Norton, Andre - Anthology (5 page)

 
          
 
The professor flashed Keith a knowing smile.
"That is not a problem." He went to the refrigerator and took out a
glass rooster half-filled with blood. "I have ready the rooster's blood.
You have ready the youth's blood." He laid down the spectacles and picked
up a glass beaker. "Won't you give an ounce for science? With your blood,
a basilisk will come alive."

 
          
 
"Is that cage strong enough to hold
him?" Keith asked.

 
          
 
"Steel was not yet invented when the
basilisk lived. It will hold him. This will be the scientific discovery of the
age. We will have the living wonder of the ancient world."

 
          
 
The professor's voice was lilting and persuasive.
"It's a boy sees into his own manhood and has a clear view of what is
before him. Can't you see the two of us in
Stockholm
sharing the Nobel Prize?"

 
          
 
Keith had set out to see a monster, and now
fought against his fear. If the price of a ticket was his own blood, he was
willing to pay for it. "Okay," he said, "I'll do it for
science."

 
          
 
Keith helped set up the camp cot and stretched
himself out on it. Professor
Zembeck
expertly drew
the ounce of blood from his arm, and though Keith had no feeling of weakness,
the professor told him to lie quiet while he put away the cotton, the rubber
hose, and the syringe. That bright red liquid in the glass beaker was his
blood, and he watched as the professor added it to the blood in the glass
rooster. Seeing his own blood mix with the blood of a fowl, Keith felt strange.

 
          
 
The professor smiled down at him. "At
midnight
this mix of blood will bring a basilisk
back into the world. We will be famous."

 
          
 
A shiver went through Keith. He got up from
the cot. "Take these," said the professor. He handed Keith the
evil-eye glasses. "You will need them to work around the basilisk. I had
two pairs put into modern frames—the ancient tie-on temples were hard to
manage.
Oh,
and here is a case for them. Now you can
put them into your pants pocket," he said.

 
          
 
Keith felt bewildered. "Thanks a
lot." "You'll make a fine assistant. Come, I'll let you out."
Keith followed the professor down the stone stairway. Through the slit window
of the tower he could see a flash of orange sky above the trees.

 
          
 
Professor
Zembeck
touched the switch by the door.

 
          
 
The entry hall was flooded in light. He took
out a ring of keys and removed one. "Let yourself in when you
come
tower room." His domed forehead shone in the
light.

            
"Yes sir."

 
          
 
"Goodnight. I'll see you tomorrow."
Keith rode out of the grove of trees onto Circle Drive. Some cars already had
their lights on. He was late for dinner.

 
          
 
His parents were at the table when he rushed
into the family room. "I've got a job," he announced proudly.

             
His father looked up, pleased.
"Really?
Where?"

            
"Out at
Abbot
Castle
." His father put down his fork.
"Not for Professor
Zembeck
?"

 
          
 
"Yes. I'm to help him unpack some
stuff."

            
"What stuff?"

 
          
 
"Jenny
Hanivers
.
He has cartons full of them."

            
"What are they, dear?"
his mother asked.
"Fake monsters.
Fishermen used
to make and sell them as curios."

 
          
 
His mother looked concerned. "Has anyone
ever pointed out to you,
Keith, that
in the Dark Ages
monsters were really the manifestation of evil?"

            
"No one ever saw one—I
guess."

 
          
 
"That doesn't mean they were not used to
influence the minds of men," Mrs.
Volmer
said.

 
          
 
Keith was annoyed but curious.
"How?" he asked.

            
"By the
evil eye.
Superstitions about it were encouraged, and some people used
it to manipulate others. Thank goodness the evil eye is not one of our modern
problems."

 
          
 
Keith could tell that his father, too, was
disturbed. "Look," he said, chewing his food thoughtfully, "I'm
glad you have what it takes to go out and get yourself a job, but tomorrow I'll
drop by and have a talk with the professor."

            
"Why?" Keith demanded.

 
          
 
"Oh there's some gossip about. Some say
he's not right in the head. I'll talk to him and let you know."

           
 
"He's okay," Keith said. "I
talked to him.

 
          
 
"That will make two of us." His
father's voice was firm.

 
          
 
Keith was behind schedule with his homework.
He kept thinking what his father had said about the professor. Of course people
would think
Zembeck
a nut. Folks didn't believe in
old-fashioned monsters anymore. Instead, they have new ones like the Abominable
Snowman, or the Loch Ness Monster, or flying saucers. But at
midnight
there would be another monster around, and
it would come to life with his blood.

 
          
 
Keith also couldn't stop thinking of the evil
eye. His mother's remarks worried him. Surely he would be protected by the
Chinese glasses, but would he also be responsible for the monster's return?
Would he be accountable for his blood—for what the basilisk might do?

