night exploded like a rain of hail, a rumbling growl, and
then came a brain- shattering blow. Barnabas was struck on the
back, then thrown across the snow where he collapsed against
the trunk of a tree. A massive animal thick with fur leapt upon
him and emptied his lungs of breath. Claws and teeth ripped his
fl esh, accompanied by menacing snarls. He cried out, tried to
wend off the creature’s wrath, but for some reason his super-
natural strength was not enough. He could feel his shielding
arms split by hungry jaws clenching the bone, and then the
same razor teeth gnawed his face. He was being eaten alive!
He made a desperate eff ort to lift into the air but he was
caught, shaken, hurled, and the ground came to meet him in a
furious crash. His body was broken, and before he lost con-
sciousness, he saw the creature carry Antoinette’s insensible
form into the Old House. He felt fl ickering in the back of his
mind some canon of Transylvanian lore, so ridiculous that he
had never given it much thought, since he never believed he
would encounter it. Before his mind went blank and darkness
-1—
shrouded his vision, Barnabas remembered hearing the ancient
0—
rune: Only the werewolf hath the power to eviscerate the vampire.
+1—
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F i v e
The moment she stepped off the platform, Jackie realized
that she had made a mistake. It was growing dark, and the
snow was deep; it came up to her knees near the road, and, when
she tried to walk into the woods, it sucked her boots into two
feet of crunchy powder.
As she heard the bus grind away, she looked into the gath-
ering twilight and saw a world transformed. Drifts as high as
fences buried the familiar landmarks, and snow fl owed between
the trees like a crystalline lake, fl ooding the underbrush and
obscuring all signs of a path. She stood for a moment, wondering
what to do as her toes grew cold in her boots and her breath
came in smoky puff s.
If she did not fl y, she would have to walk all the way around
by way of the road, but if she rose into the air, she would be visible in the bare trees to any car going down the highway. She
sighed and looked into the woods where the snow had smoth-
—-1
ered the trail. Resigned to walking, she trudged down the
—0
—+1
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Lara Parker
blacktop, hugging herself, trying to stay warm, favoring a blis-
tering heel. Her hands were cold, her books were heavy, and
even though she was relieved to be off the bus, she still felt a
hard pain beneath her ribs.
Along the edge of the road, huge cedars kept her company,
bowed low under their heavy drapery like shaggy monsters that
dragged their ruffl
ed branches across the snow with a squeaking
sound. No more birds, except as shadows, except as dark silhou-
ettes, not the nightingale or the mockingbird, but crows, crying
out, jeering, as they fl ew into the eve ning sky.
Which one is my soul fl own from me? Which one, if one is, is my soul?
As she breathed in the smell of winter, the cold air struck
her in the face and icy needles stung the inside of her nose. Th
e
forest was silent, no scampering creature in the dry leaves. Black
trunks climbed out of the white earth, and their branches clawed
the darkening sky where a bright orange moon was nudging the
treetops. She stopped to listen to the stillness, but all she could hear was her ragged breath and her own heart beating. Th
en a
faint breeze rose up and there was a drumming from deep
within the earth; the hesitant wind played minor chords though
the bare limbs. She heard another sound that made her heart
jump.
Th
e bus had ground to a halt again, for she could just make
out the whine of its brakes further down the road where she
knew there was no stop, as there was none between here and the
place a mile on where Highway 31 crossed over. She could hear
boys laughing and swearing. Th
en the