Excerpt from "Red Dahlia" by Ross S. Simon.

[Samuel]

Ross Simon
The following is an excerpt from Ross S. Simon's second horror novel, "Red Dahlia."
Viry had actually taken the baby, and some supplies and food for her, and called for a motor-cab that took her to an inn at Gurgaon, the city about halfway between Delhi and the secret temple of the Kamatra. From there, she would plan to return to the temple, if only long enough to ask her aunt, Sri Virvhedi Sajangpur, for advice on what they should do about this whole mess that had Clifford half out of his mind.
Virhynda had a relatively decent night’s sleep with little Alise next to her in the bed, only having to wake up twice, once for a feeding of Alise, and again when the child’s diaper needed changing. She woke up the next morning assuming that she would carry on with the day as she had planned.
“Wake up, little Alise,” she purred to the baby, drawing the sheets off of her. “We have an early time to go from—”
Suddenly, she noticed how Alise was dressed. The night before, Virhynda could’ve testified that she’d put her into a thin cotton baby smock for sleeping. As it was, now—she was clad in a little union suit.
The same union suit that a year before, Viry had just finished and yet had to throw out—because it got a stain of blood on it, Viry’s own blood.
Yet, here it was. Alise was wearing it. Worst of all, the large, dark bloodstain was still there.
Alise was smiling at her mother, kicking her little legs.
Virhynda’s mind became electrified with terror. She drew back, not knowing what in Shiva’s name to make of this. The—
It—
She—
Horrified, her head spinning, Virhynda jumped out of bed and ran to the telephone. She started to hyperventilate as she dialed the operator, and only as calmly as she could then, asked for the British Ministry in Delhi.
Viry had to wait a minute before getting through to the Ministry. During that time, she looked back at her daughter, in that bloodstained little suit—she had to close her eyes and look away from that garment on little Alise. For some reason, the baby herself was just happy and cooing, wiggling her little limbs.
As soon as she got through, Viry said to the deputy minister who answered: “Hello…could you perhaps inform me as to where Commodore Clifford Selickton might be in the city of Delhi?”
“He was here yesterday evening, Miss,” said the deputy, “but he left quickly, and we haven’t seen him since. We couldn’t tell you where he may have gone.”
“Look,” suggested Virhynda, her patience starting to ebb, “could you have the Royal Constabulary look around for him? It is of the utmost importance that I see him on a certain matter.”
“Perhaps we could, Miss, but we do know he was looking for a local Swami named Gudhlash Dharvanu. We also don’t know where he is, although if you do, you could—”
“I do not know where Swami Dharvanu is either!” she began to shout. Viry looked back again at Alise, then back to the telephone. “The Royal Constabulary is going to have to—”
She suddenly did a double take, back at Alise. The baby had crawled over to the bedside, and taken from a vase on the nightstand one of a bouquet of dahlias, locally grown flowers—Alise had knocked over the vase onto its side, spilling the dahlias, though the vase hadn’t rolled onto the floor yet—and was clutching it in her little hands.
These dahlias were an ordinary shade of blue, as most were, but the one Alise was clutching, Viry thought for an instant—and then, looking again, knew—was slowly turning blood red.
Virhynda dropped the phone receiver.
Alise wasn’t bleeding at all, on the dahlia or otherwise. There was just a spontaneous shade of red, like blood, growing over the petals of the dahlia, spreading over it, until—just like the stain on little Alise’s suit—it was completely bright red.
Viry could only watch, shaking.
“Hello?” said the deputy minister, still on the phone. “Hello?”
As Virhynda watched, a red drop of color—like blood—dripped off of the dahlia and onto the bed.
Cowering away in sheer horror, Virhynda put her face in her hands, sobbing, hyperventilating. This can’t even be real—
Finally, from the nightstand, the vase rolled off onto the floor, and shattered with a pop and tinkling.
Viry slumped onto the floor, into a dead faint.
And little Alise, Shiva knew, just kept on smiling.
http://www.amazon.com/Red-Dahlia-Ross...