Rags & Bones: New Twists on Timeless Tales (40 page)

“Did you get the leopard?” I inquired.

“For a time I wondered if there was any. Have you heard of the leopard-men?”

I said I had not, but they sounded interesting.

“It’s a sort of lodge.” His teeth reappeared. “Something like the Masons. I’m a Mason myself.”

There were deck chairs behind the promenade on which we stood. As he spoke I realized that something—a child, perhaps, or some sort of animal—was moving soundlessly among them.

“Many of them are witch doctors, or so I’m told. They wear leopard skins on their midnight raids, so that people who glimpse
them will think they’ve seen a leopard. Have you ever worn brass knuckles?”

“No,” I said, “but I know what they are.”

“Their claws aren’t quite like that, but the idea is much the same. The claws are iron and protrude between their fingers—that’s what Dan told me. There’s an iron handle inside that they grasp. They claw their victims, and the deaths are blamed on leopards.”

“That’s what you
found in the Saraban?”

“It wasn’t—that was what I half expected to find, based on tales I’d heard. Dan had warned me, you see. So had the bush pilot and some others. The best way to hunt a leopard is to construct a blind a hundred or a hundred and fifty feet away from his kill. In this case we couldn’t do it, because the kills had been human beings. We staked out goats instead, and searched for
pug marks in the morning with native trackers. It took ten days, but I got my leopard. By that time I had to go. I had already spent more time in Africa than I had intended or budgeted for. We thanked Hecht for his hospitality and radioed the bush pilot. The day after we left Hecht’s plantation, we got word that another child had been killed by a leopard. It seemed that the leopard I had shot had
not been the man-eater.”

I asked whether he had gone back for that one.

“I didn’t, nor did I want to. Now I’ve seen Hecht’s wife on this ship, which was quite a surprise. I wasn’t sure until I heard her talk, but now I have and that’s her. What happened to Hecht?”

“He died,” I said.

“Killed by a leopard?”

“So I’m told. I didn’t see his body.”

Dr. Radner nodded and flipped his cigarette over
the railing and into the South Atlantic, where it died like a meteor.

“You told me Bowen had been bitten in the back of the neck,” I said.

“I did.” Dr. Radner nodded. “He was.”

“What about the children?”

“I have no idea. But leopard-men kill their enemies, or at least that’s what everybody says. I suppose they might kill their
enemies’ children, too. Hatred of the family or revenge. Still
… ” He let the sentence trail away.

“You must know the slanders that were directed against my wife.”

“I do,” Dr. Radner said. “I also know that it is utterly impossible for any human being to turn into a leopard, far less turn into a leopard for a few hours and return to human form. It is far from impossible, however, for a human being to
believe
that he or she does it. The witches of the Middle
Ages believed they flew through the air on brooms. They believed that utterly and sincerely, and many like instances might be given. A man—or a woman—might believe that he or she became a leopard at times, and might use iron claws of the kind I had described to claw his or her victims to death. I told you what I did because it may be useful to you to distinguish between true and false leopard
kills.”

“There are no leopards in the United States.” I made it as firm as I could.

“Correct, there are none—outside of those in zoos and circuses, and an unknown number in private hands. There are mountain lions, however, in almost every state in the union; jaguars are reported from time to time in the southernmost part of the Southwest.”

When I said nothing in reply to that, Dr. Radner stepped
back from the rail, touched his hat, and added, “Good night, sir. It is late, I’ve had my say, and I wish you pleasant dreams.”

He left, and a few minutes later I heard a slight disturbance, a few confused noises followed by utter silence.

For an hour or more, I leaned against the rail, staring out to sea. It was not really cold, but a cold south wind had sprung up, and I had on only a lightweight
tropical suit. I would have given
a good deal for a drink then, but the ship’s bar had been closed for hours. Eventually the colonel appeared, in search of a spot in which he could enjoy the last cigar of the day in peace. I welcomed him, he offered me a cigar, which I declined, and I chanced to lament the too-early closing of the bar. At that, he produced a silver flask, which he offered to me.

I accepted gladly and took it, limiting myself to two sips, though it tasted wonderful. It was gin, and I believe Bombay Gin; at the second sip I found myself visualizing the self-consciously old-fashioned label, with its portrait of Queen Victoria. I thanked him and returned his flask. We chatted for a few minutes, and I left.

