The Devil's Graveyard Read Online Free

rows in front. They had overheard her, and from then on Sanchez had been convinced that they had it in for him simply because he was sitting next to her. The only thing she had foreseen correctly was that they would be seated next to each other on the bus as well as the plane. And now she was predicting something that Sanchez found even more terrifying.
    ‘The spirits are telling me that you and I are going to end up spending a lot of time together over the next few days,’ she said jovially. She was smiling her hideous gap-toothed smile and there was an unnerving twinkle in her eye.
    For fuck’s sake, thought Sanchez. She’s at least sixty. And a total dog. She was indeed sixty, exactly twice his age. Not at all the kind of female company he had been hoping for on his free vacation.
    There wasn’t an empty seat on the bus, and it was noticeable that there were no couples. Everyone on board appeared to have won his or her ticket through participation in the same survey that Sanchez had taken. So, crammed into the seats were fifty-five single people, none of whom seemed to be under the age of twenty-five. Without doubt, though, the oldest and ugliest was the Mystic Lady, sitting next to Sanchez.
    I gotta ditch her early on , he thought. If he wasn’t careful, people might start to think he liked her, and that could potentially ruin his chances with any of the other women on the bus, all of whom he considered to be candidates for his irresistible charms. In particular, there was an attractive Portuguese woman two seats in front on the other side of the bus. Either she’d been checking him out for most of the journey, or she had a lazy eye. Either way, he wasn’t bothered; she was definitely a better proposition than the old hag next to him.
    Time to head any misunderstandings off at the pass, Sanchez reckoned, and with that in mind he turned to his companion. ‘Guess you know what these mystery trips are like, Annabel,’ he said, his voice almost drooling with insincerity. ‘We’ll probably get separated early on and not see each other again until the journey home. If at all.’
    ‘Nonsense,’ Annabel laughed, slapping him on the thigh. ‘Since we don’t know anyone else, we must stick together. So much nicer to be with someone you know when you’re in a strange place, isn’t it?’ Her hand remained on his thigh. He was wearing a pair of brown knee-length shorts in one of the cheaper synthetic fibres, and they’d been creeping up his ass somewhat during the journey, so her hand was perilously close to touching flesh.
    The letter accompanying his winning ticket had suggested that he dress for warm weather, so above the shorts Sanchez was wearing a red short-sleeved Hawaiian shirt. As a precaution he had a brown suede jacket on top of it, but judging from the weather they’d encountered so far he wouldn’t need it. Although the first thing to discard would be Annabel. Forcing a polite smile, he responded to her enthusiastic rambling through gritted teeth.
    ‘Oh, yeah, sure. Of course. Trouble is, I get lost real easy when I’m away from home. Seriously. One minute I’m right there, next thing you know, you’ve turned your back for a second and I’m nowhere to be seen.’
    ‘Well, I’ll just have to make sure I don’t let you out of my sight then, won’t I? Don’t worry, honey – I’ll make sure you don’t get lost.’ Once again, Sanchez felt her hand squeeze his thigh, and inwardly shuddered. Unlike him, she hadn’t heeded the advice about the warm weather, and had swaddled herself in a long black dress beneath two cardigans. One of these was dark blue and worn underneath a hideous flea-infested dark green one. Much of her long grey hair hung down over the front of these fetching garments, no doubt acting as a ladder for fleas to climb up and down from head to clothes. Sanchez would have swatted her hand away from his thigh, but the sight of her yellow fingernails and wrinkly hands repelled