Number of the Beast (Paladin Cycle, Book One) Read Online Free PDF Page B

anything to be back in the trailer safe and
sound.
    A firm, bony hand gripped her
shoulder. Screaming, she swung wildly at whatever had her in its
clutches. Her long hair flung about her head, strands sticking to
her sweaty face. Squeezing her eyes shut, she kicked and shook, but
two hands restrained her flailing arms.
    “ What
you doing out here all alone, cher ?”
    She calmed at the sound of
Abe’s familiar and calm voice. Opening her eyes, stilling herself,
she turned around and flung her arms around him. Shaky arms snaked
around his neck. Salty tears dampened his black T-shirt and
fatigues.
    His waist-length silver hair, usually
tied into a ponytail, now hung loose over his shoulders. Some joked
that Abe looked like Jesus. Only if Jesus wore military fatigues
and had a tattoo of a serpent curled around his neck and chest, the
beady serpentine eyes visible between the V of his
shirt.
    With one calloused thumb,
he wiped a tear from her cheek. “What’s got you so
spooked?”
    Amy hiccupped and pointed.
“A light. A voice. And Alamo is lost.” The tone of her own frantic
voice unnerved her.
    Another eruption echoed off the
darkened trees. The light continued spiraling toward the
sky.
    Abe’s
brows lowered as he peered in the direction of the strange light
and sound. “Go home, cher. Now.”
    “ I think it came from
Sera’s Pond.”
    “ Don’t
be so coo-yôn !
Goin’ near dat there pond or house ain’t no good thing. You be
smart, cher and
stay away. Let me see to the matter.” Shadows framed his hard stoic
face.
    “ What are you doing out
here?”
    “ Poaching. Now go
home.”
    Normally she found Abe’s
protective nature comforting, but for some reason the harshness in
his tone annoyed her. “Yeah, right. You’re out here ‘cause you know
something. What is it? Spill.”
    “ Excuse
Abe’s manners.” He threw up his hands. “But I got colon polyps
older than you, mon
amie , which means I ain’t got to tell you
nothin’.”
    Amy scowled, but knew it was futile to
try reasoning with the coonass. His past as a U.S. Marine combined
with his Wichita and Cajun heritage made him one ornery old geezer.
He was a survivalist who lived off the land. The blood in his veins
made him more obstinate than a two-headed rattlesnake, each head
vying for the same prey.
    Abe retrieved an item from
his pocket and offered Amy a small glass vial. “You be a sweet girl
now and go home. You don't go worrying your pretty self over no
sounds and lights in these here woods.”
    Amy smiled as she took the
vial. He’d been giving her the serum since forever. She never asked
what it was made of. Didn’t want to know, because if she found out
it contained snake urine and frog guts she wouldn’t be able to
stomach it. And she didn’t want to give it up. The effects of the
mysterious concoction calmed her like Earl Grey on
steroids.
    Though she hadn’t found
Alamo, Amy didn’t like ignoring Abe’s warnings to return home. She
turned to leave but hesitated. “Abe?”
    “ Cher ?”
    “ Be careful.”
    He gave her a nod and disappeared into
the dark woods.
    Amy hurried toward the trailer with
the vial clutched protectively in her fist. She pushed the rude,
somewhat scary voice from her mind, concentrating only on getting
home.
    As she broke from the
vine-entangled shrubbery, she spotted the acacia. A comforting
warmth washed over her. Freya still remained at her post,
patrolling the edge of the woods.
    Amy scooped her up. “I
sure hope you aren’t seeing any wicked things in those cursed
woods.”
    Hissing toward the forest, Freya
pushed higher into her arms, wrapping herself around Amy’s
neck.
    Standing at the far end of
the front yard was Alamo. He’d come home. Thank goodness. The dog
ran toward her. Something furry was in his mouth. As he neared, she
noticed the rat’s defiled grave. The head was gone.
    Fighting the urge to beat the dog
senseless, she knelt on her knees and held out her hand, palm
up.
    With a