Hounacier (Valducan Book 2) Read Online Free
Author: Seth Skorkowsky
and couldn't help but wonder if this was about to be some terrible joke at his expense. What the hell was he doing here?
Ulises reached the far side of the ring and thrust his machete high.
The drums ceased, and the crowd parted before the unpainted gap. Priests lined the edges as the white-shirted policemen marched the three prisoners though the open valley.
A pair of loa took the bald man's arms as he entered the ring. Tears stained his dusty cheeks. Searching the crowd desperately, his eyes found a slender woman about Malcolm's age. She put a hand to her mouth as if forcing away her own tears.
The scarfed woman came next. She scowled indignantly as another pair of loa escorted her in. Finally, the beaten man in the green shorts entered the ring. He kept his eyes downcast and clutched his cuffed hands together.
A drum sounded, followed by another, loud and ominous. Ulises backed away from the three captives, Hounacier still raised.
Drums beat again, steadily like a slow pulse. The loa painted the circle closed, completing the ring. Ulises stopped beside Malcolm, and the loa escorts gently pulled their prisoners to the packed ground, laying them on their backs, their heads toward the central post.
Ulises unleashed a loud whoop, and the drums erupted into a rapid beat. A stream of musical chanting poured from the old man, the strange words completely foreign to Malcolm. The loa danced in and around the circle, unhindered by the painted lines.
Holding his machete out, sideways across his open palms, Ulises aimed the length of the blade at the bald man, then the woman, and then the cuffed prisoner. His song grew louder, faster as he repeated the chant, gesturing to each person for several seconds before moving to the next.
Hair and clothing ruffled as if caught in a gust though the heavy, sticky air didn't move. The dancers' fury grew. They jumped and twirled, circling the ring like frenzied sharks. The old bokor's voice was almost a scream as he aimed the side-turned weapon at the bald man. A tremor shuddered through his body and then ceased as Ulises focused on the woman. She began to tremble as well. Ulises continued the sequence, his voice roaring. Each time, whichever prisoner he focused on would shake as if the machete blade were arcing an invisible bolt of lightning.
The spasms became more intense. Legs and arms moved with impossible speed, a blur of skin and cloth. Malcolm jumped as the scarfed woman screamed, her shrill voice cracking into something deep and inhuman. The unseen bolt moved to the cuffed man beside her. His bound hands pulsed like a jackhammer. In the blur, they appeared to swell. A metallic pop, and one of the steel shackles blew open.
Wide-eyed, Malcolm stared in horror as the bald man's head seemed to stretch, his mouth jutting forward. One of the woman's legs elongated for a moment. Her sandal popped free and bounced across the circle. The chanting song raged around him. Malcolm's hair whipped in the unfelt wind.
With a loud rip, the man's shirt split open. A membrane of dark skin stretched beneath his arms to the base of his ribs. He screamed, the tone deepening as iron-like fangs sprouted from his mouth. Ulises howled, stamping his feet as he kept the machete blade aimed at the writhing form.
Horrified, Malcolm stepped back. Shouts erupted around him as several people in the crowd tried to flee. Policemen drew their weapons, their eyes wide with terror. Ulises continued his chant as loa danced around.
A pair of short horns burst through the top of the bald man's head. He rolled onto his knees. His legs lengthened, feet curling like hooks.
Malcolm took another step, about to run when arms seized him from behind.
"Watch, Milky!" Rum-soaked breath. "Watch her dance."
The woman in the white scarf and the prisoner in broken handcuffs both scrambled away as the beast stood. Brown, bat-like wings extended outward, nearly twenty feet across. Blade-like claws curled from the fingers atop
Ulises reached the far side of the ring and thrust his machete high.
The drums ceased, and the crowd parted before the unpainted gap. Priests lined the edges as the white-shirted policemen marched the three prisoners though the open valley.
A pair of loa took the bald man's arms as he entered the ring. Tears stained his dusty cheeks. Searching the crowd desperately, his eyes found a slender woman about Malcolm's age. She put a hand to her mouth as if forcing away her own tears.
The scarfed woman came next. She scowled indignantly as another pair of loa escorted her in. Finally, the beaten man in the green shorts entered the ring. He kept his eyes downcast and clutched his cuffed hands together.
A drum sounded, followed by another, loud and ominous. Ulises backed away from the three captives, Hounacier still raised.
Drums beat again, steadily like a slow pulse. The loa painted the circle closed, completing the ring. Ulises stopped beside Malcolm, and the loa escorts gently pulled their prisoners to the packed ground, laying them on their backs, their heads toward the central post.
Ulises unleashed a loud whoop, and the drums erupted into a rapid beat. A stream of musical chanting poured from the old man, the strange words completely foreign to Malcolm. The loa danced in and around the circle, unhindered by the painted lines.
Holding his machete out, sideways across his open palms, Ulises aimed the length of the blade at the bald man, then the woman, and then the cuffed prisoner. His song grew louder, faster as he repeated the chant, gesturing to each person for several seconds before moving to the next.
Hair and clothing ruffled as if caught in a gust though the heavy, sticky air didn't move. The dancers' fury grew. They jumped and twirled, circling the ring like frenzied sharks. The old bokor's voice was almost a scream as he aimed the side-turned weapon at the bald man. A tremor shuddered through his body and then ceased as Ulises focused on the woman. She began to tremble as well. Ulises continued the sequence, his voice roaring. Each time, whichever prisoner he focused on would shake as if the machete blade were arcing an invisible bolt of lightning.
The spasms became more intense. Legs and arms moved with impossible speed, a blur of skin and cloth. Malcolm jumped as the scarfed woman screamed, her shrill voice cracking into something deep and inhuman. The unseen bolt moved to the cuffed man beside her. His bound hands pulsed like a jackhammer. In the blur, they appeared to swell. A metallic pop, and one of the steel shackles blew open.
Wide-eyed, Malcolm stared in horror as the bald man's head seemed to stretch, his mouth jutting forward. One of the woman's legs elongated for a moment. Her sandal popped free and bounced across the circle. The chanting song raged around him. Malcolm's hair whipped in the unfelt wind.
With a loud rip, the man's shirt split open. A membrane of dark skin stretched beneath his arms to the base of his ribs. He screamed, the tone deepening as iron-like fangs sprouted from his mouth. Ulises howled, stamping his feet as he kept the machete blade aimed at the writhing form.
Horrified, Malcolm stepped back. Shouts erupted around him as several people in the crowd tried to flee. Policemen drew their weapons, their eyes wide with terror. Ulises continued his chant as loa danced around.
A pair of short horns burst through the top of the bald man's head. He rolled onto his knees. His legs lengthened, feet curling like hooks.
Malcolm took another step, about to run when arms seized him from behind.
"Watch, Milky!" Rum-soaked breath. "Watch her dance."
The woman in the white scarf and the prisoner in broken handcuffs both scrambled away as the beast stood. Brown, bat-like wings extended outward, nearly twenty feet across. Blade-like claws curled from the fingers atop
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