Read Online Hellboy: The God Machine by Thomas E. Sniegoski - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Thomas E. Sniegoski
Tags: Fiction, General, Suspense, Science-Fiction, Fantasy fiction, Fantasy, Media Tie-In - General, Media Tie-In, Mystery, Science Fiction - General, Fiction - Science Fiction, American Science Fiction And Fantasy, Horror Tales, Horror Fiction, Hellboy (Fictitious character), Hellboy (Fictitious character: Mignola)
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But we failed, and our god was forced to wait. The world was forced to wait."
His disciples hung their heads in shame, and Absolom could feel the pain of knowing that they had displeased their lord and master.
"But all is not lost, brothers and sisters, for even though he does not speak, he has given us a second chance," Absolom said, a slow, euphoric smile creeping across his face.
He began to walk around the basement, feeling the desperate eyes of his flock upon him. "Secreted away from the eyes of the infidels, in our deep, dark hole beneath the ground, we shall continue to perform our sacred tasks. Faith, my brothers and sisters, is what we need if we are to achieve our goals. Faith from our hearts, faith from the hearts of others."
He directed their attention to the corner of the room, where a wooden pallet held the first of their prizes: a large rock that resembled a woman lying tightly curled in the fetal position, a paper drinking cup, one side of the rim chewed as if by rats, and, leaning against the dirt wall of the chamber, a piece of plasterboard, a brown water mark in the shape of a veiled female, head bowed in prayer, staining its center. How to collect the residual power of veneration from these objects had been but the first hurdle Absolom was forced to confront upon his return.
"These are but the start," he continued. "In time..."
"But when will it be enough?" Annabel Standish interrupted, wringing her tiny hands. "When will there be enough that he will no longer be angry?"
Absolom smiled. He was as much in the dark about their god's whereabouts as they, but he would not show it. In order for them to achieve their goal, they had to believe that all would turn out as planned, that it was only a matter of time before they were to be reunited with Qemu'el, and the world changed forever.
"Soon," he whispered, opening his arms to them.
"Very, very soon."
Chapter 4
T hey had been at the Museum of Native American Culture in Waldoboro, Maine, for just over three hours, and Hellboy was starting to get itchy.
"I don't know about this," he said to Liz, as he rummaged through a brown paper bag.
The museum had closed for the winter and wasn't scheduled to open again until Memorial Day, but it still employed a full-time security guard to patrol the grounds and the adjoining gift shop and visitors center. George, a full-blooded Micmac, had been waiting for them when they'd first arrived, and since Hellboy and Liz weren't sure what the night would offer, they had sent him home. The man was so grateful for an evening off that he left them his bag lunch to share.
"Cut the guy some slack," Liz said from her seat on a folding chair in the middle of the exhibit hall. "What did you want, a five-course meal?"
Hellboy looked up. "I'm not talking about George's lunch, Liz. I'm talking about this." He waved his hand in the air. "About being here. I think we're wasting our time."
"Oh," she said, crossing her arms and slouching in her chair. "Well, Manning said he had a source."
Inside the paper sack, Hellboy found a cheese sandwich, cookies and an apple. His stomach grumbled. Some of that cheese sandwich would hit the spot. He pulled off the plastic wrap and took a bite.
"Yeah, and what's up with that? Since when does Manning have sources ?" he asked through a mouthful of bread and cheese.
Liz shrugged. "I don't know. He has sources, so what?"
Hellboy carefully sat down in the chair beside her and handed her the other half of the sandwich. "He seemed kind of off. A little antsy. Especially when he got to the part about the sources. I think he was holding out on us."
"Why would he do that?" she asked, taking a bite.
"Haven't got a clue." He glanced into the lunch bag again. "Apple or cookies?"
"Cookies," she replied, wiping the corners of her mouth before taking another bite.
Hellboy removed the apple and tossed the bag to Liz. "He just seemed more close-mouthed than usual. More uptight, if that's possible." He
His disciples hung their heads in shame, and Absolom could feel the pain of knowing that they had displeased their lord and master.
"But all is not lost, brothers and sisters, for even though he does not speak, he has given us a second chance," Absolom said, a slow, euphoric smile creeping across his face.
He began to walk around the basement, feeling the desperate eyes of his flock upon him. "Secreted away from the eyes of the infidels, in our deep, dark hole beneath the ground, we shall continue to perform our sacred tasks. Faith, my brothers and sisters, is what we need if we are to achieve our goals. Faith from our hearts, faith from the hearts of others."
He directed their attention to the corner of the room, where a wooden pallet held the first of their prizes: a large rock that resembled a woman lying tightly curled in the fetal position, a paper drinking cup, one side of the rim chewed as if by rats, and, leaning against the dirt wall of the chamber, a piece of plasterboard, a brown water mark in the shape of a veiled female, head bowed in prayer, staining its center. How to collect the residual power of veneration from these objects had been but the first hurdle Absolom was forced to confront upon his return.
"These are but the start," he continued. "In time..."
"But when will it be enough?" Annabel Standish interrupted, wringing her tiny hands. "When will there be enough that he will no longer be angry?"
Absolom smiled. He was as much in the dark about their god's whereabouts as they, but he would not show it. In order for them to achieve their goal, they had to believe that all would turn out as planned, that it was only a matter of time before they were to be reunited with Qemu'el, and the world changed forever.
"Soon," he whispered, opening his arms to them.
"Very, very soon."
Chapter 4
T hey had been at the Museum of Native American Culture in Waldoboro, Maine, for just over three hours, and Hellboy was starting to get itchy.
"I don't know about this," he said to Liz, as he rummaged through a brown paper bag.
The museum had closed for the winter and wasn't scheduled to open again until Memorial Day, but it still employed a full-time security guard to patrol the grounds and the adjoining gift shop and visitors center. George, a full-blooded Micmac, had been waiting for them when they'd first arrived, and since Hellboy and Liz weren't sure what the night would offer, they had sent him home. The man was so grateful for an evening off that he left them his bag lunch to share.
"Cut the guy some slack," Liz said from her seat on a folding chair in the middle of the exhibit hall. "What did you want, a five-course meal?"
Hellboy looked up. "I'm not talking about George's lunch, Liz. I'm talking about this." He waved his hand in the air. "About being here. I think we're wasting our time."
"Oh," she said, crossing her arms and slouching in her chair. "Well, Manning said he had a source."
Inside the paper sack, Hellboy found a cheese sandwich, cookies and an apple. His stomach grumbled. Some of that cheese sandwich would hit the spot. He pulled off the plastic wrap and took a bite.
"Yeah, and what's up with that? Since when does Manning have sources ?" he asked through a mouthful of bread and cheese.
Liz shrugged. "I don't know. He has sources, so what?"
Hellboy carefully sat down in the chair beside her and handed her the other half of the sandwich. "He seemed kind of off. A little antsy. Especially when he got to the part about the sources. I think he was holding out on us."
"Why would he do that?" she asked, taking a bite.
"Haven't got a clue." He glanced into the lunch bag again. "Apple or cookies?"
"Cookies," she replied, wiping the corners of her mouth before taking another bite.
Hellboy removed the apple and tossed the bag to Liz. "He just seemed more close-mouthed than usual. More uptight, if that's possible." He
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