The Graves of Saints Read Online Free
Author: Christopher Golden
She turned the water up as hot as she could stand it, soaped and shampooed, then spent another ten
minutes just letting the heat get into her flesh and down to her bones. When she stepped out, she toweled off, blew dry her wavy, fox-red hair, and brushed her teeth. Padding back into her bedroom,
she put on a pair of gray skinny jeans and a red, long-sleeved top with pencil stripes. She pulled on her beat-up Timberland boots and slipped into a wool jacket that she only wore for special
occasions. She didn’t feel clean; since the first time Cortez had made her kill a human being for blood, she had never felt clean. But the clothes were laundered and warm and comfortable and
this time when she glanced in the mirror, she thought she looked damn good.
If she was about to be arrested or killed, at least she’d look pretty.
The thought made her laugh as she turned and went to the door, making sure she had her keys, even though she couldn’t be sure she’d ever come back.
When Charlotte opened the door, the vampires were waiting for her in the hall.
2
New York City, New York
Charlotte knew what they were on sight. Two men in long black coats with the collars turned up, wearing black gloves and wide-brimmed black hats and mirrored sunglasses on a
cloudy late September morning? It stunned her that they’d been able to move around New York City without arousing suspicion, but here they were in her apartment building, on her doorstep, and
she had no doubt that Cortez had sent them.
Skittish, one hand still on the knob of her open apartment door, she glanced from one to the other, seeing nothing in their mirrored sunglasses, not even herself.
‘I’m not going back,’ she said, mustering up enough courage to raise her chin and stare boldly at them.
One of the vampires smiled, showing pearlescent fangs. ‘He doesn’t want you back.’
The two reached into their jackets, hands vanishing into folds of fabric with inhuman quickness and reappearing with guns. Before the first glint of the metal gun barrels showed in the dim light
of the overhead fixture, Charlotte moved. She pushed back into her apartment and swung the door closed behind her with all her strength, not bothering to slow down to attempt to bar their entry.
Their entrance was not in question. Cortez might bow to vampiric traditions, encourage his coven to return to the monstrous predators of legend, but he wasn’t a fool – his children did
not need an invitation to come through the door.
Bullets came first, splintering wood and plunking into walls and furniture and shattering glass. Charlotte dived to the floor as the first of the shots seared the air above her, transforming
even as she landed on the carpet. She had adapted to the true abilities of the Shadows, but it was still easiest for her to metamorphose into one of the standard forms, and by instinct she chose
mist. Her flesh and bone and clothing dissipated in an instant, as if the impact of her body on the floor caused her to turn to smoke.
Mist would be best, because she had a feeling Cortez’s killers weren’t firing ordinary bullets at her. They wouldn’t be that foolish. A bullet would do nothing to a vampire or
Shadow but irritate them. But from everything she’d been taught, Task Force Victor had another sort of bullet, one infused with a toxin that inhibited the molecular alteration that allowed
Shadows to shapeshift. That was how they caught rogue vampires . . . how her kind could be killed. Now, somehow, Cortez had gotten his hands on some of the UN’s ammo.
The door split in two as the first vampire crashed through it, and the black-clad figure glanced around the apartment, those mirrored sunglasses making him look even less human than he was. As
mist, Charlotte churned toward the window above the breakfast table in her tiny kitchen, knowing he would notice her any moment. The second vampire slid fluidly into the apartment, distracting the
first for just an instant,
minutes just letting the heat get into her flesh and down to her bones. When she stepped out, she toweled off, blew dry her wavy, fox-red hair, and brushed her teeth. Padding back into her bedroom,
she put on a pair of gray skinny jeans and a red, long-sleeved top with pencil stripes. She pulled on her beat-up Timberland boots and slipped into a wool jacket that she only wore for special
occasions. She didn’t feel clean; since the first time Cortez had made her kill a human being for blood, she had never felt clean. But the clothes were laundered and warm and comfortable and
this time when she glanced in the mirror, she thought she looked damn good.
If she was about to be arrested or killed, at least she’d look pretty.
The thought made her laugh as she turned and went to the door, making sure she had her keys, even though she couldn’t be sure she’d ever come back.
When Charlotte opened the door, the vampires were waiting for her in the hall.
2
New York City, New York
Charlotte knew what they were on sight. Two men in long black coats with the collars turned up, wearing black gloves and wide-brimmed black hats and mirrored sunglasses on a
cloudy late September morning? It stunned her that they’d been able to move around New York City without arousing suspicion, but here they were in her apartment building, on her doorstep, and
she had no doubt that Cortez had sent them.
Skittish, one hand still on the knob of her open apartment door, she glanced from one to the other, seeing nothing in their mirrored sunglasses, not even herself.
‘I’m not going back,’ she said, mustering up enough courage to raise her chin and stare boldly at them.
One of the vampires smiled, showing pearlescent fangs. ‘He doesn’t want you back.’
The two reached into their jackets, hands vanishing into folds of fabric with inhuman quickness and reappearing with guns. Before the first glint of the metal gun barrels showed in the dim light
of the overhead fixture, Charlotte moved. She pushed back into her apartment and swung the door closed behind her with all her strength, not bothering to slow down to attempt to bar their entry.
Their entrance was not in question. Cortez might bow to vampiric traditions, encourage his coven to return to the monstrous predators of legend, but he wasn’t a fool – his children did
not need an invitation to come through the door.
Bullets came first, splintering wood and plunking into walls and furniture and shattering glass. Charlotte dived to the floor as the first of the shots seared the air above her, transforming
even as she landed on the carpet. She had adapted to the true abilities of the Shadows, but it was still easiest for her to metamorphose into one of the standard forms, and by instinct she chose
mist. Her flesh and bone and clothing dissipated in an instant, as if the impact of her body on the floor caused her to turn to smoke.
Mist would be best, because she had a feeling Cortez’s killers weren’t firing ordinary bullets at her. They wouldn’t be that foolish. A bullet would do nothing to a vampire or
Shadow but irritate them. But from everything she’d been taught, Task Force Victor had another sort of bullet, one infused with a toxin that inhibited the molecular alteration that allowed
Shadows to shapeshift. That was how they caught rogue vampires . . . how her kind could be killed. Now, somehow, Cortez had gotten his hands on some of the UN’s ammo.
The door split in two as the first vampire crashed through it, and the black-clad figure glanced around the apartment, those mirrored sunglasses making him look even less human than he was. As
mist, Charlotte churned toward the window above the breakfast table in her tiny kitchen, knowing he would notice her any moment. The second vampire slid fluidly into the apartment, distracting the
first for just an instant,