Bloodstone Read Online Free PDF

could say that.”
    They drove another mile in silence before he said, “Any family?”
    “I had a brother, but he died.”
    “Were you close?”
    “Yes.”
    “Do you miss him?”
    “It was a long time ago.”
    He chose his next words carefully. “Does he…come to you? In your dreams?”
    “I don’t want to talk anymore,” she said suddenly. And nothing he could do or say would draw her out again.
       
    They stopped for the night at a Motel Six in another sleepy town, this one called Gatesville. Smith got out of the car and went in to register them as Mr. and Mrs. Simon Craig. He asked for a room with twin beds again. He had left Angel in the car alone, the cuffs off. When he returned she was still there. And he knew he had gotten through to her on some level, at least.
    They found the right room and fell into the beds almost immediately. But once he was there, Smith found himself unable to sleep, his mind filled with thoughts of Angel on the beach and the things she must have made herself do to the men who came to her, filthy and violent and dangerous men. What did she think of when she took off her clothes and took them into her mouth, into herself? Did she think of home, her family, her dead brother? When they came, did she think of early sexual experiences in high school in the back seats of cars, or did she block it all out from beginning to end? And how did she feel knowing that the drug had control over her and she would do anything it took to have that feeling racing through her veins; that essentially, she was a slave?
    But that hadn’t changed at all, Smith thought. She was still a slave, it was just that she was chained to a different thing now, as he was. They were similar people when he thought about it. He had been chained to the bottle. Same devil, different face.
    He was back on the beach again, watching her from behindthe pilings of the boardwalk. The light was growing fainter by the minute as the sun began to set; it was an orange light, and the sea glowed as if it had caught fire. He saw her clearly for the first time, and she was so beautiful. Her eyes were set far apart on each side of a slender nose, her mouth full and red. He stepped out from behind the piling. The wind had grown cooler, whipping sand against his legs. The sun had almost fallen in the west, a blood-red globe hanging above a blood-red ocean.
    This isn’t how it happened , he thought to himself. This isn’t right .
    A sound behind him made him turn. A car was hurtling through a red light at the near intersection, heading straight for a blue van. A woman was driving the van and two young kids were in the back.
    The van swerved and hit the brakes and began sliding sideways. Time slowed down, as if each second had become a minute, each minute an hour; the ticking of a clock was very loud in his ears. He could see the driver of the car now. The driver was drunk and wore his face.
    But he already knew the end, didn’t he? Watched it a thousand times or more. He had his own private seat in his own private theater. He heard a sound behind him and turned, searching for the woman on the beach. I didn’t see them, please understand .
    But the rotting thing before him was no woman. Mud and root clung to the thing’s face as if it had just clawed its way out of the grave.
    Gotta take your medicine, boy, it croaked. Come get what’s coming to you. Things gonna be a little different round here …
    He woke up in the dark screaming.
       
    The lights on, they sat together on the bed. Angel was staring at the wall. He searched her eyes but could not read her expression.
    The sweat was cold on his body and he hugged his knees to his chest. The dream stayed with him, and he could not shake it. That rotting thing on the beach had been worse than the dreams of his mother and the corpses tearing themselves from the ground, worse than anything he could remember. He had been hearing the woman and two children he had killed crying in his