Read Online Bloodstained Oz by Christopher Golden, James Moore - Free Book Online Page B

lost and left behind. She wondered how far they had traveled
across the parched plains.
          The monkey’s eyes were red. She
wondered if it was sick.
          She took a step toward it and Stefan
gripped her shoulder.
          “No. It could be dangerous.”
          Elisa was about to laugh, to argue with
him. It was only a monkey. But then the little thing hissed at him for
halting her, baring its teeth. They were remarkably long and sharp.
          Monstrously sharp.
          And then it spread its wings.
          The horses began to scream.
          “Elisa, get to the—“
          The
baby! she thought instantly, though she was sure he was going to say wagon .
          The monkey beat its wings and launched
into the air, chittering wildly, the sound like a devil’s diseased laughter.
It came right at her face and she raised her arms to defend herself, but Stefan
stepped in front of her, reached out and grabbed hold of one of the monkey’s
wings with his left hand, and its outstretched arms with his right.
          Elisa spun and ran, eyes searching the
darkness, the curtains of night that enveloped the wagon, for any other
unwelcome beast. Wings , she thought. How could it have wings? How could such
a thing be born?
          And in the back of her mind, she thought
it just another shard of proof that God did not exist.
          One of the horses had broken its tether.
It galloped by, hooves pounding the dirt. Dark shapes clung to its hide,
wings spread, claws tearing at the horse’s flesh. Even as she ran, she glanced
over and saw one of the monkeys open its jaws impossibly wide and sink those
monstrous fangs into the horse’s throat . . . then it drew back with a powerful
lurch and the flesh was ripped noisily open. Blood gushed out onto the dry,
thirsty earth, splattering the winged monkey.
          The horse staggered and fell. The two
little monsters rode it down and began to feast.
          Elisa threw herself through the flaps at
the back of the wagon. The rifle fell over with a clatter and she grabbed it
in surprise and relief. On the bed, Jeremiah had begun to stir, arms and legs
moving, one hand pawing at his own face. His eyes scrunched tightly closed and
then his mouth opened and he began to wail.
          “No, baby. Hush, now,” she said, her
mind painting the most hideous pictures imaginable. How many of those things
were out there in the dark?
          Even as the thought went through her
mind she heard the flutter of wings and something heavy landed on top of the
wagon.
          Outside, Stefan screamed her name.
          “No,” Elisa whispered. Her skin was
flushed, her pulse skipping, pounding at her temples. For a moment she just
stood there, shaking, as the baby cried and once more her husband called out
her name.
          Then she was moving. Elisa scrambled to
the bed and scooped Jeremiah up in her arms. He stopped wailing for a moment
as he tried to nuzzle her breast, but denied that comfort, he began to cry
again. She went to the back of the wagon, rifle in hand. Somehow she managed
to cock the gun even as she held Jeremiah—no different in its way than
trying to cook with him in her arms, which she had done a hundred times.
          The weight up on top of the wagon’s roof
shifted. The wood creaked. Then the whole thing shook as the monkey leaped
away, the flutter of wings reaching her.
          Through the gap at the back of the
wagon, she saw it flying away. Toward the fire. Toward her husband.
          Stefan was grappling with the monkey.
One of its wings was broken, and he held it and twisted, but the thing had
gotten the better of him. The firelight danced over them and the monkey bared
its fangs, and for the first time, she understood what they were. In the old
country they had many names, but here they were called vampires.
          Impossible things.
          As she climbed out of the back