A draft of which I had been only half-consciously aware — coming from the opened bedroom door at my back — was suddenly diminished, as the odor intensified. There came another quick pulsing at my wrist. There was no sound, though. It was absolutely silent, but I knew that it was there.

I spun up out of my kneeling position into a crouch, turning —

I saw a large mouthful of big teeth, bloody lips curled back around them. They lined the muzzle belonging to several hundred pounds of doglike creature covered with coarse, moldy-looking yellow fur. Its ears were like clump of fungi, its yellow-orange eyes wide and feral.

As I had no doubt whatever concerning its intentions I hurled the doorknob, which I had been clutching half consciously for the past minute. It glanced off the bony ridge above its left eye without noticeable effect. Still soundlessy the thing sprang at me.

Not even time for a word to Frakir…

People who work in slaughterhouses know that there is a spot on an animal’s forehead to be found by drawing an imaginary line from the right ear to the left eye and another from the left ear to the right eye. They aim the killing blow, an inch or two above the junction of this X. My uncle taught me that. He didn’t work in a slaughterhouse, though. He just knew how to kill things.

So I spun forward and to the side as it sprang, and I struck a hammer blow at the death spot. It moved even faster than I’d anticipated, however, and when my fist struck it, it was already rushing by, its neck muscles helped it to absorb the force of my blow.

This drew the first sound from it, though — a yelp. It shook its head and turned with great speed then, and it was at me again. Now a low, rumbling growl came up from its chest and its leap was high. I knew that I was not going to be able to sidestep this one.