The River of Night's Dreaming by Karl Edward Wagner Read Free Book Online Page B

and looked down upon the black waters of the lake and saw the cloud waves breaking upon the base of the cliff, and when she turned away from that vision her eyes knew what they beheld and her smile was that of a lamia.
    Wraith-like she drifted through the dark house, passing along the silent rooms and hallways and stairs, and when she reached the kitchen she found what she knew was the key to unlock the dark mystery that bound her here. She closed her hand upon it, and her fingers remembered its feel.
    *****
    Camilla's face was tight with sudden fear as she awakened at the clasp of fingers closed upon her lips, but she made no struggle as she stared at the carving knife that almost touched her eyes.
    "What happened to Constance?" The fingers relaxed to let her whisper, but the knife did not waver.
    "She had a secret lover. One night she crept through the sitting room window and ran away with him. Mrs Castaigne showed her no mercy."
    "Sleep now," she told Camilla, and kissed her tenderly as she freed her with a swift motion that her hand remembered.
    *****
    In the darkness of Mrs Castaigne's room she paused beside the motionless figure on the bed.
    "Mother?"
    "Yes, Constance?"
    "I've come home."
    "You're dead."
    "I remembered the way back."
    And she showed her the key and opened the way.
    *****
    It only remained for her to go. She could no longer find shelter in this house. She must leave as she had entered.
    She left the knife. That key had served its purpose. Through the hallways she returned, in the darkness her bare feet sometimes treading upon rich carpets, sometimes dust and fallen plaster. Her naked flesh tingled with the blood that had freed her soul.
    She reached the sitting room and looked upon the storm that lashed the night beyond. For one gleam of lightning the room seemed festooned with torn wallpaper; empty wine bottles littered the floor and dingy furnishings. The flickering mirage passed, and she saw that the room was exactly as she remembered. She must leave by the window.
    There was a tapping at the window.
    She started, then recoiled in horror as another repressed memory escaped into consciousness.
    The figure that had pursued her through the darkness on that night she had sought refuge here. It waited for her now at the window. Half-glimpsed before, she saw it now fully revealed in the glare of the lightning.
    Moisture glistened darkly upon its rippling and exaggerated musculature. Its uncouth head and shoulders hunched forward bullishly; its face was distorted with insensate lust and drooling madness. A grotesque phallus swung between its misshapen legs—serpentine, possessed of its own life and volition. Like an obscene worm, it stretched blindly toward her, blood oozing from its toothless maw.
    She raised her hands to ward it off, and the monstrosity pawed at the window, mocking her every terrified movement as it waited there on the other side of the rain-slick glass.
    The horror was beyond enduring. There was another casement window to the corner sitting room, the one that overlooked the waters of the river. She spun about and lunged toward it—noticing from the corner of her eye that the creature outside also whirled about, sensing her intent, flung itself toward the far window to forestall her.
    The glass of the casement shattered, even as its blubbery hands stretched out toward her. There was no pain in that release, only a dream-like vertigo as she plunged into the grayness and the rain. Then the water and the darkness received her falling body, and she set out again into the night, letting the current carry her, she knew not where.
    *****
    "A few personal effects remain to be officially disposed of, Dr Archer—since there's no one to claim them. It's been long enough now since the bus accident, and we'd like to be able to close the files on this catastrophe."
    "Let's have a look." The psychiatrist opened the box of personal belongings. There wasn't much; there never was in such cases, and had