Ghost Music by Graham Masterton Page B

then another one. It sounded like children, both running in the same direction, from the bedrooms toward the hallway.
    â€œKate?” I whispered, and shook her shoulder.
“Kate!”
    But Kate continued to breathe deeply and steadily and didn’t stir. I reached out toward my nightstand, trying to locate my wristwatch, but I knocked over my glass of water and I heard it pouring onto the carpet.
    More running, and then bumping noises, too, as if the children were colliding with the sides of the corridor.
    â€œKate!”
I said, and shook her again.
    She stirred, and said, “
Wha . . . ?
What is it?”
    â€œListen! It sounds like the girls are running all around the apartment!”
    â€œWhat?”
    I found the lamp beside my bed and switched it on. My wristwatch said it was 3:11 AM . Kate was blinking at me as if she had never seen me before in her life.
    â€œWhat’s happening?” she said.
    â€œIt’s the girls. They keep running up and down.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œListen—there they go again. And they’re bumping into the walls, too!”
    I started to get out of bed but Kate took hold of my arm. “Gideon—leave them. Whatever they’re doing, it’s no concern of ours.”
    â€œCome on—what if something’s wrong? Supposing there’s a fire or something?”
    â€œThere isn’t a fire. You don’t smell smoke, do you?”
    â€œSo what are they doing? Sleepwalking? Or sleep
sprinting
, more like.”
    We heard bare feet rushing up the corridor yet again, and this time one of the runners banged right into our door. There was a wail of pain, and then a high voice shrilled out,
“Inte röra jag! Låta jag gå!”
    This was followed by more running and more bumping.
    I swung off the bed and went across the room to the door. “Gideon—” said Kate, reached out her hand toward me, but then she lowered it again, as if she were accepting that I was going to take a look outside, no matter what. Which I was.
    I opened the door. The corridor itself was in darkness, but the hallway at the far end of it was illuminated by cold white moonlight, shining in through the window that overlooked the harbor. There must have been clouds passing across the moon, and passing quite quickly, because the light faded and brightenedevery few seconds. One second brilliant and blurry, the next second nothing but shadows.
    Standing in the hallway in a white nightdress, her arms outspread, was Elsa. Her hair was no longer braided, but waving loose. I thought at first that the window was open, because her hair kept rippling, as if the wind were blowing it. One moment I could see her staring at me, and the next her face was completely obscured. But her eyes when I could see them were like milky glass marbles, pale blue, rather than eyes, and her mouth was tightly closed, as if she were trying to prevent somebody from force-feeding her.
    â€œElsa?” I called out. “Elsa—are you okay?”
    I started to walk toward her. As I did so, she began to shake her head from side to side. She did it slowly at first, but as I approached her she shook it faster and faster.
    â€œElsa—listen—you’re sleepwalking. You need to get yourself back to bed.”
    I held out my hand to calm her. Abruptly, she stopped shaking her head, and stared at me with those colorless eyes, as if she couldn’t understand who or even
what
I was. But now that I was really close to her I realized that she was just as tall as I was, if not taller. Not only that, she was much
bigger
than she had been before.
    I began to feel distinctly unnerved. But I thought to myself, this is some kind of optical illusion, that’s all. Perspective playing tricks on you. You know how small this girl is really. Maybe it’s something to do with the window or the sight lines in the corridor. Maybe
I’m
the one who’s still