 
          
 
He shivered. The evil eye would be back in the
world again—the monster serpent of evil. He thought about it with mounting
concern. It would have his blood, with his consent. No prize was worth it. He
must go and beg the professor not to bring the monster to life. The basilisk
had long been forgotten. It must remain that way.

 
          
 
At
ten o'clock
Keith shut off the light in his room and
climbed into bed with his clothes on. He waited in the dark for what seemed
like hours. When the luminous hand on his bedside clock pointed to eleven, he
heard his door being pushed open. He snorted a snore through his lips, and
minutes later, the light in his parents' room blacked out.

 
          
 
For what seemed an eternity, Keith
lay
waiting. When he could stand it no longer, he slipped
down the hall to the back porch and opened the inner door to the garage. He
rolled his bike back through the porch and out to the cement walk. Rubber tires
and sneakers made no noise. Keeping to the side of the road, without lights, he
became a silent shadow, spinning under the trees. That was his undoing. Keith
had stayed on Circle Drive because it was lined with trees and he would be
unnoticed by passing cars. But he overlooked parked cars. Almost running into
one, a battery of lights hit him in the face.

 
          
 
"Where do you think you're going?"
The voice was tough, authoritative, and a little amused. Keith stared into the
light, blinded.

 
          
 
"Speak up, boy," said the voice, and
when the lights shut off, a police officer stood facing him.

 
          
 
"I'm going home . . . eventually."
That last word was spoken under his breath.

 
          
 
"I'll have to write you a ticket,"
the officer said, "for riding without lights. What's your name?"

 
          
 
"Keith
Volmer
."

 
          
 
"Address?"

 
          
 
"Twenty-two forty Circle Drive."

 
          
 
"It's pretty late for kids to be out.
What were you doing?"

 
          
 
"I have a job."

 
          
 
"You better get on home. Hear?"

 
          
 
"Yes sir." Keith was on his bike and
down the road before he had to answer more questions. Luckily, Circle Drive
passed the castle before it passed his own house— Circle Drive circled the
town.

 
          
 
Keith rode his bicycle up to the castle gate.
With only a thin slice of moon in the sky, the castle looked bleak. There was a
glow of light behind the draperies in the tower. Was he too late? Quietly Keith
laid his bike in the tall grass and started for the door.

 
          
 
Keith fished for the key in his pocket, and
the small modern lock opened silently. Keith switched on the lights. Carefully
he put on the evil-eye glasses, and with the utmost caution, entered the
stairway.

 
          
 
Climbing the steps one stone at a time, Keith
felt his way along the wall. What had happened? Everything was dark, he climbed
faster and faster.

 
          
 
Reaching the red draperies, Keith carefully
parted them. At that moment an alarm clock on the workbench began to ring. A
cry stuck in Keith's throat as the professor poured the blood from the glass
rooster into the cock's mouth.

 
          
 
Like splintered glass, the wooden coffin
exploded. The professor leaped through the door of the cage, but the basilisk
was upon him. Frantically, he tried to close the cage door, but the monster
slammed it back against the bars with its powerful wings, flattening the
professor like a steak on a grill.

 
          
 
Keith tore the draperies apart and let out a
whoop. The basilisk turned its feathered head. The baleful eyes and monstrous
beak made Keith yell even louder. The uproar worked. Dropping the professor,
the monster started for Keith.

 
          
 
Down the stairs Keith fled. He could hear the
scratching claws on the stone steps and he could smell the sickening smell of
the basilisk as it advanced. His heart pounded, and the smell made him weak and
sick to his stomach. His mouth was dry and bitter. He could barely swallow. How
close was the thing behind him?

 
          
 
Keith plunged into the entry hall. The blazing
lights seemed undimmed by his dark glasses. He backed against the huge mirror,
his eyes focusing upon the stone staircase. In hypnotic fear Keith waited for
the monster.

 
          
 
The tail of the basilisk—writhing and hissing
between its feathered legs—came first, followed by the malignant cock's head,
more horrible than the counterpart rattlers on the tail of a rattlesnake. Then
out of the shadows came the body of the winged reptile—a gory horror of yellow
feathers. Cold terror froze Keith against the mirror.

 
          
 
The monster's eyes, shining with greenish
luster, turned
si
on Keith, while the smell—the
nauseous stench—permeated the entry hall. With its horrible head thrust
forward, the creature came closer and closer. Lifting its limpid eyes to the
mirror, the basilisk saw its own face. Instantly it exploded into an eruption
of yellow feathers. The hissing sizzled into silence while a pool of monster
blood formed at Keith's feet.