CHAPTER 21 DEAD ON THE SAND

Billy gasped and staggered back.

His legs collapsed, and he dropped to his knees on the sand.

He waited for the pain, for the crushing pain to sweep over his body. He waited for the darkness . . .

He glanced down at his chest, expecting to see the gaping wound. To his surprise, he saw no wound staining his shirt.

Instead he saw that the driftwood had crumbled. The log, soft and decayed, had fallen to pieces when it struck his chest. Tiny, burning chunks glowed on the sand in front of him.

Billy sucked in a deep breath of fresh ocean air. I’m alive, he thought. I’m alive—and I’m not giving this vampire another chance.

With a cry of rage, he rushed at Jon.

The vampire opened his fanged mouth in an angry hiss.

Billy leapt at him. Dug his fingers into the vampire’s bony shoulders. Pushed him. Pushed him back.

Back.

The vampire hissed again and lowered his fangs to Billy’s throat.

Driven by a rage he had never felt before, Billy pushed him. Back. Back.

And with a burst of strength, he heaved the startled vampire onto the purple, burning embers of the fire.

Jon landed hard on his back. The fire sizzled beneath him.

The vampire’s eyes flared red. He shot his hands up to the sky as if reaching for something to pull himself up.

His mouth opened in a silent cry as the flames leapt around him.

And then, as Billy gaped in amazement, black smoke rose up from the sand. Billows of black smoke surrounded the thrashing vampire.

Billy took a step back, his heart pounding, his legs weak.

The smoke billowed into a thick curtain. It darkened the sky and the beach.

Behind the black curtain, Billy heard a fluttering sound. The fluttering became louder. Billy recognized the flap of wings.

Bat wings.

A red-eyed bat flapped up from behind the smoke. It rose over Billy, its tiny, round eyes glaring angrily. Dripping yellow saliva, the mouth opened in a shrill, menacing hiss.

And then the bat flapped away, swooping rapidly out over the sand, out to the ocean.

Billy stood watching it, swallowing hard, choking back his fear, his face drenched with sweat despite the coolness of the night.

Breathing hard, his chest heaving, he turned to Lynette. She hadn’t moved, he saw to his horror. She lay lifelessly, sprawled on her back in the cold, wet sand.

“Hey!” A familiar voice made Billy jump.

He turned to see Nate and Irene running toward him across the sand. Nate, so big and powerful, came charging over the sand like an angry bull.

“What are you doing here? Where’s Lynette?” he called to Billy.

Nate stopped a few feet from Billy. His mouth opened in a startled cry when he saw his sister on the sand.

“No—!” Nate cried, turning accusingly to Billy. “Oh no! What did you do to her?”

“Nothing!” Billy screamed. “I didn’t—”

Nate dropped down beside Lynette on the sand. “No!” he cried. “No! Oh no! She’s dead!”

Date: 2015-04-20; view: 614