- Welcome to FictionDB, Guest
- | My Account
- | Help
The Devil's Horseman — Jean Davison
ISLAND OF THE UNEXPECTED
Before accepting a summer position in a household in Haiti, pretty, adventurous Laura Manning had given the matter some thought -- and yet she was unprepared for the strange excitement that awaited her. Unprepared for the grandeur and isolation of the ancient colonial house that was to be her home. Unprepared for the brooding handsomeness and thinly-veiled passion of the world-famous yet mysterious man who had brought her there. Unprepared for the dark atmosphere of evil that swirled like a heavy mist around that haunted island. Suddenly, Laura realized that only courage and quick wits would save her from the deadly peril that seemed to spring unexpectedly from the very stones and trees…
…A wind had picked up -- it whipped my gown around my legs and sent my hair flying across my mouth. Another gust caught the door and slammed it shut behind me. Lightning briefly revealed a daytime sky.
Holding the lantern in front of me, I walked to the hedge. I followed it, trying to see the other side. She had come this way, but where had she gone? Another flash of lightning went off and I saw the dark outline of the voodoo hut's roof. I knew where she was now…
But I was afraid to go in there. I should have wakened Jason or Simone, I thought, but what could I have said to them? Now it was too late to go back. I walked through a break in the hedge and stepped inside.
She was facing the altar. She saw the lantern's light and turned around reluctantly, in a parody of slow motion. She was holding a pot tete. Some of the relics from inside it were scattered on the ground, and when she swayed to one side I saw a lighted candle on the altar behind her under the faded painting of Damballah.
A ceremony? The lantern wavered; my hand was trembling. All of her ragged nervousness was gone: Her eyes were as dull as stones. My mind shot back to the canzo, the woman who was possessed. She raised one hand very slowly to her lips. We stared at each other, I breathing hard, she barely seeming to breathe at all…
Before accepting a summer position in a household in Haiti, pretty, adventurous Laura Manning had given the matter some thought -- and yet she was unprepared for the strange excitement that awaited her. Unprepared for the grandeur and isolation of the ancient colonial house that was to be her home. Unprepared for the brooding handsomeness and thinly-veiled passion of the world-famous yet mysterious man who had brought her there. Unprepared for the dark atmosphere of evil that swirled like a heavy mist around that haunted island. Suddenly, Laura realized that only courage and quick wits would save her from the deadly peril that seemed to spring unexpectedly from the very stones and trees…
…A wind had picked up -- it whipped my gown around my legs and sent my hair flying across my mouth. Another gust caught the door and slammed it shut behind me. Lightning briefly revealed a daytime sky.
Holding the lantern in front of me, I walked to the hedge. I followed it, trying to see the other side. She had come this way, but where had she gone? Another flash of lightning went off and I saw the dark outline of the voodoo hut's roof. I knew where she was now…
But I was afraid to go in there. I should have wakened Jason or Simone, I thought, but what could I have said to them? Now it was too late to go back. I walked through a break in the hedge and stepped inside.
She was facing the altar. She saw the lantern's light and turned around reluctantly, in a parody of slow motion. She was holding a pot tete. Some of the relics from inside it were scattered on the ground, and when she swayed to one side I saw a lighted candle on the altar behind her under the faded painting of Damballah.
A ceremony? The lantern wavered; my hand was trembling. All of her ragged nervousness was gone: Her eyes were as dull as stones. My mind shot back to the canzo, the woman who was possessed. She raised one hand very slowly to her lips. We stared at each other, I breathing hard, she barely seeming to breathe at all…
Genres
Sub-Genres
Click on any of the links above to see more books like this one.