Demon's Door by Graham Masterton Page B

blurry and indistinct, like somebody talking in their sleep.
    â€˜I’m sorry,’ said Jim. ‘I don’t understand you. What language is that?’
    Again, the woman didn’t reply. Underneath her veil, her face appeared to alter, again and again, but it could have been nothing but the smoky chiffon, stirring in the wind.
    â€˜Were you here, inside my kitchen?’ he repeated. ‘What were you looking for? What did you want?’ He paused. ‘Were you looking for me ?’
    Without a word, the woman pushed past him and into the open door of his apartment. Her silk robe slid against his hands and it was slippery and cold. ‘ Hey! ’ he protested. He took a step back and almost lost his balance. He lifted his cane, but what was he going to do, hit her with it? She slithered along the corridor until she reached his bedroom.
    â€˜Excuse me, ma’am, but where exactly do you think you’re going?’ Jim asked her. ‘You really need to get out of here, now. Like, exit, stage right.’
    She stood staring at him, as if she expected him to follow her. Then, without any further hesitation, she disappeared into his bedroom door.
    Jim went after her. When he reached his bedroom, he saw that she was standing on the opposite side of his bed, waiting for him.
    â€˜I don’t know what the hell you think you’re doing here,’ he told her. ‘I don’t have anything worth stealing, so far as I can make out.’
    The woman drew her left arm out of her right sleeve and pointed stiffly to the bed. She was wearing gray leather gloves, but instead of having five separate fingers they were divided only in two, and each half was very long, more than two inches longer than a normal finger.
    â€˜You want sex ?’ Jim asked her. ‘I’m a little too decrepit for that, I’m afraid. Besides, I hardly know you.’
    The woman continued to point at the bed with her gray cleft glove. Then she raised her right glove, and pointed at Jim.
    â€˜You want me to lie down on the bed? Is that it?’
    Still the woman didn’t speak, but she kept on rigidly pointing with both arms, as if she were sending a semaphore signal.
    â€˜I think I’m going to call the police,’ Jim told her. ‘It seems to me like you’ve managed to escape from someplace that you seriously need to go back to.’
    He went across to the nightstand and picked up the phone. Right next to it, there was a glass tumbler with a dental bridge soaking in it. Until now, Jim hadn’t realized that he had three molars missing at the back of his lower jaw.
    He held up the receiver and said, ‘This is your last chance, OK? If you leave here nice and quiet, I’ll forget that you ever pushed your way in here. Otherwise, I’m sorry, it’s the cops.’
    He waited, but the woman stayed where she was, still pointing.
    â€˜I’m real sorry that I have to do this,’ he said. ‘It’s not like I want to get you into any trouble. But you don’t leave me any choice, do you?’
    He prodded 911, but the instant he did it, the woman let out a screech that sounded like a hundred animals having their legs torn off – agonized, but hoarse with rage. It was so unexpected and so deafening that Jim staggered backward against the nightstand, and the bedside lamp toppled on to the floor.
    The woman’s screeching went on and on, relentlessly, and she didn’t pause once to take a breath. As she screeched, she started to grow, both in height and in bulk. Underneath her veil, her face changed in shape, becoming narrower and longer and more pointed, like a fox, and behind the chiffon her eyes gleamed a septic yellow. Her black hat toppled backward, her veil fell away, and her gray silk robe burst open. Her gloves exploded to reveal four long claws on each of her hands. Now Jim could see that she wasn’t a woman at all, but a huge black-haired creature