Read Online Werewolf Suspense (Book 1): Outage by T.W. Piperbrook - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: T.W. Piperbrook
Tags: Werewolves & Shifters
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had left. The Hamiltons were dead.
The only person left was the man at the end of the cul-de-sac, and the beast—and she suspected the two were one and the same.
Getting to another neighborhood was her only bet.
Abby put one foot in front of the other, clutching the knife and the gun, and treaded across the room. Before long, she'd cleared the bedroom and re-entered the hallway.
She peered over the railing. The front door was still open. Beads of snow drifted in from outside, covering the foyer like an icy welcome mat. The world outside was white and silent, betraying nothing about the events that had transpired. Abby kept her eyes glued to the doorway. With each step, she could see more of the neighborhood—snow and gray sky and houses with their shapes twisted and deformed.
When she reached the top landing, she took a breath. The stairs seemed to unfold before her. For a moment, she convinced herself that the carpeted steps were the only things separating her from the monster, that when she started down them, she'd give up her only advantage. But she had to move. Had to continue.
Staying would mean death.
She stared down the steps and out the front door, ready to take the first step.
She was about to move when she saw a mass of fur barreling toward the house.
Abby stepped back. Her heart leapt in her chest. The thing glided across the terrain, soundless except for the crunch of paws on powder. She spun and grabbed for the nearest door handle, then ducked into a small bathroom.
Although her instinct was to slam the door shut and barricade herself inside, she closed it to a crack instead. Through the opening, over the top of the railing, she could see the foyer, the open door, and the advancing beast.
She'd waited too long. She should've left sooner.
She felt around in the dark, locating a counter and a sink, and placed the knife on top of it. Then she placed both hands on the gun and held it at chest level.
She'd never fired one before. She knew where the trigger was and how to hold it, but nothing more. She prayed the thing had bullets, that it was ready to fire.
The creature had reached the front step. She watched it switch from four limbs to two, standing upright and huffing the air. Her breath caught in her throat, and she backed away from the bathroom door, taking aim through the crack. Once it climbed the stairs and came into view, she'd shoot.
She hoped it wouldn't. She hoped it would leave. But the fact of the matter was that it had already come and gone once. If it was back, it was back for good .
The beast stepped through the front door. It extended its nose into the air, wagged its mane. She could make out its eyes in the semi-darkness—red and piercing, and they seemed to swallow the room with each pass, as if willing her to emerge. Its body darkened the doorway, and she saw the outlines of bristled fur. Claws. Teeth.
She could smell it, too. The musk of the outdoors, the odor of a fresh kill. Abby said a silent prayer, her lips moving soundlessly. The beast took one plodding step, then another, establishing the house as its own.
She aimed her weapon through the crack, wondering if she'd have the chance to use it. Adeline had meant to. And now she was dead.
The creature hit the first stair.
Abby heard the muffled thump of a foot, the hiss of hot breath gliding through teeth. She stared through the crack in the door, afraid to blink. Because the opening was small, the creature had slipped from view; the only clue she had to its whereabouts was the sound of it ascending the steps.
She could only guess at its location.
The footsteps continued.
Thump. Thump.
Abby strained to recall how many steps there were. Ten? Twelve? How many until the creature was right in front of her?
The open front door seemed to beckon her. For a moment, she considered darting out into the hallway and throwing herself over the railing. Would it be worth the risk of injury? Would she survive
The only person left was the man at the end of the cul-de-sac, and the beast—and she suspected the two were one and the same.
Getting to another neighborhood was her only bet.
Abby put one foot in front of the other, clutching the knife and the gun, and treaded across the room. Before long, she'd cleared the bedroom and re-entered the hallway.
She peered over the railing. The front door was still open. Beads of snow drifted in from outside, covering the foyer like an icy welcome mat. The world outside was white and silent, betraying nothing about the events that had transpired. Abby kept her eyes glued to the doorway. With each step, she could see more of the neighborhood—snow and gray sky and houses with their shapes twisted and deformed.
When she reached the top landing, she took a breath. The stairs seemed to unfold before her. For a moment, she convinced herself that the carpeted steps were the only things separating her from the monster, that when she started down them, she'd give up her only advantage. But she had to move. Had to continue.
Staying would mean death.
She stared down the steps and out the front door, ready to take the first step.
She was about to move when she saw a mass of fur barreling toward the house.
Abby stepped back. Her heart leapt in her chest. The thing glided across the terrain, soundless except for the crunch of paws on powder. She spun and grabbed for the nearest door handle, then ducked into a small bathroom.
Although her instinct was to slam the door shut and barricade herself inside, she closed it to a crack instead. Through the opening, over the top of the railing, she could see the foyer, the open door, and the advancing beast.
She'd waited too long. She should've left sooner.
She felt around in the dark, locating a counter and a sink, and placed the knife on top of it. Then she placed both hands on the gun and held it at chest level.
She'd never fired one before. She knew where the trigger was and how to hold it, but nothing more. She prayed the thing had bullets, that it was ready to fire.
The creature had reached the front step. She watched it switch from four limbs to two, standing upright and huffing the air. Her breath caught in her throat, and she backed away from the bathroom door, taking aim through the crack. Once it climbed the stairs and came into view, she'd shoot.
She hoped it wouldn't. She hoped it would leave. But the fact of the matter was that it had already come and gone once. If it was back, it was back for good .
The beast stepped through the front door. It extended its nose into the air, wagged its mane. She could make out its eyes in the semi-darkness—red and piercing, and they seemed to swallow the room with each pass, as if willing her to emerge. Its body darkened the doorway, and she saw the outlines of bristled fur. Claws. Teeth.
She could smell it, too. The musk of the outdoors, the odor of a fresh kill. Abby said a silent prayer, her lips moving soundlessly. The beast took one plodding step, then another, establishing the house as its own.
She aimed her weapon through the crack, wondering if she'd have the chance to use it. Adeline had meant to. And now she was dead.
The creature hit the first stair.
Abby heard the muffled thump of a foot, the hiss of hot breath gliding through teeth. She stared through the crack in the door, afraid to blink. Because the opening was small, the creature had slipped from view; the only clue she had to its whereabouts was the sound of it ascending the steps.
She could only guess at its location.
The footsteps continued.
Thump. Thump.
Abby strained to recall how many steps there were. Ten? Twelve? How many until the creature was right in front of her?
The open front door seemed to beckon her. For a moment, she considered darting out into the hallway and throwing herself over the railing. Would it be worth the risk of injury? Would she survive
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