Read Online Saved By Blood (The By Blood Vampire Series Book 3) by Samantha Snow - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Samantha Snow
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one of those, was not in this conversation. Not at all. His mind was on other things, things much more tasty than a disgruntled middle aged business man well on his way to massive coronary. Philip could hear it clearly in his voice and shook his head with some combination of annoyance and pity.
Men like this were so small minded. They couldn’t see past their own petty needs and subsequently spent a significant portion of their lives stamping their feet and demanding changes that wouldn’t actually make much of a difference. They focused on the wrong thing, expended all of their energy doing so, and it was only upon death (and that was assuming their manner of death allowed them any time) that they realized their lives hadn’t amounted to much of anything.
Hardly anything at all. If Philip could have done so without giving himself away as something other than an ordinary human being, Philip would have issued this man a warning. He would have told him what an awful waste he was making of his life and that he really ought to focus his energy on something that made him feel better than this.
After all, he was going to die someday, and probably some day much sooner than in his pompous head he had allowed himself to believe. Call him sentimental. Philip Smith had begun this conversation feeling far more sympathetic and inclined to peacefulness than was usual for his character.
That had been in the beginning. That sentimental set of feelings was now decidedly past tense and past tense only . The way this little prick shouted at him into the phone, as if he were the boss and Philip one of his unfortunate minions, had an astonishing ability to harden Philip right back up again. Men like this one always seemed to have the ability to do things like that, the same way that they, without fail, could make a young girl in a bar snort with disdain when they offered to buy her a drink.
“I- well, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m sure I don’t, Mr. Smith. Not at all.”
Philip rolled his eyes. There was nobody in the room to see the gesture and commiserate, but it made him feel better all the same. This man, this awful Mr. Lockland, was doing his best to maintain that indignant, windbag tone of his and it might have even worked on a lesser man.
Or a man who was actually a man to begin with and not something more than human and also less natural. For Philip, it had very much the opposite effect, if it had any effect at all. Any empathy that he might have felt, something that hadn’t come naturally to him when he was alive and was even less of a strength after his turning, evaporated.
His face turned dark and ominous and his incisors snapped out and to attention. If Mr. Lockland had been able to see those things happen, there was a good chance that he would have shut the hell up and snapped to attention, but he couldn’t see it and so he went right on digging himself a hole he would very likely never be able to climb back out of again.
“Mr. Smith? Did you hear me? I said I don’t know what you’re talking about. I do know that I’m not sure I appreciate your tone. You aren’t the only one with business savvy, see? I’ve heard the stories, don’t think I haven’t. The mysterious Mr. Philip Smith, business hotshot whiz kid extraordinaire.
“If you think that frightens me you’re out of your goddamned mind. I’ve seen a thing or two, OK? Been around the block, as they like to say. I’ve been doing this shit since you were still in diapers and I think you’d do very well to remember that. You got me?”
“Do I ‘get’ you? Oh yes. Oh yes, Mr. Lockland, I believe I do. I believe the real question should be do you get me?”
The words he spoke, although relatively benign, shut Mr. Lockland right up. Good. That was good. Philip had done his best to maintain an even tone but he had no
Men like this were so small minded. They couldn’t see past their own petty needs and subsequently spent a significant portion of their lives stamping their feet and demanding changes that wouldn’t actually make much of a difference. They focused on the wrong thing, expended all of their energy doing so, and it was only upon death (and that was assuming their manner of death allowed them any time) that they realized their lives hadn’t amounted to much of anything.
Hardly anything at all. If Philip could have done so without giving himself away as something other than an ordinary human being, Philip would have issued this man a warning. He would have told him what an awful waste he was making of his life and that he really ought to focus his energy on something that made him feel better than this.
After all, he was going to die someday, and probably some day much sooner than in his pompous head he had allowed himself to believe. Call him sentimental. Philip Smith had begun this conversation feeling far more sympathetic and inclined to peacefulness than was usual for his character.
That had been in the beginning. That sentimental set of feelings was now decidedly past tense and past tense only . The way this little prick shouted at him into the phone, as if he were the boss and Philip one of his unfortunate minions, had an astonishing ability to harden Philip right back up again. Men like this one always seemed to have the ability to do things like that, the same way that they, without fail, could make a young girl in a bar snort with disdain when they offered to buy her a drink.
“I- well, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m sure I don’t, Mr. Smith. Not at all.”
Philip rolled his eyes. There was nobody in the room to see the gesture and commiserate, but it made him feel better all the same. This man, this awful Mr. Lockland, was doing his best to maintain that indignant, windbag tone of his and it might have even worked on a lesser man.
Or a man who was actually a man to begin with and not something more than human and also less natural. For Philip, it had very much the opposite effect, if it had any effect at all. Any empathy that he might have felt, something that hadn’t come naturally to him when he was alive and was even less of a strength after his turning, evaporated.
His face turned dark and ominous and his incisors snapped out and to attention. If Mr. Lockland had been able to see those things happen, there was a good chance that he would have shut the hell up and snapped to attention, but he couldn’t see it and so he went right on digging himself a hole he would very likely never be able to climb back out of again.
“Mr. Smith? Did you hear me? I said I don’t know what you’re talking about. I do know that I’m not sure I appreciate your tone. You aren’t the only one with business savvy, see? I’ve heard the stories, don’t think I haven’t. The mysterious Mr. Philip Smith, business hotshot whiz kid extraordinaire.
“If you think that frightens me you’re out of your goddamned mind. I’ve seen a thing or two, OK? Been around the block, as they like to say. I’ve been doing this shit since you were still in diapers and I think you’d do very well to remember that. You got me?”
“Do I ‘get’ you? Oh yes. Oh yes, Mr. Lockland, I believe I do. I believe the real question should be do you get me?”
The words he spoke, although relatively benign, shut Mr. Lockland right up. Good. That was good. Philip had done his best to maintain an even tone but he had no
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