Read Online URIEL: The Price (The Airel Saga, Book 6) (Young Adult Paranormal Romance) by Aaron Patterson, Chris White - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Aaron Patterson, Chris White
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like?”
“No, it was horrible.”
Pierre belly laughed at this. “This is true; they are terrible. I’ve been meaning to give them up for years now.” He stubbed out his cigarette in the adjacent ashtray. “Today is the day.”
John stood. “Buy you a drink to celebrate?”
Pierre stood as well. “Oui, monsieur. We shall trade one vice for another. You will pay dearly, though, I must warn you. I do not take lightly this offense of you talking bad about my Gauloises. These are a French institution, very nationalistic.”
“Two drinks, then. At least.” John clapped him on the back as he grabbed his luggage and they walked. The tiniest part of him, that which was still unsullied and uncynical, had truly made a friend in Pierre, truly liked him. The other ninety-nine percent, though, was busy calculating how and when to make the most use of this new potential asset.
* * *
JOHN AND PIERRE SAT and talked over vodka martinis at first, switching to club soda—over here they called it “sparkling water”—pretty quickly. John told Pierre he was searching for information about a collection of rare books. He told a story about his own recent personal tragedies involving his daughter, but most of it was a lie. He wasn’t going to trust anyone anymore. He knew better—this was business.
He let Pierre talk, gave him enough information to keep him talking, and then found that Pierre’s situation was similar to his own. He had lost his two sons, about college age, in the riots that had swept France in months prior. His boys had joined a revolutionary militia and been killed in action near his home just outside of Lyon. His wife hanged herself in the closet days later. She had seen too much, and Pierre was, like John, a man with little to lose anymore, save his life.
Pierre was a man with resources, and it wasn’t long until John realized that his new friend was his ticket to Dubai.
“I want you to meet someone when we get to Dubai, John. He’s a man of means. I believe he can help you. I’ll even flip for the airline tickets.”
John set his glass on the table and leaned back in his chair. “Helping me with my obsession? No, I won’t have it. I hate to be a tagalong, and you paying for my ticket is too much.”
Pierre waved his hand in the air dismissively. “Nonsense. Times are hard, with the earthquake and so many millions of people dying. The world is on fire, John. We need to band together, to help a friend. Besides, I’m good at reading people, and you, John Cross, are a good man.”
Hook, line, and sinker. “Thanks, Pierre. This means more than you’ll ever know. And like I said, as soon as we get in, I’ll pay you back. The man I’m seeing owes me, and he’ll make it right.”
“It will be what it will be. Now, this man I want you to meet, he is someone who knows things, knows of this book you speak of, I am sure of it. I really think he can direct you to the right people at the very least. It’s all about who you know, John.”
John lifted his glass. “I’ll drink to that.”
CHAPTER XIV
Arabia, 788 B.C.
PIANKHY DID NOT BELIEVE the first few reports as they came to him, but eventually he had to turn aside from the command of his forces and investigate. “Sea monsters in the forest; it is absurd.” He was more than a little angered by these rumors because in the end, it was just another distraction from the battle, from inevitable martial glory.
But he could not ignore them. Too many trusted lieutenants had reported these things. The looks on their faces—stark fear—were most compelling.
He stalked over scorched earth to the rear, the areas where his legions had trampled on their way to the breached walls of Ke’elei. The battle had reached a turning point; all that lay ahead was the mop-up, the final kills. And now he had to divert his all-too-valuable attention to look into children’s tales.
“There, my general,” a lieutenant said. “It writhes.”
Piankhy looked
“No, it was horrible.”
Pierre belly laughed at this. “This is true; they are terrible. I’ve been meaning to give them up for years now.” He stubbed out his cigarette in the adjacent ashtray. “Today is the day.”
John stood. “Buy you a drink to celebrate?”
Pierre stood as well. “Oui, monsieur. We shall trade one vice for another. You will pay dearly, though, I must warn you. I do not take lightly this offense of you talking bad about my Gauloises. These are a French institution, very nationalistic.”
“Two drinks, then. At least.” John clapped him on the back as he grabbed his luggage and they walked. The tiniest part of him, that which was still unsullied and uncynical, had truly made a friend in Pierre, truly liked him. The other ninety-nine percent, though, was busy calculating how and when to make the most use of this new potential asset.
* * *
JOHN AND PIERRE SAT and talked over vodka martinis at first, switching to club soda—over here they called it “sparkling water”—pretty quickly. John told Pierre he was searching for information about a collection of rare books. He told a story about his own recent personal tragedies involving his daughter, but most of it was a lie. He wasn’t going to trust anyone anymore. He knew better—this was business.
He let Pierre talk, gave him enough information to keep him talking, and then found that Pierre’s situation was similar to his own. He had lost his two sons, about college age, in the riots that had swept France in months prior. His boys had joined a revolutionary militia and been killed in action near his home just outside of Lyon. His wife hanged herself in the closet days later. She had seen too much, and Pierre was, like John, a man with little to lose anymore, save his life.
Pierre was a man with resources, and it wasn’t long until John realized that his new friend was his ticket to Dubai.
“I want you to meet someone when we get to Dubai, John. He’s a man of means. I believe he can help you. I’ll even flip for the airline tickets.”
John set his glass on the table and leaned back in his chair. “Helping me with my obsession? No, I won’t have it. I hate to be a tagalong, and you paying for my ticket is too much.”
Pierre waved his hand in the air dismissively. “Nonsense. Times are hard, with the earthquake and so many millions of people dying. The world is on fire, John. We need to band together, to help a friend. Besides, I’m good at reading people, and you, John Cross, are a good man.”
Hook, line, and sinker. “Thanks, Pierre. This means more than you’ll ever know. And like I said, as soon as we get in, I’ll pay you back. The man I’m seeing owes me, and he’ll make it right.”
“It will be what it will be. Now, this man I want you to meet, he is someone who knows things, knows of this book you speak of, I am sure of it. I really think he can direct you to the right people at the very least. It’s all about who you know, John.”
John lifted his glass. “I’ll drink to that.”
CHAPTER XIV
Arabia, 788 B.C.
PIANKHY DID NOT BELIEVE the first few reports as they came to him, but eventually he had to turn aside from the command of his forces and investigate. “Sea monsters in the forest; it is absurd.” He was more than a little angered by these rumors because in the end, it was just another distraction from the battle, from inevitable martial glory.
But he could not ignore them. Too many trusted lieutenants had reported these things. The looks on their faces—stark fear—were most compelling.
He stalked over scorched earth to the rear, the areas where his legions had trampled on their way to the breached walls of Ke’elei. The battle had reached a turning point; all that lay ahead was the mop-up, the final kills. And now he had to divert his all-too-valuable attention to look into children’s tales.
“There, my general,” a lieutenant said. “It writhes.”
Piankhy looked
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