Read Online Supernatural: War of the Sons by Rebecca Dessertine, David Reed - Free Book Online

alongside a pack of gum. Reaching into his jacket pocket, Sam’s heart sank. Something else was missing, and it was a much bigger deal than a useless cell phone.
    Ruby’s knife .
    The one weapon the boys had had with them had vanished from the inside pocket of Sam’s jacket somewhere between the library and the apartment. It was, as far as Sam and Dean knew, one of a kind.
    And now it was gone.
    Dean may not have been the smartest Winchester, and he certainly wasn’t the one you wanted to help translate an ancient document, but after years of digging through yellowed lore books, he had picked up a few things. He knew, for example, that when he saw crazy-ass lettering, he was better off calling Sam than trying to figure it out himself. Dean figured his value came more from his ‘give ’em hell’ attitude than from his G.E.D.
    The symbols on the side of the crate certainly fell into the ‘crazy-ass’ category. Was it Hebrew, or something older? A crate with biblical text on it getting dropped off at the Waldorf? This is almost too easy , Dean thought. All he had to do was follow it to its destination, grab the scroll, and get clear of the place before any more hot girls saw him in his embarrassing monkey suit.
    Trouble was, Dean had already lost the crate. The workman who had delivered it must have slipped into the service elevator while Dean was sorting all of this out in his head.
    He hurried along the loading dock to the service elevator’s oversized doors. As he reached out to press the ‘down’ button, assuming that’s where the crate was headed, the doors sprang open.
    “A lot of guests need their luggage taken to the loading dock?” asked the mustached man who was waiting in the elevator. Dean recognized him as one of the asshole desk clerks from upstairs.
    “Uh, yeah, lady wanted to see the...” Dean trailed off, looking around the poorly lit dock for anything that could possibly interest a guest, “the place where we keep the carts.” He gestured weakly toward a line of derelict luggage carts parked in the corner.
    The clerk stared hard at Dean for an excruciatingly long moment, then cracked a wry smile.
    “Kind of an unspoken rule that we wait until our shift’s over, buddy,” the man said, patting Dean on the back. “If a lady wants to see your, uh, cart , she’ll still wanna see it after you’re done working.” He pulled Dean into the elevator by the shoulder, but Dean resisted.
    “Maybe give me a minute here?” Dean asked.
    “You got a phone call. Your dad.”
    Dean shrugged the man’s hand off his shoulder and forced open the closing elevator doors. John Winchester had been dead for years, or, depending on how you looked at it, was not even born yet.
    “My what ?” Dean demanded, suddenly deadly serious.
    “Or brother? Or your cousin? I don’t know. Some guy. Sounded kind of annoyed. And annoying, for that matter.” The man pulled Dean’s hand off the elevator door, which continued to close. “And here’s a pro tip. Don’t actually try anything on those carts. You’ll end up rolling all over the place, the lady will bonk her head, and it’ll be all tears and whining for the rest of the night. Trust me.”
    It wasn’t a dignified position to be in, but Sam didn’t have a choice. He was on his hands and knees, clawing around the base of the phone booth for dropped change. He had only had a few coins, and Dean was taking his sweet time to get to the phone. Probably got distracted , Sam thought. If he’s with a woman...
    “Sam, that you?” a voice sounded through the phone.
    “Dean! I’ve been waiting a—”
    “Yeah, ’bout that, couldn’t you have waited a little longer to check in on me, Mom? Made me lose a lead on our scrolls.”
    “I’m not checking in,” Sam said, aggravated. “I thought you’d want to know we got robbed.”
    “We? I didn’t get robbed. All I own here is this stupid hat, and I sure as hell still have that.”
    “Our apartment was broken