Dance with the Devil Read Online Free PDF Page B

it bumped over some obstruction in the road that was hidden by snow, sidled toward the ravine, came under his control again and ground relentlessly toward the final curve before they crested the top of the road.
        “You don't believe in black magic and the power of evil, do you?” she asked, teasing him.
        “Of course not,” he said. “But you've got to be wary of people who do believe in things like that, because they aren't exactly right in the head.”
        “I suppose so.”
        He frowned, his mind clearly on more than his driving. After a moment, he said, “Everyone in Roxburgh is afraid of them; everyone is waiting for something to break because of them, something bad. Only the Boland family poohpoohs the notion that they're dangerous.”
        “They do?”
        “Yes. The subject has been brought up at the town meeting a number of times. Lydia always attends- and Alex, her son, usually does. They always make light of the subject, joke about it. The other townspeople respect them so much that the subject is usually dropped.”
        “Maybe they've got the right idea-treat it lightly and let it evaporate eventually.”
        “Maybe. But I have the feeling that it is the same as finding yourself in a pit with a tiger and turning away from it hoping it will disappear.”
        “Aren't you being melodramatic?” Katherine asked.
        “Perhaps I am. But I can't help but wonder if these Satanists will ever reach the point where they're tired of sacrificing things like cats and dogs and an occasional rabbit.”
        “I don't understand,” Katherine said.
        He did not look away from the road now, for they were entering the sharp turn at the top of the rise, where the right-of-way humped, creating a natural spillage toward either the rock wall on his side or the crevasse on hers. He drove on the wrong side, taking the risk of striking the wall rather than of toppling over the precipice. In a moment, they were up and over, striking directly along the driveway to the mammoth oak doors that fronted Owlsden.
        He said, “What I mean is: suppose they get bold enough to try a human sacrifice?”
        Relieved that the trip was behind her, Katherine's urge to be happy soared again. “Oh, for heaven's sake, Mr. Harrison, you really are into cheap movie plots now!”
        “Mike,” he said. “Don't call me Mr. Harrison; I'm not that much older than you.” He wheeled around in front of the great doors and braked the Rover. “And its surprising how often old movie plots have parallels in real life.”
        The twelve-foot doors of the house swung open, spilling yellow light across the snowfield, making iced points on the giant pine needles gleam like jewels on the end of miniature spears.
        “I'll get your things,” he said, opening the door and stepping out.
        She stood next to him as he placed the luggage in the snow and closed the rear door of the Land Rover, and she was aware that his attitude of jolly adventurism was gone. Instead, he seemed anxious to be away from Owlsden, as if he feared the place. He kept glancing up at the dark windows, at the slate roof, at the squat, dark figure that stood in the open doorway, watching them.
        “I'd like to pay you,” she said.
        “Not necessary.”
        “I really think-”
        “My father is a millionaire, and I'll be a millionaire one day too,” he said. “Now, if you can tell me what earthly good it would do me to take cab fare from you, I might accept it.” He smiled as he spoke, his face as incredibly handsome as it had seemed the first moment she'd seen him in the restaurant in town.
        “Well, then I don't know how to thank you,” Katherine said.
        “Your company was thanks enough, the sight of a new face and someone with a fresh outlook.”
        “You flatter me,” she said. “I really don't know what I'd have done without your help, and I don't think any amount of