The black dog sat, hunched low beneath a peddlers' cart, staring intently at the house across the road. The shadow of the minister loomed in the upstairs window, pacing in and out of its frame. The girls were there too, it could sense them. The dog growled to itself in agony. Why must it stay in the shadows, when the girls above were so young, their meat so tender, and their blood so fresh? It shivered with temptation, but stayed itself. Master had told it to be patient. Master had told it to wait.
The sound of running feet made the dog look away from the window at a figure running down the road. It was the girl, the odd one. The dog sniffed the air and shrank deeper beneath the cart. It did not like the girl very much. She smelled like Master: of magic and secrets and ancient history. The dog poked its head out and watched her as she sprinted up the steps to the church and out of sight. Even as she left, its fur prickled with a strange sense of trepidation. The dog knew that this girl, unlike the others, was not for eating. But that was no matter. Soon, he would have other girls to devour.
Soon, it would devour them all.
And with that, it turned and began to stare, once more, with fierce intensity at the upstairs window of the minister's house.
YOU ARE READING
Salem's Curse
TerrorThe people of Salem are changing, evolving into something new. Everywhere, people talk of witches, demons, and devils. One by one they tear themselves apart, building a fortress of flesh and bone to keep out the darkness. But they are fools. A dee...
