HORROR books online

Reading books horror If you are looking for a good book horror, you should visit our website. Electronic library is gaining popularity. Influenced by modern technology and the advent of new gadgets, people are increasingly turning to electronic libraries because it allows them to read online everywhere . Every reader thanks to his smartphone, laptop or computer, can visit our website at any time. Reading ebooks help people to make good use of free time. Our elibrary has a huge selection of genres for every taste and request.


Today we want to introduce you horror genre. Horrors are very popular among people who like to tickle their nerves. Main characters in the horror genre are demons, evil spirits, monsters,vampires and ghouls. But itā€™s very often, when book based on true events, for example psychological thrillers.
In Ancient Greece and Ancient Rome, horrors were told to each other like myths, that carry the story of the death and afterlife. Ancient people believe that reincarnation exists. Modern horror novels are include new fantastical creatures, like ghosts, vampires, werewolves, and witches.



Nowadays itā€™s very hard to force a person to believe in the truth of history, but modern reader just expects to be frightened and shocked. Horror books on our website are elicit a sense of dread in the reader through frightening images, themes, and situations.
The atmosphere of the book provokes our imagination. If the book will in your mind long time after reading , so the horror writer did his job well. After horror genre books you can even get insomnia or very bad and scary dreams.But that shouldn't stop you from reading horror ebooks. So our electronic library invite you to be a part of the mystery world of free ebooks without registration.




Take a look at the Thriller or Mystery,Crime section where you can find your favorite books

Read books online Ā» Horror Ā» The Daughter by C.B. Cooper (story books to read txt) šŸ“–

Book online Ā«The Daughter by C.B. Cooper (story books to read txt) šŸ“–Ā». Author C.B. Cooper



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split from the group at some point. But, was it before or after the other men had been killed? Must have been before, but for some reason he had spent a considerable amount of time watching the camp from the cover of the trees. It could be, that he hadnā€™t trusted his compadres not to follow behind and kill him too. It was Sharps theory, that non of the criminals could trust each other, why would they? They were called criminals for a reason. No honor among thieves, and that sort of thing.
In any case, there was one more of those sneaky bastards out there somewhere. He would of liked to have rode out after him, maybe torture some information from him, but he couldnā€™t chance losing track of Gracie. He couldnā€™t follow them both, so he had no choice but to follow her, and hope the other would meet up with some injuns along the way. If he did, then justice would be served. Indian torture was the worst, they did things to a man that would send a shiver down the spine of Satan himself.

