BH继续
"No." John Henry Price shook his head. "It can't be. Not again." Twila's father was staring out the window, not even registering that he had dropped his glass.
It was the first time Gregory Gry had ever seen the man even vaguely distraught, let alone this agitated."Sir? What is it? What does it mean?"
"It's a long story, and one that I thought left in the past. An old friend of mine, a man named Randolph Cater, gave Katie the key on her seventeenth birthday." John Henry Price turned from the window, and glanced briefly at the shards of glass on the floor. "It caused... problems."
"Problems?"
"Aye, son. Problems. She would disappear from her bed, and show up days later, in the strangest places. The attic. The cellar. Once, we found her outside, sleeping in the fountain. To think, she could have drowned..."
"Yes," Gregory said, "it sounds like it might be related. Do you know about a place called the Dreamlands?"
"Yes, yes. Katie would always claim that was where she would go, and of course, Randolph would encourage her. He was always unnaturally fond of the girl, before he disappeared... and then all she would talk about was needing to get back to the Dreamlands to find him. I never would have believed them except for that one night she...she took me there." John Henry Price shook his head. "The next day, I took the key away from her and locked it away in the tower of my estate. After that, she could no longer stand to look at me, and a few months later, she left home altogether. But I'd be damned if I give her the key and let her return to that infernal place."
"Sir, she has found a way back, somehow, on her own. I need the silver key. I want to save her."
"Ah, now there it is, son, there it is. The way I see it, two things are possible. On one hand, you're being honest and you've already lost Katie to the Dreamlands, and I've no choice but to give you the key and hope you bring her back. On the other hand, and I wouldn't put this past her, you've been sent here by Katie with this story in an attempt to reacquire the key. In which case, she's just as lost to you as she is to me, only you haven't realized it yet. Either way, son, I don't want Katie to see me as the villain any longer. You can have the key." John Henry Price laughed, and Gregory wondered again just how sane the man might be. "Now, let's go have a look in the tower..."
He turned and walked out of the room. Gregory followed. They came to a black oaken door at the end of a shadowy hall. Price pulled a key from his vest pocket and unlocked the door to reveal a rickety looking circular staircase, twisting up and into the tower. "Careful now, son, it might be dangerous." The man raised his ivory-studded pistol, and gestured for Gregory to lead. "After you."
Gregory smiled, and took his first step on the wooden stair. It creaked under his weight. There was no hand rail. As he climbed, he found himself moving faster, unable to shake the feeling that John Henry Price was a little too close behind him with the loaded gun.
At the top of the stair, Gregory stopped on a landing before all other black oaken door. "It should be open," Price said, and gestured again for Gregory to proceed. The young man pushed open the door, revealing an attic-like storage room crammed with splintering crates, jugs of water, and stacks of moth-eaten clothing. At the far end of the room, near a window, was a small chest with the lid open to reveal its contents: The silver key, the same key that Gregory had seen in Twila's painting.
"Now who opened that?" Price muttered. "No one's been up here in..." He paused, and stroked at his chin. "No matter, I suppose. Go get it, son. No need to stay up here any longer than we must."
Gregory took a few tentative steps, and then walked briskly across the room. His eyes roamed cautiously about, and he made sure he didn't touch anything. He wasn't sure what it was about this room that so unnerved John Henry Price, but he didn't want to find out. Just before he reached the chest, he heard the man's voice.
"Hold it! Son, stop. That's right. Now move away from the key, slowly. No sudden movement."
Gregory turned away from the key as he backed off, and saw Price had the pistol aimed, with both hands, in his general direction. "Sir, I don't underst-"
A shot rang out, but Gregory Gry was still alive. Turning, he saw a hideous creature had fallen from somewhere above the chest, writhing atop the key. It looked like a cross between a scorpion and snake, but it also had wings and small birdlike feet. John Henry Price moved in, took aim at the thing's head, and fired his other pistol. The bullet slammed into the beast, and it stopped writhing.
"I needed some sort of bait to draw her out," John Henry Price explained with a shrug. "And I wasn't sure that a bullet would stop her." He smiled. Apparently it did. Now we'd better take the key and get out of here, before something else crawls out of the rafters. My daughter's waiting for you."
