a projection, he knew he could still transmit feeling, just as the -mosquito-men had transmitted their paralysis to him. He bent toward -her, pressed his lips to hers. He felt her surprise—and then her -pleasure, her shy response. There was somehow a sweetness in that kiss, -an intensity, that moved him as no kiss had ever done.</p> - -<p>Finally he drew away. "That is love, Leeta—something that would bring -a man willingly to your aspect."</p> - -<p>Her small face was flushed, her liquid eyes shone. Then despair washed -over her. "But if you don't—" She gestured helplessly. "Where would -I find a man in whom there would be such a love?"</p> - -<p>He looked at her intently, searchingly, then gestured at the globe. -"Leeta, if I were willing to stay here with you, would you release this -man?"</p> - -<p>"For you—yes." In her was no guile, only an innocent directness. "I -have thought of you from the first moment we met," she admitted. "I -found qualities in you that were not present in any of the others—a -strength, and yet a gentleness, a sadness. I could not forget ... and -I know now that this was love. And if you will truly stay—" She broke -off eagerly. "Watch!"</p> - -<p>She extended the globe toward the pool. She did not lower it, but held -it over the surface. Her slim body grew very still. She seemed to be -concentrating ... communing.</p> - -<p>And as he watched, Bryan saw the mists from the pool thicken around the -globe. The supernal power that radiated from it took on an atmosphere -of tension, strain. For an instant, even though he still saw her, he -had the uncanny yet definite impression that the globe was—gone.</p> - -<p>Abruptly, then, dismayingly, the scene dimmed, began fading, as it -had done on his first visit. Panic swept him. He couldn't leave -now—he didn't want to leave! He fought to keep the garden around him, -summoning all the force of will of which he was capable.</p> - -<p>The scene steadied—but remained oddly blurred. He saw now that Leeta -had turned from the pool and was holding out the globe to him, smiling. -The globe's mystic brightness was gone. Once more it was a cloudy gray, -its core a faint rose, slowly pulsing.</p> - -<p>"It is done," Leeta said. "He has been returned safely to the other -aspect." Then her smile vanished. She stared at Bryan in swift concern. -"Why, what is the matter? What has happened to you?"</p> - -<p>Her questions seemed to come from a great distance. The scene was -dissolving again—and this time he could not hold it together. -Something was wrong, he knew, seriously wrong. He tried to send a last -message to Leeta ... failed.</p> - -<p>Darkness closed around him. And from a distance even greater than -before, he sensed an anguished chiming, stunned, broken.</p> - -<p>"A trick! It was just a trick!"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Someone was shaking his shoulder roughly and insistently. He strained -away in dull protest, groping blindly for the fragile ethereal thread -that had slipped from him.</p> - -<p>"Come on, snap out of it!" an impatient voice growled.</p> - -<p>He forced open his eyes, then squeezed them shut again as the beam of -a flashlight struck them. His awareness sharpened. He struggled to sit -up, felt grass under his fingers, and realized abruptly that he was -back in the park.</p> - -<p>Hands that were not gentle caught him under his armpits and helped -raise him to his feet. He saw the figures of two men now, one of them -in police uniform. This man held a gun, its muzzle pointed in silent -threat.</p> - -<p>"All right, cop-killer," the man in the suit said. He had a detective's -unemotional face and flat hard eyes. Something bright glinted in his -hands as he leaned close—and Bryan felt the cold steel of handcuffs -close around his wrists.</p> - -<p>"Let's go," the detective said, then. "We've got about two-dozen men -combing the park for you, friend. They won't like to be kept on the job -for nothing. Pete and I were just lucky enough to get to you first."</p> - -<p>Rough hands gripped Bryan's arms, pulled him into motion. He walked -leadenly, unsteadily, the two men flanking him. His body was clammy -with the perspiration that had bathed him in sleep. He felt exhausted, -weak, sick, as though from some tremendous labor. The energy of his -body, it seemed, had been heavily drawn upon in order to sustain the -projection of himself in Leeta's aspect.</p> - -<p>Leeta.... He thought of her with a crushing sense of tragedy. He knew -he loved her—incredible and weird as that love may have seemed. He -remembered the shyness of her kiss, the numbed horror of her belief -that she had been betrayed, that he had pretended love only as a ruse -to obtain Mulvaney's freedom. If only he were able to reassure her—</p> - -<p>But he had the chill certainty that he would never see her again. For -she had learned the meaning of pain.</p> - -<p>Despair rose in him, a despair that submerged even his concern over -the situation in which he now found himself. <i>Cop-killer</i>.... The -implications brought a kind of remote wonder. Joyce, it appeared, had -made her threat good. She had told the police a story that they had -swallowed without tasting. It was a story that had resulted in a swift -and thorough search of the park, a story that had required handcuffs -and drawn guns.