Read Online New Cthulhu: The Recent Weird by Kim Newman, Neil Gaiman, China Miéville, Charles Stross, Cherie Priest, Caitlin R. Kiernan, Sarah Monette, Michael Marshall Smith, Paula Guran - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kim Newman, Neil Gaiman, China Miéville, Charles Stross, Cherie Priest, Caitlin R. Kiernan, Sarah Monette, Michael Marshall Smith, Paula Guran
Tags: Literature & Fiction, Fantasy, Horror, Short Stories, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Genre Fiction, Short-Story, Anthologies, Anthology, Anthologies & Short Stories, Metaphysical & Visionary, cthulhu, weird
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are drawn and the lights are on. Lot of people do that when they go out, but if you take lights to mean there’s no one at home, you’ll being doing time so fast your feet won’t touch the ground. Me, I’ve never been inside. Not intending to be, either. And I’m not planning on doing the job solo anyhow. It’s a big house. It’s a two person maneuver—not least because it was Baz who picked up the bits of silver in the first place. I don’t know where he found them, but it’s got to be the first place to look. Quicker you’re in and out, the better.
I walk the street one way, then go around the corner and have a fag. Then I walk back past the house. I’m trying to remember the exact layout, cause we’ve been in a few other houses since. I’m glancing across at the front window on the second floor when I see a shape, a shadow on the curtain. I smile to myself, glad I’m not so stupid as to have had a go tonight. And loyal, of course—I want Baz in on it, and he’s not back until Sunday.
I slow the pace, keep an eye on this shadow. Never know, it might be a bird with her tits out. Don’t see nothing of note, though. Curtains are too tightly drawn, and it’s that thing where the light’s behind them and they get magnified till they’re just some huge blob.
The light goes off, and I realize mostly likely that’s the kid just gone to bed. That tells me that room was where the little telly was from, and the whole floor clicks in my head.
I walked back to the van, feeling very professional indeed.
Next night I’m busy, and the one after. Not nicking. The Tuesday was our “anniversary” (or so Jackie says; far as I can see I don’t understand why we have them when we’re not even fucking engaged, and anyway—anniversary of what? We met at a party, got pissed, shagged in one of the bedrooms on a pile of coats, and that was that). Either way we ended up going up West and having a meal and then getting bladdered at a club.
Wednesday night I’m not going fucking anywhere. I felt like shit.
So it’s Thursday when I’m outside the house again.
I was there a little earlier, about quarter to nine. You look a bit less suspicious, being out on the street at that time; but on the other hand there’s more people around to see you loitering about. I walked past the house first, seeing the curtains are drawn again. Can’t work out whether the lights are on full or not: there’s still a bit of light in the sky.
I’d actually slowed down, almost stopped, when I heard footsteps coming up the street. I started moving again, sharpish. You don’t want the neighbors catching someone staring at a house. There’s some right nosey fuckers. They’ll call the old Bill quick as you like. Course the Bill won’t do much, most of the time, but if they think there’s lads scouting for opportunities then sometimes they’ll get someone to drive down the street every now and then, when they’re bored.
So I started walking again, and as I look I see there are some people coming up the street towards me. Three of them. Actually, they’re still about thirty yards away, which is a surprise. Sounded like they were closer than that. I just walk towards them. I didn’t actually whistle—nobody whistles much these days, which I think is a bit of a shame—but I was as casual as you like.
Just as I’m coming up to them, them up to me, the streetlights click on. One of these lights is there just as we’re passing each other, and suddenly there’s these big shadows thrown across my path. I look across and see there’s two of them in front, a man and a woman. The woman’s wearing a big floppy hat—must have been to some fancy do—and the bloke happens to be looking across her, towards the street. She’s in shadow, he’s turned the other way, so I don’t see either of their faces, which is fine by me. If I haven’t seen theirs then they haven’t seen mine, if you know what I mean.
I’m just stepping past them,
I walk the street one way, then go around the corner and have a fag. Then I walk back past the house. I’m trying to remember the exact layout, cause we’ve been in a few other houses since. I’m glancing across at the front window on the second floor when I see a shape, a shadow on the curtain. I smile to myself, glad I’m not so stupid as to have had a go tonight. And loyal, of course—I want Baz in on it, and he’s not back until Sunday.
I slow the pace, keep an eye on this shadow. Never know, it might be a bird with her tits out. Don’t see nothing of note, though. Curtains are too tightly drawn, and it’s that thing where the light’s behind them and they get magnified till they’re just some huge blob.
The light goes off, and I realize mostly likely that’s the kid just gone to bed. That tells me that room was where the little telly was from, and the whole floor clicks in my head.
I walked back to the van, feeling very professional indeed.
Next night I’m busy, and the one after. Not nicking. The Tuesday was our “anniversary” (or so Jackie says; far as I can see I don’t understand why we have them when we’re not even fucking engaged, and anyway—anniversary of what? We met at a party, got pissed, shagged in one of the bedrooms on a pile of coats, and that was that). Either way we ended up going up West and having a meal and then getting bladdered at a club.
Wednesday night I’m not going fucking anywhere. I felt like shit.
So it’s Thursday when I’m outside the house again.
I was there a little earlier, about quarter to nine. You look a bit less suspicious, being out on the street at that time; but on the other hand there’s more people around to see you loitering about. I walked past the house first, seeing the curtains are drawn again. Can’t work out whether the lights are on full or not: there’s still a bit of light in the sky.
I’d actually slowed down, almost stopped, when I heard footsteps coming up the street. I started moving again, sharpish. You don’t want the neighbors catching someone staring at a house. There’s some right nosey fuckers. They’ll call the old Bill quick as you like. Course the Bill won’t do much, most of the time, but if they think there’s lads scouting for opportunities then sometimes they’ll get someone to drive down the street every now and then, when they’re bored.
So I started walking again, and as I look I see there are some people coming up the street towards me. Three of them. Actually, they’re still about thirty yards away, which is a surprise. Sounded like they were closer than that. I just walk towards them. I didn’t actually whistle—nobody whistles much these days, which I think is a bit of a shame—but I was as casual as you like.
Just as I’m coming up to them, them up to me, the streetlights click on. One of these lights is there just as we’re passing each other, and suddenly there’s these big shadows thrown across my path. I look across and see there’s two of them in front, a man and a woman. The woman’s wearing a big floppy hat—must have been to some fancy do—and the bloke happens to be looking across her, towards the street. She’s in shadow, he’s turned the other way, so I don’t see either of their faces, which is fine by me. If I haven’t seen theirs then they haven’t seen mine, if you know what I mean.
I’m just stepping past them,
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