Читаем The Ribbajack полностью

Whoever it was must be almost close to reaching the passage where she stood. Telling herself that she could run down to the lecture hall and lock herself in, Maggie summoned up all her courage and peeped around the corner. There was nobody in sight—the corridor was empty. Peering down into the gloom, she could make out a small movement. Then something occurred to her. Shoving out her arm, she waved, and dimly made out the other arm waving back at her.

It was the big mirror on the end wall by the library.

Maggie stepped out into the corridor and laughed. Fancy almost frightening yourself to death in an empty building because of a shadow of some twigs and a wall mirror. It was ridiculous. Boldly she strode down to the library, even taking time to stop in front of the mirror and make faces at herself. Opening the library door, she walked in, the door swishing close behind her. Maggie shrugged. All the doors in the school did that, due to some type of hydraulic device built over them.

At least there was some daylight in here; one wall had large windows facing out onto the lawn and the road beyond. Between that there was a big old sycamore tree with a bench built around its base, where the students sat in the warm weather to read their books. The windows had only single glazing. Maggie rubbed her hands together. It was quite chilly in the room.

Even in the twilight she could see her coat, draped carelessly over the arm of a chair in the far corner. Stupid coat, she hated the thing more than ever. Sensible, warm and totally out of fashion. She should have put her foot down flatly in the shop and refused to wear it. But as usual, her mother had won the argument. Maggie sniffed the still air. What was that smell?

Flowers, maybe, it smelt like flowers. Roses, but not freshly picked. It was not a pleasant odour—musty, cloyingly sweet. A picture of a cemetery vase filled with long-dead roses came to mind.

Trying to ignore the noxious smell, Maggie made her way across to the coat, avoiding a stepladder with a pile of old books resting on its top step. The smell increased until it filled the air with its thick repugnance. She grabbed the coat and muffled her mouth and nostrils with it. Maggie stood facing the corner, feeling rather light-headed. It was like being trapped in a dream, wanting to run from the room but unable to arouse her torpid limbs into movement.

The knowledge that she was not alone in the library stole gradually over her senses. Someone was standing in the darkening room, close behind her. Panicked thoughts jumbled about in Maggie’s mind. Whether she liked it or not, she could not stand endlessly there, staring at the wall and the bookshelves. To get out of the library, she would have to turn and confront the nameless person who was standing within touching distance of her back. She bit hard on her lower lip, forcing her feet, legs, her body and head to turn in small, jerky movements. Terror rose in her throat like bile, causing her to taste the dreadful smell which permeated the entire room.

Maggie was not sure at first whether the girl she was staring at was a living being or an apparition. She was about Maggie’s age, clad from neck to ankle in a long embroidered dress of fawn muslin. Her hair was a cloud of wispy blonde ringlets reaching almost to her waist. The strange girl wore gloves of white silk, elbow length. She held a single-stemmed rose, the colour of dark blood, in her left hand. Maggie took in all of this in one fascinated glance. But it was the girl’s face which frightened her. The skin shone like a porcelain doll in a museum, ivory hued and alabaster smooth. Her eyes, intensely blue, stared unblinkingly at Maggie, who was riveted to the spot, like a bird mesmerised by a snake. An awful realisation numbed Maggie’s brain. The girl was blocking her way to the door—she had her cornered.

The girl seemed to read her thoughts. She smiled at Maggie. Her thin lips opened, revealing decayed, irregular teeth. Then her mouth creased in a wide grin as the bright blue eyes glittered insanely. It was a smile of pure evil. Her right hand rose in a gesture beckoning Maggie toward her. The girl’s chilling smile, and the overpowering scent exuding from her mouth, enveloped Maggie. She felt herself going faint, the blood in her veins turning to ice water, which broke out in a cold sweat through her skin. Fear gripped Maggie’s heart in its horrific claws, then, like a dam bursting, a wild, terrified scream issued from her.

“Eeeeeyaaaargh!”