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Back Nightblood Save as PDF
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 would be easiest, he thought. Let her go. Sever the ties here and now and go your own way, because you know what’s happened in the past. The Enemy’s still out there, somewhere, and one morning you’ll wake up and there’ll be that premonition gnawing at the back of your neck and you’ll have to go. No questions, no excuses, you’ll just go.

It would be easiest . . .

He went to her and took her face in his hands and kissed her. Not a goodbye kiss—she sensed that right off. Her moist eyes brightened as he asked, “Where was it your parents live?”

“Ellettsville.”

He considered it. “You know, I’ve always wanted to see that town. Uh . . . where the hell is it?” She laughed and threw her arms around his middle and hugged him tight. Stiles just wheezed uncomfortably and didn’t remind her of his ribs. Hell, even the pain felt good for once.

“Now that that’s settled,” Hubert said, hoisting a shotgun in one hand and the Heckler & Koch in the other, “don’t you think we’ve got work to be done? We may’ve got most of ’em that last trip, but I’m antsy to make sure.”

“I’m with Hubert,” Jessie said, tying a scarf on her head so her hair wouldn’t blow. She slipped her purse off her shoulder and poked around inside until she found another full magazine, and she slammed it into the Uzi pistol and chambered a round. “Let’s go kick some ass.” She giggled and elbowed the big black man in the ribs as they went down the porch steps. “You know, I’ve always wanted to say that.”

Epilogue

Epilogue

It was early Friday morning in Bedford, just past 2:30 a.m., but few were sleeping. How could they, what with Death Town, USA located just so many miles down Highway 50? There had been little to allay their fears of the past week: the news agencies couldn’t wring a story from the state police or even the FBI for that matter, and that left only the rumor mills to quench the public thirst. Some said a satanic cult had taken over the neighboring town, sacrificing the citizens in ways too hideous for mass consumption on the evening news. Or maybe it was a chemical spill that caused it, or a leak of biological weapons from Crane Naval Base, or maybe a hundred other doomsday scenarios. Before long Isherwood would be a dumping ground for PCBs and nuclear waste and crashed alien ships and God knows what else.