An Evil Guest

by Gene Wolfe

  A soft click from the other end of the connection told her no one was listening.

  She called Gideon Chase, and to her considerable surprise got him. “I’m at Salamanca House, Gid. That’s the big hotel here. They treat me like a queen. Wally hasn’t come for me, so why don’t you come and take me home? You did what he wanted and so did I. He left me high and dry.”

  “Two reasons. No, three. First, because Reis may be waiting to see whether that happens. You’re being watched, Cassie. I guarantee that. I don’t know who the watchers are, but there are some.”

  “India needs me.”

  “She should talk to Reis. Not to you and certainly not to me. Second, because I’m in a ticklish situation. I know how it sounds, but everything could blow up in my face if I took a day — and it would require at least that — to access my car, drive it to a safe spot, hop, pick you up at your hotel, and all the rest of it. Third — ”

  “Don’t bother. That’s enough.”

  “Third, you may be of great value to me where you are now. If you were in Kingsport, I’d have to rely on Aaberg to outmaneuver the people who killed Norma. He’s good, but I’m not sure he’s that good.”

  “I love you, Gid. Thanks for letting me drive your car.”

  “I love you, too, Cassie.” He hung up.

  ONE of the great big hunks she had mentioned to India seated himself on the sand next to her beach chair. He was, she decided, at least six foot eight and remarkably good-looking, but strictly local talent. She leaned back, closing her eyes behind large sunglasses she had been forced to accept by the hotel’s gift shop.

  She swam in water that might almost have been blue air, the hunk beside her matching five of her strokes with one of his. A wall of coral rose to the right, coral of a hundred shades of rose and green; the fish that swam before it were yellow and electric blue, each hardly larger than a quarter but so bright they seemed to burn.

  The hunk touched her arm, smiling, and pointed behind and below them. She turned to look, and the great white shark that swam there was larger than many fishing boats. She knew she should have been terrified — but knew also that the shark had come to protect them from a horror that stirred in darker waters far below. A horror that waited, that gathered its —

  She woke with a start. Everything had changed except the hunk, who was still beside her and still smiling after having touched her arm.

  “I — I...” She struggled to collect her thoughts. “You were there. You were with me.”

  The smile became a grin; his teeth appeared to have been filed to points.

  “We didn’t have scuba gear, but we didn’t drown. We didn’t need it.” Cassie paused, struggling now to catch her breath. “Wonderful! It was wonderful!” It sounded terribly inadequate even to her.

  “I am Hanga.” He extended his hand, apparently unaware that men are not supposed to initiate handshakes with women.

  She accepted it, and they shook. “I’m Cassie Casey, Hanga. Pleased to meet you.”

  For a time they sat in silence, side by side, staring out at the sea. At last he said, “Which is more beautiful, Cassie Casey? Is it the sea or the land?”

  “They’re both so lovely...”

  He nodded.

  “Which do you think, Hanga? You’ve seen more of them than I have.”

  He chuckled, a deep and echoing chuckle like surf on a rocky shoe. “What I think is not important, Cassie Casey. I say after.”

  “But what I think is?”

  He nodded solemnly.

  “All right. The sea is very, very beautiful. I just had a dream about it, the most beautiful dream I ever had in my whole life.”

  He nodded again.

  “I adore this sea. It’s the South Pacific, right? It’s like the sky, like the sky had a sister. It’s as beautiful as water can possibly be. But the land is my home. You’ve got to love your home best, because it’s home. Does that make any sense?”

  “You are wise, Cassie Casey.”

  “I’m not, but I’m smart enough to know I’m not. We had a puppy once. He wasn’t wise at all, but he knew he was just a puppy and he would beg me sometimes to take that into account. He had chewed my shoe, but he hadn’t known he wasn’t supposed to. Are you smart, Hanga?”

  He shrugged. “There are many things few understand that I understand. There are many things many understand that I do not understand.”

  “I’ve got it.”

  “It does not trouble you that I am on this beach, Cassie Casey?”

