Image of the Beast

"You can't do this!" The Tocs and the Ogs rushed towards Childe. Forry almost let loose of Childe because it looked as if the

three of them

were going to be torn to bits. Childe gripped Forry's hand so hard that the bones cracked. He shouted, "Fuck you!" and they were off. There was a thin triangle of nothing wheeling by Forry, a gush of

soundless purple flame around his feet, and the familiar walls of the AmericanLegion wereall around him and the familiar floor was under his feet.

Forry did not say anything for a moment. Then, slowly, he spoke. "Where's the Grail?"

"I left it behind. I can do that, you know, although it meansthat the Grail is now forever out of my reach. Unless another Captain brings onehere."

"That's all?" Forry said. "You mean the trip's over?" "You didn't get killed," Childe said. "I made a better trip when I saw the movie Barbarella," Forry

said. Childe laughed and said, "You'd gripe if you were hung with a newrope."

They got dressed and prepared to leave the hall. Childe said, "Iwouldn't tell anybody about this, if I were you. And I think we'd better notsee each other again."

Forry looked at Dolores. She was dressed in a white-peek-a-booblouse and tight orange slacks that one of the Toc women had left behind.

"What about her?"

Childe squeezed the dark-haired woman and said, "I'll take careof her. She may have been one of them, but she was one of the good ones."

"I hope so," Forry said. He stuck out his hand. "Well, good luck. Adiau, aswe Esperantists say."

"Don't take any wooden grails," Childe said.

Forry watched him walk away with his arm around the slender waistof Dolores, his hand resting on the curve of her ass. How could thefellow so easily give up that power, that chance to go star-voyaging?

But he felt good again when he came out into the familiar worldof Los Angeles. The rains had stopped, the sky night was clear and full ofstars, carhorns were blaring, water was splashing onto the pedestrians asreckless drivers roared through pools, a radio was screeching rock, an ambulance sirenwas wailing somewhere.

A half hour later, he entered his house. He stopped and gasped. The Stoker painting was missing again!

Renzo Dummock came down the steps then, scratching his hairychest and swollen paunch. He said, "Hi, Forry. Say, could you loan me a couplabucks for ciggies and a beer? I'm really down in the dumps, I..."

"That painting!" Forry said, pointing his finger at the blankspace on thewall.

Renzo stopped and gaped. Then he said, "Oh, yeah, I was going totell you. That guy, what's his name, Woolston Heepish? He showed up about anhour ago andsaid you had told him he could have the Stoker. So I let him. Wasn'tit all right?"

Forry charged into his office and dialed Heepish's number. Hisheart chunked when he heard the smooth soft voice again.

"Why didn't you go with the others?" Forry said.

"Why, Forry! You're back! I thought sure you'd be gone forever! That's why Istayed behind. I like this life, and I couldn't pass up the chance toadd yourcollection to mine!"

Forry was silent for a moment and then he said, "Hold on! Ithought you wereburied in that landslide?"

Heepish chuckled. "Not me! I slid out as nice as pie and tookoff. I had enough of Childe and the Tocs and the Ogs, even if the Ogs are mypeople."

"I want my painting back!" "Would you consider trading it for a rare Bok?" Forry wondered if the fellow had slipped some LSD into his

coffee. Perhaps everything that had happened was only a lysergic acid fantasy?

Heepish's voice, fluttering like the wings of a bat in the night, said, "Maybe we could get together soon? Have a nice talk?"

"You can keep the painting if you'll promise never to cross mypath again!" Forry said.

Heepish chuckled. "Could Dr. Jekyl get rid of Mr. Hyde?"