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   Chapter 32 No Slivered Shadow Allowed In

The Silverskin By Rian Torr Characters: 6578

Updated: 2018-03-07 15:18

Ungodly thunder broke outside, shaking the walls like paper flags—rocking the foundation in waves like earthquakes.

Chandeliers jingled―silverware jumped—plates smashed―and windows splintered into webworks every second.

"What the Hell is going on ...?" Eva cried, her voice growing tremulous and cracking in fright. "It looked clear out just a minute ago, from the bedroom window … How can the weather turn so quickly?"

"Storms blow through fast and hard here ... Some nights you swear the house is lifting off, " Seven said. "Then fifteen minutes later, all is quiet as dust again. There is not predicting it ever, not here."

"Craziness … I don't think I could ever live here. I would always be edgy."

Seven sighed. "Eva—I'm sorry that I even brought you here at all. This was a mistake from the start. We should go."

"What? Why? What is it really?"

"It's not safe. I cannot elaborate."

Her face fell. "What is going on? I want to know everything—babe. No more secrets—like we always said. Be honest."

Lightning flashed chaotic—crashing into a tree, cracking a branch at a frightening proximity—causing them both to jump in surprise. Woods were alive.

Thunder clapped again, mercilessly unfolding from the tumultuous heavens overhead. The sky was an angry lover.

The front door handle turned back and forth, as if someone was just then coming in. The very house was in flux.

The lights went out—and they suddenly knew that they were in the heart of the system. All bets were now off.

Eva stepped into the drawing room to look out the picture window—with Seven following close behind, snatching at her elbow to turn her back. He gasped.

Outside―clouds blotted out the dawn―rolling daylight's early wax back toward night. The darkness settled in.

Just then the back-up generator kicked on—and the house lights fell short on the dark lawn. There was movement.

"Did you see that?" Eva then hissed.


ntly rubbing her back—but Marietta just shrugged it off in disgust.

"Do not touch me, " she warned in a voice suddenly gone guttural—inflected by a snake-like raspiness. She was angry.

Her frame expanded—bulking up into a beastly figure—as she manifested her true undead form. It was a sight.

Her eyes seemed to drip with blood—as her fangs grew long and curved—and a forked tongue snaked out of her maw in spastic, gnashing snaps. Her fingers grew long and spindly, looking more like bone than flesh. She was not of mortal land.

"The Silverskin will die today ..." she hissed, eyes darting side-to-side, in a dance of a devilish cunning. She plotted.

Eva took a step back, shocked by the witness of such a horrific transformation, but not able to vocalize it.

She reached for Seven, but he had stepped away to look out again—already forgetting his own advice to put Faye from mind—instead putting Her forefront in it.

"Seven, " Eva began, but when she looked again, Marietta had already reverted to her normal human form—apparently unaware anything went awry.

"What is wrong, dear? You look ghostly. Has something scared you so?"

"But I … I thought I saw … … ..."

"What is it? Spit it out … Oh my."

Seven returned. "No time … … ...

"Upstairs … … ... NOW … … … !!!"

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