Winds of terror by Patricia Hagan Read Free Book Online Page A

said, "111 be glad to drive you into town, Melanie, any time you say."
    She decided to give the downstairs as thorough a cleaning as possible before lunch. There was an old vacuum cleaner in a storage closet, and she dragged it out into the parlor. It took over an hour of pushing the old cleaner about to cover the large room, but she got rid of most of the dust. Then she waxed the furniture and washed the windows from the inside.
    "Nice job!" Melanie whirled around to see Cale gliding into the parlor. "You've done the work of an army this morning."
    She glanced at the big grandfather clock in the comer, gasping as she realized it was almost twelve o'clock. She had been working so fast and furiously that she'd lost all track of time. Cale wheeled his chair alongside as she hurried into the kitchen to prepare her aunt's lunch. She opened a can of soup, and while it was heating, she began making sandwiches.
    "You had quite an initiation into this weird old house last night, didn't you?" Cale said, at last.
    She nodded. "I did get frightened, and I hate myself for being so childish. I don't believe in ghosts. Addie had a nightmare."
    "Sure she did," he agreed. 'The best place for her is in a rest home."
    Melanie stared at him. She was suprised at Cale. Was everybody against her aunt? "All she needs is peace and quiet," she said coolly.
    "Which she'll never get here."
    Melanie ignored him and fixed her aunt's tray, then took it up to her room. When she returned, Cale was gone, but she saw that he'd prepared sandwiches for himself and taken them with him. He was a strange one, she decided, always keeping to himself in his room. Perhaps his being crippled had pushed him to the point that he preferred to be alone.
    Mark came into the kitchen, a smile on his face, "ril be glad to drive you into town any time you say, cousin,'* he announced. He seemed unusually happy, all traces of

    the sour disposition he'd shown the day before now gone. Melanie hurried upstairs to make sure her aunt was all right, and then left for town to pick up her beloved pet.
    Butch shook with delight as Melanie tickled him through the wires of his traveling cage. Mark lifted the cage and set it on the back seat of the car.
    "Maybe he'll bring a little life to the old morgue,** he commented, and Melanie nodded, eager to get Butch home and turn him out to romp and run. He'd been shut up in the cage for over two days.
    As soon as Mark pulled the car into the driveway, Melanie got out and opened the cage. Butch jumped happily and began running in circles, barking and leaping into the air.
    Mark disappeared inside the house, and Melanie walked across the lawn, smiling as she watched Butch romp. It waa a beautiful day, and she looked upwards at the clear blue sky and at the magnolias swaying rhythmically in the cool breeze.
    She didn't have to be afraid of ghosts anymore with Butch around; not that she was ever really afraid . . . But, still, Butch was a great watchdog, and the old house would not be frightening to her any longer.
    Suddenly, something caught her eye. She looked sharply to the second story of the house—to the room just to the right of the old playroom. A curiam had moved ever so sUghtly. Why did this make her skin prickle with fear? It could be Cale—but no, his room was to the rear of the house. Then it dawned on her . . . The curtain had moved in the window of Uncle Bartley's—the room that had been sealed for almost fifteen years!
    She shook her head, chiding herself silently. She was being silly; it was only the sun dancing on the window-pane. The door was sealed. No one could be in there. Aunt Addie would not allow it.
    Butch came racing across the lawn to jump at her, and he almost caught her oflf guard. He seemed to laugh at her as he went prancing off once again, his little corkscrew tail wriggling saucily as he ran.
    "That's quite a bundle of energy you've got there."
    Melanie turned to see Cale rolling himself across the lawn. He could