Читать книгу The Dream Weavers онлайн | страница 13

‘Are you the ghost hunter?’ Ken Hutton had wrenched his arm out of the clutches of the woman at his side and ran down the steps. ‘Thank the lord you’re here! Go in. Quickly. It’s happening now!’

Bea had a routine. Protect herself; surround herself with light. Stay very calm. A quick prayer. Do not show fear. Never show fear. Project unthreatening love and reassurance.

‘It’s started throwing things.’ Daisy Hutton had been visibly shaking. ‘I wish we’d never come to this wretched place!’

‘We should have known there was a reason the rent was so low,’ Ken had muttered. ‘We’re leaving, I’ll tell you that much. We’re leaving as soon as we can, and we’ll want our deposit back!’

‘I’m not going back in.’ Daisy was genuinely traumatised.

‘Nor me.’ Ken had shaken his head violently. ‘You go in. First door on your left down the hall. In the library. God help you! We’ll be in the garden when you’ve finished.’

For a moment Bea stared after them before turning back towards the house. She had never felt more alone.

‘Christ be with me, Christ within me.’ She had repeated the age-old words of the breastplate of St Patrick as she headed towards the front door. The safety net, the all-encompassing, wraparound armour of the prayer, would keep her safe; surround her with light.

The hall was shadowy, with oak floors and panelled walls. Old blistered paintings hung on the walls, and there was a worn Persian rug on the floor. The house had smelt damp, she remembered vividly, and cold, and yes, there was an atmosphere of evil so intense it seemed to drip from the beams. Grasping her pocket-sized Bible and her small carved wooden cross, picturing herself as safe and strong in her protective shield, she took a deep breath and opened the door of the library.

Something huge and black flew at her head. It landed at her feet with a crash and she saw it was a book, its pages torn and splayed. Within seconds several other books were hurtling round the room, a chair toppled over in front of her, a candlestick rolled across the table, the room was filled with a sound like the roaring of the wind and she felt a powerful thrust between her shoulder blades. It sent her reeling.