The Darkening Dream by Andy Gavin Read Free Book Online

everyone milled about to offer condolences. Emily stood to the side with the twins, who were arguing. They did that a lot, particularly if no one else was around. Evidently, Emily counted as ‘no one else.’
    “Sammy, if that little bit of sand you’re hinting about has even begun to put on a layer of pearl, I’ll cut off your head before you can blink.”
    Now that sounded like an interesting hell-type sermon.
    “I can’t help what I feel, Annie. ” They hardly ever used their nicknames any more.
    “Your feelings aren’t even real,” Anne said. “We’ve all been friends forever, and it’s going to stay that way. You know you’re competitive — it’s probably just because we met Alex.”
    “I’m not competitive,” he said. “And I like Alex, and it’s great to have another man around. I might be a better shot, but I never saw a finer horse than Bucephalus — his riding ain’t bad, either.”
    He smiled at her. Emily knew that smile. He was up to something.
    He said, “You like horses. Maybe you two should go riding.”
    Anne glared at him, but before she could say anything their parents returned.
    “Mommy, I need to ask the pastor about one of our Bible assignments,” Emily said. There weren’t any, but her mother wouldn’t know that.

    “I wanted to thank you for delivering such a nice service,” she said. “Charles was my friend.”
    Pastor Parris looked down at her. “I have to go back to the parish and close up. Have a good evening, Emily.”
    “I can help if you like.”
    “That won’t be necessary. I’ll see you Sunday.”
    Disappointing. If she went straight home, she’d have no excuse to avoid chores or homework. The schoolwork she’d eventually have to do, but if she dodged the chores long enough, Sam would take care of them. She drifted back to her parents.
    “I volunteered to help the pastor close up.”
    Technically it wasn’t a lie. And anyway, if they made the twins include her no deceit would be—
    “Fine, Emily,” her mother said. “Just be home before dark.”

    Emily dawdled in the old graveyard near the church, long full now. The new cemetery where Charles was buried was a few blocks away. Funny to think of a graveyard full up, packed with bones. She played at jumping from grave to grave, trying to land wherever she thought a skull might be — six feet under, of course. By the time the pastor returned to enter the small wooden building, the sun had almost set.
    She crept over to the church door and peered into the sanctuary. The central room was dark, the orange glow from the sky streaming in through the high windows. The pastor must have gone into his office, so she slipped inside. She walked slowly down the middle aisle on her toes, trying not to let the old floorboards betray her. Halfway to the altar, she slid into a hardwood pew. She folded her good dress carefully and sat, studying the altar and its single plain crucifix.
    Perhaps she should leave before the pastor returned. A loud flapping from the entrance sent her beneath the pew to lie on the wooden floor.
    The church door swung open with a loud squeal. Heavy boots clomped on the floorboards as someone strode down the aisle toward the altar. Her vantage on the floor allowed her to see only the shoes as they passed and then stopped, perhaps fifteen feet away. She’d never seen boots like these, black, with high heels, like a woman’s, but square-toed and fuzzy, as if made of suede. Adorned with a fancy pattern. Black on black.
    She heard the pastor’s door creak and his lighter footsteps.
    “Evening, sir,” he said. “There are no services at this time, but may I help you?”
    The boots rotated to face him, but their owner remained silent. Then Pastor Parris spoke again.
    “This place is forbidden to your kind.”
    The stranger made a noise she’d never heard a person make, like a tomcat guarding its food.
    “The crucified god holds no power over me. I spit in his blood and grind his host under