F Paul Wilson - Novel 10 Read Online Free PDF

listen.
                 "Don't
you be leaving me alone, now!" Bernadette said, running after her with the
blanket still wrapped around her shoulders.
                 "Hush,"
Carole said. "Listen. It's the front door. Someone's knocking. I'm going
down to see."
                 She
hurried down the wide, oak-railed stairway to the front foyer. The knocking was
louder here, but still sounded weak. Carole put her eye to the peephole, peered
through the sidelights, but saw no one.
                 But
the knocking, weaker still, continued.
                 "Wh-who's
there?" she said, her words cracking with fear.
                 "Sister
Carole," came a faint voice through the door. "It's me ... Rosita.
I'm hurt."
                 Instinctively,
Carole reached for the handle, but Bernadette grabbed her arm.
                 "Wait!
It could be a trick!"
                 She's
right, Carole thought. Then she glanced down and saw blood leaking across the
threshold from the other side.
                 She
gasped and pointed at the crimson puddle. "That's no trick."
                 She
unlocked the door and pulled it open. Rosita huddled on the welcome mat in a
pool of blood.
                 "Dear
sweet Jesus!" Carole cried. "Help me, Bern !"
                 "What
if she's a vampire?" Bernadette said, standing frozen. "They can't
cross the threshold unless you ask them in."
                 "Stop
that silliness! She's hurt!"
                 Bernadette's
good heart won out over her fear. She threw off the blanket, revealing a faded
blue, ankle-length flannel nightgown that swirled just above the floppy slippers
she wore. Together they dragged Rosita inside. Bernadette closed and relocked
the door immediately.
                 "Call 9-1-1 !"
Carole told her.
                 Bernadette
hurried down the hall to the phone.
                 Rosita
lay moaning on her side on the foyer tiles, clutching her bleeding abdomen.
Carole saw a piece of metal, coated with rust and blood, protruding from the
area of her navel. From the faint fecal smell of the gore Carole guessed that
her intestines had been pierced.
                 "Oh,
you poor child!" Carole knelt beside her and cradled her head in her lap.
She arranged Bernadette's blanket over Rosita's trembling body. "Who did
this to you?"
                 "Accident,"
Rosita gasped. Real tears had run her black eye makeup over her tattooed tears.
"I was running ... fell."
                 "Running
from what?"
                 "From
them. God ... terrible. We searched for them, Carmilla's Lords of the Night.
Just after sundown we found one. Looked just like we always knew he would ...
you know, tall and regal and graceful and seductive and cool. Standing by one
of those big trailers that came through town. My friends approached him but I
sorta stayed back. Wasn't too sure I was really into having my blood sucked.
But Carmilla goes right up to him, pulling off her top and baring her throat,
offering herself to him."
                 Rosita
coughed and groaned as a spasm of pain shook her.
                 "Don't
talk," Carole said. "Save your strength."
                 No,"
she said in a weaker voice when it eased. "You got to know. This Lord guy
just smiles at Carmilla, then he signals his helpers who pull open the back
doors of the trailer." Rosita sobbed. "Horrible! Truck's filled with
these ... things'. Look human but they're dirty and naked and act like beasts.
                 They
like pour out the truck and right off a bunch of them jump Carmiila.
                 They
start biting and ripping at her throat. I see her go down and hear her
screaming and I start backing up. My other friends try to run but they're
pulled down too. And then I see one of the things hold up