Comes a Horseman Read Online Free PDF

police? She thought about that. She knew widows and divorcees who wanted so much to think someone still cared that they became completely dependent on anyone willing to give them the time of day. The world was full of needy people. That’s not the kind of woman she wanted to be.
    â€œNo,” she whispered, “not yet. But can you hold on for a minute?”
    â€œWhy, yes. What are you going to do? You can’t just . . .”
    Cynthia set the phone on a magazine. Stepping around the wastebasket and over the pallet of unused colors, she edged over to the fireplace, where she lifted a heavy iron poker from its stand. The heat from the fireplace rolled around her legs as she advanced toward the hall. Except for the fire’s crackle and Marcie’s tinny voice still emanating from the phone, the house was still. Drawing courage from the heft of the poker and, inexplicably, from the knowledge that a benign human waited for her return to the telephone, she stepped into the hall entrance.
    Past the kitchen threshold on the left and the wide opening for the dining room on the right, the hall disappeared in shadows. The weak luminance from a bulb in the refrigerator’s water dispenser caught the edges of the kitchen doorway and seeped into the hall. The light contracted Cynthia’s pupils just enough to make the shadows seem blacker.
    Then came the sound of breathing, as though the shadows themselves had come alive. Deep and steady, inhale, exhale.
    â€œWho’s there?” she called, disgusted by how weak her voice sounded. She cleared her throat. “Who’s there!” Better.
    Click, click, click, click, click, click.
    An animal appeared out of the shadows, its eyes glowing green. It was a dog . . . or a wolf. Despite the shaggy gray-black fur that covered its body, she saw its strength in the hulking muscles of its shoulders and haunches. Its head was lowered, and its black-rimmed eyes were fixed on her through the softer-hued hairs of its eyebrows. Under a long snout, fangs glimmered. Its lips, hiked up over ebony gums, quivered, and the thing snarled.
    â€œBack!” Cynthia yelled. She jabbed at the air with the poker.
    In an instant, the animal bounded twice and leaped at her. She felt the air burst from her lungs as its paws slammed against her chest, knocking her back into the living room toward the front door. Her hip struck a small table where she kept her keys, and she and the animal and the table and the keys crashed to the floor. An odor not unlike a monkey house washed over her, followed by the beast’s breath, smelling of rancid meat; nausea cramped her stomach. She covered her throat, knowing that’s where the animal would attack. Instead, it backed away. She sat up. Her chin was wet, and she wiped at it. Not blood, she thought thankfully as she glanced at her glistening palm. Slobber—hers or the wolf-dog’s, she didn’t know.
    The animal stood between her and the fire, its furry outline radiating white and yellow. When she raised the poker, it quavered like a Richter needle in her trembling hand. The animal simply glared.
    Stifling a groan, she got her feet under her and stood. “Go!” she raged.
    She heard the clicking again and caught movement out of the corner of her vision. Another wolf-dog broke from the shadowy hall. It was in the air before she could fathom how to respond. Its jaws clamped down on her extended wrist. The poker flipped out of her hand, thudding loudly on the hardwood, banging against the front door.
    Pain raced up her arm and turned into a piercing scream when it reached her throat. The weight of the beast wrenched her arm down. Blood appeared to bubble out of its nostrils, and then she realized that it was her blood, gushing out of the deep wound, staining the animal’s muzzle, pouring to the floor. She staggered but managed to stay up. Suddenly, her other hand flared in agony. The first animal was chomping on it,