Graham Masterton - The Manitou

I followed the line of his finger. He was pointing directly at the gory corpse of Michael, the male nurse.

Singing Rock stepped back quickly. "Get out of here, now !" he snapped, and pushed us toward the door.

Just as I got out into the corridor, I saw something that literally started my teeth chattering. The bloody heap of Michael's body was moving: exposed arteries were pulsing, naked nerves were throbbing, and his inside-out lungs, like two dripping balloons, were drawing breath again.

By the feeble orange light of Wolf's cigarette lighter we saw the shambles of Michael's body rise gorily to its feet. Deep in the bleeding tissue of the inverted face, two watery eyes stared out at us — squid's eyes, from a terrible submarine nightmare.

Then step by liquid step, leaving behind it a trail of viscous membrane, Michael's corpse started to walk toward us, smearing everything it touched with blood.

"Oh, Christ," said Jack Hughes, in a desperate, horrified voice.

But Singing Rock was not idle. He fumbled in his pocket for his leather bottle, unstoppered it, and poured some of its contents into the palm of his hand. With wide, sweeping strokes, he sprayed a pattern of magical liquid into the air, across and over the shambling wreck of Michael's body.

"Gitche Manitou, take life from this creature," he muttered. "Gitche Manitou, reward this servant with death."

Michael's body sagged, and dropped to its knees, bare muscles sliding over exposed bones. It finally collapsed, and lay in a heap beside the door.

Inside the room, Misquamacus was at work again. We couldn't see him now, because Wolf's cigarette lighter flame was rapidly sinking, but we could hear him chanting and talking, and tossing the bones and hair that Singing Rock had used to make his medicine circle.

"Wolf," said Singing Rock. "Go and fetch us a few flashlights. We must be able to see what we're doing. Misquamacus can see in the dark, and it's easier for him to summon his demons in the dark. Please — as quick as you can!"

Wolf handed me his hot cigarette lighter, with its bead of diminishing flame, and ran down the corridor to the elevators. He almost didn't make it. As he turned the corner, there was a blue-white flash of dazzling fire. It sent sparks crawling across the floor, and left a searing orange after-image on my eyes.

"Wolf!" called Singing Rock. "Are you okay?"

"Okay, sir!" shouted back Wolf. "I'll be right back"

"What the hell was that?" said Jack Hughes.

"The lightning-that-sees," said Singing Rock. "That was what killed your friends, Harry. I thought Misquamacus would try to get him like that once he was away from me, so I diverted it."

"It still went damn close," said Jack.

"A miss is as good as a mile," I commented. The lighter had almost dwindled away now, and I was straining my eyes to see what was happening in Karen Tandy's room. I could hear shufflings and bumpings, but it was impossible to make anything out.

Darkness enveloped us again. We kept a hand on each other's shoulders, so that we wouldn't be separated. It also helped to concentrate the force of Singing Rock's spells, whenever he cast them. With complete blackness pressing against our eyes, we kept our ears pricked up for the slightest sound.

After a few moments, we heard Misquamacus chanting again.

"What's he doing?" whispered Dr. Hughes.

"Something I was afraid of," said Singing Rock. "He's summoning an Indian demon."

"A demon ?" asked Jack.

"Not exactly a demon in European terms. But the Indian equivalent. One of the ancient ones."

"Do you know which one he's calling?" I said.

Singing Rock listened to the coarse, muttering incantation as closely as he could.

"I don't know. He's using a name from his own tribal language. Although the demons are all the same throughout North America, each tribe has a different name for them. This one is something called Kahala, I think, or K'malah. I'm not sure."

"How can you fight it if you don't know which one it is?" I said.

I could imagine Singing Rock's lined lugubrious face.

"I can't. I'll have to wait and see when it appears."

Clinging together, we waited for the ancient apparition to manifest itself. Through the darkness, we saw pale flickers of greenish light coming from Karen Tandy's room, and coils of pallid smoke.

"Is the place on fire ?" asked Dr. Hughes.

"No," said Singing Rock. "The manitou is being formed out of that smoke. It's like ectoplasm, you know, in European spiritualism."

The green light faded, and then we heard more noises from inside the room. There was a sound like scaly claws scratching the floor, and then we heard Misquamacus talking. He spoke for at least a couple of minutes, and then, to my horror, I heard someone talking back to him. Someone who spoke in a grating, unearthly voice — guttural and cruel.

"He's telling the demon to destroy us," said Singing Rock. "Now, whatever you do, keep hold of each other, and don't try to run. If you run, you'll be out of my protection, and he'll get you."

Two lines from The Ancient Mariner suddenly pounded through my brain — about the man who looks back and then no longer turns his head "because he knows a fearful fiend doth close behind him tread."

The scraping of claws on the floor of Karen Tandy's room began to move toward us. Through the gloom, I began to make out a tall dark shadow standing in the doorway, facing us across the corridor. It seemed to be like a man, and yet completely unlike a man. I squinted into the darkness, and made out things that looked like claws and scales.

"What is it…" hissed Jack Hughes.

"It's the demon we called Lizard-of-the-Trees," said Singing Rock. "He is the evil manitou of forests and woods and all trees. I think that Misquamacus has chosen him because he knows I am from the plains, and I have less control over the manitous of the forest."

The dark being in the doorway started to move toward us, uttering a thin insect-like piping in its throat. Singing Rock immediately cast powders and liquid at it, and rattled his magic bones.

It could only have been two or three feet away when it stopped.

"You've done it," said Jack. "You've stopped it."

"It won't kill us, because my medicine is too strong for it," Singing Rock said breathlessly. "But it refuses to return to limbo without a sacrifice."

"A sacrifice ? What the hell does it want?"

"A small piece of living flesh, that's all."

I said: " What ? But how can we give it that?"

"Anything," said Singing Rock. "A finger, an ear."

"You can't be serious," I said.

"It won't leave without it," Singing Rock replied. "And I can't hold it back for very much longer. It's either that, or we'll be torn to shreds. I mean that. This creature has a beak, like an octopus, or a pterodactyl. It can rip you open like a sack of beans."

"All right," said Dr. Hughes quietly. " I'll do it."

Singing Rock took a deep breath. "Thank you, Dr. Hughes. It should be quite quick. Stretch your hand out toward it. Give it your little finger. Fold all the rest of your fingers right back. I will try and keep most of your hand within the circle of my spell. Once it's bitten, take your hand away at once. As quickly as you can. You don't want it to take any more."

I could feel Dr. Hughes shaking as he reached out his hand toward the shadowy bulk of the Lizard-of-the-Trees. I heard razor-like claws scraping on the floor as he stretched nearer and nearer, and that thin piping sound as the demon breathed.

There was a horrible excited rustle, and the claws skidded frantically on the corridor floor, and then a crunch like I never want to hear again.

"Aaaaahhhhh," shrieked Dr. Hughes. He abruptly sagged and collapsed between us. I felt warm sticky blood pump over my legs and hand as I reached down to help him.