The Sorcerer's House (39 page)

He was gone, but he had left something behind. I will not say what it was but it was wet and had his initials in the corner, TAG.

Did he say anything to me? No, not one word. Did he leave a note? Maybe I should say he did. It would be a good lie. Do you know what I mean?

Because I
know
why he was crying, Bax. Laugh all you want, but I know. He wanted us to be together and thought it would happen, and now everything has fallen to bits.

When I found the thing that I found I started crying, too. I still have not stopped, so that is another reason for not phoning you.

Bax, I made a terrible, terrible mistake.

I love you.

I love you, and if you never forgive me and we never have dinner again or ride in your big old car I will still love you just the same. I know I must have hurt you terribly. Please forgive me.

Phone or write or ring my doorbell. That would be the best of all. I am staying right here, and I am pretty sure I can get my old job back.

Your Doris

PS: It was just you and I against the werewolves. Do you remember that? Nobody else. Your basement is just so awful, but I would go down there again if you were going.

I went to your house after I finished this letter. I could not phone but I thought that if I could just hold you and kiss you it might be all right. Your butler gave me a crucifix and a garlic necklace and got me to help him hunt Nicholas. The other hunters were your brother George (I still do not like him) and Mrs. Pogach, the fat lady the dwarf tried to rape. We cornered Nicholas and he agreed to go into the trunk (tied on the back of your car) and let us close it if we would give him a cell phone.

So I let him have mine. He wanted that one because it had both your numbers on the speed-dial feature.

He got into the trunk and George fastened the straps and catches but he could not work the lock. Your butler got it to lock somehow, tho.

After that the fat lady and I went to her hotel room and ordered room service and talked. I gave her my card. I needed to get Nicholas out of my mind, his eyes and those long arms and big hands, and talking to her helped. Now I am going to bed, but I wish I could say we.

Mr. Dunn:

I have returned home. I hope you found my note.

As others will certainly have told you, I was able to locate the center of the disturbance at your home, a vampire. I compelled him to yield, and locked him in an old trunk. These creatures, as perhaps you know, are quite difficult to kill, as they are already dead. One treats them as one treats other ghosts, compelling or persuading them to find a more suitable abode.

I would suggest that you dispose of this one by posting the trunk to a museum out of state. They will almost certainly open it. Should they return the trunk to you, do not open it. It might be best to refuse delivery.

In the course of my search for the vampire, I covered your home quite thoroughly, finding nothing amiss save he. I therefore consider your case closed, at least for the time being.

As you will recall I promised to charge you no fee. This in connection with Mr. Quorn. It is with some regret that I must ask you to refund my travel costs. An itemized list is attached. $4,387.76 will cover everything.

Should you have further need of my services, do not hesitate to contact me.

Yours truly,

Mrs. O. Pogach

"Madame Orizia"

My Darling Millie:

I feel sure you thought you would never receive a single letter from me. Now here I sit with pen and paper. I could not resist after our telephone conversation. You could not keep track of everything, you said, and wanted me to write it down.

So I will.

The chief thing is that we will never see my brother Bax again. He is in faerie, and he will stay there.

Bax is not a bad fellow. I know that now, and know that I was often too hard on him--and too hard on you for that matter. In future I am going to take a page from his book. You will find me much easier to get along with, a more kind and much more loving George.

This one probably seems bigger to me than to you. I am going to quit my job. You and I are well off, as I am sure you must realize. We have saved and invested wisely. We do not need the money.

Besides, I have a new job now--managing Bax's properties. (I hold his power of attorney.) The Skotos Strip alone is worth millions, and there are two houses, a checking account, and large savings accounts in three banks. He will certainly remain in faerie, so I shall have him declared dead in seven years. His will (I have that, too) leaves everything to me, but that "me" means the two of us, Millie. It will be our community property under the law.

Those are the major matters. Here are the minor ones.

I will not be able to return home immediately, as I had hoped. My trial was today. I pled guilty as charged, expressed my utter remorse, and threw myself upon the mercy of the court. Kate Finn--God bless her!--said under oath that she forgave me, and urged the judge to be merciful "to this first-time offender." (I dropped my police brutality charge against her partner two days ago.)

