Read Online The Perfect Poison by Amanda Quick - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Amanda Quick
Ads: Link
Servant.
The acolytes fell to their knees. Caleb reluctantly did the same.
The Servant of Charun looked at the boy holding the dagger.
“Is the sacrifice ready?”
“Yes, my lord,” the boy said.
The intended victim surfaced from his drug-induced stupor.
“What’s this?” he mumbled, the words slurred. “Where the bloody hell am I?”
“Silence,” the boy holding the dagger ordered.
The sacrifice blinked a few times, still disoriented. “Is that you, Arnie? What are ye doin’ in that silly-looking robe?”
“Silence,” Arnie shrieked. He sounded very young and very scared.
“Enough,” the leader decreed. “He should have been gagged and blindfolded. It is not fitting that the sacrifice look upon the face of the Servant of Charun.”
Always hard to get good staff, Caleb thought. He could almost sympathize. He had lost track of how many housekeepers he’d gone through in the past few years.
“Yes, my lord,” Arnie said hastily. “I’ll take care of the business.”
He hesitated, uncertain what to do with the dagger. Then he set it down on the altar.
“Give me the dagger,” the Servant of Charun commanded.
The taller of the two hooded acolytes standing at the altar moved slightly as though to pick up the blade and hand it to the leader. His hand brushed against the weapon. The atmosphere around the blade blurred ever so slightly, as though it had been enveloped in fog. In the next instant the artifact disappeared altogether.
For a few seconds no one moved. Everyone, including the Servant of Charun, just stood there, staring at the place where the blade had been a heartbeat earlier. Caleb took advantage of the collective confusion to get to his feet. He went swiftly toward the altar.
The Servant of Charun looked up, still bewildered, and saw Caleb coming toward him. He finally appeared to grasp the fact that the situation had become complicated.
“Who are you?” he shouted. He moved back, one hand raised as though to ward off a demon.
Caleb showed him the gun. “There’s been a small change in tonight’s performance.”
The Servant stared at the gun. “No. Impossible. Charun will not allow you to harm me.”
The boy on the altar sat up with a groggy air. The ropes that had bound his wrists and ankles had been severed.
“What’s going on?” he said.
The dagger reappeared in the hand of the tall acolyte.
“We’re leaving,” the acolyte said.
He scooped up the boy, tossed him over his shoulder and disappeared through the curtained doorway.
“Stop him,” the Servant of Charun shouted.
There was a mad scramble as several hooded figures tried to get through the opening at once.
Glass shattered on stone. Caleb realized one of the lanterns had been knocked to the floor. There was an ominous whoosh. Flames leaped high, snapping eagerly at nearby robes.
“Fire,” a boy yelled.
Hoarse, terrified shouts reverberated through the chamber, echoing off the stone walls. There was a great thunder of shoes and boots as the frightened acolytes rushed to jam the only two exits.
A panicked youth intent on escape caromed into Caleb. The impact sent him sprawling. The gun flew from his hand and skidded out of reach across the floor.
“Son of a bitch,” Caleb muttered. This was not going well.
He rolled to his feet in time to see the Servant dashing toward the curtained doorway. He leaped forward and managed to seize the back of the other man’s cowl. He yanked hard.
The Servant of Charun did not go down but he reeled back against the altar. His cowl fell away, revealing the aquiline face of a man in his early thirties. His hand plunged into the folds of his robes and emerged with a pistol.
“Damn you,” he roared. “I’ll teach you to interfere with Charun’s Servant.”
He pulled the trigger but he was off balance and quite frantic. Not surprisingly, he missed by a wide margin. Before he could make a second try, Caleb was on him.
They hit the unforgiving stone floor with
The acolytes fell to their knees. Caleb reluctantly did the same.
The Servant of Charun looked at the boy holding the dagger.
“Is the sacrifice ready?”
“Yes, my lord,” the boy said.
The intended victim surfaced from his drug-induced stupor.
“What’s this?” he mumbled, the words slurred. “Where the bloody hell am I?”
“Silence,” the boy holding the dagger ordered.
The sacrifice blinked a few times, still disoriented. “Is that you, Arnie? What are ye doin’ in that silly-looking robe?”
“Silence,” Arnie shrieked. He sounded very young and very scared.
“Enough,” the leader decreed. “He should have been gagged and blindfolded. It is not fitting that the sacrifice look upon the face of the Servant of Charun.”
Always hard to get good staff, Caleb thought. He could almost sympathize. He had lost track of how many housekeepers he’d gone through in the past few years.
“Yes, my lord,” Arnie said hastily. “I’ll take care of the business.”
He hesitated, uncertain what to do with the dagger. Then he set it down on the altar.
“Give me the dagger,” the Servant of Charun commanded.
The taller of the two hooded acolytes standing at the altar moved slightly as though to pick up the blade and hand it to the leader. His hand brushed against the weapon. The atmosphere around the blade blurred ever so slightly, as though it had been enveloped in fog. In the next instant the artifact disappeared altogether.
For a few seconds no one moved. Everyone, including the Servant of Charun, just stood there, staring at the place where the blade had been a heartbeat earlier. Caleb took advantage of the collective confusion to get to his feet. He went swiftly toward the altar.
The Servant of Charun looked up, still bewildered, and saw Caleb coming toward him. He finally appeared to grasp the fact that the situation had become complicated.
“Who are you?” he shouted. He moved back, one hand raised as though to ward off a demon.
Caleb showed him the gun. “There’s been a small change in tonight’s performance.”
The Servant stared at the gun. “No. Impossible. Charun will not allow you to harm me.”
The boy on the altar sat up with a groggy air. The ropes that had bound his wrists and ankles had been severed.
“What’s going on?” he said.
The dagger reappeared in the hand of the tall acolyte.
“We’re leaving,” the acolyte said.
He scooped up the boy, tossed him over his shoulder and disappeared through the curtained doorway.
“Stop him,” the Servant of Charun shouted.
There was a mad scramble as several hooded figures tried to get through the opening at once.
Glass shattered on stone. Caleb realized one of the lanterns had been knocked to the floor. There was an ominous whoosh. Flames leaped high, snapping eagerly at nearby robes.
“Fire,” a boy yelled.
Hoarse, terrified shouts reverberated through the chamber, echoing off the stone walls. There was a great thunder of shoes and boots as the frightened acolytes rushed to jam the only two exits.
A panicked youth intent on escape caromed into Caleb. The impact sent him sprawling. The gun flew from his hand and skidded out of reach across the floor.
“Son of a bitch,” Caleb muttered. This was not going well.
He rolled to his feet in time to see the Servant dashing toward the curtained doorway. He leaped forward and managed to seize the back of the other man’s cowl. He yanked hard.
The Servant of Charun did not go down but he reeled back against the altar. His cowl fell away, revealing the aquiline face of a man in his early thirties. His hand plunged into the folds of his robes and emerged with a pistol.
“Damn you,” he roared. “I’ll teach you to interfere with Charun’s Servant.”
He pulled the trigger but he was off balance and quite frantic. Not surprisingly, he missed by a wide margin. Before he could make a second try, Caleb was on him.
They hit the unforgiving stone floor with
Similar Books
