Avon Fantasy Reader No. 12 — page 63: what you’re looking at

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

The Kelpie The trouble with many toriters of weird yarns ts the tendency to stick to the old and established spooks—and not io take the time to dig inte the voluminous super- natural company found in the pages of folklore. Cer- tainly there are many good tales to be written about the other spectral beings of animism—the spirits of field and irce and stream. Here we have an example of such a creature. Mect the kelpic, a pet not recommended to home aquatium fanciers, Just why, you'll see, O SOONER had Cannon closed and latched the door than Lu was in his arms, and they were kissing with the hungry fierceness of lovers who doubt their own good fortune. Thus for a delirious, heart-battcring moment; then Lu pulled nervously away, “We're being watched,” she whispered breathlessly. The big, dark man laughed down at her worried blue eyes, her shining wealth of ale-brown hair, her face like an ivory heart, the apprehensive tautness of her slender figure. “That's guilty conscience, Lu,” he teased. “You know I wouldn't have invited you to my apart- ment without giving my man the night off. And even if someone did see us, why be afraid? Don’t we love cach other?” She allowed him to bring her into the parlor and draw ber down beside him on a divan, but she still mused apprehensivcly. “I could swear there were eyes upon us,” she insisted, half apolo- getically. “Hostile eyes.” “Maybe they're spirits,” Cannon cried gayly, his own twinkling gaze sweeping around to view in turn the paintings on the walls, the hooded lamps, the bookshelves, the rich, comfortable furniture, the big box-shaped aquarium in the darkest corner. Again he chuckled, “Spirits—that’s a pun, you know. The lowest form of wit.” From a taborct at his elbow he lifted a decanter of brandy and poured two drinks with a humorous flourish. Lu, forgetting her un- easiness of a moment before, lifted her glass. “Io us,” she toasted. But Cannon set his own drink down untasted and pecred around a second time, this time without gayety. “You've got me thinking it now,” he muttered. “Thinking what?” : 1 comichbooks.com