John Saul - Guardian

The sound from the far reaches of the barn swelled into a snarl, then something came charging out of the blackness toward her. Acting only on her reflexes, MaryAnne jerked back from the gaping darkness, slamming the door shut and dropping the bar into place just as the thing, whatever it was, hurled itself against the other side. Her heart pounding, she turned and fled back across the yard, slamming the kitchen door shut as soon as she was inside the house.

What was it?

What had been in the barn?

It couldnt have been Joeyit couldnt have been! Surely he would have answered her when she called to him. Surely, he wouldnt have attacked her.

Would he?

Bound for bestsellerdomlike many of Sauls others.

Kirkus Reviews

Chilling suspense.
Library Journal

SUFFER THE CHILDREN
PUNISH THE SINNERS
CRY FOR THE STRANGERS
COMES THE BLIND FURY
WHEN THE WIND BLOWS
THE GOD PROJECT
NATHANIEL
BRAINCHILD
HELLFIRE
THE UNWANTED
THE UNLOVED
CREATURE
SECOND CHILD
SLEEPWALK
DARKNESS
SHADOWS
GUARDIAN
THE HOMING
BLACK LIGHTNING
THE BLACKSTONE CHRONICLES:

Part 1AN EYE FOR AN EYE: THE DOLL

Part 2TWIST OF FATE: THE LOCKET

Part 3ASHES TO ASHES:

THE DRAGONS FLAME

Part 4IN THE SHADOW OF EVIL.

THE HANDKERCHIEF

Part 5DAY OF RECKONING:

THE STEREOSCOPE

Part 6ASYLUM

THE PRESENCE
THE RIGHT HAND OF EVIL
NIGHTSHADE
THE MANHATTAN HUNT CLUB
MIDNIGHT VOICES

This book contains an excerpt from the hardcover edition of Black Lightning by John Saul. This excerpt has been set for this edition only and may not reflect the final content of the hardcover edition.

A Fawcett Book
Published by The Random House Ballantine Publishing Group
Copyright 1993 by John Saul
Excerpt from Black Lightning copyright 1995 by John Saul
Excerpt from The Homing copyright 1994 by John Saul

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Published in the United States by Ballantine Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York, and simultaneously in Canada by Random House of Canada Limited, Toronto.

Fawcett is a registered trademark and the Fawcett colophon is a trademark of Random House, Inc.

www.ballantinebooks.com

Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 93-19002

eISBN: 978-0-307-77516-0

First Hardcover Edition: September 1993

v3.1

For Don Cleary and Stephanie Laidman
Thanks for everything!

I t was just the kind of day that never failed to depress her, even when she woke up feeling good. Today, the sense of impending disasterthe vague feeling of panic that had seized her when she first woke uponly worsened as the temperature skyrocketed and the hot, wet air closed around her like a straitjacket.

August in Canaan, New Jersey. Temperature, 93 degrees, humidity, 97 percent, and both climbing.

Canaan, New Jersey, where there were only two decent weeks a yearone in the spring and the other in the falland the rest of the time it was either too hot and muggy or too soul-numbing cold.

Canaan, where MaryAnne Carpenter had been born, and where shed grown up, and where shed gotten married, and where shed had her children, and where, she thought wryly, it was beginning to look as if she was going to die.

If she wasnt dead alreadywhich, this morning, seemed a definite possibility. And maybe not such a bad possibility, she reflected as she sipped at the coffee that had grown cold in the chipped mug. Except that if she was dead, then that meant she was now in Heaven and was due to spend eternity in a shabby two-bedroom house surrounded by a scraggly strip of brownish lawn, with a backyard just large enough to hold a rusting barbecue, some stained plastic lawn furniture, and a creaking swing set that neither of her kids had used for at least two years.

Obviously, if she was dead, this wasnt Heaven and she must have sinned a lot more than she realized.

The back door slammed open, and her daughters voice cut through her brooding thoughts. Isnt Dad here yet?

MaryAnne stifled the tart response that rose in her throat, determined not to let her anger and mistrust toward the man shed married contaminate Alisons relationship with her father. He said noon, but you know your father, she said evenly. If hes an hour late, we count him as on time, right?

Alison unconsciously twisted a lock of her dark brown hair around her forefinger, a habit MaryAnne had first noticed almost the day after she and Alan had separated. Alison glanced at the clock, then flopped into the chair opposite her mother. So he wont be here for another forty-five minutes. The girl sighed. Just like I told Logan. She began picking at the curling edge of the Formica-topped kitchen table. Mom? Can I ask you something?

The fact that Alisons eyes didnt meet hers warned MaryAnne that whatever the question was, she wasnt going to like it. But since Alisons thirteenth birthday last month shed grown used to fielding questions she didnt quite feel comfortable about answering, so now she steeled herself and nodded. You know you can always ask me anything you want, sweetheart, she said.

Alison took a deep breath. Well, Logan and I are sort of wondering. Are you and Dad going to get back together again?

Now, how on earth am I going to answer that one? MaryAnne thought. How do I tell her that the last thing in the world I want to do is go back to living with Alan Carpenter?

Except that maybe putting it together with Alan again wasnt quite the last thing in the world she wanted to do. Maybejust maybeit was the only thing she could do, given the circumstances. She realized now that at some level it was what shed been thinking about all morning, though she still had no answersfor Alison or herself. No answers, just a jumble of feelings that were totally confused.

Confused not only by emotions, but by economics as well.

And economics, she knew, were not a proper basis for a marriage.

Hadnt she read all the articles in all the womens magazines on the glories of love?

Hadnt she read all the stories about the poor couples who found happiness in each other and rose above their poverty?

The novels about women who married for money, only to find true love in the arms of the chauffeur, or the gardener, or the pool man?

Everyone knew that love and money should properly have nothing to do with each other.

Then shed looked around the house and begun to wonder. The paint on the outside was beginning to peel, and the wallpaper in the living room had finally deteriorated to the point that Logans messy fingerprints could no longer be cleaned off.

Didnt I tell you you should have painted in the first place? Alan had asked when shed called him to plead for enough money to replace the paper. If youd been practical at the start, you could just repaint. I just dont have the money for new paper.

But you had the money to take Little Miss Blondie to Bermuda, didnt you? MaryAnne had thought bitterly as she slammed the phone down.

Shed spent the rest of the day in a black rage, but by the next morning shed calmed down enough to realize that Alan hadnt had enough money to take Eileen Chandleror anyone else, for that matterto Bermuda. Eileen must have paid for the trip herself.