Blood Lies (Dark Brothers of the Light #9) Read Online Free PDF

camp.
    The journey to the apothecary took them
farther than they had previously explored in the dead town. Horst's
nerves itched, and he watched Lion closely for any sign that the
dog might have detected trouble. The apothecary stood half a block
from Meinhardtstrasse, the main street that ran north-south through
Eyndohen: north to the gates of the estate and south to the
highway.
    They found the door hanging half off its
hinges. Horst exchanged glances with Alons, nodded and squeezed
through, stumbling as Lion tried to get inside at the same time.
The door cracked and fell. Snow lay heavy in the opening. Lion
bounded around sniffing everything. Other than the door, the
apothecary was eerily undamaged. Horst ignored the long tables in
the center and went around the counters to the shelves built into
the walls. Pulling Birthe's list from his pouch, Horst scanned it
before handing the list to Alons. They unshouldered their knapsacks
and began filling them.
    Alons reached for the sack at his belt, and
Horst shook his head. "Nein, Alons. Let's see what other shops are
around."
    As they emerged from the apothecary, Lion's
hackles rose and he darted two shops farther down Eisenstrasse,
stopping where a low stone wall encircled a tiny garden. Horst went
after him.
    "Nein, Horst! Come back. That's the sound he
makes when he smells a ghoul."
    Horst slowed, yet continued on. "Best I see
for myself."
    He overtook Lion and knelt in the snow to
examine what the dog had found: a huge three-toed footprint.
"You're right, Alons: ghouls." Lion crouched beside him, growling
softly. He patted the dog and stroked his head. "Ja. My
sentiments."
    Alons Von Geffen trotted over and knelt
beside him, his eyes narrowing. "It's fresh. We've likely got only
a few days before they find us."
    Horst nodded. "My thoughts." He placed his
hand on the low stone wall at his left and rose to glance along the
rows of abandoned shops between them and Meinhardtstrasse. A flurry
of snow brushed against his strong features, causing him to shelter
his eyes with his hand as he studied the roof tops. Ghouls
possessed wings, but were not flyers; they could hover a few inches
to a few feet off the ground due to what Father Franz called
limited levitation: the wings gave them direction and balance.
"Come along. Let's get back."
    A blue hand reached out of the snow beneath
Horst's feet and seized his leg. Only his stout leather leggings
prevented it from tearing him open. Lion lunged for the arm,
clamped down and worried it, rumbling far back in his throat. Horst
drew his sword, driving it into the snow between his feet. The hand
released him as ichorous blood spread through the white.
    "Ambush! Run!"
    "No place to run." Alons pointed at the
roofs, where the ghouls rose from behind clusters of chimneys and
the attic windows they crawled out of. "They're all around us."
    The ghouls moved with the lethargy of the
newly wakened. A few fluttered to the snow at either ends of the
block. Most rubbed their eyes and blinked indecisively.
    "Lion, heel!" Horst grasped Lion's collar.
"Alons, the group at Meinhardtstrasse is smaller. Come on."
    Jogging toward the corner, Horst heard Alons
shout, "Ware!"
    Lion jerked from Horst's grip, lunging at a
ghoul, which had gotten bolder. Ghoul blood dripped from Alons'
sword: he had slashed the creature deeply in three places. True to
his training, Lion ripped the ghoul's belly open, dropping a
mouthful of intestines in the snow. Horst swung two-handed, biting
into the ghoul's side. The creature went down shrieking.
    An equine cry of rage turned their attention
to the northwest corner of Meinhardtstrasse. Two horses charged
between the demons and galloped toward them. Horst blinked and
corrected himself; it was a blue brindle wynderjyn – the
unicorn-horse hybrids ridden by the Sharani paladins of the White
Lady – and a black unicorn with a glittering silver mane: creatures
he had only seen in drawings.
    A fine shield hung from the saddle of