Spiritwalk by Charles De Lint Page B

Slick-looking guy. He’s always got that big ape with him.”
    “Joey.”
    “Gives me the creeps, that guy.”
    “Know where I can find them?”
    Judy gave him a hard look. “Thought you were finished messing around with the Dragon, Blue.”
    “Who’s saying I’m messing around? I just want to find a guy.”
    “Sure. But your eyes say it’s ass-kicking time when you do.”
    “So what’s it to you?”
    Judy held up her hands between them. “Hey, back down, big boy. This is me. Judy. Your friend, remember?”
    “They snatched a girl—right in front of the House, Judy. I’ve got to get her back. I’ve been running around the better part of the afternoon trying to get a line on him and come up with zip-all.”
    “You tried the Dragons themselves?”
    Blue shook his head. “I’m not exactly on their list of favorite people.”
    Judy started to walk back into her garage. Opening a small icebox, she tossed Blue a beer, then took one out herself. Popping the can open, she took a long swig.
    “I needed that,” she said. She closed her toolbox and sat down on its lid. “Let me think a minute.”
    She closed her eyes and leaned back against the wall. Blue sat down on an upended crate across from her and worked on his own beer while he waited. After a few minutes Judy sat up again. Her gaze settled on him.
    “They’ve got a place in Quebec,” she said finally. “Up around Saint-François-de-Masham. Be a good place to take someone you’d snatched.”
    Saint-François-de-Masham, Blue thought. Up on Highway 366. To reach it, you had to go up old Highway 105 past Old Chelsea. That had to be the place.
    “Could you tell me how to get out to the farm?” he asked. “I’ve heard of the place, now that you’ve mentioned it, but I’ve never been out there.”
    “I’ll draw you a map,” Judy said. She took the stub of a pencil out of her back pocket and, ripping the label off an oil container, started to draw on the back of it.
    “Judy,” Blue said when she was done. “You’re a dream.” He folded the map and put it in his pocket, then gave her a quick kiss on the forehead, before he went for his bike.
    “Hey!” Judy cried. When Blue turned, she was rubbing her forehead with a greasy hand. “Watch that smooching stuff, buster.”
    Blue grinned as he got back on the Harley. “Put it on my tab,” he called back.
    “You don’t have a tab,” Judy told him, but he’d already kicked his bike into life so he couldn’t hear her. “Don’t let the bastards catch you on their home turf,” she added as he drove away. She watched him go down the street with a frown. Then, sighing, she finished her beer and went back to work on the Norton.
    7
    Emma couldn’t stay in the Postman’s Room with the computer. The way it talked like a real person just gave her the creeps. She wandered down the long halls of Tamson House, feeling like she’d gotten lost in a fun house. The halls and rooms just went on and on, as if there were no end to them. Finally she couldn’t take it anymore. Making her way downstairs, she ran to the first door she saw. She tried to fling it open, but it wouldn’t budge. Fiddling with the lock didn’t help either.
    Trapped.
    The weight of the House around her, the sheer strangeness of it all made her panic—but it was a strange sort of panic. Her head was filled with a welter of confusion, but at the same time a part of her mind had her logically walking down the hall, trying door after door. By the tenth one, she looked around for something to throw through a window. A large vase was close at hand. She picked it up, approached the casement with the vase upraised, and then things just got weirder.
    The air moved around her, swirling like a wind, pushing her back from the window. She tried to throw the vase as she was forced back, but the thrust of the air pushed it aside with a strong gust. It shattered on the floor of the hallway, shards spraying around her. She flung up her hands to