Read Online Los Nefilim Book 4 by T. Frohock - Free Book Online Page A

his fingers with Diago’s. “I lost Mamá’s tear. Señor Prieto took it from me.” His nose reddened.
    Diago recognized the signs of distress. A full-­blown crying jag would soon follow if he didn’t figure out what Rafael was talking about. “Calm down and tell me, what tear?”
    â€œIt looks like a marble.”
    â€œAh.” Diago reached into his pocket and produced the carmine marble. Rafael brightened as if he’d been given the sun.
    Warmth spread through Diago’s chest, and he couldn’t deny the pleasure he felt at mitigating the crisis with so simple a move. He glanced up at Miquel, who didn’t appear half as pleased, but at least he wasn’t frowning anymore.
    Rafael clenched the marble in his fist. “Thank you! Mamá said as long as I held her teardrop, she would be with me.” He shivered from the cold.
    Now Rafael’s attachment to the marble made sense. It wasn’t a marble at all, but an angel’s teardrop. Diago recalled that Candela’s eyes had been that color, gold and carmine with streaks of black. An angel’s tear was as precious as gold to a Nefil. No wonder the boy had been so frightened about its loss. “Put it in a safe place.”
    Rafael tucked the teardrop into his shirt pocket over his heart.
    Diago’s gaze quickly swept the barren station. “There is nothing here to make a golem with.”
    Miquel went to the steps and looked down. “Maybe down there.”
    Diago joined him. “How far to Moloch, I wonder?”
    â€œPrieto gave us two hours. How long was the train ride?”
    â€œToo long,” Diago said. Every moment wasted on that train worked against them, but that was what Prieto wanted. Any advantage he gave to Diago and Miquel would be seen by the daimons as an attempt to cheat Moloch of his prize.
    Miquel sniffed the air. Diago did the same and wrinkled his nose. Rafael mimicked them. Beneath the oily scent of industrial smoke and sewage was the distinct odor of decay and death.
    â€œI’ll go down first.” Miquel lifted the pistol.
    Diago shook his head and retrieved his knife. “No.” He lowered his voice. “If there is anything down there, I will deal with it.”
    Rafael was pale beneath the dirty florescent light. He stared at the concrete steps, his lips pressed together.
    Diago squatted in front of him and finally managed a believable lie. “It’s going to be okay. Will you trust me on that?”
    Rafael touched the pocket that held Candela’s teardrop. He nodded.
    â€œNot much choice, huh?” The jibe won Diago a weak smile. “Stay with Miquel and do exactly as he says.” He took off his coat and wrapped it around the boy like a cloak.
    Rafael clenched the collar at his throat and gave Diago another nod.
    Diago kissed his cheeks and rose. As he moved to the stairwell, he paused in front of Miquel. “If I call out, take your chances on the tracks. Watch out for him.”
    â€œYou know I will.” Miquel linked his pinky with Diago’s.
    They were close enough to kiss, and Diago considered it. They never knew when the last time might come, but he was also acutely aware of Rafael’s presence. In all probability, Sister Benita had rendered her opinions on homosexuals, too, and Diago had no doubt those judgments encompassed the proverbial trinity of hell, fire, and damnation.
    So with regret, he slipped away from Miquel and stepped onto the concrete steps, watching the shadows for any movement. Water dripped nearby and the hiss of steam curled through the air. He held the knife close to his body and out of sight. From this point forward, he intended to be the one giving out surprises.
    He reached the base of the stairs without incident. A single bulb sputtered weakly and illuminated a door no taller than Diago’s hips. Graffiti covered the door and the surrounding wall. A crude drawing of a red-­lipped