Silver Blade Read Online Free PDF

whispered into her ear.
    Oz got out of bed, and kept low as he made his way to the window, turning his head from left to right. What had he heard? She strained to listen.
    “Get dressed quickly. And stay here, no matter what,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. I should never have brought you here, but I thought we would be safe.”
    The large man slipped on a pair of jeans that had been lying on the chair. From the satchel they had retrieved from the accident site he pulled a long double shoulder holster. He slipped both arms into the battered leather, took one last glance at her, and ran out the bedroom door.
    The front door slammed. What was that noise? Was that the sound of metal clashing? She went to the window and lifted the corner of the curtain to peer out. Oz stood in the middle of his yard. He held a short, thick sword in each hand and was fighting off three guys in ugly monster masks. Two of the masked attackers wore gloves with short knives attached like fingers, while the third man held what appeared to be a two-headed scythe.
    The handgun she had practiced with yesterday was locked in her trunk, but she had seen a shotgun in the kitchen corner. She had not actually agreed to stay in the room when he asked. She slipped on her jeans and grabbed a denim shirt from the back of the bedroom door, buttoning the garment up as she made her way down the stairs.
    Angela opened the door and stood rooted to the spot. Oz defended himself against the trespassers with undeniable skill. Barefoot, in only his jeans and the holster, he wielded the two weapons with obvious experience. The newly risen sun reflected ribbons of yellow and orange off the silver blades as he battled one of his attackers. The second man was on the ground. Where had the third guy gone?
    Angela stepped forward and the porch door swung closed with a bang. “Damn,” she said between clenched teeth as Oz and the two men looked over. So much for the element of surprise.
    Taking two more steps, she approached the corner of the porch. Oz continued to duel with both weapons against the gloved man. The intruder was backing away, leading Oz to Angela’s right. The other man with the scythe-like weapon was now behind Oz. He rose to his feet and raised the deadly blades over his head, ready to strike. Angela lifted the shotgun. Stance. Aim. Fire.
    Her shot missed, but the surprise allotted Oz the time he needed. He brought his blade up and across the throat of the man he had been fighting, and then turning quickly he arced the other sword up and over, beheading the second man.
    Her mouth fell open, and she slowly crumpled to the porch floor.
    Covered in blood—a mixture of his own and the intruders’—Oz strode toward the deck. He wiped the blood off the two small swords onto his jeans, and returned them to the holster on his back.
    Angela sat silently. What had she just seen? Had he killed those men?
    Oz ignored the stairs and jumped up on the deck. He crouched down next to her. “Angel, baby, I told you to stay inside. Are you okay?”
    “I’m fine. I think. But...where are the bodies?” Her eyes scanned the empty expanse of field. Oz turned. Piles of gray ash and loose clothing were all that were left of the bodies. Even as they watched, the ash started to disappear, carried off by the cool morning breeze.
    “Gone,” he replied.
    “Gone where?”
    “Hell, I guess.”
    Had she imagined the monstrous faces? Was it possible she was dreaming? “They weren’t human, were they?”
    “No.”
    “And you?”
    “Yes. Well, I was.”
    “And now?” After all she had witnessed, she felt surprisingly calm.
    ****
    He had been a sheriff, married but a short time, no children. He had been smaller then. Not shorter, of course, but thinner. His mother had always called him a long, tall glass of water. It didn’t make sense to him fifty years ago, and it didn’t make any more sense now.
    He and his wife had lived on a small farm on the outskirts of town. Her idea,