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thing. Take my Bentley. He threw the keys to Shadoe, and they climbed in.
As a blur of headlights whizzed by them, Garret sat in the back and watched the two people
that he knew were still attracted to each other.  I m watching you, his steely voice said to Shadoe,  so
keep your goddamned eyes on the road.
Shadoe was oblivious of the fact that a gun was being pointed toward him, and that the only
thing between him and sure death was the plush seat & and Garret s itchy trigger finger.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The wild wind roared and shrieked, crashing the savage waves against the bones, then bled
back into the ocean. The wind was the breath of the gods, playing through the chanter marks. It played
to the sea, and the sea applauded with large fists of crashing foam, spewing as high as the ridge where
the spray fell away and scattered over the rocky terrain.
The giant would walk tonight.
In the distance the old mansion stood. The sign with the elegant swirl stood swaying in the
wind, one leg almost completely broken in two, while the other creaked eerily in the wind. The inn was
haunting and dark, no inviting golden glow spilling out onto a perfectly combed lawn. No guests
walking along the paths that led to gardens and ponds, and no lovers sitting at the kissing fountain.
Now the dark rooms were filled with furniture that had a heavy covering of dust, cobwebs that tangled
around the dead leaves of the plants, and a collection of ghosts that refused to leave.
Stepping away from the shelter of a massive magnolia tree, a dark silhouette began to walk
toward the ruins that was once Scarlet Bay Inn. It was her world she was looking at, and no one had a
right to take it from her. It was waiting for her. She watched the mansion slowly advance as she walked
closer and closer, her bare feet muddy from running through wet grass and puddles. From the moment
she had sneaked out of her room and ran barefoot and almost naked through the cold halls of the
asylum, she had crawled and scratched her way here. Thrashing through brush, running through
grotesque trees that reached up like hands to the cloudy sky, climbing muddy hills, sliding down steep
inclines, and hitching when she could. Black clouds roiled behind the mansion. Rain would be coming
soon. She must get in before it began.
She took a single key from her pocket and turned it in the lock. The door creaked as she
opened it, the inside black as a cave. She reached to the side and flipped on a switch. Lights from the
twin posts that stood on each side of the first step of the staircase burned brightly, but as her eyes
followed the steps, the leaning shadows that gathered at the top looked mysterious and dark.
Deep into the night, after she had fallen asleep, she heard a sound, scuffling feet, murmuring
voices. She looked up at the ventilator, knowing it was carrying the sound. Someone was here, she
thought, trying not to panic. But who could it be? Oh, God, she thought, they d come for her. They
discovered her missing, and knew she d come back to the inn. She ran to a window, seeing a car. It was
shiny, elegant, the metallic silver color glittering like tiny stars in the heavens. It seemed large to her,
the pale color the same as the asylum van. It was them. The burly orderlies who pushed her around,
some pushing their ugly faces into hers, enjoying the thrill of terrorizing her. Surely they hadn t found
her here.
They ll be coming up, she thought, looking around. She had to hide, but where? She thought
of the basement, and cringed. She had to go somewhere. She d kill herself before she d go back to that
mad house!
 She crept out of the room and made her way down the back stairway, and out the back door.
Once outside she ran. Would the outside door to the basement be open? It had to be!
But it wasn t.
She rattled it, pushed, pounded, but it wouldn t open. She looked around. She was trapped.
She could get to the basement by the other door, but it was in the foyer and they d be there by now. She
looked around, out toward the choppy sea. The only other place she could go was to one of the caves,
but they were on the other side of the bones. It would mean climbing, getting drenched by the surf ...
still there was nothing else she could do. She turned and began to run, her thin garment whipping
around her legs. When she reached the jungle of bones, she hesitated, looking at the gigantic freak of
nature, then entered hesitantly.
It was flat at first, the sand deep as she picked her way around the giant skull, thinking of the
legend that said the bones were those of a mighty warrior of the past, and that this portion of beach was
his grave. She looked up at the moon that was almost completely round and stepped through the
shadows the bones cast in the spectral light. She believed none of it, but had heard that the gods of the
sun, moon, and wind mourned his death. On the nights of the full moon, its silvery rays spotlighted the
giant, causing the sea to turn and pound upon the rocks. Then the wind savagely blew the breath of life
back into the giant. When the eerie sound of the chanter marks would begin to play, the surf that was
his heartbeat, would pound harder and harder until the bones began to move. Slowly and laboriously at
first, clattering together as he walked the beach.
Stupid legend, she muttered as she climbed, doing battle with the waves that crashed against
the rocks until she came out on the other side. Sure the wind whipped, and the surf pounded, but it only
meant a storm was heading in from sea. It certainly didn t mean that a clattering giant would be
walking the beach.
Seeing the first cave, thoughts of the legend left her and she ran in, thankful for the shelter. It
seemed dry enough, but it was cold. She cursed, knowing if she had to stay out here any length of time
she d have to somehow sneak back in and steal some matches, candles, and anything else she might
need to make this cave habitable. She thought of the bones and how hard it was to get past them. They [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]