Manitou Blood Read Online Free PDF Page A

can’t understand it.”
    â€œWhose blood was it, Susan? What did you do to them?”
    â€œIt was so
confusing
. . . I could see myself doing it but it was like I was watching somebody else.”
    â€œWhose blood was it, Susan?”
    She closed her eyes and didn’t answer. Frank waited for a long moment and then he said, “Susan—I need to know who that blood came from.”
    â€œWhy?” she said, without opening her eyes. “What difference does it make?”
    â€œIt makes a difference because anybody who lost that much blood is most likely dead.”
    â€œThat’s what those people are
for
, isn’t it?”
    â€œI don’t understand.”
    â€œThat’s what those people are born for . . . to give us their blood.”
    Frank said, “Open your eyes.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œI want you to look at me when you’re talking to me. Or are you scared to?”
    â€œI’m not scared of anything.”
    â€œI think you are. I think you’re scared of yourself. I think you’re scared of what you did.”
    â€œI drank blood, all right? I needed to.”
    â€œ
Why
did you need to?”
    She suddenly opened her eyes, and exploded in fury. “
I was burning! I was burning all over! I was on fire and that was the only way to stop it!
”
    â€œSo you had to drink blood, to stop the burning?”
    â€œYou don’t understand! My whole body was on fire! I would have died without it!”
    â€œSo whose blood was it, Susan?”
    â€œDon’t you get it,
I would have died!
”
    She stared at him fiercely, but her ferocity didn’t last for very long. He sat back and said nothing, and she began to relax. After a few moments she closed her eyes again and lay on her pillow utterly still, as if she were sleeping, or dead. Frank waited. He was tempted to ask her again whose blood it was, but he had the feeling that she was going to tell him, if he gave her enough time.
    Eventually, she spoke, in a very flat, detached voice. “Look at me,” she said. “I’m opening my bedroom door.”
    She paused for a moment, licking her lips, as if they were dry.
    â€œWhere are you now?” Frank asked her.
    â€œI’m in the corridor. The sunlight’s falling across the corridor
this
way—” indicating a diagonal slant. “It’s falling right on the poster of Jim Morrison with gardenias in his hair. I can smell coffee . . . and I can hear Prissy in the kitchen singing
Man on the Moon
. ‘
Do you believe . . . they put a man on the moon
?
Do you believe . . . there’s nothing up their sleeve?
’”
    Another pause. After a while, Frank asked, “Now what are you doing?”
    â€œI’m walking into the kitchen and Prissy turns around to me and smiles. That’s the last time she smiles at me. That’s the very last time.
Tatal nostru. Carele esti in ceruri
.”
    â€œWhat does that mean, Susan?”
    â€œI feel like I’m burning. There’s so much
sunlight
. The whole kitchen is filled with sunlight and it
burns
! It’s like I’ve had acid poured all over me. I’m burning all over, even my feet. Oh God, I’m going to die. I start screaming at Prissy but Prissy doesn’t understand what’s wrong with me. She starts screaming too. We’re both screaming but
she’s
screaming because she’s frightened while
I’m
screaming because I’m on fire.”
    Susan’s hand scrabbled sideways, touching Frank’s arm. “I pick up the knife . . .
the knife
. . . there’s a big knife lying on the counter and I pick it up. I don’t hesitate. I can’t hesitate, I’m on fire. I cut her like this, across her throat. There’s blood spraying everywhere, all over the kitchen. All up the blinds and over the draining board. Blood, blessed blood.
    â€œPrissy falls to the floor with her arms waving and her legs