My sentence was thirty days of community service, which will mean reading to children at the library and telling them stories. There are a great many grand old Victorian tales that will be fresh and new to children today. I plan to begin with
Mopsa the Fairy
, and I would like to work in more than a few of Charles Dickens's greatest scenes involving children. We must have Oliver Twist and the Artful Dodger, of course. Then there is
The Old Curiosity Shop
, which is simply crammed with appealing children: Little Nell, Kit Nubbles, and the Marchioness. Nor can I forget Tiny Tim. As you can tell, I am really looking forward to my month. If it were not for you, I might ask the judge to extend it.

As for telling stories, well, I have actually been in faerie myself. I doubt that Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm could say that. A few hours in faerie--but perhaps it is better not to speak of it.

Well, well! I am a convicted felon now, like my poor brother. The mills of the gods grind slowly, Millie, but they grind exceeding small. If I did not quit the company, I might very well be fired. But I will leave quietly, and not put our exalted CEO and his retinue to the trouble. I have already written my letter of resignation, which I shall mail with this. You
will be seeing me again before much longer. What would you say to a cruise around the world then? The Caribbean, Central America, New Zealand, Australia, India... You know.

From what you said on the telephone, Bax must have mentioned the duel I proposed in one of his letters. You will certainly want to know the outcome; but I can offer only anticlimax, and not much of that. We did not fight. Neither of us really wanted to, and when the moment arrived that became very clear.

Let me see . . . What else? Have I said that I love you very, very much? Let me say it again: I adore you, Millie, and I cannot possibly say it too often. You are surely the kindest woman in the world, as well as the most beautiful.

I will be bringing home Bax's Japanese sword, by the way. He gave it to me to remember him by. It is ancient, quite lovely in its deadly way, and very valuable.

Will it upset you to learn that I may bring home an animal, too? Bax's pet fox seems to have attached herself to me. I do not confine her, you understand. She is free to roam the woods whenever she chooses. But I could not find it in my heart to abandon her. I shall take her to our summer place on the lake and leave her there, unless you have a better suggestion. You will rarely see her, and are quite certain to be pleased when you do. Someone once said that all animals are beautiful, each in its own way. I find I cannot agree, but one sleek red fox more than makes up for half a dozen hogs and a team of mules.

Europe is another possibility. We might start with Moscow, go on to Krakow, Berlin, Vienna, and Paris. You would love to shop in Paris, I know; and I would love to watch you do it. Then Rome, Florence, Venice, Barcelona, and London. And so home. You will notice that I have said nothing about Athens. That is because I see Greece and the Mediterranean as a separate trip. What do you think?

Soon--very soon--I will be in your arms.

Your adoring husband,

George

The vast majority of the letters that make up this book were loaned to me by Mrs. Millicent Kay Dunn. Some had been the property of her husband, George J. Dunn, who vanished two years ago. (Her brother-in-law, Baxter Dunn, the author of the majority of these letters, had vanished still earlier and is legally dead.) I cannot adequately express my gratitude to Mrs. Dunn.

I also wish to thank Mrs. Orizia Pogach, who turned over to me the letters she had received from Baxter Dunn.

Finally, thanks are due to Mrs. Tina Hawes Kojac, who answered one of my advertisements and very graciously agreed to sell me the letters her late father, "Shotgun" Sheldon Hawes, had received from his former cellmate.

Baxter Dunn's letters are given here almost word for word. Some
of the other letters in this book have required extensive corrections as to spelling, syntax, and grammar. Footnotes indicating these would be bothersome and of small or no real value. I have tried to retain the native flavor (if it may be described in that way) of the originals, the naivete and tenderness of Mrs. Dunn's, for example.

After a prolonged period of soul-searching, I have chosen to omit dates. Baxter Dunn dated his letters only rarely, and at least half the dates he provided were clearly incorrect. Sheldon Hawes never dated his. In short, I have disregarded such dates as I had, and have tried to arrange these letters in a (not
the
) logical order.

I have made strenuous efforts to locate the Japanese sword mentioned by George J. Dunn, without result. To the best of Mrs. Dunn's recollection her husband kept it in a metal chest (or locker) in the basement of their summer home. There I discovered a vertical storage cabinet with a combination lock. It was, alas, quite empty. Collectors of such weapons have been unable to assist me, although I have made extensive inquiries. It would seem to have been a Japanese sword of the earliest type, a
ken
, having a straight, single-edged blade. Mr. Kisho Kurofuji, an acknowledged expert on early Japanese swords, tells me that this one (as described by Mrs. Dunn and others) can hardly date later than the twelfth century.