The Djinn by Graham Masterton

Author:Graham Masterton
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Horror, Fiction
Published: 2011-01-08T10:33:12.879000+00:00

Chapter 5

We watched in fascinated horror as Marjorie stumbled across the lawn. She seemed to be beating or flapping at something in the air just behind her, even though we couldn’t see anything there at all. When the sea breeze gusted in our direction, we could hear that she was shrieking. A thin, high-pitched, terrified shriek.

Without a word, I gunned the Cougar’s engine, swerved off the driveway, and began to drive across the grass. The car bounced and swayed, and both Professor Qualt and Anna were gripping the armrests for dear life. I circled around in front of Marjorie and stopped. She came running toward us and collapsed against the side of the car, still twitching and beating at her invisible pursuer.

Qualt and I pushed our way out of the car and knelt down beside her. Her eyes had rolled up into her head so that only the whites showed, and she was shaking and shivering and mumbling.

Her thin legs, in their wrinkled gray stockings, lay like two broken sticks.

“Marjorie,” I said gently. “Marjorie, it’s Harry.” She didn’t seem to hear me. She was moaning and mumbling, and her arms still jerked feebly at the terrible thing that wasn’t there. It was strange, though, because I thought I caught the dry, leathery sound of flapping wings. I looked up quickly, and there was nothing there at all. Just the dark-smudged sky, the gathering shadows, and the curiously luminous shape of Winter Sails.

“Marjorie,’ I said “Can you hear me, Marjorie? It’s Harry.”

Again, there was no answer. Professor Qualt took her pulse against his wristwatch, and then placed his hand carefully against her forehead.

“Is she okay?” I asked him.

He grimaced. “She’s not dead, if that’s what you mean. But I think we ought to call a doctor,”

“There’s a phone in the house,” I said. “I think we’d better call Dr. Jarvis. He looked after Max, and he knows what’s going on.”

Anna said, “Where’s Miss Johnson? That’s what I want to know.”

“Who’s Miss Johnson?” said Professor Qualt. “Marjorie’s companion,” I told him. “She was here, too. I just hope that-”

Professor Qualt looked at me, and I let the sentence hang.

“Don’t let’s leap to any premature conclusions,” he said. “The first thing we need to do is have this woman looked after.”

We lifted Marjorie carefully into the back of the car, and I turned around and drove slowly back across the lawn toward the front of the house. Oddly, the door through which Marjorie had burst just a few minutes before was now firmly dosed, I climbed out, crunched across the gravel, and pushed it. It was securely locked. I rang the bell and knocked with my fist. There was no reply, Marjorie, sprawled in the back of the car, started moaning.

“I think we’d better take her ourselves,” said Anna. “Come on, Harry. Dr. Jarvis’s place isn’t far.

Miss Johnson may be there, but she isn’t going to answer.”

Reluctantly, I left the porch and went back to the car. I didn’t know what the hell was going on, and I began to feel that I didn’t particularly want to know.

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