Ritual by Graham Masterton Read Free Book Online Page B

know,’
said Charlie. ‘This reminds me of something. Deja vu, I guess.’
    He drove around
the green until they reached Naugatuck Avenue. This was one of the oldest
streets in Alien’s Corners, running directly west to east away from the green.
At one time, before the main road had been laid at the lower end of the green,
Naugatuck Avenue had been a main highway through to Hartford. English redcoats
had marched drumming along here, while the people of Alien’s Corners had
watched them from their upstairs windows.
    Mrs Kemp’s
boarding house stood at the corner of Naugatuck and Beech; a gaunt saltbox house
with flaking weatherboard and windows blinded by grubby lace curtains. It was
fronted by a paling fence, half of which was sagging sideways, and a small
brick yard in which a single maple grew. Charlie drew up outside it, and eased
himself out of the car. ‘Are you coming?’ he asked Martin.
    ‘Are you sure
it’s open?’ Martin frowned. ‘It looks derelict to me.’
    ‘It could use a
lick of paint,’ Charlie admitted. He opened the wooden gate and walked up the
path. ‘The last time I was here, the place was immaculate. I gave it a Gold
Feather for comfort.
    Maybe Mrs Kemp
has closed up shop.’
    Martin followed
Charlie cautiously up to the front door. There were two stained-glass panels in
it, one of them badly cracked as if the door had been slammed during a violent argument.
In the centre of the door hung a weathered bronze knocker cast in the shape of
a snarling animal – something between a wolf and a demon. Charlie nodded
towards the knocker and said, ‘That’s new. Welcoming, isn’t it?’
    Martin looked
up at the loose tiles that had slipped down the porch in a straggling
avalanche.
    ‘This can’t be
open. And I wouldn’t want to stay here, even if it is.’
    ‘There’s no
place else, not in Alien’s Corners, anyway.’
    Charlie picked
up the knocker. It was extraordinarily stiff and heavy, and he didn’t much like
the way the wolf-demon was snarling into the palm of his hand. He couldn’t
think why, but the knocker seemed familiar. He could vaguely remember reading
about a wolf-like knocker in a book, but he couldn’t remember what book, or
when.
    He banged it,
and heard it echo flatly inside the house. He waited, chafing his hands,
smiling at Martin from time to time. A stiff breeze had arisen with the setting
of the sun, and Charlie felt unnaturally cold.
    ‘Nobody here,’
said Martin, standing with his hands in his pockets, ‘Looks like we’ll have to
go on to Hartford after all.’
    They were just
about to turn away when they heard somebody coughing inside the house. Charlie
banged the knocker again, and after a while footsteps came along the hallway.
    Through the
stained-glass windows a small pale figure appeared, standing close behind the
door.
    After a
moment’s pause, the figure reached up and drew back two bolts, and opened up
the door on the safety-chain. A woman’s face appeared, white
and unhealthy-looking, with dark smudges of exhaustion around her eyes. Her hair was untidily clipped with plastic barettes, and she was wearing a
soiled blue quilted housecoat. From inside the house there came the vinegary
odour of stale air and cooking.
    ‘Mrs Kemp?’
asked Charlie.
    ‘What do you
want?’ the woman demanded.
    ‘It says in the
guidebook that this is a boarding house.’
    Mrs Kemp stared
at him. ‘Used to be,’ she told him.
    ‘I see. You’ve
given it up.’
    ‘It gave itself
up. I tried to keep open but nobody wanted to come here any more.’
    ‘Is there
anyplace else to stay the night?’
    ‘There’s the
Wayside Motel outside of Bristol, on the Pequa-buck road.’
    ‘Nowhere in Alien’s Corners?”
    Mrs Kemp shook
her head.
    ‘Well,’ said
Charlie, ‘I guess that fixes it. I might as well introduce myself. My name’s
Charles McLean, I’m a restaurant inspector for MAR I A. I guess I can take your
boarding house out of the book.’
    Mrs Kemp’s