</p> - -<p>Bryan glanced at the detective beside him. "You boys taking me in -because of what happened to Mulvaney?"</p> - -<p>"Mostly because of Mulvaney," the other grunted. "We don't know what -you did to him, friend—but you're going to tell us about it. In the -back room at Headquarters. You're damned well going to tell us all -about it."</p> - -<p>"Mulvaney isn't dead," Bryan insisted.</p> - -<p>"Not yet. But he's going to kick off sooner or later—just like the -others. I know about that, friend."</p> - -<p>Bryan shook his head. "Mulvaney isn't going to die."</p> - -<p>"That so?" The detective's flat gaze studied him without surprise or -interest. "But the other guys did—four of them. Don't forget that."</p> - -<p>Bryan fell silent. Mulvaney wouldn't die—but he would tell of Bryan -knocking him down, of Bryan's co-operation with strange creatures that -had taken the lives of four men. Mulvaney, however, wasn't likely to -tell exactly what he had seen. His story, too, would be something that -could be swallowed without tasting....</p> - -<p>Then Bryan saw that he and the others were crossing one edge of an open -space. The pavilion rose in the middle of it, a pale ghostly shape -against the darkness. It would remain a symbol for him. For within -sight of it his life had begun—and ended.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>A path swallowed him and his captors. The pavilion faded from view. -Ahead was the sprawling bulk of the city, dotted and splashed with -light.</p> - -<p>It was against this backdrop that the sound came, rising out of -inaudibility. The flapping of great wings.</p> - -<p><i>Wings!</i></p> - -<p>A vast wind seemed to blow through Bryan. He stopped dead, staring up -into the sky.</p> - -<p>The detective and his companion seemed to hear the sound also. They, -too, peered upward, puzzled.</p> - -<p>Bryan thought he knew where to look. And glancing back in the direction -of the pavilion, he saw a vague dark shape against the stars. Sudden -urgency roared in him like thunder.</p> - -<p>The pavilion! He had to go back!</p> - -<p>He lifted his imprisoned arms and swung them in a sweeping club-like -blow. The policeman dropped before he could move his gun back into -line. The detective swore in dismay, sent a hand darting under his -coat—but Bryan was already whirling toward him. He kneed the man in -the stomach, then felled him with a chopping blow to the back of the -head.</p> - -<p>Beyond hindrance now, Bryan ran. He ran recklessly, wildly, eagerness -driving away his exhaustion, sending an explosive power into his legs.</p> - -<p>Behind him voices shouted, a whistle shrilled. Then the sharp blast of -a gun split the air.</p> - -<p>He left the path and cut across a stretch of grass. A wall of shrubbery -rose before him, and he plunged into it without checking speed. -Branches lashed at him, tore at him. He fell, heaved himself erect, -fought his way clear.</p> - -<p>More grass, and then another path, running parallel to the one he had -fled. He followed this, and presently the pavilion took form in the -gloom. Above it a dark shape circled on huge wings. The giant bird—and -it was alone. Bryan could see no other shapes accompanying it.</p> - -<p>He was puzzling over the discovery, when a flashlight beam speared at -him out of an intersecting path. Shouts followed it, filled with a -swift excitement.</p> - -<p>"There he is!"</p> - -<p>"Stop, you!"</p> - -<p>Bryan plunged on. Again a whistle shrilled. Then the running sounds of -a group of men came in pursuit.</p> - -<p>The pavilion rose before him. He reached the open space around it, -halted, swung his bound hands in an urgent gesture at the sky.</p> - -<p>"Here I am!" he called, not knowing if his call would be heard. -"Here—quick!"</p> - -<p>If it did not actually hear him, the giant bird saw him. Swiftly it -descended. And as it dropped toward him, he saw it held an object in -its beak—the crystal globe. His perplexity mounted. For added to all -the other strangeness of this event, he now detected a desperation -about the bird, a consuming anxiety.</p> - -<p>He sent his thought to meet the pulse that was reaching toward him. -"Where is Leeta? Has something happened?"</p> - -<p>With a final sweep of its wings, the bird settled to the ground. Its -answer came, then, holding an odd deep twittering quality.</p> - -<p>"The fire! Leeta is sending herself into the fire! Only you can stop -her. She has commanded the winged ones not to interfere—a command we -cannot disobey."</p> - -<p>"Leeta—planning to destroy herself? But why?"</p> - -<p>"It is because of this thing called love that you awoke in her. She -felt that without you there was no longer any reason to live." Anxiety -sharpened in the twittering thought. "Will you help to save Leeta, man -of this aspect? Will you come with me through the veil?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," Bryan said. "Yes!" Eagerly he leaned close to the slowly pulsing -globe that the bird held out to him in its beak ... felt himself drawn -as though by immaterial hands that reached deep within him.