Novel & Cerita Salem's Lot Kindle

Theresa was old enough to have experience, but looked young enough to please Salem’s eyes—two key requirements for a housekeeper in his home. “Where is Salem now?” I asked. A good feeding would soothe my nerves. “He’s not at home, my lady. I couldn’t tell you.” Grumbling, I headed to Salem’s library. Perhaps he had a book I could entertain myself with. Once there, I found a book lying open on a desk. It was titled Mythic Bloodlines: Lost & Fabled Lilitu. Curious, I studied an illustration on the open page. It depicted a trio of strange-looking women, just like the ones Salem had been painting all this time. The accompanying text stated:

He owned nearly every one of King’s books and multiple paperback copies of his favorites: It, Salem’s Lot, Pet Semetary, Christine and The Dead Zone. He paused, frowning at the black leather-bound book stuffed between It and Salem’s Lot. It looked familiar, but he couldn’t place from where. He shrugged and passed it over, searching for the model of Christine he’d built about six or seven years ago . . . 8 or 9 10 or 11?

In the center of the clearing stood an old, gnarled tree, its bark twisted and gnarled. Saul approached the tree, his hand resting on the rough bark. He closed his eyes and muttered a few words under his breath. Suddenly, the tree began to shake and tremble, and a low rumbling filled the air. Silas watched in awe as the tree split open, revealing a hidden chamber inside. Saul motioned for him to follow as he stepped inside. The chamber was dark and musty, with the scent of old paper and ink filling the air. The walls were lined with shelves, and Silas could see countless books and scrolls stacked haphazardly on them.

Not that Jon had anything to say to her. The day had been taken up by this seemingly fruitless search, until in the dingiest part of the store, in a crumbling red book published in 1900, he found the name. The Book of Sacred Magic of Abramelin the Mage was filled with weird double-talk, esoteric terms, confusing graphics, and yawn-inducing florid language, but the name was there—as was his invocation.