“Make yourself comfortable—I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name...”
“It’s Brad Phillips. You don’t really have to do that. It was my pleasure to help you.”
“I insist. After all, I’m new here and I’d like to make as many friends as I can. Sit down. Relax. After dinner we can become better acquainted.” Lilia smiled again in a way that made Brad forget about everything else. She ran her hand down his arm and undid two buttons on her blouse to reveal a hint of bare breasts beneath.
Brad licked his lips and sat down at one end of the couch. Lilia swept her hair back and glided into the kitchen, humming some strange, soft tune.
While she busied herself with dinner, Brad looked around the room again. He still couldn’t get over the paucity of furnishings and suspected this was all she had despite her claims. Brad leaned back against the couch and let himself relax. This place felt peaceful and quiet, almost as if he were in another world. A person could get used to a place like this, Brad decided, in spite of its scarcity of furnishings.
After a moment he looked at the lamp table closest to him. Seen this close up, with its carved legs and feet, the table looked like some animal crouching in a corner waiting for an unsuspecting prey. Brad shivered and started to look away but caught himself when it looked as if the table had moved. He blinked and stared at it. No. It looked exactly the same.
“That’s really dumb, Brad,” he whispered. “Imagining a table moving by itself. You sure come up with some strange ideas.” He sat up straight and concentrated on the sounds of Lilia in the kitchen.
“Dinner is ready,” she called a few minutes later. “Come and get it.”
Brad jumped up from the couch and hurriedly strode to the next room. He glanced back at the table and could have sworn it moved again as if it were keeping track of him. Shaking his head roughly, he looked around the kitchen, which was as dimly lit as the other room had been. To his surprise it looked no different from any other kitchen he’d ever seen.
Lilia pointed to a chair with a spoon. Brad sat down to a plate heaped with spaghetti and meat sauce. A glass of wine and a cup of steaming black coffee sat next to the plate.
“I don’t know how you like your coffee, Brad. There are cream and sugar if you use them.”
“Black will be fine. You really didn’t have to go to all this trouble. The coffee would have been plenty.”
“It’s my pleasure.” Lilia carried a plate to the table and sat down across from him. Her blouse had been unbuttoned almost completely and her firm, full breasts were almost completely revealed. Brad tried to concentrate on the food but found it nearly impossible. Nervously he picked up the wine and drank half of it straight away in spite of its unexpected strength. When he set the glass down, he saw Lilia watching him, a wicked, mischievous smile on her face.
“Do I embarrass you, Brad? Don’t you find me attractive?”
“Yes. Incredibly so. But...” Forcing himself to look down, he picked up his cup and sipped the coffee. It was strong and slightly bitter but tasted good.
“But you don’t know anything about me. Since you insist on knowing, I’ll tell you. I am a Numina. That doesn’t mean a—” She was interrupted by a long, low growling sound from the next room.
“Excuse me.” Lilia abruptly stood and nearly ran from the room.
Brad took another sip of coffee and listened closely for any other sounds. He thought he heard Lilia speaking harshly to someone in the next room and wondered who it could be. The growling continued for a few seconds, then broke off. Thinking it over, Brad decided she had a guard dog that she’d shut into her bathroom. He felt better with that thought, even though the growling hadn’t sounded quite like a dog’s.
“Please excuse the disturbance,” Lilia said as she entered the kitchen. “I have a—pet. It occasionally becomes scared and nervous.”
“A pet? I didn’t think pets were allowed in the building.”
“What they don’t know won’t hurt them.” Lilia came up to where Brad sat and leaned over close to him, one of her breasts becoming fully exposed. “How is the coffee?”
“It’s fine.” Brad stared at her breast, fighting the desire to reach out and touch it. “A little strong. But good just the same.”
“I’m glad you like it. Some people can’t stand strong coffee.” Lilia stroked her breast and ran a finger in circles around the nipple. Brad watched in fascination as it hardened, and licked his lips nervously. “When you’re finished with dinner we’ll go back to the living room and get closer. Would you like that?”
