The Second Coming Read Online Free PDF Page A

silence drifted across the farm. Even the wind
hesitated, as if waiting for their reaction.
    Immediately
Paine dashed towards the house. The goats fled from his path,
stumbling over each other to get out of the way. Paine and his
sister scrambled inside.
    Scattered
about the immaculate kitchen were smashed dishes and the splinters
of a broken chair. The small pine table was upturned on the floor.
Shards of broken glass lay strewn about, splattered with blood.
    They stepped
across the floor and heavy breathing emanated from the family room.
They rounded the corner and found a man standing over Charles'
body, his head nearly touching the ceiling. He wore blood-stained
leathers and a dull metal helmet that half-covered his face. On the
front of his vest was stitched a pearly white cross, spotted with
crimson.
    Witch
Hunter.
    His parents’
bodies lay on the floor, butchered.
    The Witch
Hunter bore a silver cross. It was bulky and crooked. He swept his
crossbow in front of him. Lya growled and dropped to her knees. She
put her hands in Gwen’s bloodied wound and mumbled a curse.
    “ Your sorcery doesn’t work on me, witch. See the Holy Silver.
I am protected by the Almighty.” He aimed the silver-tipped arrow
at Lya. “Now, surrender in the name of the Confederation and I will
make this quick for you.”
    Lya’s curse
surged towards the Hunter in an invisible rush and thrust him
against the wall. The man held up the cross and wriggled free.
    He stepped
forward. “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of
death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy
staff they comfort me!”
    She spat out
another curse, calling upon a throng of hornets. He swatted the air
around him, aiming his cross above and below him. The Hunter
screamed and covered his face.
    “ Back you fiends of darkness! You cannot harm me. I bear the
silver cross!”
    The curse was
broken.
    “ I will not be deceived by your lies!”
    He aimed the
crossbow once more at Lya.
    Paine’s feet
moved as if an unseen force dragged him forward. He cried out.
“No!”
    In his mind he
called upon anything that would help him; anything within miles
that had the ability to end this. He did not care the price.
    Souls sprouted
around him, responding in a single heart’s beat. They were eager to
serve. Paine sent them forward, every one.
    The man
screamed as they swarmed him. He recoiled from their touch and
raised his cross once more. It was futile. Each soul dove within
him, taking their life’s pain and misery with them. The Hunter bent
over, convulsing. The crossbow tumbled from his hands, misfiring
and knocking over the oil lamp. The glass shattered and the oil
spilled across the wooden floor. He gripped the silver cross
holding it forth once more, but it seared the Hunter’s fingers and
the scent of burnt flesh fouled the air. He foamed at the mouth.
The Hunter slid down the wall and writhed on the floor. The cross
slipped from his fingers. His body tensed and convulsed. He choked
on his own tongue, and then finally went still.
    The souls of
the dead withdrew from the Hunter and slid towards Paine. He stood
his ground, waiting for them.
    The price had
to be paid. It was always in blood.
    He braced
himself as each one slipped across his skin. They touched his
heart. It was biting. He exhaled with the pain of each and clenched
his fists, waiting for one or all to take him. He knew he would go
mad.
    Yet there was
nothing; nothing but the cold; the cold and a sudden knowing. There
were things in his head, memories that were not his own. Paine
shook his head. They belonged to the dead Hunter. Images of the
man’s life flashed, too quickly to make out. Only one memory
offered Paine any hint of clarity— a female voice that had ordered
his parents’ death.
    “ Kill the old man and woman.”
    It was a
pitiless voice.
    Then the
memories were gone. And so were the souls upon whom he had
called.
    A puddle of
red formed on the ground, streaming