Dayworld

Time, however, was creeping or sliding or flowing or proceeding in whatever unknown ma

Blonde said, her voice thin, "I can't believe this is happening!"

"Neither can I," Gaunt said. He moved backward away from Dunski, coming closer to his shoulderbag. "I may have to report your emotional instability to the council."

Dunski lied. "It isn't so much the killing. It's the butchering. It makes me sick. You should understand that. I was ... am ... close to vomiting. But if it has to be done ..

Gaunt seemed to loosen a little. "It does. And I'll do it. I wouldn't ask anyone else to do it."

He looked down at Snick. "Believe me, if there was any other way ... " He spoke to Blonde. "You and this man," meaning Dunski, "put her in the stoner."

Gaunt was shrewd. If Dunski had his hands full, he could not go for his weapon.

"You can't kill her here," Blonde said. "The organics will investigate everybody in the building. They might stumble across something. I'd be implicated."

"I know that," Gaunt said coolly. "She'll be taken elsewhere. I don't even want you to know where. None of you."

Dunski lifted Snick by her shoulders. How soft and warm she was. How soon to be hard and cold. And then soft and warm again, and then torn apart. He felt numbed. As if he was sharing a little her death.

Blonde grabbed the legs, and the two carried her to the stoner. They propped her up, pushed her into the cylinder in a sitting position, and pushed again on the torso, which had fallen forward. Dunski lifted her legs and pushed them so that they were against her breasts. He raised himself up and backed away while Blonde shut the door. Gaunt turned the control that applied the power and watched the dial as it spun back to

OFF.

"All of you clear out," Gaunt said. "Go back to whatever you were doing. We'll get in touch with you when we need you."

Blonde started weeping. Gaunt looked disgusted. Dunski patted her on the shoulder and said, "There's a price to pay for immortality." That made Gaunt look even more disgusted. Dark, her eyes lowered, took Blonde's hand and said, "Let's go."

Dunski watched them leave through the door to the hail. When the door had closed behind the two, he looked at the cylinder holding Snick. The window was as empty as her future.

Gaunt said, "Well?"

He was standing by the shoulderbag, his right hand resting on it. Dunski said, "Don't worry. I'm going."

Gaunt looked at him and down at the bag. Smiling slightly, he said, "You'll see that I'm right. Get a good sleep. You'll wake up a new man tomorrow."

"I always do," Dunski said. "Maybe that's part of the trouble."

Gaunt frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing."

He did not care to say good-bye or anything that indicated that he would like to see him again. He started toward the door, conscious that Gaunt was watching him closely. Dunski was not sure that he was not going to make a last appeal for Snick. It would not be with words; it would be with the gun. But that would be stupid, nonsurvival. Even if he could save Snick, what would he do with her? He did not have the means that the immer organization had for spiriting her away. And Gaunt was right, logically right, though he was emotionally wrong. Or was he? What was, in the absolute sense, right?

He had just reached the door when he heard a shrilling. He turned and saw Gaunt walking to an orange-flashing wall strip. Gaunt said something softly, and the strip showed the face of a man. Dunski walked back to where he could see the strip from behind Gaunt. The man saw Dunski and said, "Is ... should he hear this?"

Gaunt said, harshly, "How would I know? I don't know what you're going to say."

The man said, "Well, this concerns all of us."

"What is it?"

"It's Castor. He's killed again!"

Dunski felt as if something inside him had turned over and died. He knew what the man was going to tell them.

"The organics have just found a woman's body in an apartment on Bleecker Street. She was mutilated, just like the other women. Her intestines were ripped out, and her breasts were cut off and glued to the wall. Her name was Nokomis Moondaughter, a tante of Wednesday. She was the wife of a Robert Tingle. He's not a suspect because he's still in his cylinder, and it's evident that the woman was killed less than an hour ago. Castor must have gotten into the apartment, destoned her, and killed and butchered her while the tenants were gone. They came back and found her. It's his handiwork, all right."

Dunski made a strangled noise and turned away. He walked to the sofa, sat down, stared at Gaunt, who was talking and glancing back at him, got up, and walked to the kitchen. He poured out coffee with a shaking hand, sipped it, put the cup down, and walked to the big window. His grief was there but numbed. He was as sluggish as a glacier from toe to scalp.

Staring through the sheers at the street scene, he muttered, "I can't take much more of this."

Gaunt coughed behind him. He said, "The woman ... she was your wife?"

Dunski kept looking through the windows as. he said, "In a way."

The bright sunshine was gone. The lighter heralds of the advancing storm had colored the sky gray.

"I'm very sorry," Gaunt said. "But ..

"There's always a but, isn't there?"

Gaunt coughed again. "This time, there is. We have to get to Castor fast. The organics may not have been too upset by what Castor did Tuesday, but they know now what he did on Wednesday and will probably do today. They'll launch an allout search."

Dunski said, "Rupert!"

"What?"

"My wife. She's in grave danger."

"No more than you," Gaunt said. "He's tried once to kill you, and he'll keep trying until you're dead or he's dead."

Dunski turned to face Gaunt. The man looked pale.

"Rupert has to be protected."

"I've already sent two to guard her," Gaunt said. "They'll tell her what's happened." He shook his head. "This is getting worse and worse."

"I don't know what to do. There's no sense in just roaming around hoping I'll see Castor."

"I know that," Gaunt said. "I think you should go home with Rupert and wait there. Castor may try to get to you there. The guards will be out of sight but watching."

"We'll be decoys?"

"A waiting game. Meanwhile, every immer in Manhattan and many in the neighboring cities will be here looking for Castor."

"I doubt that Castor would try to get into my apartment. There are too many other people there."

Gaunt bit his lip and said, "Yes, I know." Evidently, he did not approve of communal marriages.

Gaunt had said nothing about Tingle's dummy being disturbed, and, if he had heard anything, he would not have kept quiet about it. Castor could have removed the dummies of Caird and Tingle and so revealed to the organics that they were daybreakers. He had not done so because he wanted to kill Caird. If the organics got hold of him first, they would prevent Castor from getting his revenge and from ridding the universe of Castor's Satan.

Duriski said, "I think I'm going into shock."

"You look like it," Gaunt said. "Follow me." They went into the living room. Dunski sat down. Gaunt took a syringe from his bag and picked up the bottle of alcohol. "Lift your arm."

Dunski did so, saying, "What's that for?"

"It'll make you feel better for a while. The drug doesn't get rid of the shock; it just delays it."

The syringe shot a bluish liquid into Dunski's arm. He felt a warmth and a rush of blood. His heart pounded; the numbness evaporated. He could almost see it steaming off.

Gaunt said, "Feel better now?"