A Coldness in the Blood (The Dracula Series) by Fred Saberhagen

Author:Fred Saberhagen [Saberhagen, Fred]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates
Published: 2003-10-18T16:00:00+00:00

Once they had broken their way out of hell, the night air of Chicago seemed suddenly marvelously clean and pure. Andy was half-expecting to find the building already ringed with cops, drawn by the ungodly noise. But nothing of the kind had happened yet.

Four young legs ran. Hand in hand, Andy and Dolly sped limping down the alley, just past the place where Dickon’s car had been parked illegally. In passing, Andy took note of the fact that now the vehicle was gone.

They did a hundred yards or so of alley at the best speed they could manage, holding hands, then slowed to a stumbling trot and turned onto a sidewalk when they emerged onto a residential cross street. Here trees were soft and lovely, the young green of June shading the street lamps. There were only the usual noises of the city. Somewhere a siren sounded, but not coming nearer, only part of the city’s common background.

Dolly still walked beside him, though they were no longer holding hands. Andy’s eyes kept jumping from one shadow to another, his mind seeking active reassurance that there were no dead bodies lying anywhere. No one they passed on the sidewalk was gushing blood. But he had learned in his heart that at any moment the world might again erupt in horror.

In a minute or two they had covered several blocks, and Andy could feel sure that no one was chasing them. None of the people they now encountered turned to stare. Again the couple slowed their pace. They were walking almost normally now, but still breathing heavily.

At length they stopped, in the streetlight-shadow of a huge tree, to take inventory.

Andy leaned against a comforting brick wall, built right up to the sidewalk. “Are you hurt? What were they doing to you?”

“What were they doing? You mean what didn’t they try?” Dolly was clinging to his arm, and it seemed for a moment that she was going to go thoroughly hysterical.

“But you’re not bleeding anywhere. Are you?”

“No. No, I’m not bleeding. I’m all right, nothing’s broken, I can move.” Rage was keeping her energy level high. “Someday I’ll get those …”

They were both dirty, soaked in their own sweat and the clinging smell of smoke. Andy’s jeans were torn, a small flap hanging open on his right thigh, over a bleeding scratch. He gave thanks for the darkness, making their condition less noticeable. He ached in more places than he could count, from being punched and bounced and twisted, but all his essential parts seemed to be working.

Andy kept looking back along the way that they had come, imagining at every moment that he would see some kind of nightmarish pursuit. But so far there was nothing.

Now they had started walking again. Without really thinking about it, he was leading the way toward his own apartment.

Catching unexpected movement from the corner of his eye, he spun around sharply. “What’s that?”

This time it was Dolly who was relatively calm. “Only a dog.” The large, dark animal was trotting briskly along, keeping pace with them on the other side of the street.

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