Spirit Lost Read Free Page B

Willy, and her smile faded. “Something’s going to happen tonight, Willy,” she said.
    “What?” Willy asked, startled.
    “Nothing bad —I don’t think,” Anne said. One of her guests was approaching her with open arms, wanting to give her a big hug of thanks for the delicious meal. Anne looked back at Willy. “Just be prepared,” she said. “I think it’s okay.” And then, to the man who was hugging her, “Oh, Scott, I’m so glad you enjoyed it.”
    Willy moved around the room slowly, puzzled. John came up behind her and put his arms around her. Willy was a tall woman, and John, short for a man, could just nestle his chin into her shoulder.
    “Having a good time?” he asked.
    “Lovely,” Willy said. “John—” she began, wanting to tell him what Anne had said, but she was interrupted.
    All the lights in the house went out at once. It was as shocking as being slapped with cold water. The receptionist shrieked once, and one man rumbled, “What’s going on!” It was a few seconds before everyone’s eyes could adjust to the dim and flickering light thrown off from the fireplace and jack-o’-lanterns.
    Harrison Adder’s distinct voice rang out: “Looks like you’ve lost your electricity, Mark. Where’s your fuse box?”
    Mark said, “In the basement. John, come help me, will you?”
    John suspected a setup immediately, since his friend was clear across the room. But he cheerfully left his wife’s side and went out to the hall with Mark, intending tofollow him down the hall to the door to the basement.
    Instead, he stopped in his tracks, startled, for an instant half-afraid. Coming down the dark hall toward him was a glowing ghostly head that bobbed a good ten feet above the floor, nearly hitting the ceiling of the old Victorian house. The air was filled with strange whirring sounds interrupted now and then by low, malicious, gleeful laughter. The thing that approached him had glowing green eyes and a glowing, wavering green mouth.
    The party had come to the wide double doorway that led into the hall, and now someone from that group screamed.
    “Jesus!” Donald Hood shouted. “What the fuck’s that thing?”
    A high, spooky “whoooooo” filled the air. Here and there in the party nervous laughs broke out. The firelight from the living room could not illuminate the dark hall, and while everyone knew this had to be a trick, the effect was still eerie.
    “Whoooooo,” the thing said again, its voice mournful. Then, “John Constable,” it said, drawing each syllable out like a howl. “John Con-sta-ble—”
    The tall glowing thing had halted by the door under the staircase at the back of the hall. It was far enough away that John could not yet make out exactly what it was. He knew it was a joke of some kind, but he was uneasy, unsure what was expected of him.
    “John Constable, I want you,” the thing said.
    “John,” Willy said, and pushed through to his side. She put her hand on his arm.
    Always a good sport, John laughed, although there was more than a little of the boy whistling in the dark in his bravery. “I’m John Constable,” he said. “What do you want?”
    “Follow me,” the ghostlike creature said, and turned.
    John could just make out, through the darkness, the wavering dark length with the glowing head retreating down the hallway. Nervously, John followed. It helped to know that Willy was right behind him, and right behind her, he sensed the rest of the party coming along. Everyone was so quiet; that scared him, too. There was no laughter; there were no catcalls or dares yelled out. Just the rustling noises of so many people coming behind him in the dark.
    The ghost, or whatever it was, turned the corner, disappearing through a door into what John knew to be Mark’s study.
    Everything had been changed here. Mark’s desk had been pushed into a corner,and the large oak-paneled room was filled now with folding chairs. Tall candles sitting on the fireplace mantel and