  “Heck no. Why should it? It’s your beach.”

  The chuckle came again. “It is the hotel’s beach. The village people may not use it. The people of Kololahi may not use it. Only guests of the hotel. Only them, Cassie Casey. Not even those who labor for the hotel may use it.”

  “Are you a guest?”

  “No. They do not see me.” He sounded amused.

  “And you’re afraid I’m going to tell them. I won’t. Honest Injun.”

  “I am not afraid.”

  “Good! You shouldn’t be. These are your islands. I’m here as a guest, Hanga. If you and your people don’t want us here, you have a perfect right to tell us to go home.”

  The voice of the woman from Perth reached her, faintly but distinctly. “She keeps talking and talking.”

  “I guess I do talk too much,” Cassie said. “You talk, Hanga.”

  “Would you wish the hotel guests gone, Cassie Casey? All save you?”

  AT SEA

  “So I said, no, of course not,” Cassie told Zelda Youmans thanks to the miracle of cellular-telephone technology. “And he said I was the high queen, and if I asked the hotel they’d do it.”

  “You’re high queen?” Zelda sounded incredulous still.

  “Of these little islands, that’s all. Wally did it somehow, and I’m pretty darned sure he’s high king. Only this hunk — ”

  “Hanga.”

  “Yes, Hanga. He never called me queen. All the others do. Can I say natives or is that insulting?”

  “You can say it to me.”

  “Fine. They’re my people and I don’t want to insult them, besides they’re awfully nice and scary big. You’ve seen Tiny.”

  “Sure.”

  “He’d be an average guy here. There’s plenty bigger than him — than he is. Only it seemed like I’m not Hanga’s queen, he just knew I was. Then he told me a whole lot of spooky stuff about the Storm King and how this darned Squid God — that’s what he is — has it in for Wally and me. For the high king’s what he said. He told me the Storm King’s real name, but I’ve forgotten it and couldn’t pronounce it anyway.”

  “You said this was scary.”

  “It is. I just haven’t gotten to the scary part yet. When you sit on the beach here, a waiter comes about once an hour and asks if you’d like a drink or something to eat. You can order and he’ll bring it. Hiapo — that’s my waiter — came and I thought it would be nice for me to order Cokes for Hanga and me and charge it, because I was pretty sure Hanga wasn’t staying at the hotel and wouldn’t have much money. I don’t think the people here — they’re Takangese, that’s the word. I don’t think these people care a lot about money.”

  “They probably don’t need much,” Zelda said.

  “Right. So I ordered a Diet Coke and started to ask Hanga what he wanted. Only he was gone. He was nowhere in sight...”

  “He just left quietly, Cassie. That’s not scary.”

  “He was a great big man, like a linebacker. He’d been sitting on the white sand right beside me, only there were no marks in it there. They rake it at night, Zelda. To get all the footprints out and rake up the junk the guests have left. Cigarette butts and swizzle sticks. All that stuff.”

  “I’ve got it.”

  “And there were no marks where Hanga’d been sitting. None at all. I could still see the rake lines.”

  “You fell asleep, Cassie, and had a dream. He was something you dreamed. You just thought you were awake
. It was really the waiter who woke you up.”

  “When he was gone,” Cassie said slowly, “this woman I’d met the other day came. I’d forgotten her name, but I remembered she was from Perth. It’s in Australia.”

  “I know.”

  “So that was how I thought of her then, the lady from Perth. Only I learned her name afterward. It was Florence McNair. She said I’d been chattering away, and at first she thought I was on the phone. Then she saw I wasn’t, I was just sitting there with my head turned to the left, talking and talking.”

  Zelda said, “You were talking in your sleep. A lot of people do that.”

  “I explained that there’d been a Takangese there with me, and I’d been talking to him. But she just looked at me funny and went down into the water. I watched her swim — she was a really good swimmer — and then she went under and d-didn’t...”

  “You’re getting ready to cry, aren’t you?”

