House of Bones by Graham Masterton

Author:Graham Masterton
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing
Published: 2012-05-25T16:00:00+00:00

12

John snatched Lucy’s sleeve and without a word the two of them hurtled back down towards the front door. But the stairs were so steep that Lucy lost her footing halfway down. She collided into John, and then the two of them tumbled the last six or seven stairs until they landed in a tangle in the hallway.

“Get up!” John screamed, trying to pull Lucy to her feet.

He looked up the stairs and the statue was gliding down towards them, almost as if it were floating a few centimetres above the treads. One of its hands was resting lightly on the handrail, and John would never forget the sound that it made – a hollow, descending hiss, like the softest of slide-whistles.

He managed to haul Lucy up, but immediately she cried out and collapsed again. “My ankle! I’ve twisted my ankle!”

“Hold on to me!” John told her, and wrapped her left arm around his shoulders. Together they staggered to the front door, just as the statue reached the foot of the stairs. Lucy opened the door and they hop-hobbled out on to the pavement and across to Lucy’s car.

“I can’t drive! My ankle hurts too much!”

“Give me the keys, then!”

John opened the car door and lifted Lucy into the passenger seat. He ran around to the driver’s side and threw himself behind the wheel. The statue had almost reached them, and as he started the engine it beat on the roof of the car so loudly that Lucy shrieked and covered her ears.

They drove away from the kerb in a series of wild jerks, and when John changed into second it sounded as if he were tearing the gearbox into small jagged pieces.

“Have you passed your test?” Lucy shouted at him.

“Not yet. I’m going to take it when I’ve had some lessons.”

“What? You’ve never had any lessons?”

He changed quite smoothly into third. “Don’t worry about it. I know how to drive. My dad taught me when we were on holiday.”

The wind whistled in through the shattered windscreen and Lucy looked around at her car. The statue had dented the roof in so deeply that it almost touched their heads. The bonnet looked like a West Indian steel drum and only one of the headlights was intact. “Oh, well,” she said, “I don’t suppose a few more scratches will make any difference.”

John glanced in the rearview mirror. “I think we’ve lost it again.”

“It must have been sent by Mr Vane, if it knows where I live, too.”

“What I want to know is, unless there’s more than one statue, how did it get to your place so fast? And your door was locked. How did it manage to get in?”

Lucy winced as she tried to find a comfortable place to rest her ankle. “I don’t know, John. But it’s not going to stop until it gets us, is it?”

John reached Streatham High Road and stopped. “Where do we go now?” he asked her.

“Uncle Robin’s. He lives on Mitcham Common.”

“Who’s Uncle Robin?”

“My dad’s older brother.

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