Manitou Blood Read Online Free PDF

kicking. I kneel down beside her and I cover her wound with my mouth. I drink and I drink but I scarcely have to swallow because her blood is pumping right down my throat, and it’s warm and delicious and it eases my burning. I drink so much that I almost drown, and Prissy’s blood is running out of my nose.”
    Susan lay quietly for another minute, as if she were reliving the relief that her friend’s blood had given her.
    â€œIs Prissy dead?” asked Frank.
    Susan nodded. “She looks very pale, doesn’t she? But that was what she was born for. From the day she came out of her mother’s womb, that was her destiny. To feed me, and to stop me from burning alive.”
    â€œNow what do you do?”
    â€œI’m standing up . . . my bathrobe, it’s so heavy, it’s warm and it’s soaked in blood. I need to go back to my room and change. But look—the door’s opening—the door’s opening and it’s Michael. He stands there staring at me and he can’t believe what he’s looking at. What’s happened? What’s all this blood? Prissy! What’s happened to Prissy?
    â€œHe doesn’t understand that it’s me, and that
I
did it. He kneels down beside Prissy and while he’s holding her head I pick up the knife again and—” she didn’t finish her sentence, but mimed the way that she had cut Michael’s throat, right down to the little wrist flick that she had given the knife so that the blood would fly off the tip.
    She clutched the side of her neck. “Michael topples over sideways, on top of Prissy. He’s trying to push me away but he’s too busy trying to stop the blood from spurting out of his neck. Spurt! Spurt! It’s everywhere, all over the floor, all over my face, all over my legs. I pull off my wet bloody bathrobe so that I’m naked, and I’m smearing his blood around and around, all over me.”
    Frank sat and watched as she caressed her breasts and her stomach and her thighs. “Blood, all over me, sticky and warm . . . and it eases my burning so much . . . blood everywhere, blood between my legs, I can massage myself with fresh blood and it feels
wonderful
. . .”
    She let out a long quiver of satisfaction. Then she said, “I bend over Michael and he’s staring at me. I smile at him and I whisper, ‘thank you, Michael, you’re an angel.’ I press my mouth against that gaping slit in his neck and I swallowhis blood, gulp, gulp, gulp, even though I know that I’m being a glutton. Look at me! I’ve got blood pouring out of the sides of my mouth and dripping off my chin.
    â€œBut now I’ve sicked some up. I can’t drink any more. I’m standing up now . . . I’m walking along the corridor leaving bright red footprints. I sick up some more. Splatter, onto the floor. Then I go into the bathroom and look at myself in the mirror. Blood woman!
Blood woman!
Scarlet face, scarlet arms and legs, scarlet body. But I’m not burning any more. I’m calm now, and my skin feels so much cooler. And I feel so . . . what’s the word? Serene.”
    She opened her eyes, and smiled at him. “That’s what I feel.
Serene
.”
    Somebody cleared his throat. Frank turned around and saw a tall black man in a black linen suit, waiting in the doorway. There was another man with him, a sallow-skinned white man in a short-sleeved shirt with jazzy red patterns on it and a blood-colored necktie.
    â€œDr. Winter? I’m Lieutenant Hayward Roberts and this is Detective Paul Mancini.”
    Frank pushed back his chair and stood up, and almost lost his balance.
    â€œAre you okay?” Lieutenant Roberts asked him.
    â€œNo,” said Dr. Winter. “I think I need a very stiff drink.”

3
B LOOD R OOT
    I looked up from the cards with the most serious frown that I could manage. It was pretty hard to be serious when the sixty-seven-year-old