Read Online Bloodstained Oz by Christopher Golden, James Moore - Free Book Online

and only then felt
the warm weight of the necklace in his pocket. The emeralds within glowed
through the fabric.
          Hank tugged the necklace out and threw
it into the dirt five feet in front of him.
          The vampire dove for it.
          He swung the scythe and its head came
off with a dry crackle, like husking corn. It split when it hit the ground,
and the thing’s body went down on its knees, beginning to wither and shrink
even as it fell over. When he pulled the necklace from its hands, its fingers
disintegrated. He stuck the necklace back in his pocket, liking its weight all
the more now.
          In the prison yard, the one he’d gutshot
was crawling toward the inner fence, still trying to get at him. It looked
like the wound in its abdomen was healing up pretty quickly now.
          He figured he’d keep the scythe.
          Carefully, but quickly, he climbed the
outer fence. Hank twisted the blade of the scythe in the barbed wire to knot
it up tight, and managed only to scrape one leg a little as he swung over,
braced on the other side, pulled the scythe out and dropped to the ground.
          Free.
          For now.

Chapter Ten
     
          In the back of the wagon, Elisa sat on
the bed and sang softly to her baby, holding Jeremiah in her arms and rocking
him to sleep. Her own mother would have been horrified to see her, would have
told her to let her little boy cry himself to sleep, to learn to go to bed that
way. But Elisa could not stand to hear Jeremiah cry.
          “It don’t mean a thing, if it ain’t got
that swing. It don’t mean a thing, all you’ve got to do is sing.” Her voice
was low, barely above a whisper as she cradled the baby against her. The song
was incongruous, a bouncy tune that made for a strange lullaby, but it made her
happy, and if she sang it quietly and a bit more slowly, tapping Jeremiah’s
bottom along with the rhythm, it always put him to sleep.
          “It makes no difference if it’s sweet or
hot. Just keep that rhythm, give it everything you’ve got.”
          A contented smile touched her lips and
she glanced down at Jeremiah’s cherubic face. His eyelids fluttered as he
struggled against sleep, but he was drifting away. His tiny mouth was slack,
lips in a pout, and a thin line of drool ran down his chin. Her heart swelled
with love and she felt almost giddy. There were times when nothing else
mattered but this moment, with her baby in her arms and the tangible certainty
of her love for him.
          “It don’t mean a thing if it ain’t got
that swing,” she said, voice dropping even lower now.
          Elisa stopped rocking the baby and
leaned back against the wall of the wagon. She sang under her breath, but the
words didn’t mean anything to her anymore. Another few minutes and she would
lay Jeremiah on the bed and go out to help Stefan clean up after dinner.
Perhaps they would sit by the remaining embers of their campfire. Perhaps they
would make love.
          She thought she would like that. It had
been too long since she had felt his hands upon her, rough and tender at the
same time.
          The night was hot, but a breeze whisked
through the open flaps on either end of the wagon. The horses were grazing
close by, but far enough away that the smell did not linger.
          Elisa did not want to stay in Kansas any
more. She missed the east. Truth be told, she missed the old country as well.
But anywhere else would do. Anywhere but here. Kansas had a blight upon it,
she thought. Stefan would not even consider leaving, however. His faith would
not allow it. He was convinced that God would provide, that the Lord did not
burden a man with more than he could handle.
          As she held her baby close, Elisa stared
around the back of the wagon at the images of Christ and of the Virgin Mother
that hung from the walls and the roof. A rosary dangled at the front, just
behind the opening that