“Uh, yeah. That would be—uh—great. Oh hell. I’m not a rapist but I want you so much I can’t stand it. If you don’t watch it I may not be able to control myself.” Brad gripped the cup tightly, then stood up and stumbled to the kitchen sink.
“I’m not the least bit afraid.” Lilia followed and took the cup from his hand. “We’re both grown up. You won’t do anything I don’t want you to.” She stared at him with her huge green eyes and stroked his temples with soft fingers.
Brad concentrated on her haunting eyes, looking deeply into them. She placed her hands on the sides of his head and diverted his gaze downward to her inviting breasts. Numbly, he stared at them as she slipped her blouse off and began stroking her nipples, which were huge and hard. He started to lean down to kiss one of them but she held him back.
“Not yet. Not here. Soon. Come with me.” Lilia took Brad’s hand.
Deep inside, he realized he’d lost all his willpower and he didn’t care. All he wanted was to take this strange woman and make love to her until every bit of his passion was spent. He wanted to explore her body and make it his personal territory.
Brad expected Lilia to take him directly into her bedroom but she stopped in the living room. He looked around in puzzlement. The room had changed. The couch had been pushed back against the wall, one of the tables stood in front of the entrance, the other in front of the bedroom door. A thick white blanket covered the carpet and several cushions lay atop the blanket.
“Wh-what’s going on?” Brad asked. His tongue felt huge and thick and the room felt as if it were slowly spinning.
“You’ll know soon enough, my love.” Lilia removed her slacks and revealed a lower torso covered with fine, silky hair.
Brad stared at her in horror, then turned and stumbled toward the door. The table transformed itself into a squat, scaly beast which lunged at him with a huge mouth filled with long sharp teeth. He screamed hoarsely and backed away toward the kitchen. The creature remained in its place.
“Don’t be frightened,” Lilia said mockingly. “It’s only one of my pets and will not harm you unless I tell it to.” She seized Brad with incredible strength, and dragged him back to the center of the room. She quickly undressed him and pushed him to his knees. He cowered there unable to summon the strength or courage to move again.
“What are you?” he shouted.
“I told you before,” Lilia said in a low, hoarse voice. “I was born in a haunted glade on a moon-drenched night ages before your Devil even became a thought in some poor fool’s mind. Does it really matter? You want to make love to me and I want to have you.”
She towered over him, her legs spread wide, and smiled cruelly. “You do want me, don’t you?” Stroking her thighs, she moved her hips suggestively and held one breast out to him.
“Don’t let my appearance bother you, my love. I can do all that any woman can do and more.” She crouched down in front of him, brought his face close to hers, and kissed him roughly.
Her lips tasted like bitter wine but Brad found himself powerless to resist them. He returned the kiss with equal passion and darted his tongue into her mouth. They continued the kiss for a few seconds longer and Brad began eagerly fondling her breasts. Then he broke away and began kissing her right breast, running his tongue over the rough, hard nipple.
Without warning, Lilia rolled over until she lay atop Brad. She raised herself so she could look down and wat
ch him kissing her breasts. Her face took on a feral look that Brad failed to notice in his consuming attention to her body.
At last she lowered herself on top of him and they made love with a wildness Brad had never known before. They reached their climax and fell apart, exhausted. Brad lay staring at the ceiling drenched in sweat, afraid to look at the strange creature next to him. He wanted to get out of there and run to the safety of his apartment but could not make his limbs respond.
After a few seconds, Lilia rose and crouched over him, her green eyes gleaming in the half light. Brad squeezed his eyes shut as she leaned down and kissed him full on the mouth.
“You are all mine now,” she whispered. “We shall join together forever, you and I.”
“No! Let me go. I want out of here.” Brad felt her hot breath on his cheek and her hands moving up and down his body. “You’re something evil aren’t you, some kind of devil?”
