Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter

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Authors: Seth Grahame-Smith
Tags: Fantasy (st), Horror (st), Paranormal (st)
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Abe, breaking the silence. “I hadn’t expected you during the day.”
Now it was Barts who found his brain tied in knots.
“Who is this child?”
“My son,” said Thomas, petrified.
“It’s here,” said Abe, raising the chest. “All of it. All one hundred dollars, just like the letter said.”
Thomas was sure he’d misheard. Sure this was a dream. Barts looked at Abe, suspicious. Bewildered. A smile spread over his face.
“My God!” said Barts. “For a moment I thought us all mad!”
Barts began to laugh. Abe opened the lid—just enough to slip his hand inside.
“Good boy,” said Barts, laughing heartily now. “Let us have it then.”
He reached his hand up and ran his thick fingers through my hair. I could think of nothing but the way my mother had done the same when she read to me. I could think of nothing but her sweet face. I glared down at this man. This creature. I joined him in laughter as my father stood helpless—a fire spreading through my chest. I felt the wooden stake in my fingers. I could do anything. I was a god.
These are the last seconds of your life.
I have no memory of driving it in—I only remember that I did. His laughter ceased and he took an awkward step. His eyes turned black in the space of a single blink, as if the inkwells in his pupils had suddenly shattered—the spill contained behind glass. His fangs descended, and I could presently make out a faint blue web beneath his skin. It was true. Until that moment there had been room for doubt. But now I saw it with my own eyes. Now I knew.
Vampires were real.
His arm rose, and his stout little hand instinctively grabbed the stake. There was no fear in his face yet. Merely a puzzlement, as if he was attempting to sort out just how such an object could be attached to his body. He presently lost his footing and collapsed into a seated position, where he remained for a moment before falling the rest of the way onto his back. His hand lost its grip on the stake, and the arm fell to his side.
I walked around him, wondering when he would strike. Wondering when he would laugh at the futility of what I had done and cut me down. As I did, his eyes followed me. They were the only things that moved now. There was fear in them. He was dying… and he was afraid. What little color he had left him now—and rich, dark blood began to run from his nostrils; out the sides of his mouth. A trickle at first… then a flood—running over his cheeks and pooling over his eyes. More blood than I ever thought possible. I could see his soul (if indeed he had such a thing) departing. Bidding an unexpected, frightening farewell to such a long, long life—one undoubtedly filled with happiness, and agony, and struggle, and success. Filled with moments too beautiful to share. Too painful to recall. It was all ending now, and he was so afraid. Afraid of what nothingness awaited him. Or worse, what punishment.
And then he was gone. I expected my eyes to fill with tears. To feel remorse at the sight of what I had done. I admit that I felt nothing. I only wished he had suffered more.
Thomas stood aghast. “Look what you’ve done,” he said after a sickened silence. “You’ve killed us.”
“On the contrary… I’ve killed him.”
“More will come.”
Abe had already begun to walk away.
“Then I shall need more stakes.”

Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter
THREE

Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter
Henry
It is the eternal struggle between these two principles—right and wrong—throughout the world. They are the two principles that have stood face to face from the beginning of time; and will ever continue to struggle.
—Abraham Lincoln, debating Stephen A. Douglas
October 15th, 1858

Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter
I
Southeastern Indiana was in the grip of fear during the summer of 1825. Three children had gone missing over a six-week period beginning in early April. The first, a seven-year-old boy named Samuel Greene, disappeared while playing in the woods near

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