Read Online The Druid's Spear (Ascent of the Gem Bearers Book 1) by Parker Payne, Lee Thornton III - Free Book Online
Authors: Parker Payne, Lee Thornton III
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tsked in mock anger. “You know what I want.”
“John-boyee,” the old man moaned.
“That was our deal.”
On a long exaggerated sigh, the old man shut the door and various locks unhinging clanged against the door before he opened it again.
John stepped inside the small apartment. Debris lay everywhere, a massive pile of things that should have been thrown away years ago. Rotted food, stiff aged cloths, and dusty furniture filled almost every inch of the place.
“I can’t give anything today,” Yamada— san murmured, head down John shook his finger. “Yes, you can, old man. Or else I take the book back right now.”
The old man’s shoulders slumped in defeat. He nodded toward the general vicinity, a mournful expression plastered to his face. Then he tucked the book under his arm and raced to a door down the hall and closed it.
John let out a gentle laugh and then dug his way into the kitchen. Every week for the past three years he had chipped away at the hoarder’s mess. After a year, he had cleaned out the space that led to the front entrance. Where once a mountain of junk stood, empty space now resided. It was a slow road, but he’d do what he could to help. In exchange for the manga, Yamada— san allowed him to take two or three bags of refuse without question.
After his work was done, he gathered the debris and left, not bothering to say ‘ ja mata’ to the old man. He’d see him again next week. Kenny’s apartment was across from Yamada— san’s, so he unlocked the door and tossed his packages on the couch before taking the garbage down to the refuse area.
Good deeds done for the night, he made his way back to Kenny’s apartment. The door was ajar but he thought nothing of it, thinking maybe he forgot to shut the door. He closed and locked it behind him and then sat on the couch.
He figured he and Kenny would probably spend the night playing video games and drinking before conking out in exhaustion. John debated calling the waitress at the diner who had forgiven him enough give her number, even though they hadn’t been formally introduced. He’d wait to call her tomorrow since Kenny was still trying to get over Aoki-kasan’s death. They both were.
A tear threatened to leak out, but he cleared his throat and picked up the book he’d retrieved from the library.
He flipped to the page he bookmarked earlier and studied the photograph. Kenny’s ancestor gazed out from the page among the others men standing there. The more he read about these particular men the more he— A black clawed hand covered his face in a blink of an eye. John screeched in terror and pain as the talons sunk into the soft side of his chin and lifted him into the air. His body jerked like a fish on a hook, a thousand thoughts racing through his mind as he tried to assess what was happening. Blood gurgled from the back of his throat, filling his mouth with the coppery salty taste. Blindly he lashed out, hitting the arm of whatever it was doing this to him.
His head banged into the ceiling and he came face to face with his attacker.
Glowing eyes set in the hooded figure. A musty, animal-like smell emitted from the adversary. A low hum grew louder and turned into a snarl. The talons dug deeper, puncturing into the base of his tongue. Strangled though he was, John still found enough courage to kick his feet out and clutch at the cruel weapon attached to him.
“You are not Rhychard’s seed!” The creature’s grip sank in further, a near threat to ripping off his jaw.
With his last ounce of cognizance, John gushed out, “No, I am not.”
“Hmmmm,” the attacker growled. “You know of who I speak.”
The talons withdrew their hold from his chin and he dropped back to the ground. His body shook in agony, and rivulets of blood streamed down his neck and drenched his shirt. Cold washed over him as the heat evaporated from his external extremities. Clutching at his throat, he watched as the hooded figure descended
“John-boyee,” the old man moaned.
“That was our deal.”
On a long exaggerated sigh, the old man shut the door and various locks unhinging clanged against the door before he opened it again.
John stepped inside the small apartment. Debris lay everywhere, a massive pile of things that should have been thrown away years ago. Rotted food, stiff aged cloths, and dusty furniture filled almost every inch of the place.
“I can’t give anything today,” Yamada— san murmured, head down John shook his finger. “Yes, you can, old man. Or else I take the book back right now.”
The old man’s shoulders slumped in defeat. He nodded toward the general vicinity, a mournful expression plastered to his face. Then he tucked the book under his arm and raced to a door down the hall and closed it.
John let out a gentle laugh and then dug his way into the kitchen. Every week for the past three years he had chipped away at the hoarder’s mess. After a year, he had cleaned out the space that led to the front entrance. Where once a mountain of junk stood, empty space now resided. It was a slow road, but he’d do what he could to help. In exchange for the manga, Yamada— san allowed him to take two or three bags of refuse without question.
After his work was done, he gathered the debris and left, not bothering to say ‘ ja mata’ to the old man. He’d see him again next week. Kenny’s apartment was across from Yamada— san’s, so he unlocked the door and tossed his packages on the couch before taking the garbage down to the refuse area.
Good deeds done for the night, he made his way back to Kenny’s apartment. The door was ajar but he thought nothing of it, thinking maybe he forgot to shut the door. He closed and locked it behind him and then sat on the couch.
He figured he and Kenny would probably spend the night playing video games and drinking before conking out in exhaustion. John debated calling the waitress at the diner who had forgiven him enough give her number, even though they hadn’t been formally introduced. He’d wait to call her tomorrow since Kenny was still trying to get over Aoki-kasan’s death. They both were.
A tear threatened to leak out, but he cleared his throat and picked up the book he’d retrieved from the library.
He flipped to the page he bookmarked earlier and studied the photograph. Kenny’s ancestor gazed out from the page among the others men standing there. The more he read about these particular men the more he— A black clawed hand covered his face in a blink of an eye. John screeched in terror and pain as the talons sunk into the soft side of his chin and lifted him into the air. His body jerked like a fish on a hook, a thousand thoughts racing through his mind as he tried to assess what was happening. Blood gurgled from the back of his throat, filling his mouth with the coppery salty taste. Blindly he lashed out, hitting the arm of whatever it was doing this to him.
His head banged into the ceiling and he came face to face with his attacker.
Glowing eyes set in the hooded figure. A musty, animal-like smell emitted from the adversary. A low hum grew louder and turned into a snarl. The talons dug deeper, puncturing into the base of his tongue. Strangled though he was, John still found enough courage to kick his feet out and clutch at the cruel weapon attached to him.
“You are not Rhychard’s seed!” The creature’s grip sank in further, a near threat to ripping off his jaw.
With his last ounce of cognizance, John gushed out, “No, I am not.”
“Hmmmm,” the attacker growled. “You know of who I speak.”
The talons withdrew their hold from his chin and he dropped back to the ground. His body shook in agony, and rivulets of blood streamed down his neck and drenched his shirt. Cold washed over him as the heat evaporated from his external extremities. Clutching at his throat, he watched as the hooded figure descended
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