Sammy Keyes and the Night of Skulls Read Online Free PDF

RISK , and FEAR STREET , so right away you got the feeling that you weren’t just walking down another street. You were
entering
something.
    What was sort of messing with the mood, though, was this middle-aged guy standing across the street, shouting into a microphone, his voice blaring through a little speaker. “Jesus said, ‘Have ye not read that which was spoken to you by God, saying, I am the God of Abraham, and the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob? God is not the God of the dead, but of the living.’ Turn away! The God ofthe Bible is the God of the living, not the God of the dead! Do not celebrate rites dedicated to the dead! Serve the true God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, not he who has blinded them!”
    “Man, that’s annoying,” Holly says.
    Marissa stares across the street at him. “I can’t believe people still think dressing up for Halloween is serving the devil.”
    “Yeah, whatever,” I grumble, and instead of “turning away,” we escape the sermon by going down Feere Street.
    Right away I notice that there are no cars anywhere—not in the driveways or parked on the curb—not one. What there
are
lots of are skeletons and tombstones and witches and ghosts.
    Purple lights and orange lights and
black
lights.
    Dry ice smoking away behind bushes and in cauldrons!
    Jack-o’-lanterns and hissing cats and red-eyed mummies!
    And spiderwebs.
    Spiderwebs
everywhere
.
    The farther we go, the darker and creepier it gets. There’s a soundtrack for the whole neighborhood, with eerie creaking and cackling noises and random, heart-stopping screeches. I can’t tell where it’s coming from, because it’s just … everywhere, and getting louder and louder the deeper into the neighborhood we get.
    “This is
awesome,
” Marissa whispers, but I notice that she’s latching onto Billy’s arm.
    The whole thing
is
awesome. I feel like a stupid touristwith my jaw dangling and my eyes sweeping around, taking it all in. “It’s even spookier than the real graveyard!”
    Marissa shoots me a look. “Not!”
    Just then a lightning bolt streaks through the sky in front of us as a loud
crack
shakes the neighborhood.
    “Wow!” I gasp, because even though I know it’s a light and sound show, it lights up the house at the end of the street.
    The haunted house.
    “Did you
see
that?” Billy squeals. “Come on!”
    So we don’t even bother to do any trick-or-treating. We just hurry straight down to the end of the cul-de-sac.
    Straight to the haunted house.
    And, it turns out, straight into another scary heap of trouble.

First I smell the cigarette.
    Then I recognize her.
    “Oh, brother,” I grumble, which is kinda ironic because I happen to be holding hands
with
her brother.
    “What’s wrong?” Casey asks.
    When I get nervous, my hands sweat. I hate it, but that’s what they do. And of course seeing Heather always puts me on red alert.
    Red alert. Yeah, right. That would be a pretty good pun because that backstabbing, two-faced, conniving witch
has
red hair, but at the moment it isn’t showing. At the moment it’s buried under the layers of a long black wig.
    Unlike the rest of her, which isn’t covered by much, let me tell you. She’s wearing shiny black boy shorts over black fishnet stockings, and high-heeled black boots. The shirt—if you can call it that—is low cut
and
high cut, ending above her belly button, and has long black bell-shaped sleeves and a pointy red stand-up collar.
    So yeah, she’s trying to be some sort of she-vampire, but really, she looks like she should be dancing on a pole somewhere.
    She’s with her wannabe friends, Tenille and Monet, who are trying way too hard to look cool in their vampire capes and three-inch eyelashes, and she’s flirting with two older guys dressed up as rockers—silver chains, boots, spiked hair—you know the type.
    Anyway, seeing Heather makes me break out in a cold sweat because, even though she’s had it in for me for over a year, she’s