The Blackstone Chronicles - By John Saul Page 0,61

Jules Hartwick’s body relaxed in death, his hands finally lost their grip on the knife. It fell to the porch, clattering eerily in the suddenly silent night.

For a long time Oliver crouched next to his friend. Finally, he stood up and started slowly back to his house. With every step, he heard Jules Hartwick’s last words once again.

“You have to stop it … before it kills us all.”

How, he wondered, was he going to honor Jules’s last request when he had no idea what the words meant?

* * *

Midnight. The dark figure moved as silently as a wraith through the blackness of the Asylum, coming at last to the hidden room in which the treasures lay. It was once more the time of the full moon, and the room was suffused with a pale light just strong enough to allow him to admire his collection.

His fingers, sheathed in latex, touched first one object and then another, at last coming to rest on a golden oblong that glittered brightly even in the faint light.

It was an ornate cigarette lighter, cast in the shape of a dragon’s head. Ruby red jewels were set in either side as eyes, and the mouth was slightly opened. As the gloved fingers tightened around a trigger in the dragon’s neck, a spark flicked deep in its throat. Instantly, a tongue of fire shot from its gaping jaws.

The orange flame danced in the darkness as the shadowed figure pondered.

He already knew for whom the gift was meant; the question now was how to deliver it.

He eased his grip on the dragon’s throat.

The flame flickered, then went out.

Soon—very soon—it would flare again.

And when it did, the dragon would strike.

To be continued …

PART 3

ASHES TO ASHES:

THE DRAGON’S

FLAME

Prelude

It was the kind of wintry March night that kept all but the most restless of Blackstone’s citizens nestled within the warmth of their homes. Though the temperature hovered just above freezing, the wind that crept up on the town just after nightfall brought with it a chill of its own. Its gusts gathered force throughout the night, unleashing a howling monster that tore branches from the bare trees, clawed shingles from the roofs, and rattled the windows of every house, as if searching for ways to enact its fury upon the people within. Clouds, torn to shreds by the raging wind, scudded across the sky in grayish tatters, swirling across the moon so that dark shadows moved through the streets like thieves slithering from house to house.

In the Asylum atop North Hill the dark figure was oblivious to the menace of the night. Inured to the moaning of the wind and not feeling the cold, he crouched in his chamber, lovingly fingering the golden dragon. Its ruby red eyes seemed to blink with every darkening of the moon beyond the room’s single tiny window. Cradling the dragon in his gloved hands, he cast his mind back to the time when he had first laid eyes on it.…

Prologue

It wasn’t right.

It wasn’t the way it was supposed to have been.

When she’d discovered she was pregnant, Tommy was supposed to insist that they get married immediately.

But instead of putting his arms around her and assuring her that everything would be all right, he’d looked at her with such pure fury blazing in his eyes that she thought he was going to hit her, that he would throw her out of the roadster right then, and she’d have to walk all the way home. “How could you be so stupid?” he demanded. They were parked on the lovers’ lane on the slope of North Hill that faced away from Blackstone, and he’d yelled so loud that the people in the backseat of the only other car up there that night had rubbed a clear spot in the steamy window and peered curiously over at them.

She’d shrunk down in the seat, so embarrassed she wanted to die. Then Tommy started the engine and took off, slamming the car through the curves so fast she was terrified they were both going to get killed before they got back to town.

Maybe that would have been better than what happened next. He pulled up in front of her house, reached across and shoved the door open, then glowered at her one last time. “Don’t think I’m going to marry you,” he growled. “In fact, don’t even think you’re going to see me again!”

Sobbing, she stumbled out of the car, and he roared away, tires squealing, and disappeared around the corner.