  “Not me, Zelda. I’m tough.”

  “Right.”

  “So I jumped up and started yelling and ran out into the water, only t-two guys grabbed me and carried me back. There was a siren, like for a t-t-tornado or something.”

  “You’re not in Kansas anymore, Cassie.”

  “You mean I’m M-M-Mariah. I guess I am, only older and maybe a little sm-smarter. And n-not as l-l-lucky.”

  “You don’t have to tell me this.”

  “I want to. I kept yelling that a woman was drowning out there, and they showed me the lifeguard’s boat. It was like a canoe with a m-motor and a thing out to one side to k-keep it from t-turning over, and he was going a m-mile a minute.”

  “Take it easy.”

  “The s-siren w-was so l-l-l-l-loud — ”

  “I’m going to hang up now,” Zelda said. “You can call me back later if you want to, or I’ll call you.”

  The siren had filled her mind, precluding all thought. A middle-aged tourist with a beer belly had her left arm, a younger, leaner tourist her right. Someone had shouted, “He’s found her head!” and they had turned her away so that she would not see it.

  That evening, as she went to the dining room, she had seen a weeping man escorted by friends. She had asked another tourist, a soft-featured gray-haired woman who was surely somebody’s grandmother, who the man had been; and the grandmotherly woman had said he was the dead woman’s husband, and that the dead woman was Florence McNair.

  One of her waitresses, a girl fully as large as Nele, had asked politely where she had been when the shark alarm sounded.

  And she had said, with a feigned confidence that surprised her, that she had been on the beach.

  THAT night, the death of Florence McNair was replayed in her dreams. The siren screamed, no one seemed willing to help, and her legs would not obey her — an instant stretched, almost, until she snapped.

  She got up, opened the drapes as stagehands open a theater curtain, unlatched her French doors, and stepped out into her private garden, where tall figures with long, almost human faces waited among the palms and azaleas, wrapped in leathern wings.

  “Hello,” she said. Then, “I’m Cassie Casey.” And after that, “I suppose you know.”

  “Our touch frightened you,” one whispered.

  Cassie nodded. “I suppose it must have. I doubt that it would now.”

  The one who had spoken laid his hand on her shoulder; he was taller than she. It was a small hand with three fingers and a thumb, and its back was covered with dark fur as soft as down.

  “I suppose you’re wondering why I’ve come out.”

  Another whispered, “It is enough that you come.”

  “I’ve always felt you were friendly — friends I didn’t want. Friends I was deathly afraid of.”

  The first whispered, “We understand.”

  “Now I’m afraid of something else. Terribly, terribly afraid, and I don’t think it’s friendly at all. When I was little I was scared of dogs — just ordinary, neighborhood dogs. Pets. Isn’t that silly?” She giggled.

  None of the winged ones spoke.

  “My mother married a new man, and he was — was just horrible. When she was away, he made me do things for him, and he said over and over he’d kill me if I told her. One time I was home all by myself, and I saw him coming up the walk. I ran out the back door and went through the hedge into a neighbor’s yard and hid behind their garage. Only their dog had seen me. He came into my hiding place and licked my face and hands, and let me hug him. Does this make any sense?”

  “He whom you fear was a god once,” one of the winged ones whispered.

  Another whispered, “We might be gods, too. Such gods as he. We do not desire it.”

  “You already know what I’m afraid of?”

  There was a sigh of assent from them all. “We do.”

  “Then tell me, because I don’t. When — when I dreamed I went swimming with that Takangese — there was something horrible way deep in the water. When the lady from Perth was killed, I thought it had killed her.”

  The winged ones watched her in silence.

  “But it was only a shark. It’s real, isn’t it? The thing I dreamed of. The Storm King.”

  “It is not a god.” That was one of the winged ones who had not spoken, save when they all spoke.

  “So it’s real, and I’m a lot more scared of it than I ever was of you. I know you don’t want to hurt me.”

  “We are your friends.”

  “I know it. Would you like to come inside?”

