The Devil's Beat (The Devil's Mark) by R. Scott VanKirk Read Free Book Online Page B

his face. His eyes eventually adapted to the darkness and, somewhat sheepishly, he realized that it was just ordinary darkness. The blue flashlight beam illuminated the dirt crusted flooring and the ruined woodwork quite nicely.
    Nervously, Max swept the area with his beam and revealed nothing. The circle of light was starting to shake from fatigue and the pain of holding the mammoth flashlight with his injured hand. Sheesh, he had to start working out. He finally settled for carrying the bat under his armpit and on his forearm and put the light in his good hand. He put the Super-Soaker back in its place, blessing his leg.
    With a deep breath, which he quickly regretted, he moved into the house and turned towards the living room. He made his way cautiously, making sure to shine the light into every nook and cranny he approached. He also religiously pointed it at the ornate ceiling. Everyone knew that vampires liked to cling to ceilings like spiders and then drop down on their unsuspecting victims.
    As he approached the entrance to the living room, he took a few moments to steel himself, before he peeked around the corner into the room. The brilliant light revealed the same hole in the floor with the trap door off to the side. There were some dark stains around the hole, but no zombie, skeleton, ghoul, or ghosty thing was in sight.
    Max tried not to let his severely conflicted emotions about this fact distract him from his careful sweep of the room and the ceiling. Not seeing anything, he crept into the room, trying not to make a sound. Of course, the floor creaked and groaned with every step. He bitterly reflected that he was not going to be much of a surprise. His position eventually revealed that the dark stain around the lip of the hole actually led away from it, toward the back of the room, and away from the windows in front.
    He blinked his watering eyes and snuffled back the snot in his nose. Dear God, that garlic is worse than the rot. He wrenched his mind back to the room.
    He nervously followed the dark stain trail with his flashlight. It led to the back corner and disappeared around the massive fireplace where it jutted into the room. He swore when the light failed to illuminate that back corner.
    Gathering his fractured courage, he slid down the wall opposite the fireplace. Max crab-stepped sideways, and tried simultaneously to watch the gaping black hole in the floor and the far corner and the ceiling. He strongly felt the lack of a third eye. Finally, he moved far enough that his beam finally illuminated that terrifying darkness, revealing something...
    A short scream bubbled out of Max when the sight clicked in his mind. It looked like a mummy might without its wrappings. It was emaciated and thin with desiccated flesh that didn't quite cover its bones. The thing had pulled itself back into the corner and sat with its legs pulled up to its chest and its one whole arm wrapped around them. That hand was holding the stump of the arm sitting out in the drive. Its bony head slumped onto its bony knees. It was not moving, and it looked like a study in both horror and abject misery. Max could imagine a little girl who had just lost her beloved dog pulling herself up into a tight ball like that, unable to face the world. He fucking hated his imagination.
    Okay Max, now what? Fear and revulsion glued him in place. Obviously, this corpse-thing had impossibly dragged itself from the hole into that corner—like a crippled and terrified little girl. Stop it! That mental image threatened to unhinge him. What was with the little girls? This was a monster! He shook his head to dislodge the thoughts. Finally, he started to ease forward, pausing after every step. The terror of that thing springing to life and eating his brains made his limbs feel like rubber, but thinking of the kids who came into this place (not the little girl!) kept him going.
    He approached slowly and cautiously, but he forgot to sweep all the other corners