Maleficarum: Hunger of the Witch by Jeremy Bennett Read Free Book Online Page A

Beverly said, placing a hand on Nick’s shoulder.
    “Yep, let’s get on it, ” Mike said. The two of them rushed to find a way to seal off every entrance as fast as they could.
    “What’s your name?” Ann asked , sitting down next to the quaking blonde girl.
    “It ’s Kim,” she stammered, her lips quivering.
    “Kim , we’ve got to help them board up this place,” Ann said as she pushed Kim’s shoulder-length blonde hair out of her eyes.
    “O K,” she whispered. The four of them worked as fast as they could. Ann and the blonde woman were pulling nails and screws from any piece of furniture they could find, and Mike and the fat man were hammering the boards to the windows. They worked silently. The only words spoken were the ones needed to give directions in the effort or to clarify exactly what needed to be done. Panic was like another person in the room as they toiled.
    * * *
    Nick tried to use the computer to send some kind of message, but all it pulled was hard core pornography, and trying to send a text didn’t fare much better. Beverly never knew there were so many ways to make dicks in text art, but you learn something new every day.
    “To hell with this,” Beverly grumbled as she stormed into the bathroom, leaving the others to their work. The lights popped on like a road flare sending out its blinding rays. When her eyes fully adjusted, she was hunched in front of the mirror looking at a face she didn’t believe was hers. Thick black bags sagged under her eyes, making her look like a boxer that had taken the wrong fight.
    “God, I wanted to look older, but not like the before and after shots of a crackhead,” she muttered as she twisted the creaking handle on the faucet. Clean, clear water flowed into the dingy sink, and she turned the other handle to warm it up before use. Her body could not sustain another shock to the system, even if it was just frigid water.
    Next , she carefully peeled off her blood-soaked hoodie. Its crimson color had masked exactly how much she was bleeding. Both her stab wound and her bite were still oozing. They should have closed by now, but she had not exactly been taking it easy on them. The sight of the wounds churned her stomach, as if her insides had been thrown into a cement mixer. She splashed the wounds with water as best she could before the sight of them started to overwhelm her.
    “Sh it,” she muttered as she pushed her back against the cool tile that lined the walls and slid into a sitting position. She knew it was probably not a good idea to be sitting on the floor of a bathroom that Nick maintained, but she needed to be close to the ground. Resting her head in her hands, she repeated to herself, “Just breathe.” Beverly had no clue how long she had sat there before she heard a light knock at the door.
    “How are you doing?” Nick said from the other side.
    “I’ve been better.”
    “Can I come in?”
    “Y eh,” she said, still cradling her head in her hands.
    The door eased open, and Nick peeked inside. Beverly never looked up as he came into the room. He stood above her, looking like a helpless child before he gathered the nerve to slide in beside her, gently resting his arm on her bare shoulders. His skin was almost as soft as hers. Normally she would have thought this was sexy, but they were in a survival situation. Beverly longed for a more masculine grip—one that was rough and callused from years of hard labor, one that could crush with sheer power, and one that could scoop her up and carry her away from all this—like her father’s. The old fat construction worker would have handed her his beer, walked outside, and knocked half a dozen of those things out before they took him down. It was a feat she knew Nick could never accomplish with his spindly arms and weak chin.
    She raised her head like a rabbit checking to see if the fox had gone, and as she did, she caught sight of hazel eyes. It was like looking into compassion itself.