“I’m no devil, my love. The devil you believe in is a young one. There are others far older, from the very beginnings of time. But what makes you think I’m evil just because I’m different?”
“I don’t think...”
“Of course you don’t think. You foolish mortals are all the same. But don’t worry about it.” Lilia kissed him again, long, hard, and fiercely. “For now there is just you and me. And all I want is to make love to you.”
“But, I can’t—”
“Silence!” Her voice snapped out like a slap. “You will do whatever I want you to.”
Lilia began kissing him again. They made love again. And again. And again. The entire night passed in a succession of relentless lovemaking from which Brad found no escape. Near dawn she finally left him and went into the bathroom. Though exhausted and numbed with disbelief at what he had been through, Brad decided to escape. But the table again transformed itself into a beast that lunged at him, snarling, slavering, and snapping its massive jaws.
Brad desperately fought to get past it but the monstrosity blocked the door and gnashed its teeth at him. Cursing, he tried to think of another way out. The bedroom window! That was the only other way. He would smash it out. But the apartment was twenty floors up and he would probably slip and fall to his death.
“No,” he told himself. “That would be better than what I’m going through now.”
Not bothering to get his clothes, Brad ran to the bedroom. The other table stood in his way and it, too, had come to life, the twin of the beast at the front door. It drove him back toward the center of the room and stopped as he fell to his knees hurling curses at it.
After a few minutes, Lilia returned from the bathroom and looked down at him with a slight smile on her face.
“Don’t overestimate your worth, Brad Phillips. You are only one of a thousand lovers and mean no more to me than a lamp or a chair. You serve a purpose, but if you fail me, you will be gone. I’ll give you to my pets, and when they’re finished there will be no more Brad Phillips. Do you understand?”
Brad nodded mutely as he knelt in the center of the room, feeling small, helpless, and alone. Lilia crouched in front of him and ran her skilled fingers over his trembling body, arousing him to passion once again.
“Very good. Now, come to me and we will make love again until you and I are one and your strength and essence becomes mine. Then we will be together forever.”
❖
Lilia unlocked the huge old wardrobe in her bedroom and flung wide the doors. Inside, like suits of clothes, hung the remains of Brad Phillips and half a dozen other past lovers. She touched each lifeless form briefly and lovingly, recalling the pleasure they had brought her.
At last she reluctantly shut and locked the wardrobe and effortlessly pulled it away from the wall to the center of the room. Everything was almost ready. She undid the top two buttons of her filmy blouse as she glided from the room. A new tenant had just moved in next door, and she wanted to check him out.
Josef Marais
A-round the Corner
In 1950, vocalist Jo Stafford recorded “A-round the Corner” a perky little song about a minor tiff between rustic lovers. Soon afterward on TV, I listened to the husband-wife folksinging duo, Marais and Miranda, sing the same song—but with a startlingly different set of lyrics. Marcel Demiranda, their son and head of Sideree Music Co., Los Angeles, recently told me that what I heard was the original version. His father, who wrote “A-round the Corner” understandably watered it down for Ms. Stafford.
A-round the corner, oo-oo, beneath the berry tree,
Along the footpath, beneath the bush looking for Emily.
Tonight all the folks will cut the corn (cut the corn)
Tonight I’ll be glad that I was born (I was born)
And my sickle pleases me as I swing it lustily
But I wonder where my Emily can be.
A-round the corner, oo-oo, beneath the berry tree,
Along the footpath, beneath the bush looking for Emily.
Tonight I have stopped my reaping soon (reaping soon)
Tonight there’s a smiling happy moon (happy moon)
I have reached the meeting spot, but my Emily is not
Where she promised. Can it be that she forgot?
A-round the corner, oo-oo, beneath the berry tree,
Along the footpath, beneath the bush looking for Emily.
Tonight as the moon begins to sink (begins to sink)
Tonight there are footsteps which I think (which I think)
Will at last bring her to me, that young maiden, Emily,
And I wonder why so late she has to be!