I was perhaps halfway to the stateroom I shared with Kay when I found
what I had expected to find rather nearer: the body of Dr. Miles Radner. For a minute or two I squatted beside it, examining the bite to the neck that had killed him. (Though he had been clawed as well.) From what I saw, it seemed obvious that the animal had shadowed him for a time, then sprung upon him from behind. Its claws would have held him for the necessary moment, and its bite had been
fatal.

I rose and went on to our stateroom. Perhaps it was the gin, but I felt tired and very sleepy. Our cabin was dark; Kay was already back in bed and sound asleep. I undressed as quietly as I could and joined her without waking her.

Such is my story. There was some trouble about Kay’s entering the country without a passport, but we explained that hers had been lost in Africa, and they soon
let us in. She has applied for a new one, an American passport, since she is now the wife of an American citizen. Rather to my surprise she has asked that it carry her maiden name, which she gave as Kay Gaibou.

I see I have not mentioned that we are comfortably lodged now at my parents’ place in upstate New York. To the best of my recollection it has been six years since I was last here. They
are in Europe. I cabled them soon after we came ashore, telling them I was married and asking their permission to open the old place up and await them there. They agreed at once, as I expected.

Perhaps I ought to add that I have since received a letter from my mother; I must write to her as soon as I finish this. She says Germany is in chaos, with communists and National Socialists fighting quite
openly in the streets. They will cut their stay there short and go on to Austria before returning home.

There was a piece in the paper this morning about the death of a fifteen-year-old girl (page A2). She was, the paper said, apparently killed by an animal. The article did not say whether parts of her body had been eaten. It was found lodged in a tree, about ten feet above the ground.

I showed
the piece to Kay, who said she had already seen it. “Is it not terrible?”

Afterward I read the whole piece again. It is, of course—terrible and horrible, but what can I do?

What in hell can I do?

A
UTHOR’S
N
OTE
…………………………………

This story had two godmothers, if you will. The first was, obviously, that I love “The Caged White Werewolf of the Saraban” by William B. Seabrook, one of those wonderful short stories we have utterly forgotten; I wanted to draw attention to it. There are sins and there are
sins
. When I am gone, I do not want my prosecutor saying: “My Lord, Gene found this lovely
story starving in a subcellar, climbed up, and forgot all about it.”

Second, because it is a story that makes the reader say, “What happens next? Can one civilized man, alone at a plantation in Africa, imprison a woman for life and get away with it? Of course not! If he doesn’t kill her, she’s going to get out sooner or later—and probably sooner rather than later.”

For more great reads and free
samplers, visit

www.LBYRDigitalDeals.com

and join our communities at:

Facebook.com/LittleBrownBooks

Twitter.com/lbkids

theNOVL.com

S
ALADIN
A
HMED
was born in Detroit. His short stories have been nominated for the Nebula and Campbell awards, reprinted in
The Year’s Best Fantasy
and other anthologies, recorded for numerous podcasts, and translated into several foreign languages. His first novel,
Throne of the Crescent Moon
, which
Kirkus Reviews
called “an arresting, sumptuous and thoroughly satisfying
debut,” was recently published to wide acclaim. Saladin lives near Detroit with his wife and children.

K
ELLEY ARMSTRONG
has been telling stories since before she could write. Her earliest written efforts were disastrous. If asked for a story about girls and dolls, hers would invariably feature undead girls and evil dolls, much to her teachers’ dismay. Today, she continues to spin tales of ghosts
and demons and werewolves, while safely locked away in her basement writing dungeon. She’s the author of the #1
New York Times–
bestselling Darkest Powers young adult trilogy as well as the Otherworld and Nadia Stafford adult series. Armstrong lives in Ontario with her family. You can find her online at www.kelleyarmstrong.com.

