Free The manitou by Graham Masterton Page B

the pouring snake of
air in front of us had a luminescence all its own.
    Underneath it,
the actual wooden surface of the table began to rise in a lump. I bit my tongue
until the sharp taste of blood flowed into my mouth. I was petrified with fear,
but I couldn’t turn away, couldn’t refuse to look. The power of the circle held
us all too strongly, and we could only sit there and stare at this terrifying
spectacle in front of us.
    The black shiny
wood in the middle of the table formed into a human face, a man’s face, with
its eyes closed like a death mask.
    “God,” said
MacArthur, “what is it?”
    “Quiet,”
whispered Amelia. I could see her white, intense expression by the unnatural
light of the air. “Leave this to me.”
    Amelia leaned
forward toward the frozen wooden face.
    “Who are you?”
she asked, almost cajolingly. “What do you want with Karen Tandy?”
    The face
remained still. It was a fierce, deeply lined face, the face of a powerful man
in his late thirties, with a distinctively hooked nose, and wide full lips.
    “What do you
want?” asked Amelia again. “What is it you’re looking for?”
    I could have
been mistaken, but I thought I saw the black wooden lips move into a quiet and
self-satisfied smile. The face stayed like that for a moment, and then the wood
seemed to flow and bend, and the features melted away, and soon there was
nothing there but the flat polished table.
    The weird light
faded, and we were back in darkness.
    “Harry,” said
Amelia. “For God’s sake put the lights on.”
    I let go of
MacArthur’s hand, and Mrs. Karmann’s hand, and stood up. At that second, there
was a shattering crack, and a brilliant white flash of light, and the windows
smashed with a bomb-like explosion that sent glass spraying everywhere. The
drapes flapped and billowed in the icy wind from the snowy night outside, and
Mrs. Karmann screamed in terror.
    I went to the
lights and snapped them on. Everything in the dining room had been thrown
around, as if a hurricane had come howling through. There were glasses and
decanters on the floor, paintings were hanging askew, chairs were knocked over. The cherrywood dining table had split from one side to the
other.
    MacArthur stood
up and came crunching across the carpet through the litter of glass. “I’ve had
enough, man. From now on, it’s social security plates
for me, and nothing else.”
    “Harry,” called
Amelia. “Help me get Mrs. Karmann through to the living room.”
    Together we
carried the old lady into the next room and laid her down on the settee. She
was white and shivering, but she didn’t seem to be hurt. I went over to the
cocktail cabinet and poured her a large glass of brandy, and Amelia held it for
her to sip.
    “Is it all
over?” she whimpered. “What happened?”
    “I’m afraid
there’s a bit of damage, Mrs. Karmann,” I told her. “The windows broke, and
some of your glassware is smashed. I’m afraid the table’s cracked too. But it’s
a clean split. Maybe you can get it repaired.”
    “But what was
it?” she said. “That face!”
    Amelia shook
her head. MacArthur had found some cigarettes in a silver box, and he handed
her one. She lit it with trembling hands, and blew the smoke out in a long
unsteady stream.
    “I don’t know,
Mrs. Karmann. I’m not that expert as a medium. But whatever it was, it was very
powerful. Usually, a spirit has to do what you tell it to do. This one was just
showing us that it didn’t give a damn what we thought of it.”
    “But Amelia,” I
said. “Is that the thing that’s been giving Karen Tandy all those nightmares?”
    She nodded. “I
think so. I mean, it’s so strong that it must be causing some kind of
vibrations in this apartment. And I expect that’s what Karen picked up in her
dreams. When you’re asleep, you’re very receptive to vibrations, even weak
ones, and these are much more powerful than any I’ve ever come across. There’s
something here that’s