Read Online Seize the Night: New Tales of Vampiric Terror by Charlaine Harris, Tim Lebbon, David Wellington, Sherrilyn Kenyon, Dan Chaon, Brian Keene, John Ajvide Lindqvist, Kelley Armstrong, Michael Koryta, Scott Smith, Joe McKinney, Laird Barron, Rio Youers, Dana Cameron, Leigh Perry, Gary A. Braunbeck, Lynda Barry, John Langan, Seanan McGuire, Robert Shearman, Lucy A. Snyder - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Charlaine Harris, Tim Lebbon, David Wellington, Sherrilyn Kenyon, Dan Chaon, Brian Keene, John Ajvide Lindqvist, Kelley Armstrong, Michael Koryta, Scott Smith, Joe McKinney, Laird Barron, Rio Youers, Dana Cameron, Leigh Perry, Gary A. Braunbeck, Lynda Barry, John Langan, Seanan McGuire, Robert Shearman, Lucy A. Snyder
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the storm took all such sounds as its own. Lou lay sprawled and shattered on the hillside, her own weight driving the glass deeper. She didn’t move.
The storm raged on.
T here was something dream-like about the storm. It beat its fists against the rooftops and hammered against the windows, but the works of man held fast; save for a little bit of a leak up in the attic, the house was a fortress. Mary twitched the curtain aside and looked out on the backyard. The slope of the hill beyond the fence was a black hump in the darkness, almost obscured by the pounding rain.
“Where is that girl?” she muttered, before glancing guiltily over her shoulder. Spenser was angry at the rain, said it was interfering with the television reception, and he was angry with Mary too, for trying to say that digital cable didn’t work like that. The picture had looked perfectly clear to her, but what did she know? She was just the woman who put the beer in his hand and the remote on the arm of his chair before she backed away, keeping clear of his fists, which seemed to swing especially hard when the rain came down. He didn’t like nights like this one. He wouldn’t be happy when he realized that Lou was still out there, chasing fireflies like a little kid.
“ It’s time for that girl to grow up and realize that she can’t be a hellion forever ,” that was what he’d said to Mary not two months before,when Lou had come bursting in excited by the first summer fireflies. “ If I need to smack some sense into her, I will .”
Mary liked to think that she would throw him out the first time Spenser laid a hand on her baby girl, but she knew better than to believe it. This house was in her name, but his paychecks paid the bills, and she couldn’t cover the mortgage without him. If her contribution had to be paid in bruises, there were worse things in the world. Crawling back to her mother with her hat in her hands, for example. Pulling Lou out of school and away from all her friends, and all because Mary didn’t know how to pick a man.
It was all justification and she knew it, but that didn’t change the necessity of it. Why didn’t you leave? was a question asked by women who lived in safe, comfortable houses with money in their bank accounts, who had never fed their daughters flour dumplings in soy-sauce soup.
“Mary! Get your ass in here!” Spenser sounded furious.
Mary tore her eyes away from the black hills behind the house. “Coming,” she called, and unlocked the back door with a quick, decisive flick of her wrist before walking quickly—not running, no, see? She still had her dignity; she didn’t run when he called her name—out to the living room. The television was on, the picture clear as shallow water. Spenser was seated in his armchair, the special one that no one else was allowed to touch without his invitation. He looked like a poisonous toad, squatting there, stockpiling his venom.
“What’s going on, sweetheart?” she asked, putting every ounce of love and affection she could find into her voice.
“Someone’s on the damn porch,” he said. He turned to look at her, narrow-eyed, and added, “It better not be that girl of yours. I told her to go up to her room after dinner and get started on her homework. I’m not going to be happy if she’s not been minding me.”
“I’m sure it’s not Lou,” said Mary, who knew full well that herdaughter would have tried the back door before she came around front. “It’s probably one of the neighbors, coming over to borrow a bucket.” It would have to be some leak for anyone to be willing to brave the storm rather than use a pot or pan to catch the water. Still, it was the best excuse she had.
Spenser looked at her for a moment more, still narrow-eyed and suspicious, before he turned back to the television. Mary let out a breath she had barely been aware of holding and walked onward, toward the door. The storm wasn’t even half-over yet: she could feel
The storm raged on.
T here was something dream-like about the storm. It beat its fists against the rooftops and hammered against the windows, but the works of man held fast; save for a little bit of a leak up in the attic, the house was a fortress. Mary twitched the curtain aside and looked out on the backyard. The slope of the hill beyond the fence was a black hump in the darkness, almost obscured by the pounding rain.
“Where is that girl?” she muttered, before glancing guiltily over her shoulder. Spenser was angry at the rain, said it was interfering with the television reception, and he was angry with Mary too, for trying to say that digital cable didn’t work like that. The picture had looked perfectly clear to her, but what did she know? She was just the woman who put the beer in his hand and the remote on the arm of his chair before she backed away, keeping clear of his fists, which seemed to swing especially hard when the rain came down. He didn’t like nights like this one. He wouldn’t be happy when he realized that Lou was still out there, chasing fireflies like a little kid.
“ It’s time for that girl to grow up and realize that she can’t be a hellion forever ,” that was what he’d said to Mary not two months before,when Lou had come bursting in excited by the first summer fireflies. “ If I need to smack some sense into her, I will .”
Mary liked to think that she would throw him out the first time Spenser laid a hand on her baby girl, but she knew better than to believe it. This house was in her name, but his paychecks paid the bills, and she couldn’t cover the mortgage without him. If her contribution had to be paid in bruises, there were worse things in the world. Crawling back to her mother with her hat in her hands, for example. Pulling Lou out of school and away from all her friends, and all because Mary didn’t know how to pick a man.
It was all justification and she knew it, but that didn’t change the necessity of it. Why didn’t you leave? was a question asked by women who lived in safe, comfortable houses with money in their bank accounts, who had never fed their daughters flour dumplings in soy-sauce soup.
“Mary! Get your ass in here!” Spenser sounded furious.
Mary tore her eyes away from the black hills behind the house. “Coming,” she called, and unlocked the back door with a quick, decisive flick of her wrist before walking quickly—not running, no, see? She still had her dignity; she didn’t run when he called her name—out to the living room. The television was on, the picture clear as shallow water. Spenser was seated in his armchair, the special one that no one else was allowed to touch without his invitation. He looked like a poisonous toad, squatting there, stockpiling his venom.
“What’s going on, sweetheart?” she asked, putting every ounce of love and affection she could find into her voice.
“Someone’s on the damn porch,” he said. He turned to look at her, narrow-eyed, and added, “It better not be that girl of yours. I told her to go up to her room after dinner and get started on her homework. I’m not going to be happy if she’s not been minding me.”
“I’m sure it’s not Lou,” said Mary, who knew full well that herdaughter would have tried the back door before she came around front. “It’s probably one of the neighbors, coming over to borrow a bucket.” It would have to be some leak for anyone to be willing to brave the storm rather than use a pot or pan to catch the water. Still, it was the best excuse she had.
Spenser looked at her for a moment more, still narrow-eyed and suspicious, before he turned back to the television. Mary let out a breath she had barely been aware of holding and walked onward, toward the door. The storm wasn’t even half-over yet: she could feel
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