Lost Girl of the Lake by Joe McKinney & Joe & McCarty McKinney

Author:Joe McKinney & Joe & McCarty McKinney [McKinney, Joe and McCarty, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Horror
Publisher: Crossroad Press

Chapter 9

Uneasy dreams of Ermelinde again.

I walked through the lonely village again. I saw the daylight pushed back into the corners by an advancing curtain of silvery darkness.

I came to the old church again, the door hanging open, supported by a single hinge, and looked inside.

Ulysses Gaitlin and his kin danced and chanted words that were not English. They were not sane.

On the altar before them was the same woman writhing in the throws of her translation. I heard her moans turn to a mad, stuttering tattoo of barks and yelps before tapering off into a breathy hiss.

I saw the gigantic tail roll in the air. Heard the dull thwap of reptilian muscle on the wooden planks. Saw the woman’s head and torso rise. And when that gray, misshapen head turned my way, and those round, yellow eyes fixed on mine, regarding me, I turned away and vomited in the street.

I staggered away, and suddenly I was barefoot, I was nude, my feet padding softly in the dark still waters of the graveyard pool.

Ermelinde was swimming naked in the moonlight. As I watched her a gray towering mass of clouds spread across the sky and blotted out the moon. It was dark and cold in the pool and she was gliding out to a small wooden boat in the middle of the water. I watched her move. I seemed to be standing on the bank, though the perspective wasn’t right for that.

The world seemed to be clinging to the surface of a soap bubble, wavering somehow, growing closer for a moment then shrinking back with equal suddenness. But despite the dark, and despite the warbling images in front of me, I saw everything with a sharp clarity that made my heart race. Something was wrong. The lines of the skiff seemed too sharp, the colors too vivid.

Ermelinde bobbed up and down in the water by the prow of the wooden boat, and though she hadn’t gestured to me or even made eye contact, I felt certain that she knew I was there.

I jumped in and swam across to meet her.

Her chest and tummy were pressed against the prow of the little skiff.

I put my back against the boat and slid against her wet body, kissing the back of her neck, moving closer, ever closer. My hands worked around to her front and squeezed her breasts—they felt like heaven in my fingers. I kissed her on the side of the neck and she turned towards me. The dark clouds faded away and Ermelinde’s face shined in the moonlight— except it wasn’t Ermelinde’s face anymore. It was the face of a copperhead. Her mouth opened and the sharp fangs sunk into my neck. She grabbed me, but her arms were no longer arms, but more snakes. They kept biting and biting and biting and I woke up with a strange feeling of fear and arousal coursing through my body.

The sheets were soaked with sweat. At least I hoped it was only sweat.

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