Sharp set out at dawn the next morning. He would travel nonstop, from sunup to sundown, in hopes of catching up to her quickly. By his count, he was four days behind her, and he would have to do some fast tracking to catch up.
Three days later he sat scratching his head. It was apparent from following her trail, that she had no idea where she was going. The trail zig zagged in a mostly south-westerly pattern across the countryside, with no clear rhyme or reason. She seemed to just beā€¦ wandering aimlessly, not a good thing in Indian country. She stayed out in the flats, making an easy target of herself. With no where to hide, her only hope in a surprise attack would be to outrun them. Not an easy thing to do, injun ponies were fast. They had to be, they were counted on to run down big game, enemy tribes, and the occasional trespasser, all while out maneuvering deadly obstacles at high speeds. Hitting a chuck hole or tripping over a mesquite root or large rock, meant certain death for both horse and rider.
An hour later he stopped to study a new set of tracks, two horses had crossed her trail and then turned, following her. By the look of the unshod hoof prints, he figured it was most likely Indians. But, were these two part of a hunting party out scouting for food, or were they hostiles out hunting for trouble. A few miles up head the tracks veered off and shot north again. Not good. That meant that they had found her trail worth following and had turned back, most likely, to report their findings to the rest of the group.
ā€œShit.ā€ he cussed, when he came upon the tracks of about fifteen horses, all unshod, that joined her trail again from the north.
Nudging his horses into an easy canter he followed the war party as they made their way towards the west. Towards his Gracie.
Sharp followed the trail to where the Indians had dismounted, leaving their horses ground reigned. Then, the much harder to read tracks of their soft soled moccasins as they stole up upon Gracieā€™s camp. They had split the group into two, and half had made its way to the east, to circle around and attack from the opposite side, trapping her between the two. Sharp knew what was coming next, and he swallowed the big lump that had formed in his throat. ā€œAw, Gracie.ā€
She wouldnā€™t have had a chance. A lone woman on the prairie surrounded by fifteen Indians, there would have been no way to escape the red devils, no warning that they were even there, until it was too late. They could be as silent as ghosts one minute, and strike with the swiftness a panther the next. Most never even knew what was happening, until they had an arrow sticking out of their chest.
As he dismounted and walked to her cold deserted camp, he held a glimmer of hope. He knew that some women were taken captive, a fate that was worse than death, but if that was the case, he could track them down and steal her back, or at least die trying. But he would find her.
He stared at the empty camp in disbelief. The only set of tracks here, were her own. There were no signs of a struggle, or spent cartridges that would have meant that she had tried to defend herself, no dried blood trail leaving the area. Nothing. There was absolutely nothing to suggest that anything out of the ordinary had happened.
Circling around the camp he followed the tracks of the Indians as they met up again on the west side and had turned back towards their waiting ponies. For some reason, they had just left. That didnā€™t make any sense, why would they get ready for an attack, and then just call it off? It wasnā€™t like an Indian to mount an attack and then just leave empty handed, but then again, they could be down right peculiar at times. Maybe the moon wasnā€™t right, or they heard the call of a night owl as some warning from beyond. What ever it was, it was a mystery to Sharp.
He picked up Gracieā€™s trail again, and resumed the pursuit. He followed along until night fall and then started looking for a good place to bed down for the night. As he scanned the countryside he notice a plume of smoke, far off in the distance, at the base of a hillside. Someone had a good sized campfire. He abandoned his search for cover and headed for the area up ahead. He didnā€™t know if it was Gracie, but he had to be sure.
He found her easily enough. The damn fire she had built was big enough to be used as a smoke signal. He was sure he wasnā€™t the only one who had seen it, a person would have to be half blind to have missed it. She sure had a lot to learn about survival in Indian country, and it just so happened, that he had a lot to teach her. But the first lesson he was planning on giving her, had nothing to do with basic survival skills. It was going to be about the dangers of rat poison. Even though it had been four days since he had cleaned up her little mess back yonder, the damn smell was still stuck in his nose, and he was not happy about that.
He had left his horse and snuck up on her camp to make sure that it was, in fact, Gracie, and not someone else. He was relieved to see that it was. She sat by the fire, within the circle of pines, dressed all in black. She wore a black cowboy hat, tipped low on her head to hide her face, but even from that distance, he knew in a second that it her.
He was about to hello the camp, when she raised her head and looked directly at his hiding spot, ā€œYou gonna stand in the bushes all night, or are you gonna come in.ā€
It wasnā€™t a question, it was more like a challenge.
He was surprised that she had known right where he was, he had been careful to not make a noise as he injunā€™d up on the camp, maybe he had spent too long behind the collar, maybe, he was losing his skills.
Smiling, Sharp shook his head in bewilderment and stood up, walking into camp, ā€œHello, Gracie,ā€ he called. As he stepped into the ring of light, he asked, ā€œHowā€™d you know it was me?ā€
He stopped short when he seen the look on her face. It was a weird mixture of contempt and wariness, two things he had never seen on her before. ā€œBecause Iā€˜ve been waiting for you.ā€ she answered flatly, and went back to poking at the fire with a stick.
Sharp stood uncertainly. He thought that after following her erratic trail for the last few days that made it quite clear that she was lost, and that she wouldā€™ve been happy to see a familiar face, one that could guide her to where she needed to go, and one that had been her friend and confidant for a long time.
ā€œGracie? Are you alright?ā€
Without looking at him, she answered, ā€œOf course, Reverend Sharp.ā€
It was evident that she wasnā€™t going to invite him to sit down, so he went ahead and did so anyway. But for some odd reason, he did so cautiously. All the fine hairs on his body were standing straight up.
After a minute he said, ā€œI was so sorry to hear about what happened to you and your pa, Gracieā€¦ā€
He had been going to tell her how he had tracked her all the way here, determined to help her find the men responsible, but the rest died on his lips as she turned to stare at him, and he looked into her flat black, soulless eyes, eyes that didnā€™t belong to her. ā€œOh my Godā€¦ā€ he whispered, caught off guard.
Smirking, she said, ā€œGodā€™s not here, Reverend. But Iā€™ve been waiting for you to show up, so I could tell you to go on back home. You donā€™t want any part of this. You need to leave while your conscious is clear, and your record is still clean.ā€
As she leaned forward to stare at him intently, the flames from the fire danced eerily in her large dark eyes, ā€œI aim to find the men responsible for killing my daddy, and when I do, it will rain blood, Reverend. The streets will run thick with it. I wonā€™t kill them quick, and there will be no mercy. Do you understand that? When I find them, I will rip them apart. Iā€™ve already sealed my spot in hell, so whatever happens from now on, doesnā€™t matter, because Iā€™m already damned. But you, you still have a chance.ā€
Sharp felt a cold shiver run down his spine. He had heard a lot of men make threats like that in the heat of the moment, but they had always sounded hollow and empty. He had learned that people liked to talk big, but most of the time they lacked the sand to back it up. Gracieā€™s words were different, they rang with truth and finality. She would do it. The men she spoke of were walking corpseā€™s, their violent endā€™s were inevitable. Their fates were sealed, written in stone and highlighted with blood, their blood, if she could get to them.
Gracie had turned back to the fire, so Sharp took a few minutes to think about his next words. The sheriff had been right. Gracie was different. So far, he hadnā€™t seen even the smallest hint of the kind, humble girl that she used to be. Revenge and the need for blood, was all that fueled her now. But none of that changed his mission any. He had started out to help her, and whatever she said now, wasnā€™t going to change that.
ā€œGracieā€¦ā€
ā€œI wish youā€™d quit calling me that.ā€ she said flatly.
ā€œCalling you what?ā€
ā€œGracie.ā€
Confused, he asked, ā€œWell, thatā€™s your name ainā€™t it?ā€
She turned to look at him once more, ā€œReverend, your Gracieā€™s not here anymore. She died the night her father was killed.ā€
ā€œWhat are you talking about? Of course your Gracie.ā€
He watched her shrug her shoulders indifferently.
ā€œWell, if your not Gracie, then who are you?ā€ he asked cautiously.
ā€œAngel.ā€ she said softly.
Sharp immediately recognized her fatherā€™s pet name for her. ā€œAngel, huh? Thatā€™s aā€¦ right nice name.ā€ He
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