F Paul Wilson - Novel 10 by Midnight Mass (v2.1) Read Free Book Online

last night was all a dream.
                 But
her throat tightened at the sight of Bernadette's empty mattress on the floor
beside her bed. No ... not a dream. A living nightmare.
                 She'd
stayed up till dawn, then she'd pulled the bedspread from the window and fallen
into exhausted sleep.
                 The
sirens. . . closer now. She crept to the window and peeked at the street below.
Two police cars, red and blue lights flashing, roared past the front of the
convent and made squealing turns into the church parking lot.
                 The
police! They've come!
                 Carole
rose and hurried across the hall to Bern 's room in time to see them slow to a stop
before the church.
                 Thank
you, God, she thought. All is not lost. The police are still on the job.
                 Before
pushing away from the window she searched the lawn to the left of the church
for the remains of the vampire she'd killed last night. A bright, clear,
unconscionably beautiful morning, with a high trail of brown smoke drifting
from the east. She couldn't find the vampire, but she spotted Bernadette's
wooden cross lying in a man-shaped puddle of brown ooze on the grass. Could
that be all that remained of—?
                 Can't
worry about that now, she thought as she dashed back into the hall and down the
rear stairs. She had to get to the police, tell them about Bernadette. They'd
take her to a morgue or a funeral home where Carole could arrange for a proper
burial.
                 She
reached the rear door and had just turned back the deadbolt when she glanced
through the glass. The sight of a lean, wolfish man, all in denim, uncoiling
from the front passenger seat of the first car froze her heart. He settled a
cowboy hat over his long brown hair and looked around, smirking as if he owned
the world. A tattooed blond woman in a leather vest got out of the driver seat
while two more men in rough clothes slithered from the second car. The first
wore his long black hair in a single braid down the middle of his back; the
second was sandy haired and balding, wearing a scraggly beard to compensate for
what he'd lost on his scalp. All four wore wraparound sunglasses and had
silvery earrings dangling from their right lobes.
                 Carole
ducked away from the door and jammed her hands against her mouth. She'd seen
these people before, last night, leading the caravan of trucks carrying the
undead into town. It seemed so long ago, a lifetime. But this could only mean
that the police had lost. The undead and their caretakers were in control now.
                 But
what were they doing here at St. Anthony's?
                 She
crept away from the door and down the hall toward the kitchen. The windows over
the sink looked out toward the church. She could watch from there and see
without being seen. She needed to know what they were up to. She leaned over
the big double sink and cranked the window open an inch or two, just enough to
hear what they were saying.
                 She
sniffed the air that wafted through the opening. Something burning somewhere.
.. smelled like some sort of meat. She glanced at the brown smoke trailing
across the sky. Could that be—?
                 A
car door slammed. She watched the one in the cowboy hat heft a crowbar as he
walked from his police car to the side door of the church. Swinging it like a
baseball bat he started bashing the hooked end against the doorknob. The clang
of metal on metal echoed like a church bell through the eerie silence of the
morning. Then he reversed his grip and rammed the tip of the long end between
the door and the frame. A few hard yanks and the door popped open.
                 The
woman and the two other men ran inside while the cowboy returned to the police
car. He leaned against the fender and lit a cigarette; he