Read Online Nightbringer by James Byron Huggins - Free Book Online Page A

And I cannot—for the sake of my sanity—chase ghosts every day of the year.”
    “ Then I will not persuade you,” Melanchthon said, bitter. “Because I can say nothing to you now that I have not said before.”
    Stephen pursed his lips. “Brother, if you want me to initiate actions to evacuate the abbey, then you must speak of more than mere feelings or vague premonitions.” He grimaced. “Melanchthon, you are mystical, but you are not out of touch with reality. You understand the seriousness of an evacuation. Even if I use the excuse of this snowstorm there are those who would be alarmed. There are priceless treasures here. I can’t just leave them unguarded.”
    Melanchthon held the moment as a man holds a sword that he has fought with for an entire day—as if his hand is frozen to the hilt so that he cannot let it go.
    “Very well,” he began, “but it is difficult.”
    “ But try, please.”
    The huge monk waited. Then, “I have had dreams of a creature that walks these halls. It is … old. For its years are not like the years of a man. It knows … evil. And it has done much evil. It is powerful. It does not fear us. And now it shall reveal itself, for whatever game it had played has come to an end.”
    Stephen crested his fingers. “And when it reveals itself?”
    “ It will kill us all,” Melanchthon said somberly. “And then it will slip away and hide again among men.”
    Stephen registered a hint of anger. “I know the legends, Melanchthon, because the Nephilim are legend.” He rose with a curse from his chair. “Brother, sometimes I believe your mystical inclinations are too vivid for your own good.”
    “ I wish it were so,” Melanchthon answered. “But it is not so, and so I must do what I can to insure that what has been … will never be again.”
    “ The Nephilim are dead, brother.”
    “ Are they?”
    Father Stephen leaned upon his table. “Why in the name of God do you continue like this? No one has seen one of these creatures in three thousand years! The Church has even forgotten them! They are only overlooked passages in a book no one reads anymore!”
    After releasing a slow breath, Melanchthon raised his face. He blinked softly, as if watching the wind, detecting a scent, listening to a ghost. He gazed at a corner of the ceiling as a man who cautiously watches the approach of a lion.
    “Something this way comes,” he murmured, utterly motionless. “Something that has waited long for this hour.” His beard tilted as he nodded. “Yes, it will not wait much longer.”
    For a moment, as if Melanc hthon’s utter certitude was contagious, Father Stephen bit his lip. “But … but if this creature is so perfectly hidden, why would it reveal itself at all?”
    “ Because someone has come that even it fears . So it will emerge from hiding … and soon.”
    Stephen was considerate or confused. “Brother, a mere feeling, without any logical reason, is not enough to justify calling up helicopters through the storm.”
    “ It is no natural storm.”
    Stephen rolled his eyes. “There is no winning this discussion with you! You will believe as you will believe! But the simple fact is that I cannot evacuate the abbey on a feeling! The snowstorm has closed all roads, so we cannot use the buses. The nearest village is six miles away across mountains that have killed more men here than all the wars combined, so we cannot leave on foot. We would have to notify the Alpine Rescue Team and the repercussions would be enormous if we could not present a logical, physical reason for their intervention.”
    He shook his head passionately, as if to convince the older monk of his logic. “Listen to me, Melanchthon. We are trapped here until the roads are cleared. And I can no more change that than I can make the sun retreat down ten steps of this abbey.”
    “ It is already too late to flee,” Melanchthon said and bowed his head. “I only pray that the Lord will intervene. Because what is