A-round the corner, oo-oo, beneath the berry tree,
Along the footpath, beneath the bush looking for Emily.
“Oh, Emily, why did you make me wait?” (make me wait)
“I’m late ’cause I had another date.” (another date)
It was plain for me to see, she’d been keeping company
With another man beneath another tree.
A-round the corner, oo-oo, beneath the berry tree,
Along the footpath, beneath the bush looking for Emily.
Tonight all the folks will cut the corn (cut the corn)
Tonight I am sad and so forlorn (so forlorn)
For my Emily was fickle, so I used my sharp old sickle
And the blood beneath the berry tree does trickle!
A-round the corner, oo-oo, beneath the berry tree,
Along the footpath, beneath the bush looking for Emily.
Mary Higgins Clark
Voices in the Coalbin
Mary Higgins Clark, best-selling author of such rivetingly suspenseful books as A Stranger Is Watching, Stillwatch, A Cry in the Night, Where Are the Children?, The Cradle Will Fall, While My Pretty One Sleeps, etc., occasionally flirts with the supernatural. The following shivery little chiller was first published in the Berkley Books collection Sisters in Crime.
IT WAS DARK when they arrived. Mike steered the car off the dirt road down the long driveway and stopped in front of the cottage. The real estate agent had promised to have the heat turned up and the lights on. She obviously didn’t believe in wasting electricity.
An insect-repellent bulb over the door emitted a bleak yellowish beam that trembled in the steady drizzle. The small-paned windows were barely outlined by a faint flicker of light that seeped through a partially open blind.
Mike stretched. Fourteen hours a day of driving for the past three days had cramped his long, muscular body. He brushed back his dark brown hair from his forehead, wishing he’d taken time to get a haircut before they left New York. Laurie teased him when his hair started to grow. “You look like a thirty-year-old Roman emperor, Curlytop,” she would comment. “All you need is a toga and a laurel wreath to complete the effect.”
She had fallen asleep about an hour ago. Her head was resting on his lap. He glanced down at her, hating to wake her up. Even though he could barely make out her profile, he knew that in sleep the tense lines vanished from around her mouth a
nd the panic-stricken expression disappeared from her face.
Four months ago the recurring nightmare had begun, the nightmare that made her shriek, “No, I won’t go with you. I won’t sing with you.”
He’d shake her awake. “It’s all right, sweetheart. It’s all right.”
Her screams would fade into terrified sobs. “I don’t know who they are but they want me, Mike. I can’t see their faces but they’re all huddled together beckoning to me.”
He had taken her to a psychiatrist, who put her on medication and began intensive therapy. But the nightmares continued, unabated. They had turned a gifted twenty-four-year-old singer who had just completed a run as a soloist in her first Broadway musical to a trembling wraith who could not be alone after dark.
The psychiatrist had suggested a vacation. Mike told him about the summers he’d spent at his grandmother’s house on Oshbee Lake forty miles from Milwaukee. “My grandmother died last September,” he’d explained. “The house is up for sale. Laurie’s never been there and she loves the water.”
The doctor had approved. “But be careful of her,” he warned. “She’s severely depressed. I’m sure these nightmares are a reaction to her childhood experiences, but they’re overwhelming her.”
Laurie had eagerly endorsed the chance to go away. Mike was a junior partner in his father’s law firm. “Anything that will help Laurie,” his father told him. “Take whatever time you need.”
I remember brightness here, Mike thought as he studied the shadow-filled cottage with increasing dismay. I remember the feel of the water when I dove in, the warmth of the sun on my face, the way the breeze filled the sails and the boat skimmed across the lake.
❖
It was the end of June but it might have been early March. According to the radio, the cold spell had been gripping Wisconsin for three days. There’d better be enough coal to get the furnace going, Mike thought, or else that real estate agent will lose the listing.
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