Read Online Once by James Herbert - Free Book Online Page A

restricting his view of some of the room, then lifted his head to glance towards the stone fireplace opposite the end of the bed. There was enough moonlight to tell there was no intruder - unless he was hiding, of course. But although he was tense, he could not feel another’s presence, there was no shift in the atmosphere, no sneaking scuffles. There were, however, faint reflections on the part of the ceiling close to one of the stone-framed windows.
    Subtle hints of colour gently moved against the greyness overhead, as if someone outside were playing weak lights through the leaded glass.
    Thom rose from the bed, a slow and awkward movement because of the stiffness in his left arm and leg - it always took a little time for the muscles in both to loosen up, even after only a short nap. He shuffled to the window behind the bed and peered out, his feet cold against the bare floorboards. He blinked rapidly to clear his vision, not quite believing what he saw a short distance away.
    A half-moon waxed in the night sky, providing enough silvery light to see the stretch of grass and scrub directly below, but it was what lay just beyond at the dark edge of the surrounding forest that had drawn his attention …
    Thom pressed closer to the window so that his nose almost touched the glass; his breath misted the thin barrier between himself and the night.
    He quickly cleared the vapour with a wipe of his flattened hand and looked again, this time holding his breath and squinting his eyes.
    It was hard to tell from this distance, but the cores of the dancing lights seemed very small, only the halos around
    them initially making them appear larger than they were. These surely were the same tiny creatures - beings - he had come upon in the woods earlier that afternoon, only now their colours were more intense, sharper, vivid - more beautiful. And there seemed to be many more of them, all weaving and diving in arcs and loops, with no regular pattern, yet without collision, their movement exquisitely synchronized.
    The spectacle - the greens, the blues, the purples, and now the denser colours, the mauves, indigos, the deep blues - was astonishing … and breathtaking. His chest was tight, his lungs frozen sacs, and he had to force himself to exhale, the glass before him immediately clouding once more. Again he rubbed at the window with the palm of his hand and the tiny gemstone lights reappeared, dancing among the shadows, some now flitting crazily, while others hovered, their light strong but flickering, as though it was movement that gave them puissance, their energy generating the luminescence.
    Thom was unaware that he was smiling in the shadowy room, his face lit both by moonlight and the auroral ballet below, colour tinges fluttering across his whitened skin in faint playful shades, only the reflections in his eyes sharp and stunning.
    Occasionally, he breathed a sigh or murmured a sound of wonder as if observing some splendid but silent pyrotechnic display, and soon he lost all sense of time itself. And next morning, he neither recalled dawn’s arrival, nor leaving the window to climb back into bed.

NELL QUICK
    SOMETHING BANGED against the front door below. Then the iron bell-pull grated rustily and he heard the dull, wasted clunk of the long-neglected bell itself.
    Thom had awakened only moments earlier, sunlight pouring through the bedroom’s windows, dust motes dancing in the brilliant shafts. He had lain there pondering the lights, his face creased in puzzlement, bedsheet pushed down to his waist, not even the numbness tormenting the left side of his body distracting the thoughts. Twice he had seen them, these tiny glittering orbs, and he could only wonder at their source. If he hadn’t come across them in broad daylight, he might well have thought he’d only dreamed them last night.
    Another bang against the front door, someone using the old brass knocker this time and, momentarily forgetting his condition, Thom attempted to