Needful Things - Stephen King [139]
"I I don't.
"Cold therapy thermal gloves even the radiation treatments none of them have worked for you, have they?"
"How do you know about all that?"
"A good tradesman makes it his business to know the needs of his customers," Mr. Gaunt said in his soft, hypnotic voice. He moved toward her, holding the silver chain out in a wide ring with the azka hanging at the bottom. She shrank from the long hands with their leathery nails.
"Fear not, dear lady. I'll not touch the least hair upon your head.
Not if you're calm and remain quite still "
And Polly did become calm. She did become still. She stood with her hands (still encased in the woolly mittens) crossed demurely in front of her, and allowed Mr. Gaunt to drop the silver chain over her head. He did it with the gentleness of a father turning down his daughter's bridal veil. She felt far away from Mr. Gaunt, from Needful Things, from Castle Rock, even from herself. She felt like a woman standing high on some dusty plain and under an endless sky, hundreds of miles from any other human being.
The azka dropped against the zipper of her leather car-coat with a small clink.
"Put it inside your jacket. And when you get home, put it inside your blouse, as well. It must be worn next to the skin for maximum effect."
"I can't put it in my jacket," Polly said in slow, dreaming tones.
"The zipper I can't pull down the zipper."
"No? Try."
So Polly stripped off one of the mittens and tried. To her great surprise, she found she was able to flex the thumb and first finger of her right hand just enough to grasp the zipper's tab and pull it down.
"There, you see?"
The little silver ball fell against the front of her blouse. It seemed very heavy to her, and the feel of it was not precisely comfortable.
She wondered vaguely what was inside it, what had made that dusty slithery sound. Some sor-, of herb, he had said, but it hadn't sounded like leaves or even powder to Polly. It had seemed to her that something in there had shifted on its own.
Mr. Gaunt seemed to understand her discomfort. "You'll get used to it, and much sooner than you might think. Believe me, you will."
Outside, thousands of miles away, she heard more sirens. They sounded like troubled spirits.
Mr. Gaunt turned away, and as his eyes left her face, Polly felt her concentration begin to return. She felt a little bewildered, but she also felt good. She felt as if she had just had a short but satisfying nap. Her sense of mixed discomfort and disquiet was gone.
"My hands still hurt," she said, and this was true but did they hurt as badly? It seemed to her there had been some relief, but that could be nothing more than suggestion-she had a feeling that Gaunt had imposed a kind of hypnosis on her in his determination to make her accept the azka. Or it might only be the warmth of the shop after the cold outside.
"I doubt very much if the promised effect is instantaneous," Mr.
Gaunt said dryly. "Give it a chance, though-will you do that, Polly?"
She shrugged. "All right."
After all, what did she have to lose? The ball was small enough so it would barely make a bulge under a blouse and a sweater. She wouldn't have to answer any questions about it if no one knew it was there, and that would be just fine with her-Rosalie Drake would be curious, and Alan, who was about as superstitious as a tree-stump, would probably find it funny. As for Nettle well, Nettle would probably be awed to silence if she knew Polly was wearing an honest-to-goodness magic charm, just like the ones they sold in her beloved Inside View.
"You shouldn't take it off, not even in the shower," Mr. Gaunt said. "There's no need to. The ball is real silver, and won't rust."
"But if I do?"
He coughed gently into his hand, as if embarrassed. "Well, the beneficial effect of the azka is cumulative. The wearer is a little better today, a little better still tomorrow, and so on. That's what I was told, at least."
Told by whom? she wondered.
"If the azka is removed, however, the wearer