Circus of Blood Read Online Free Page A

Circus of Blood
Book: Circus of Blood Read Online Free
Author: James R. Tuck
Pages:
Go to
gouging out swaths of drywall in the hallway. One of her hook claws caught me just below the jaw, tearing the skin there, sinking deep and sharp.
    Another half inch and she would have torn out my jugular.
    Hot, sticky foam fell on my face. My eyes began to burn, tears running freely to clear them. My throat closed up, which is good, because if not I would have puked from the smell that filled my nostrils. We rolled and the space around us opened up. The waiting area.
    People were mobbed up by the door, pushing and shoving to get out. Larson had been knocked over, Sully there trying to help pick him up.
    Fallene flapped her wings; they stretched almost fifteen feet across. A gust of air beat against me and the floor fell away from my back. Straining, I jerked back, pulling her left wing in. It folded and we canted to the side, slamming into the ground. Unlocking my legs I pushed, rolling us both over.
    Jointed wings whipped up, thwapping me around the head like wet towels. Darkness flared at the edges of my vision as one of them caught me solid across the brow, snapping my head backward.
    I hunkered down, sitting on the Were-bat’s waist. I drew my head down and hunched my shoulders up so that they would take the beating instead of my skull. Fallene snapped at my face, sharp teeth seeking a mouthful of flesh. Her breath was foul, astringent with a sick green stench.
    My arm pressed against her throat, coarse fur rubbing a burn on my skin as she thrashed wildly. Her screeching was right in my face, driving ice picks into my ears.
    Pain tore through my leg, shooting up my sciatic nerve like lightning made of molten lava, and exploding at the base of my spine. My whole lower half locked up, muscles charley-horsed into knots of agony. My back arched, drawing my head up.
    A wing hit my skull like a thrown brick.
    My body slung around limply, pinned at my leg on a post of pain. I banged to the ground, skidding on my shoulder. The shaft of agony that held me in place by my calf pulled free in a wet squelch of pain.
    I was blind, everything light gray with black pulses of static.
    My hand closed on my gun, yanking it free and flicking off the safety.
    A sledgehammer hit my chest and my eyesight clicked back on the way your grandma’s TV would when smacked on the side. Fallene was on top of me, her bat face stretched into a killing grimace, fanged teeth open, pink tongue whipping, foam pouring from snapping jaws. Her Were-bat form was bestial, knots of muscle supplying power.
    She lunged, teeth toward my throat.
    My hand slapped her chest, fingers digging in.
    She hung at the end of my arm, lunging toward me.
    The gun in my hand pointed at her face.
    She’s a hurt girl. She can’t help it.
    Jaws snapping.
    You won’t be able to forgive yourself.
    My finger found the trigger.
    Have mercy.
    Rabid mouth biting. My arm trembling, about to give.
    My finger tightened.
    Fallene’s head jerked back.
    She slumped forward. Limp. Boneless. Lifeless.
    I pushed her off, scrambling from beneath her. She fell to the floor with a thump, sprawling out.
    A priest stood in the doorway, holding an Airsnipe Armageddon T-38 tranquilizer dart gun.
    Father Mulcahy pulled the cigarette from his mouth, blew out a stream of smoke.
    “Need some help?”

6
    “Sonnuvabitch!”
    “Quit yer bitchin’. You’ve had worse.”
    “I’m gonna disagree with you.”
    “That doesn’t make you any more right.”
    “Don’t ash on my wound.”
    The priest with the cigarette stabbed the curved needle into my leg again. It punched through the edge of the jagged wound, sliding to the opposite edge, where it popped out the other side. He gave it a tug and a yank, pulling the edges of the wound tight together.
    It hurt like a bastard.
    There was a deep hole in my leg from one of the hooked talons on Fallene’s feet. It had been washed out with antiseptic, which burned like boiling acid, and then packed with antibiotics. Larson was examining the Were-bat, trying to
Go to

Readers choose

Sidney Sheldon

Ellen Hopkins

Charlie Dillard

Laurie R. King

Dean Koontz

Cynthia Leitich Smith

Sophie Kinsella

Sarah Fine

Walter Greatshell