A. Merritt's Fantasy Magazine, December 1949 — page 107: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

~ away from Helen , YeATViat I bent shadowy head to her heart and listened and could hear no beat. Love and tenderness such as I had never known throbbed from me and covered her. And I thought, this love must surely be stronger than death .. . must give back to her the life I have taken... And still I could not hear her heart... Then despair followed the pulse of that love. And on its wake a hate colder than the venom of the shadow. hounds, Hate against Dahut. Hate against the warlock who called himself her father. Hate implacable, relentless, remorse- less against both. That hate grew. It merged with the life I had stolen from Helen. It lifted me. Upon its wings I was rushed away... . . back through the shadow-land ... | And awakened . . . shadow no more. CHAPTER 21 . Father Against Daughter LAY upon a wide low bed in a tapes- | tried room where an ancient lamp burned with a dim rose light. It was Dahut’s room from which she had sent me forth as shadow. My hands were crossed upon my breast, and something bound my wrists. I raised them and saw twined tight around them the witch-fet- — ters—a twisted thread of pale-gold hair, the hair of Dahut. I broke them. My an- kles were crossed and bound with the same fetters, and these I broke. I swung from the bed. Around me was a robe of the soft white cotton, a robe like that I had worn to the sacrifices.. I tore it from me with loathing. There was a mirror over the dressing table—on my face were the three marks of Dahut’s whip-branding, no longer crimson but livid. How long had I been in the shadowy land? Long enough to allow Ricori to return—but how much longer? More important, what time had elapsed since— Helen? A clock showed close to eleven. But was this still the same night? It might not be—shadow time and sha- dow space were alien. I had seémed to cover immense distances, and yet I had found Helen just outside de Keradel’s ) CREEP, SHADOW! . . 107 gates. For I was sure that that old room had been in the house McCarin' had taken. And clearly, this return of mine ‘had not been expected by Dahut—at ‘least not - so soon. I reflected grimly ‘that I always seemer to be a little ahead’ of schedule so far as Dahut and her father were con- cerned. I reflected much more grimly that it had never advantaged me greatly. Nevertheless, it must mean that her dark wisdom had its limits—that there had been no shadowy spies to whisper to her my escape . . . that she believed me still under her sorceries; still obedient to her will; still held back by her command until my lust for: Helen had grown strong enough to kill when loosed .. . Might that not also mean her purpose had failed . . . that loosed too soon I had not killed . . . that Helen was—alive? The thought was like strong wine. I walked to the door and saw that the heavy inside bars were down. How could they have been dropped, since only I was in the room? Of course... I was Dahut’s prisoner, and she wanted no tampering with my. body when she was not beside it. She had barred the door and made use of the secert opening into my room to come and go. Quite evidently she had considered the bars safe from any help- less hands. I lifted them cautiously, and tried the door. It was unlocked. I opened it as cauti- ously, slowly, and stood peering out into the hall, listening. It was then I first felt the unease, the trouble, the—fear, of the old house. It was filled with fear. And with wrath. It © came to me not only from the shadowed hall, but from all of the house. And sud- denly it seemed to be aware of me, and to focus itself upon me, frantically, as though it was trying to tell me why it was troubled and raging and afraid. So sharp was the impression that I closed the door, let one of the bars fall, and stood with my back to it. The room was unhaunted, unafraid and shadowless, the faint rose light penetrating to every corner. The house invaded the room, striving to make coherent to me what it was that troubled it. It was as though the ghosts of all those who had lived and loved and died there were in revolt . . . appalled by Comicbooks. (eo)