The Girls With Games of Blood Read Online Free PDF

her.”
    Zginski reached out with his vampiric influence. It was weak, but so was Crabtree’s peasant resolve. “I wish,” Zginski said firmly, “to know the provenance of this automobile.”
    Crabtree shrugged as if it now meant nothing. “A cousin of mine needed a fast car for his work, if you know what I mean.” He mimed drinking from a bottle. “He gave me the money and had me buy it under my name, ’cause he knew the Feds were watching him. Then, before he could pick it up, he got killed in a wreck over across the line in Mississippi. So here she sits, collecting dust instead of road film.”
    “And why do you wish to part with it?”
    He laughed. “I got no use for it out here. Every teenage boy in the county wants to take either it or my daughter for a ride, and at least I can lock her up in the house to keep an eye on her. I figure this’ll just end up stole if I don’t sell it, so . . .” He trailed off and spit more tobacco at the dirt floor.
    Zginski opened the door and looked inside. Wood-grain inlays offset the mechanical chrome, and the high-backed bucket seats felt firm and inviting. A tiny spider had somehow gotten inside and spun its web between the rearview mirror and the steering wheel. Zginski pinched it between two fingers. “It would indeed be a crime to waste such a jewel,” he said.
    Crabtree laughed. “Ain’t that the truth.” Then he turned serious. “So let’s talk money. I know you Commies are all about sharing the wealth, but that ain’t the way it works here. And I sure ain’t a bank, I don’t finance over time. It’s cash on the barrelhead. No pinks ’til I see the greens.”
    Zginski held up a folded sheaf of bills as he straightened. “That’s exactly the way I want it.”
    Clora Crabtree again leaned against the column with the weariness of a small-town girl longing for new horizons. The position highlighted her long, freckled legs. She lit another cigarette from the butt of the first and said, “So, Leo. How come you running around with a Russkie?”
    Leonardo laughed and stuck his hands in his jeans pockets. “That’s a long story.”
    “He pay you?”
    “Naw. I’m just learning stuff I couldn’t find out about anywhere else.”
    “Like what?”
    “Technical stuff.” Until Zginski came along, Leonardo had been certain exposure to sunlight would destroy him. It certainly weakened him, but having the day back after decades in the dark was worth a little weakness. “Pretty boring.”
    “What’s he get out of it?”
    He shrugged. “Somebody to talk to.”
    “Some days I’d pay for that, too,” she said wistfully, andoffered him a cigarette. He shook his head. Softly she added, “I got half a joint upstairs. Want me to go get it?”
    “Your daddy might not like that.”
    She smiled out of the side of her mouth and said, “Daddy wouldn’t like most of the things I do, if he knew about ’em. He just sees what he wants.”
    Her eyes were big, green, and somehow sad. Leonardo gazed into them, careful to mask his powers. He sensed that, with this girl, he might not need them.
    They both jumped at the sound of “La Cucaracha” played on a car horn. A big featureless Buick with one fender the distinctive color of Bondo pulled into the driveway and stopped, blocking in the pickup. The driver revved the engine several times.
    “Shit,” Clora said, and tossed her cigarette aside.
“Byron.”
    “Who’s Byron?” Leonardo asked, but Clora had already hopped off the porch and trotted toward the barn.
    When Leonardo turned back, the biggest man he’d ever seen stood on the steps. Backlit by the sun, he looked like some enormous avenging angel, and there was certainly no kindness in his voice when he said, “Boy, what you doing on Mistah Crabtree’s front porch?”
    “Nothin’, suh, jus’ talking to Miss Clora.” It was the way his family had talked decades ago, and the way many blacks still did when faced with white belligerence.
The trick is to