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228 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1988
He stopped to appreciate the car in which Christina Mariell sat waiting. It was a model he hadn’t seen in many a year, and only then in magazine features on popular old cars. The Wolseley’s bodywork and wheels appeared to be in immaculate condition and its engine was running smoothly with only a mild escape of exhaust fumes from the rear. The girl leaned across and pushed open the passenger door, her smile the invitation.
Ash shoved the suitcase over onto the backseat and eased himself into the front, keeping the holdall on his lap. ‘Some car,’ he commented. ‘There can’t be many still around of this era.’
She gave no reply but engaged first gear and pulled out into what little traffic there was.
No lights, no glow from within. Edbrook was a vast black bulk that merged with the blackness of night clouds. A breeze stirred through the gardens, ruffling foliage, disturbing trees. In the woods, night creatures hunted, their skirmishes violent but brief. Honey fungus glowed blue-green on decaying tree trunks, beetles scuttled in the undergrowth. The moon was a pale ghost seen only behind slow-moving monoliths.
He whirled around to face whatever it was rushing towards him, but was struck by a powerful force so that he hurtled backwards, the wall catching his legs, sending him toppling.
Stagnant water closed over his head, its grip cold and slimy. Ash struggled in panic as weed tendrils clutched him. He twisted frantically, their grip tightening. Clouds of mud stirred and swelled sluggishly so that the moonlight ceiling above was smeared.
As he fought to free his arm of syrupy fronds he saw, sinking towards him through those eddying clouds, a silhouette, a shape whose arms were outstretched, as if crucified, whose flimsy robe billowed and swayed with the currents, whose black hair spread outwards in Gorgonian tresses.