Christmas in Transylvania Read Online Free PDF

something?”
    â€œOr something,” he replied without thinking, then added, “I used to be one of Uncle Sam’s finest. No more.”
    â€œI could tell—­“
    â€œDon’t talk,” he advised then. “Your lip is bleeding.”
    She used the tissue in her hand to blot the moisture where her lower lip had cracked open again.
    Karl reached over and turned on the radio. The air was suddenly filled with George Strait singing that old song, “I’ll Be Home for Christmas.”
    â€œDamn! Christmas music already!” Karl swore and was about to change the station.
    â€œNo. Leave it on. I like that song.” She leaned her head against the headrest and let the warmth and the music and sudden peace envelop her. Just before she fell asleep, a thought occurred to her, I wonder where I’ll be this Christmas.
    Home, Sweet Home . . . or is it, Castle, Sweet Castle? Whatever! . . .
    By the time Karl turned onto 777 Sayers Drive, the lane leading up to the castle, he had come up with a plan.
    He would somehow park in the back lot, sneak Faith into the castle, go up the back staircase, one meant for servants when the monstrosity had been built, to the third floor, where his bedroom was located overlooking the rear courtyard. Once there, he would somehow assess Faith’s medical condition, and assuming there was nothing broken or no internal injuries, he could somehow . . . please, God! . . . keep her hidden for a day or two until he somehow located a women’s resource center or whatever the hell you called those places that would find her a safe house.
    Yeah, there were a lot of “somehows” involved, but nothing he couldn’t handle.
    Easy Peasy! he thought.
    Then, Easy Peasy shit! as his plans ran smack-­dab into the first roadblock.
    There was a long-­haul, flatbed truck parked in front of the castle. Exiting from the driver’s side was none other than Vikar, who’d had no trouble maneuvering a longship on the high seas at one time but knew diddly-­squat about motor vehicles, as evidenced by the many dings on every car he owned.
    Armod climbed out of the passenger side. Svein and Jogeir crawled out, too. All four of them must have been sitting on the front bench seat. Talk about cozy!
    Then Karl noticed something else. They were carrying axes. Armod, a regular woodsman kind that was used to chop kindling, but the other men had long-­handled weapons with pikes on one end and sharp axes on the other, the kind Vikings and medieval knights took into battle.
    Through the open double front doors of the castle streamed Alex, about a dozen vangels, and the two children, who had been bundled up in matching blue and pink snowsuits so that they resembled fat, midget snowmen.
    Fortunately, the snow was still coming down heavily, covering the windows of his pickup no sooner than the wipers made a pass. Fortunate because that meant that no one could see Faith, who still slept soundly. He was beginning to think it was an unnatural sleep.
    As quietly as he could, he opened the driver’s door, slid out, and carefully shut and locked the vehicle behind him. He shivered at the blast of cold air that hit him after being in the warm truck and wandered over to the big flatbed.
    Now that he got closer, he saw the huge . . . and I mean HUGE . . . evergreen tree lying in the back, anchored down with many, many bungee cords. They must have bought out the entire supply of the stretchy straps at Walmart.
    â€œAre you crazy?” Alex was yelling at Vikar. “I told you to get a Christmas tree. This is a . . . a forest.”
    â€œNo, sweetling. You told me to get a big Christmas tree. Which I did.” He grinned with pleasure and did a little twirl with his battle-­axe that caused the children to jump up and down and giggle. Well, as much as they could jump with all that padding.
    â€œVikar!” she said,