Authors: R.L. Stine

Forbidden Secrets (14 page)

BOOK: Forbidden Secrets

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“Y
ou have ruined the ceremony!” Tyler shrieked. “I needed the energy. I have not fed since Victoria's funeral.”

He gazed at her. Savannah could see the hatred in his eyes.

“Now I have to kill you to survive. And I so wanted to take my time. To kill you slowly.”

Savannah turned to run, but she slipped on the wet floor. Tyler grabbed her and locked his hands around her throat.

He is going to kill me, Savannah thought. Just as he killed the others.

Searing pain filled her chest. Her lungs burned with the need for air. Savannah thought she could smell magnolias.

“Whispering Oaks.” Her lips formed the words, but no sound came out.

Her arms fell limply to her sides. Her knees buckled. Her tongue began to swell.

I want to go home, she thought as darkness swept around her. I want to go home.

A howl of pain echoed around the room. The scent of magnolias gave way to the stench of decay.

Savannah felt Tyler's strong fingers loosen around her throat. Air! She sucked in a huge breath.

Tyler released his hold on her. Savannah could only stare at him.

Tyler's eyes bulged and rolled back in his head. He gasped for breath, wheezing and choking.

He is dying, Savannah realized. He is truly dying this time.

“Help me,” Tyler begged.

“You are beyond help,” Savannah whispered hoarsely, tears stinging her eyes. “Just as I am. We are both doomed.”

Tyler's body began to rot. His flesh turned black and fell onto the floor in meaty chunks.

Savannah didn't want to watch, but she couldn't look away.

One of Tyler's eyeballs popped out. It rolled across the floor in front of her feet.

In moments all that remained of Tyler were clean white bones.

Blackrose Manor

A
fter that Savannah could feel her heart turn as black as the roses in this garden,” the old woman said as she plucked another black rose from a bush. “Now you know the story of poor doomed Savannah, the girl who had everything . . . and lost it all.”

She crushed the delicate rose with her gnarled hands. “The girl who killed her own beloved sister.” She tossed the crushed petals onto a nearby grave. The headstone read V
ICTORIA
G
ENTRY.

“Yes, now you know
my
story. My tragic story. Isn't that right, dear?” Savannah turned toward the chair next to hers.

Tyler sat beside her, his skeletal face set in a horrified grin, his wedding ring shining around the white bone of his finger.

About the Author

“Where do you get your ideas?”

That's the question that R. L. Stine is asked most often. “I don't know where my ideas come from,” he says. “But I do know that I have a lot more scary stories in my mind that I can't wait to write.”

So far, he has written nearly five dozen mysteries and thrillers for young people, all of them bestsellers.

Bob grew up in Columbus, Ohio. Today he lives in an apartment near Central Park in New York City with his wife, Jane, and son, Matt.

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

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