boucher book oct28.pdf - Index of

404 Anthony Boucher
“How fortunate,” Harker observed, “that you are not empowered to call us
up. But little though you may believe it, we have our hungers too, and largely
because of this so enviable flesh. And my own hungers I am resolved to end
now.”
“Your wish!” The scrawny one writhed in impatience.
Harker deliberately dawdled, savoring this little moment of power, this curtainraiser
to the ultimate power. “In the opera,” he began, “Mephisto, when summoned,
proffers Faust first gold, then glory, then power. But that prime idiot the learned
Doctor Faust replies, ‘I want a treasure that contains them all! … I want youth!’ ”
Harker laughed and hummed a snatch of the tripping tune to which Faust expresses
his senile desire. “But I know better.”
“Your wish!” the scrawny one insisted.
“I know that power and wisdom and strength and honor and glory and
blessing can all be summed up, in this most worldly of all possible worlds, in
one word: wealth. My wish is simple: You will make me the richest man in the
world. From that all else will follow.”
The scrawny one made a sign of agreement, while darting hunger glimmered
in several of its eyes. Then it added, “You must release me from the
pentacle before I can accomplish that.”
John Harker hesitated. “I know that you are bound to truth while you are
contained there. You swear to me that if I release you you will do no harm to
me in soul or body?”
“I swear.”
“You swear that if I release you you will, immediately, make me the richest
man in the world?”
“I swear. You must cut the pentacle with cold steel.”
John Harker nodded and jerked the knife from the dead magician’s back.
As he extended the bloody knife toward the pentacle there was a flicker of
the scrawny shape, and that part of the blade which protruded beyond the
rim was licked clean of blood.
The cold steel descended and scraped across the cement floor.
The pentacle was empty and the scrawny one was beside John Harker.
“Now!” he commanded.
But the scrawny one flashed the thought that it had something to do
first.
When there was no trace left of the magician’s body (and how convenient
that was, even when you were unconcerned about damaging evidence), the
not quite so scrawny one ceased its intricate vibrations and stood all but motionless
beside John Harker.
“Are you ready for your wish?” it asked.
John Harker smiled and nodded.
That is, he lowered his chin in assent. A nod is usually concluded by bringing
the chin back to its normal position. But his muscles would not obey and
his chin remained sunk on his breastbone.
There was trouble with his eyes too. He did not remember closing the lids,
but closed they were and obstinately so.