Read Online The Druid's Spear (Ascent of the Gem Bearers Book 1) by Parker Payne, Lee Thornton III - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Parker Payne, Lee Thornton III
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to the floor. In an almost graceful movement, it rose fluidly to stand several feet in the air above him.
“Are you of the line of Gilon the Great?”
John lay mesmerized as the attacker bent down, eyes glowing iridescently into the darkness. He stared unable to move, losing his breath every second that passed. He shivered as the being inhaled.
“No, you are not. Yet if you know of Rhychard, then you must know of—”
He was wrenched up once more, held in midair. “Where is the blood—”
John used the last vestiges of his strength as he felt his life seep out of him to draw his head back and slam into the face of his enemy. This was the end, and he’d rather die fighting, even if it was futile.
His skull cracked an audible crunch that mixed with the roar of whatever it was that held him. The last thing he saw was the large black clawed hand reach for his face.
Vibrant streaks of red met Ken’s eyes as he stepped into his home. It marked the cream-colored carpet, beautiful in the seemingly haphazard way it sprayed and dotted the floor. But the smell did not detract from what the red stain was…blood. Fresh, pungent, and foreign.
The briefcase dropped from his nerveless fingers. He took a step forward and felt something under his feet. Bewildered, he glanced down and froze.
It was a hand.
Moonlight mixed with the room’s low light landed on a body. Dull green eyes glazed upward from the face of his brother. Lines of drying blood flowed from puncture wounds under his chin. His neck bent at an awkward angle.
Bile and acid rose at the back of Ken’s throat. He grabbed his stomach in hopes to stay the contents of the food he and John had eaten earlier. A harsh sob erupted from his mouth and he staggered to the ground, his legs no longer able to hold him upright.
“John!” he screamed, anguish filling every part of his frame as the second most important person in his life had been torn from him in just four days. But this was different. Okasan’s death had been long in preparation. But this…this…
Who had done this?
The thought sparked the electric current in his brain and he got up again. Who did this? he asked himself the question again. Why would anyone do this to John? His heart, which had slowed in reaction to the vision of his brother in death, sped up. He took in the room, realizing that whoever had done this could still be here.
But if they were, they would have attacked him by now.
A sigh escaped as logic reasserted itself and he patted his body for his cell phone to call emergency services. Despite his rationalization, he glanced around the room. It was mostly dark in the corners except for the lamplight illuminating his friend’s corpse. He studied all around him, searching for any sign of activity.
Then, he saw something move above his head.
A shadow-like form was in the upper corner. As he eyes adjusted to the dark, he saw the form was man-like and hanging upside down, like a bat. A black cloak swung, and gloved hands pressed against the wall. The head moved and gleaming blue eyes, too shiny to be human, stared back at him.
Ken’s heart jumped in his throat.
Rhychard, at last. A deep raspy voice filled with an unholy satisfaction echoed in his head.
Before Ken could even ponder that, the thing moved. One second Ken was standing; the next sent him hurtling into the refrigerator door. A cry escaped his mouth as pain coursed along his body. The thing stirred from the crouched position and rose in one movement. The cloak billowed about its frame, towering easily at seven feet. Heavy, raspy breathing filled the room.
It came at him again with the same lightning speed, but Ken darted to his left and fell on the floor before it reached him. Scrambling backward on his hands and feet, the blood chilled in his veins as a ferocious howl reverberated in the room. Large gloved hands smashed the refrigerator, leaving a fist imprint. Ken rose to his feet and ran into the living room. The thing
“Are you of the line of Gilon the Great?”
John lay mesmerized as the attacker bent down, eyes glowing iridescently into the darkness. He stared unable to move, losing his breath every second that passed. He shivered as the being inhaled.
“No, you are not. Yet if you know of Rhychard, then you must know of—”
He was wrenched up once more, held in midair. “Where is the blood—”
John used the last vestiges of his strength as he felt his life seep out of him to draw his head back and slam into the face of his enemy. This was the end, and he’d rather die fighting, even if it was futile.
His skull cracked an audible crunch that mixed with the roar of whatever it was that held him. The last thing he saw was the large black clawed hand reach for his face.
Vibrant streaks of red met Ken’s eyes as he stepped into his home. It marked the cream-colored carpet, beautiful in the seemingly haphazard way it sprayed and dotted the floor. But the smell did not detract from what the red stain was…blood. Fresh, pungent, and foreign.
The briefcase dropped from his nerveless fingers. He took a step forward and felt something under his feet. Bewildered, he glanced down and froze.
It was a hand.
Moonlight mixed with the room’s low light landed on a body. Dull green eyes glazed upward from the face of his brother. Lines of drying blood flowed from puncture wounds under his chin. His neck bent at an awkward angle.
Bile and acid rose at the back of Ken’s throat. He grabbed his stomach in hopes to stay the contents of the food he and John had eaten earlier. A harsh sob erupted from his mouth and he staggered to the ground, his legs no longer able to hold him upright.
“John!” he screamed, anguish filling every part of his frame as the second most important person in his life had been torn from him in just four days. But this was different. Okasan’s death had been long in preparation. But this…this…
Who had done this?
The thought sparked the electric current in his brain and he got up again. Who did this? he asked himself the question again. Why would anyone do this to John? His heart, which had slowed in reaction to the vision of his brother in death, sped up. He took in the room, realizing that whoever had done this could still be here.
But if they were, they would have attacked him by now.
A sigh escaped as logic reasserted itself and he patted his body for his cell phone to call emergency services. Despite his rationalization, he glanced around the room. It was mostly dark in the corners except for the lamplight illuminating his friend’s corpse. He studied all around him, searching for any sign of activity.
Then, he saw something move above his head.
A shadow-like form was in the upper corner. As he eyes adjusted to the dark, he saw the form was man-like and hanging upside down, like a bat. A black cloak swung, and gloved hands pressed against the wall. The head moved and gleaming blue eyes, too shiny to be human, stared back at him.
Ken’s heart jumped in his throat.
Rhychard, at last. A deep raspy voice filled with an unholy satisfaction echoed in his head.
Before Ken could even ponder that, the thing moved. One second Ken was standing; the next sent him hurtling into the refrigerator door. A cry escaped his mouth as pain coursed along his body. The thing stirred from the crouched position and rose in one movement. The cloak billowed about its frame, towering easily at seven feet. Heavy, raspy breathing filled the room.
It came at him again with the same lightning speed, but Ken darted to his left and fell on the floor before it reached him. Scrambling backward on his hands and feet, the blood chilled in his veins as a ferocious howl reverberated in the room. Large gloved hands smashed the refrigerator, leaving a fist imprint. Ken rose to his feet and ran into the living room. The thing
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