The Seventh Night Read Online Free PDF Page A

hopeful eye.
    The tops of the tombstones stood out in eerie relief against the blackness of night, while the bases seemed to blend with the fog. The swirling mist gave the whole scene a bizarre illusion of movement.
    And then I saw them.
    At first, I thought my vision must be playing tricks on me. The movement of the fog had conjured the images, like the snake curling around the antenna. But as I continued to watch, the apparitions—people?—took on defined proportions as they moved toward me.
    I could see three of them now, their grotesque faces painted and glowing in the moonlight. As if trapped in a nightmare, I stood rooted to the spot, unable to believemy eyes as they continued toward me with their hideous, skeletal faces.
    Then I moved—faster than I ever had in my life. With a shriek of pure terror, I leapt back into the car and cranked up the window on the driver’s side, then desperately pushed down the door locks. Almost too late, I realized the back window was still down. I lunged over the seat and rolled up the glass just as something warm and red splattered across the window and onto me. I screamed long and hard.
    Petrified with fear, I held my fist to my mouth as I watched them circle the car, shoving their white-painted faces against the window, grinning when I screamed and moved away.
    “Who are you?” I yelled at them. “What do you want? Money?” With shaking hands I held up my purse, but they ignored it. As they continued to move around the car, they began to dance and chant in some language that seemed both ancient and tribal.
    Muffled by distance, the eerie, staccato beat of drums echoed through the darkness. With each measured beat, the dancers’ movements became even more frenzied. One of them had a stick with something that looked like a chicken’s claw attached to the end. He scraped it across the glass, sending deep chills up my spine.
    And all the while I continued to silently pray over and over, “Someone help me. Oh, God, someone please help me.”
    The drums ceased as abruptly as they’d started. The dancers stilled. Then, as if commanded by some invisible force, they reunited and, as one, advanced toward me once more.
    Again and again I screamed. My heart pounded in terror, and I could hardly breathe. I couldn’t believe this was happening to me. The stories I’d heard about the island were all coming true. The dreams I’d had were premonitions, prophesies of my own death!
    Why, oh why, couldn’t I have stayed in Chicago, where I belonged?
    One of the men picked up a large rock and repeatedly cracked it against the back window. With every blow the glass weakened until, like my sanity, it shattered into a million tiny pieces. I watched in helpless terror as a painted hand reached inside and slowly unlocked the door.
    Huddling against the opposite door, I clutched the armrest with all my strength, but the rough hands that seized me were stronger. They hauled me across the seat to the open doorway as all three figures gathered around me.
    And then I heard it.
    No more than a faint rumble at first, but I knew that it was a car engine, and so did my tormentors. Their backs stiffened as I heard one of them murmur reverently,
“Damballah!”
    The one with the stick barked an order to the others. They immediately melted into the darkness while he turned back to me. His lips curled in a slow, sinister grin that revealed a gold tooth.
    He radiated evil. I can think of no other way to describe him, and for as long as I live, I will never forget that face. Paralyzed with fear and revulsion, I watched him extend the clawed end of the stick toward me, raking it down my bare arm, searing me all the way to my soul.
    I screamed in pain, and then suddenly, as if trapped on some crazy carnival ride, I felt myself spinning out of control….
    Like the others, he disappeared into the darkness. Barely aware of what I was doing, I made it out of the car and half stumbled, half crawled toward the road.