  “Would you like us to carry you through the air?” The whispered reply carried no hint of humor.

  “I’ve got it.” Cassie managed to smile. “No thanks. You said the Storm King wasn’t a god. Not really. What is he?”

  “One who came to this world sooner than we.”

  “An alien?”

  “Yes,” whispered one.

  Another added, “Here.”

  And a third, “Even as we.”

  “Is this a dream? Am I just dreaming I’m out here in this warm night, talking to you — ” She made a quick count. “To you five in my nightgown?”

  The first whispered, “Does it matter?”

  “Maybe not. I won’t ask why the Storm King wants to kill me. What can I do about it?”

  “Does he wish your death?” the first asked.

  Another added, “Not so soon.”

  And a third, “He wishes you.”

  Cassie tried to smile. “Monster lusts for beautiful Earth woman? I think I watched the movie. What can I do about him?”

  “Go home,” one of the winged figures whispered.

  “He can’t reach me there?”

  Another whispered, “He has long arms.”

  “I know they do. I’ve seen pictures.”

  One was standing upon the back of her stone bench, although she had not seen it climb. “We will save you.” It spread vast wings and seemed to float up like a kite.

  “Trust those who love you.” That whisper was the first. A moment later it too was gone.

  “Only them.” One remained. It stretched a furry, clawed hand toward her. She took it, and it pressed her hand, very gently, between its own. “You are our cub.” Its long, hard face was without expression, but its eyes held a palpable warmth.

  “I can trust you,” Cassie said. “I know it.”

  It nodded solemnly, then gestured toward the graying sky.

  She nodded, too, and backed away. After a last look, she turned and stepped back into her suite; when she turned again to close the French doors, her garden was empty.

  SHARON answered on the first ring.

  “This is Cassie. I owe you a call.”

  “You owe me a dozen. Cassie, please, where the hell are you?”

  “You mean you don’t know?”

  “Dammit, you vanished without a trace. You checked out of the hotel and that was it. Nobody I talked to had any notion where you went. I checked the hoplines, both airports.”

  “Did you talk to Indi
a?”

  “For God’s sake, Cassie! She was the one who told me you’d disappeared.”

  “I phoned her. Did she tell you that?”

  “No, damn her!”

  “I called to let her know I was all right, but I don’t think I told her where I was. I know I didn’t. What time is it where you are? I know it has to be different, but I have no idea how much.”

  “Where are you, Cassie?” Sharon sounded ready to throw whatever might be within reach.

  “I asked first. What time is it there?”

  “Almost lunchtime.”

  “I see. I just ordered breakfast. Room service, you know. They have all this weird tropical fruit. I think I told India.”

  “You’re in a hotel. Where is it?”

  “I don’t know if it makes you fat, but boy does it make me feel healthy. The thing is, Sharon, I’m out of the country and I haven’t got a passport. Am I in trouble?”

  “Hell, yes.”

  “Maybe there’s, you know, diplomats or something.”

  “An American embassy.”

  “Right, I’ll ask. Nelly will know. Only I wanted to say, Sharon” — Cassie grinned — “that I might have to hang up to let the waiter in.”

  “Don’t you dare!”

  “Can I tell you about my dream? There were tall flying things in my garden. Remember Batman? These were Manbats. Menbats. Only I think one was a woman bat.”

  “Where are you, Cassie?”

  “On this cute little chair. It looks very French, to me anyway. I don’t know much about furniture. It’s all spindly and gilt, with an ashes-of-rose plush seat. I’ve got the drapes pulled back and the glass doors open, and the ocean’s so darned warm and beautiful you can’t believe it. Only the shark signs are up, so there’s no swimming except in the pool.”

  “For God’s sake! Cassie, either you answer this one or I’m hanging up. Is Wallace Rosenquist with you?”

  “I’m happy to give you a full and honest reply. No, he isn’t. I haven’t seen him in quite a while, and I have no idea where he is. Will that do it?”

  “Have you ever heard of William Reis, Cassie?”