Vampires: The Greatest Stories

Language: English

Pages: 308

ISBN: 1567311679

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


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my interest." Ibn Fahad darted a worried look in my direction. Fawn and the others stared at the demon-shape in mute terror and astonishment. "We shall… we shall give you our decision at sunset tomorrow," I said. "We must be allowed to think and talk." "As you wish," said the vampyr. "But if you accept my challenge, the game must begin then. After all, we have only a few more days to spend together." And at this the terrible creature laughed, a sound like the bark being pulled from the trunk

was first assigned to notification duty not to dwell on the way his… missons had died. The possibilities varied from unpleasant to ghastly. He studiously avoided saying anything more to the sergeant beside him until he found the number he wanted. "One-sixteen. This must the the Lunkowskis." Morzek got out on the curb side, looking more skeletal than before in the dappled sunlight. He still held his AWOL bag. "You can leave that in the car," Richmond suggested. "I'll lock up." "Naw, I'll take

said, "line, I guess you'd call it. I mean, I'm flattered." She startled him by putting her hand over his and gazing blue into his eyes. "You're a very nice guy, Sam, and over the past few weeks, we've really gotten to know each other in a strange way. And if Karl wasn't in the picture—" She withdrew her hand and shook her wonderful blond head and laughed. "But to be honest, Sam, calling him a vampire is going overboard, don't you think? How about a drug dealer? Or Communist spy? Or even a

Probably one of the women, done with her day's work. Sam had to move quickly, and did, his feet making sucking sounds in the damp grass, the sound of his heart huge in his ears. After ten minutes, he reached what appeared to be a large screened-in veranda. He tried the door—locked. From his pocket he took a switchblade, clicked it open. He tore a four-foot gash in the screening and then went inside, carrying his longbow carefully in one hand, the arrow carefully in the other. He crossed a

fragile deer he could kill, and the moonwinged birds, and the velvet hares with their sad, foreknowing eyes. He pitied them, but pitying, he killed them. Pity could not stop him. It was his trade. "Look in the garden," said the Witch Queen. The hunter looked through a dark white pane. The sun had sunk, and a maiden walked under a tree. "The Princess Bianca," said the huntsman. "What else?" asked the Witch Queen. The huntsman crossed himself. "By Our Lord, Madam, I will not say." "But you

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