The Darkening Dream

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Authors: Andy Gavin

BOOK: The Darkening Dream
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Table of Contents

Chapter 1: Agitation

Chapter 2: Dark Shadows

Chapter 3: Sounding Call

Chapter 4: Picnic

Chapter 5: Afterglow

Chapter 6: Paradise Lost

Chapter 7: School Days

Chapter 8: An Unusual Conversation

Chapter 9: The Willows

Chapter 10: Dead Again

Chapter 11: The Morning After

Chapter 12: Unholy Feast

Chapter 13: Indecent Proposal

Chapter 14: Grist for the Mill

Chapter 15: I Smell a Rat

Chapter 16: Housecall

Chapter 17: Pride and Prejudice

Chapter 18: Dinner Invitation

Chapter 19: On The Water

Chapter 20: Golden Compass

Chapter 21: Egyptian Mythology

Chapter 22: Obstacles

Chapter 23: Into the Breach

Chapter 24: Heaven and Hell

Chapter 25: Aftermath

Chapter 26: Breaking and Entering

Chapter 27: The Bracelet

Chapter 28: Clash of Faiths

Chapter 29: Training

Chapter 30: Blood Fury

Chapter 31: Cursed

Chapter 32: No Escape

Chapter 33: Day of Atonement

Chapter 34: Icons

Chapter 35: Sickbed

Chapter 36: The Painted Man

Chapter 37: Unexpected Visitor

Chapter 38: Exorcism

Chapter 39: Grave Robbers

Chapter 40: Scruples

Chapter 41: Tipping Point

Chapter 42: Memorials

Chapter 43: Breaker of Horses

Chapter 44: Donation to the Cause

Chapter 45: Light in the Dark

Chapter 46: Lone Wolf

Chapter 47: Confessions

Chapter 48: Bump in the Night

Chapter 49: Waxen Images

Chapter 50: Model Citizens

Chapter 51: Into the Maelstrom

Chapter 52: Grand Entrance

Chapter 53: Scapegoat

Chapter 54: Burnt Offerings

Chapter 55: Death from Above

Chapter 56: Water and Flame

Chapter 57: Enemy at the Gates

Chapter 58: Seventy-two Virgins

Chapter 59: Climbing into the Light

Chapter 60: Awakenings

Chapter 61: Retreat into Fire

Chapter 62: Bedwarmer

Chapter 63: A Surprising Gift

Chapter 64: In the Land of Moriah

Chapter 65: The Toast

Chapter 66: Dogs

Chapter 67: Sacrifices

Chapter 68: A Man of Means

Chapter 69: Shroud

What the critics are saying about T
HE
D
ARKENING
D
REAM
:

“Wonderfully twisted sense of humor” and “A vampire novel with actual bite” — Kirkus Reviews

“Inventive, unexpected, and more than a little bit creepy - this book has something for everyone!” — R.J. Cavender, editor of the Bram Stoker nominated Horror Library anthology series

T
HE
D
ARKENING
D
REAM

Andy Gavin

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Electronic Edition v5.03f / lv3.4

MASCHERATO PUBLISHING

PO Box 1550

Pacific Palisades, Ca, 90272

Copyright © Andy Gavin 2011

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Cover Photo-Illustration copyright © Cliff Nielsen 2011

E-book ISBN

978-1-937945-02-2

One:

Agitation

Salem, Massachusetts, Saturday afternoon, October 18, 1913

A
S SERVICES DREW TO AN END,
Sarah peered around the curtain separating the men from the women. Mama shot her a look, but she had to be sure she could reach the door without Papa seeing her. After what he’d done, she just couldn’t face him right now. There he was, head bobbing in the sea of skullcaps and beards. She’d be long gone before he extracted himself.

“Mama,” she whispered, “can you handle supper if I go to Anne’s?” Last night’s dinner debacle had probably been Mama’s idea, but they’d never seen eye to eye on the subject. Papa, on the other hand, was supposed to be on her side.

Mama’s shoulders stiffened, but she nodded.

The end of the afternoon service signaled Sarah’s chance. She squeezed her mother’s hand, gathered her heavy skirts, and fled.

The journey through Salem’s bustling downtown took only ten minutes, but the Indian summer sun left her corset sticky and cruel. A final two blocks brought Sarah to her friend’s pre-Revolutionary house, a kernel of which dated to the seventeenth century. Wings, rooms, and gables had sprouted during the past two hundred years, and in its present form the house and stables were large enough for five family members, seven boarders, a decent collection of horses, and a dog.

Sarah entered without knocking. Mr. Barnyard, the Williamses’ obese basset hound, rushed to greet her. After suffering his affections, she found Anne in the sitting room helping her mother with the mending. Several inches taller than Sarah, she wore her straw-colored hair in two looped braids, and possessed all the womanly curves Sarah found lacking in herself.

“What a nice surprise,” Mrs. Williams said. “Sarah, I know you’re not much for the needle, but some conversation would help pass the time.”

Behind her mother, Anne stabbed herself in the chest with an imaginary dagger.

“I hate to disappoint you,” Sarah said, “but I hoped to steal away your oldest daughter. Where’s Emily? Can’t she help?”

Mrs. Williams shrugged a padded shoulder. “Out back somewhere. If I hadn’t whelped that one myself, I’d swear she’s some sort of changeling. But take Anne, she’s all thumbs today.”

Anne set down the trousers she was sewing and tugged Sarah out the door.

“Thank God,” she said, leading Sarah upstairs to the bedroom she shared with her younger sister. “It was so stuffy in there I thought my stitches might melt.” She cracked the window, sat on the bed, and patted the quilt next to her. “What’s brought you here on a Saturday? Shouldn’t you be helping your own mother?”

Sarah pulled the door closed and sat next to her friend.

“I had to talk to someone. Your brother isn’t going to barge in?”

“Sam’s earning extra money at the cotton mill. Tell me.”

“My parents ambushed me at
Shabbat
dinner last night.”

“That sounds exciting,” Anne said. “Attacked you with candles and loaves of bread?”

“Papa brought a man home with him unannounced. Not one of his usual cronies, a
gentleman.
In his twenties. His name was Chaim Hoffmann.”

Anne squealed. “That’s a mouthful. Was the fellow handsome?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Extra, extra! Sarah Engelmann forgot something!”

Sarah had to smile at that. She replayed last night’s dinner in her head, trying not to grimace as the awkwardness returned with the imagery.

In her mind’s eye, her parents and Mr. Hoffmann hung before her as vividly as if they sat in the room. His skin showed little evidence of exposure to the sun, his bearded face was thin, and his spectacles were twice as thick as her own.

Sarah blinked and the memory vanished. “Not handsome, not ugly.”

“Then his manner was bothersome?”

She shook her head. “Gentlemanly enough. Clearly he was very bright. A student of Papa’s friend.”

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