By Hugh B. Cave
Crippled, not able to maneuver, Margal strikes you as a substitute, speaks for your brain, instructions you to behave. There aren't any doorways you could lock to maintain The Evil out, no obstacles he can't breach. He calls to these he wishes, they usually needs to obey, simply as you want to obey. The Evil are usually not denied!
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Extra resources for The Evil
Example text
He would not provide anyone with a reference point for the beginning of his decline. Before he was finished he would have those damned suitcases, or three others exactly like them, filled with money. He looked at his watch as he walked along the rutted, unused track, was surprised to see that despite all that had happened this morning it was still only a few minutes past eleven o'clock. A great deal could be done yet today-if they were lucky enough to find their way off the mountain unobserved.
The racket was almost certain to be audible the length of the slopes and would draw reinforcements from the mansion. In five minutes the site would be swarming with Baglio's gunmen. Still, this was the quickest, simplest way to let those inside the limousine know that this was serious business, rough business, and that they were hopelessly outgunned. When the echo died, Tucker was at the driver's window, the stubby shotgun leveled at the old man's neck. A blast from the first barrel alone would shatter the window and fragment the chauffeur's skull before he could complete any dive for the floorboards.
While he held the shotgun on them, Harris went downslope to the place where he'd climbed the bank, gained the road again and walked back up toward them. "Nowhere," the driver said. " The smaller of Baglio's men, the one who hadn't had enough sense to keep quiet before, looked at the driver quizzically, then smiled and looked up at Tucker. His face might as well be a blackboard with a huge, chalked message on it. "You're never going to get out of here. Mr. " Tucker asked the driver. "No," the driver said.