Read Online Hallowed Ground by David Niall Wilson, Steven & Wilson Savile - Free Book Online

The impact drove what little wind she had from her lungs, and she lay there, gasping, as he gazed down at her.
    "You will have to be stronger than that," he said.   The tone of his voice was matter of fact, but as she lay helpless, gazing up into his eyes, she saw that it wasn’t just that the smile didn't reach his eyes, but rather that no emotion did.   They were empty.   His lips curled, broadening that dead smile.   His eyes stared through her into the earth.
    She fastened onto his gaze and felt the ice shiver through her again.   The cold flared where he had touched her forehead, and she concentrated on it.   Mariah pressed her hands to the blanket again, closed her eyes, and pushed herself upright.   She struggled, nearly fell a second time, and then with a grunt of pain, sat up straight.
    The minute she was upright, he knelt at her side once more, suddenly solicitous.   He braced her back with his arm and handed her the water again.
    "Drink slowly," he said. "If you swallow too quickly your stomach will convulse and you will choke again.   There is time.   There is always time."
    She heard his words, and forced herself to drink slowly, needing all of her strength and concentration to remain upright.   She didn't know why it seemed important.   In the back of her mind, his voice echoed.
    He'd said, "You'll have to be stronger than that."
    Mariah handed the tin cup back to him, turned her face up to meet his gaze once again, and asked, "Why?"
    She thought she might catch him off guard.   She thought he'd ask her what she meant, but he held her gaze, and that false smile of his widened.   A flicker of something crossed behind the black pupils of his eyes.
    "You'll need to be strong," he said, as though it was the most natural thing in the world, "because there is work to do and there are truths to be told.   I have not been entirely honest with you, young Mariah.   While I have suggested it was fortune and chance that brought me to you, I have, ah, obfuscated.   That is to say -- I lied.   I knew you would be here.   How could I know, you might ask?   I'll save you the breath of asking.   I called you here."
    That he knew her name didn’t surprise her.   "My baby…" She said.   She needed to ask if he'd known about her child, to know if his calling had been the reason for her early labor.   And then another thought wriggled into her mind – did he know what had happened to the others from the camp?   Did he know why they hadn't followed her?
    "Your child's fate was sealed before I called," he said. "That is not on my hands, but those of another.   Believe me; I would have called you with child, or without.   I need you – have needed you for a long time.   As I have said, there is work to be done.   It was my work, but now…now I think it will be our work.   That is to say it will be personal, and that will make it all the sweeter."
    He did not say to her that he was sorry or offer his regrets or condolences.   "What work?" She nearly toppled from the effort of raising her voice.   "What work?" she said again. "I have lost my child.   I have lost all of those who care whether I live, or die."
    " All is rather absolute, don’t you think?   All suggests none are left that might care a jot or even an iota. Now I might take that personally, Mariah," he said. "I believe I've just brought you back from the very brink of that dark place – more than a few would consider that to be an act of caring."
    "You don't care." She said.   It came out like a rasp, but she couldn't help herself.   Anger boiled up inside her and she couldn't repress it.   "You don't care if I live or die.   You didn't care about my child.   You tell me what you want.   Tell me where my baby boy is.   If you care, tell me that."
    The smile that was not a smile left his face, but his voice remained calm and