</p> - -<p>From an increasing distance sounds came to him, the pounding of feet, -shouts, the roar of a gun. Something struck his shoulder, but only -dimly was he aware of it. The last physical bonds were parting.</p> - -<p>And then a pulsing darkness enclosed him.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Through the darkness came light, a flicker of motion and a flash of -color, like the beating wings of a butterfly. The light grew, the -darkness vanished. He floated in a gorgeous rainbow-hued brilliance -that shimmered and swirled with the throb of a supernal laboring. -Beyond the brilliance outlines were taking form. He had a sensation of -swift movement—and found himself standing at the edge of the pool in -that bizarrely beautiful other-world garden he remembered so well.</p> - -<p>"Haste! Haste!"</p> - -<p>"Leeta is going into the fire!"</p> - -<p>All around him the thoughts rose, beating at him. He saw the giant -bird, then, and the smaller winged shapes that hovered beyond.</p> - -<p>"Haste! Haste!"</p> - -<p>The dread anxiety communicated itself to him, kindled a swift purpose. -Sensing what was required of him, he hurried toward the waiting bird, -leaped to its back. It sprang skyward, its huge wings beating. The -garden dropped away, became a mere patch of bright color against the -mottled pattern of the valley floor.</p> - -<p>"Haste! Haste!"</p> - -<p>Swifter and swifter the huge wings beat. Bryan clutched at the feathers -under him, rocked by the surges of giant muscles, buffeted by the -torrent of air that rushed past.</p> - -<p>The valley wall rose ahead, and through a deep cleft in the towering -masses of rock he saw a deadly blue shimmer. The bird descended toward -the cleft—and abruptly he felt its stunned dismay.</p> - -<p>"Leeta has gone through the portal! She has reached the fire!"</p> - -<p>Anguish flamed in Bryan. He had done this. If Leeta died, it would be -as though he had killed her with his own hands.</p> - -<p>"Hurry!" he pleaded. "It may not be too late."</p> - -<p>The bird dropped to the rocky ground at the entrance to the cleft. -Sliding from its back, Bryan ran through the opening, to the brink of -that ghastly desolation he had seen once before. He glanced around in -frantic search—and then, below him, he caught sight of a slender white -figure moving through the shimmering blue radiance that blanketed the -desolate landscape.</p> - -<p>Too late! Leeta had entered the fire. For a moment the horrible -realization held him rigid, dazed, numbed beyond thought. Then, a -bleak purpose filling him, he hurried after her down a twisting rocky -descent. He might not be able to save Leeta now—but he could die with -her.</p> - -<p>The blue radiance rose around him, and he felt its lethal touch. Leeta -was some distance ahead of him, mistily unreal behind the shimmering -curtain. And even as he found her, he saw her stumble, fall. She did -not move again.</p> - -<p>With an inner desolation even greater than that of the scene itself, he -made his way over to the girl across the charred, tumbled floor. Gently -he lifted her, carried her back to the cleft. His steps were leaden, -faltering. A burning sensation was spreading through his body. Outlines -were blurring before his eyes, darkening. He forced himself on.</p> - -<p>It was not until he emerged through the cleft, not until he lowered -Leeta to the ground, that he gave his ravaged body the oblivion it had -been demanding.</p> - -<p>Oblivion—and yet.... In some dim, remote fashion he had a picture -of the great bird, hovering over Leeta and himself on beating wings, -grasping them carefully in its claws, carrying them through the air -over the valley, and then descending with them toward the pool.</p> - -<p>Down ... down.... And then a swirling brilliance, a sense of delicious -coolness, of returning strength. He found himself floating in the -pool. And beside him, her liquid eyes even now widening with returning -awareness, was Leeta. He felt the god-like power of the pool throbbing -through him, and he knew that he and Leeta had been cleansed of the -deadly radiation, that life and not death now lay before them. And the -knowledge was a music within him that swelled into a mighty paean of -exultation.</p> - -<p>Then he stood with Leeta at the edge of the pool, and she was staring -at him in wild disbelief. The silvery chiming of her thought held a -vast wonder.</p> - -<p>"Is it really you? Have you returned—through the veil? Or is this -somehow only a dream?"</p> - -<p>He shook his head gently, smiling. "Not a dream, Leeta. I've come -back—and through the veil. Back to stay."</p> - -<p>Joy was a sudden brimming brightness in her eyes. "Then the love of -which you told me—it was not just a trick?"</p> - -<p>"No—and I'm going to prove it, Leeta." He drew her to him ... and -knew, in the answering pressure of her lips, that he had convinced her.</p> - -<p>He felt a deep content. Here was the world of his own that he had -sought, and life had a meaning, a purpose it had lacked. 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