H
OLLY
B
LACK
is the author of bestselling contemporary fantasy books
for kids and teens. Some of her titles include The Spiderwick
Chronicles (with Tony DiTerlizzi), the Modern Faerie Tale series, the Good Neighbors graphic novel trilogy (with Ted Naifeh), the Curse Workers series, her middle-grade novel,
Doll Bones
, and her vampire novel,
The Coldest Girl in Coldtown
. She has been a finalist for the Mythopoeic Award, a finalist for an Eisner Award, and the recipient
of the Andre Norton Award. She currently lives in New England with her husband, Theo, in a house with a secret door. You can find her online at www.blackholly.com.

N
EIL
G
AIMAN
writes books for readers of all ages, including the Greenaway-shortlisted
Crazy Hair
, illustrated by Dave McKean;
Instructions
, illustrated by Charles Vess;
Coraline
, which won the British Science Fiction Association Award,
the Hugo Award, the Nebula Award, the Bram Stoker Award, and the Elizabeth Burr/Worzalla Award; the Hugo and Nebula Award–winning
American Gods
;
Anansi Boys
; and
Good Omens
(with Terry Pratchett); as well as the short story collections
Smoke and Mirrors
and
Fragile Things
. Most recently, Gaiman was both a contributor to and co-editor with Al Sarrantonio of
Stories
, and his own story in the volume,
“The Truth Is a Cave in the Black Mountains,” has been nominated for a number of awards. You can find him online at www.neilgaiman.com.

K
AMI
G
ARCIA
is the
New York Times
–and internationally bestselling co-author of the Beautiful Creatures novels.
Beautiful Creatures
is being published in forty-eight countries and translated into thirty-seven languages. Academy Award nominee Richard LaGravenese
directed the film adaptation of
Beautiful Creatures
. Kami is also the author of
Unbreakable
, the first book
in her upcoming solo series, the Legion, which is currently being developed as a motion picture. When she is not writing, Kami can usually be found watching disaster movies or drinking Diet Coke. She lives in LA with her family and their dogs, Spike and Oz (named after characters from
Buffy
the Vampire Slayer
). You can find her online at www.kamigarcia.com and @kamigarcia.

M
ELISSA
M
ARR
is the
New York Times
–and internationally bestselling author of the Wicked Lovely series,
Graveminder,
and
Carnival of Souls
. With Kelley Armstrong, she has edited two anthologies (
Enthralled
and
Shards & Ashes
) and co-authored the upcoming children’s series the Blackwell Pages. Prior to writing,
she taught university literature, including courses on the short story and in gender studies. You can find her online at www.melissa-marr.com.

G
ARTH
N
IX
has worked as a literary agent, marketing consultant, book editor, book publicist, book sales representative, bookseller, and as a part-time soldier in the Australian Army Reserve. Garth’s books include the award-winning fantasy novels
Sabriel
,
Lirael
, and
Abhorsen
; and the young adult science fiction novels
Shade’s Children
and
A Confusion of Princes
. His fantasy novels for children include
The Ragwitch
, the six books of the Seventh Tower sequence, and the Keys to the Kingdom series. More than five million copies of his books have been sold around the world, his books have appeared on the bestseller lists of the
New York Times
,
Publishers
Weekly
, the
Guardian
, and the
Australian
, and his work has been translated into forty languages. He lives in a Sydney beach suburb with his wife and two children.

T
IM
P
RATT
is a Hugo Award–winning science fiction and fantasy author whose works have been nominated for most of the major genre awards (including the Nebula Award, World Fantasy Award, Campbell Award for Best New Author, and Theodore
Sturgeon Memorial Award, among others). His stories have been reprinted in numerous Year’s Best anthologies, including
The Best American Short Stories
. He is a senior editor at
Locus
, the magazine of the science fiction and fantasy field, and edited the anthology
Sympathy for the Devil
.

C
ARRIE
R
YAN
is the
New York Times
–bestselling author of the critically acclaimed Forest of Hands and Teeth
series, which has been translated into more than eighteen languages and is in development as a major motion picture. She is also the editor of the anthology
Foretold: 14 Tales of Prophecy and Prediction
, as well as author of
Infinity Ring: Divide and Conquer
, the second book in Scholastic’s new multi-author/multi-platform series for middle-grade readers. A former litigator, Carrie now writes full-time
and lives with her husband, two fat cats, and one large dog in Charlotte, North Carolina. You can find her online at www.carrieryan.com or @carrieryan.