Back Nightblood
Chapters (33)
  1. Cover
  2. Title page
  3. Introduction by Grady Hendrix
  4. Acknowledgments
  5. Prologue
  6. Part I: The Hunt
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. Part II: The Reckoning
  14. 7
  15. 8
  16. 9
  17. 10
  18. 11
  19. 12
  20. 13
  21. 14
  22. 15
  23. Part III: Shadow War
  24. 16
  25. 17
  26. 18
  27. 19
  28. 20
  29. 21
  30. 22
  31. Epilogue
  32. About the Author
  33. About the Cover

“It’s another trick,” she said. “You’re trying to trick me.”

“Then here . . . touch my hand.”

“Stay back.” The shotgun barrels looked deeply into his eyes.

“Dammit, how can I convince you? We’re wasting time—they could be killing my mom!”

Sharon’s face remained stony; her tears had all been cried out. “I’m sorry, Delbert,” she said flatly, “if you are really Delbert. But I can’t take the chance. I just can’t.” She kept the shotgun trained on him even as she backed away, and once the barrels cleared the window, she quickly closed and locked it.

“Wait! What do I do now? Where do I go . . .” but it was no use. She was gone. He sat back and started to cry. “I’m sorry, Mom,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”

You can’t give up on faith, sweetheart . . .

Her words from earlier in the day came back. But why? What had made him think of that now, unless . . . He looked around to confirm his location. The church wasn’t far from there, just at the end of the next street, maybe two or three blocks. But what good would that do? he wondered. The pastor’s done gone cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs, so he won’t be any help, and what’s there for me anyway, I sleep through services and I couldn’t even hold off Danner with a cross and Chris told me—

Can’t give up on faith.

He surrendered with a sigh. All right, Mom. At least it’s a place to go.

He recovered his fake teeth, dusted them off, and put them in, then reached into his coat pocket for the stick of clown-white to fix his face again and . . . oh, God. It wasn’t there, he realized coldly as he patted down all of his pockets. He could almost visualize laying it on the furnace before stepping out into the open basement. Arrgh, he groaned, slapping his own forehead. What am I going to do now? He looked around. There was no one else in sight. No use complaining. Better git now, while the gittin’s good. He walked back out to the street, looked both ways, checking each house as well. And when he was sure the coast was clear, he pulled his collar up around his face, lowered his head, and ran.