Avon Fantasy Reader No. 8 — page 126: what you’re looking at

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

OO —! a a oS a 122 Stee: EVERIL:- WORRELL “What can be the matter with that poor man?” the voice said. It was a woman’s, and gentle. . “Crazy—somebody out of his senses, dear,” a man’s voice answered. “Don’t be frightened.” | | And then the voice I knew so well—so well: “I saw a falling rock strike a man on the head in the storm. He staggered away, but I suppose it crazed him.” : I waited for no more. I ran away, madly, through the night and back across the bridge to the city. : Next day—today—I boarded the sunken canal-boat. It is the abode of death ——ho woman could have lived there—only such an one as she. The old man’s corpse was there—he must have died long, long ago. The smell of death and decay on the boat was dreadful. Again, I felt that I understood. Back in those awful houses, she had com- mitted the crime when first she became the thing she is. And he—her father— css. sin-steeped, and less accursed, attempted to destroy the evidence of her crime, and fled with her, but died without becoming like her. She had said that one of those two was always on watch—did he indeed divide her vigil on the boat? What more fitting—the dead standing watch with the undead! And no wonder that she would not let me board the craft of death, even to carry her away. And still I feel the old compulsion. I have been spared her kiss—but for a little while. Yet I will not let the power of my oath draw me back, till I enter the caverns with her and creep forth in the form of a bat to prey upon man- kind. Before that can happen, I too will die. Today in the city I heard that a horde of strange insects or small animals infested the pleasure camps last night. Some said, with horror-bated breath that they perhaps were rats. None of them was seen; but in the morning nearly every camper had a strange, deep wound in his throat. I almost laughed aloud. They were so horrified at the idea of an army of rats, creeping into the tents and biting the sleeping occupants on their throats! If they had seen what I saw—if they knew that they are doomed to spread corruption ; | So my own death will not be enough. Today I bought supplies for blasting. Tonight I will set my train of dynamite, from the hole I made in the cliff where the vampires creep in and out, along the row of tents, as far as the last one—then I shall light my fuse. It will be done before the dawn. Tomorrow, the city will mourn its dead and execrate my name. And then, at last, in the slime beneath the unmoving waters of the canal, I shall find peace! But perhaps it will not be peace—for I shall seek it midway between the old boat with its cargo of death and the row of dismal houses where a little child was done to death when first she became the thing she is. That is my expiation. 5 Pe ate aS, ee) ee ee