Read Online Lords of Salem by Rob Zombie - Free Book Online

faux fur coat, leading a large Labrador retriever. She had stopped to let the dog sniff a lamppost. She was looking idly around, her eyes wandering. After a moment she tugged on the leash, but the dog braced its paws. It wasn’t ready to be pulled away.
    Her gaze was slowly drawn to the nuns. They stood there on the steps, motionless, their habits blowing in the wind.
    “He sees us,” the first nun said.
    “No,” the second nun said. “It is Hawthorne’s blood but it is not Hawthorne. It is a she. And she does not know what she sees.”
    The first nun nodded. “She will not know what she sees until it is too late.”

Chapter Eleven
    The large African American man stood on the front steps of the apartment trying to stop himself from pacing. He was dressed in a way that made him stand out from other residents of Salem, that made him seem like a throwback to the seventies. He wore glittering white Adidas shoes, a black-ribbed T-shirt, and a white-leather suit coat. His pants were white as well, tight-fitting slacks that looked like they’d been tailored to fit him. He was in his late fifties, but still relatively fit. He took a cigar out of his coat pocket, stared at it, then put it away again. A moment later he had it out again and had bitten off the ends and was lighting it.
    Might as well enjoy myself if I have to wait, he thought, puffing on the cigar and turning it in the flame until the tip glowed evenly. Where is she? he wondered. Late again. He tried not to worry about Heidi. When he’d knocked on the door, nobody had answered and that’d made him a little anxious, but Steve hadn’t barked, which meant wherever she was she was out with Steve. Which meant the chances that she’d started using again and hadn’t come home the night before were slim to none. She was okay, he was pretty sure, but he couldn’t help but worry about her, because he’d seen how bad things had gotten for her last time. He didn’t ever want her to go through something like that again. But he also didn’t want to have to be the one to pull her out the next time; once was enough. He’d been happy to do it, happy to be there for her, but it’d been hard on bothof them, and the way she’d cursed him out when she realized he was going to check her into the clinic, well, that just wasn’t something easy to forget. He’d put his own job on the line convincing the station to hire her back, which was why he made a point of picking her up and getting her to work on time, of making sure she didn’t start fucking up again.
    He took a long draw on the cigar. He loved the way the smoke changed the inside of his mouth, numbed it just a little but also changed the texture of it almost.
    The curtains behind one of the windows on the ground floor were pulled back and he caught a quick glimpse of a woman’s face before it quickly fell again. Landlady, he told himself. What was her name? Heidi had introduced her but he’d be damned if he could remember. Probably the old hippy chick didn’t approve of him smoking cigars on her steps, but if that were the case she’d have to come out and tell him to his face. He knew that there were very few people willing to stand up to him, to Herman Jackson, and he suspected that she wasn’t one of them. He wasn’t a jerk—he’d stop smoking if she asked nicely and without being prissy—but as far as he was concerned he was outdoors with nobody else in smell range. He wasn’t bothering anybody. And if he was, they could let him know nicely or grin and bear it.
    “Hey,” someone said.
    He turned to see Heidi walking back toward the apartment building, leading Steve. Yeah, she was okay. He shouldn’t have worried. It made him a little ashamed that he had, a little angry at himself, but a little angry at her, too, for putting him in a position that made him feel like he had to. But no, that was stupid. She was a good kid, trying just like anyone else, and mostly doing all right.
    She reached him,