Read Online Dark on the Other Side by Barbara Michaels - Free Book Online Page A

still seem limp and helpless. She let go completely,
clinging to him with both hands, her body against his.
    There was a moment of resistance. He knew quite well what
she was doing. Then it happened, as she had known it would. That the
response was purely mechanical, a reflex that his mind rejected and
resented, she did not care.
    But as his arms tightened and his head bent, seeking her
mouth, a strange thing happened. It was the first time for many months
that a man had touched her in this way, and she had expected her body
to respond with starved alacrity, all the more so because he was a man
to whom she might have been attracted, normally, under normal
circumstances. How abnormal these circumstances were she did not
realize until she felt her head twist, avoiding the kiss she had
invited, and sensed the pressure of her hands against his chest. His
arms loosened; he could hardly escape feeling the mindless revulsion
that filled her. And then, over the curve of his arm, she saw the
eerily lighted window and the thing that stood outside, on the lawn,
staring in at her.
    Only once before had she seen it so distinctly. It stood
quite still. Still as a statue, still as a figure painted by a child or
a primitive artist—an outline sketched by a sharp pen and filled in,
solidly, with black ink. Yet the individual hairs, bristling along the
curve of the back, were distinct; so was the heavy, predatory muzzle
and the thrust of the head. The only lights in the whole mass were the
eyes—red, luminous, glowing like coals.
    From a great distance Linda heard Michael’s voice
repeating her name. She wasn’t pretending now, and he knew it. But his
voice was lost in the shrieking cacophony of the other voices, the
voices that had haunted her for months, risen now to a whirl of mocking
laughter: We told you, we told you. Now it’s too late. Too
late, too late, too late …
    Then all the voices faded into blackness and silence.

Chapter
4
    A SHARP, STINGING SCENT PIERCED
LINDA’S LUNGS. she struggled, choking. Her face was all
wet; cheeks and hands stung as if they had been slapped. Opening
reluctant eyes, she saw a face near hers. It was not one of the faces
she expected to see, and for a moment it was as unfamiliar as a total
stranger’s. A round, florid man’s face, with horn-rimmed glasses and
thick, iron-gray hair…Gold. Doctor Gold. Linda’s eyes closed again.
    “I’m all right,” she muttered, as the doctor waved the
horrible-smelling thing under her nose again. “Don’t…”
    “Sure you’re all right,” he agreed smoothly. “Just
fainted. Take it easy for a minute.”
    He patted her shoulder mechanically and stood up. Gordon
must have dragged him away from a quiet evening at home; he was
tieless, and pepper-and-salt stubble darkened his heavy jowls. As he
moved away from her, Linda saw Andrea at the foot of the couch on which
she was lying. The old woman was bent like a priest bowing before the
Host; her hands wove patterns in the air and she crooned under her
breath. A wave of feeble dislike swept Linda. How could she have had
such faith in the old witch? Not that Andrea didn’t—know things. But
she hadn’t been much help so far. Her behavior tonight had been
maddeningly wrong, evoking hostility instead of sympathy. What on earth
did she think she was doing now—summoning her friend’s wandering spirit
back into her body?
    Her ritual completed, Andrea caught Linda’s eye. She
leaned forward over the foot of the couch.
    “What was it?” she hissed.
    Linda shook her head. Stupid, stupid…she couldn’t talk
about it here, Andrea knew that. But sooner or later she would have to
tell Andrea about the latest appearance. Whom else could she talk to?
No one else would believe her. Andrea only believed because she was
half crazy herself.
    Her eyes pulled away from the avid demand in the older
woman’s gaze. Michael was nowhere in sight; probably he had effaced
himself, as any proper visitor would when the