Read Online Blood of the Impaler by Jeffrey Sackett - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jeffrey Sackett
Tags: Horror
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wife to mind her own business!" Holly said as she turned to walk out.
"Are you aware of the fact," Rachel called after her, "that our father, Malcolm's and mine, was hanged for murder twenty years ago?"
This stopped Holly in her tracks. "What are you talking about?"
Rachel laughed humorlessly. "Ah, I thought that might interest you. Yes, Abraham Harker, our father, was convicted of murder in Kansas and executed for the crime."
"So?" she asked angrily. "So what?"
"Isn't it obvious?" Rachel said. "Certain forms of insanity are hereditary, and can be triggered by improper associations and experiences. Our family is an old one, and we must guard ourselves very carefully lest we become involved with persons of unsavory characteristics. In Malcolm's case, his recent behavior, it seems to me, is a result of his relationship with you and his friendship with that Barry person."
"Jerry," Holly corrected her. "And I'm not going to bother arguing with you about something this stupid." She turned again to leave.
"It is quite serious, Miss Larsen," Rachel said firmly, again stopping her before she left the sitting room. "For us, only religious devotion can serve to repress the bad strain, the bad blood, as it were. You, I take it, are not particularly religious?"
"My religious beliefs are my own concern!" she snapped.
"So," Rachel nodded, as if Holly's response had confirmed her suspicions. "I'm afraid, Miss Larsen, that if you and Malcolm continue to see each other, it will have a terrible effect upon him. And if, God forbid, you two should marry, I shudder to think what your offspring would be like." She said all of this in a largely expressionless monotone.
"Okay, listen up, lady, and listen good!" Holly said heatedly. "Point one: the only kind of insanity which can be hereditary is a type of schizophrenia which comes from a chemical imbalance, so any notion of insanity running in a family is superstitious nonsense. Point two: I don't care one bit what Mal's father was like or what he did. It doesn't mean anything to me at all. Point three: I draw a very clear line between being religious, like lots of nice, kind, friendly people are, and being an overbearing, narrow-minded, pompous, parochial, ignorant ass, which is what you are. And," she shouted over Rachel's and Daniel's voices as they began to speak angrily, "point four: I love Malcolm, and I think he loves me, and if you don't like it, you can just go . . . go . . . well, I don't know what," she huffed, "but you can just go do it!"
"Rachel. Daniel. Leave me with the child," old Quincy said as he shuffled into the room, his sudden appearance silencing all of them for a moment.
"Now just a moment, Grandfather," Rachel began.
"Don't argue with me," Quincy said sternly. "Just go about your business and leave me with the child." Rachel and her husband stormed out of the room, casting Holly one last angry look. Quincy turned to her and smiled. "Don't let them bother you, my dear. Neither my granddaughter nor her husband have ever developed the, ah, social graces, shall we say."
She smiled at the old man and blushed slightly, embarrassed at her own flare of temper. "I'm sorry if we disturbed you, Mr. Harker," she said. "I really am. I just came by to see if Mal was okay, and they started . . . well, why go into it. I'm just sorry; that's all."
"Think nothing of it. It's not important." Quincy paused and looked up and down appraisingly with that innocent presumptiveness acceptable only in the very old and the very young. "I'm gratified to see that my taste in ladies has been handed down to my grandson. I know Rachel thinks that Malcolm isn't safe in the same room with you, but I have to say that if I were seventy years younger"—and his rheumy old eyes twinkled—"you wouldn't be safe in the same room with me!"
She blushed but could not keep herself from laughing. "Mr. Harker! Please!"
"I'm well into my nineties, my dear," he said, smiling. "That gives me the right to say
"Are you aware of the fact," Rachel called after her, "that our father, Malcolm's and mine, was hanged for murder twenty years ago?"
This stopped Holly in her tracks. "What are you talking about?"
Rachel laughed humorlessly. "Ah, I thought that might interest you. Yes, Abraham Harker, our father, was convicted of murder in Kansas and executed for the crime."
"So?" she asked angrily. "So what?"
"Isn't it obvious?" Rachel said. "Certain forms of insanity are hereditary, and can be triggered by improper associations and experiences. Our family is an old one, and we must guard ourselves very carefully lest we become involved with persons of unsavory characteristics. In Malcolm's case, his recent behavior, it seems to me, is a result of his relationship with you and his friendship with that Barry person."
"Jerry," Holly corrected her. "And I'm not going to bother arguing with you about something this stupid." She turned again to leave.
"It is quite serious, Miss Larsen," Rachel said firmly, again stopping her before she left the sitting room. "For us, only religious devotion can serve to repress the bad strain, the bad blood, as it were. You, I take it, are not particularly religious?"
"My religious beliefs are my own concern!" she snapped.
"So," Rachel nodded, as if Holly's response had confirmed her suspicions. "I'm afraid, Miss Larsen, that if you and Malcolm continue to see each other, it will have a terrible effect upon him. And if, God forbid, you two should marry, I shudder to think what your offspring would be like." She said all of this in a largely expressionless monotone.
"Okay, listen up, lady, and listen good!" Holly said heatedly. "Point one: the only kind of insanity which can be hereditary is a type of schizophrenia which comes from a chemical imbalance, so any notion of insanity running in a family is superstitious nonsense. Point two: I don't care one bit what Mal's father was like or what he did. It doesn't mean anything to me at all. Point three: I draw a very clear line between being religious, like lots of nice, kind, friendly people are, and being an overbearing, narrow-minded, pompous, parochial, ignorant ass, which is what you are. And," she shouted over Rachel's and Daniel's voices as they began to speak angrily, "point four: I love Malcolm, and I think he loves me, and if you don't like it, you can just go . . . go . . . well, I don't know what," she huffed, "but you can just go do it!"
"Rachel. Daniel. Leave me with the child," old Quincy said as he shuffled into the room, his sudden appearance silencing all of them for a moment.
"Now just a moment, Grandfather," Rachel began.
"Don't argue with me," Quincy said sternly. "Just go about your business and leave me with the child." Rachel and her husband stormed out of the room, casting Holly one last angry look. Quincy turned to her and smiled. "Don't let them bother you, my dear. Neither my granddaughter nor her husband have ever developed the, ah, social graces, shall we say."
She smiled at the old man and blushed slightly, embarrassed at her own flare of temper. "I'm sorry if we disturbed you, Mr. Harker," she said. "I really am. I just came by to see if Mal was okay, and they started . . . well, why go into it. I'm just sorry; that's all."
"Think nothing of it. It's not important." Quincy paused and looked up and down appraisingly with that innocent presumptiveness acceptable only in the very old and the very young. "I'm gratified to see that my taste in ladies has been handed down to my grandson. I know Rachel thinks that Malcolm isn't safe in the same room with you, but I have to say that if I were seventy years younger"—and his rheumy old eyes twinkled—"you wouldn't be safe in the same room with me!"
She blushed but could not keep herself from laughing. "Mr. Harker! Please!"
"I'm well into my nineties, my dear," he said, smiling. "That gives me the right to say
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