Read Online Where Angels Fear to Tread by Thomas E. Sniegoski - Free Book Online
Authors: Thomas E. Sniegoski
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man asked.
He could hear the woman in the background whispering. A child started to cry, and she instantly barked for it to shut up.
A mother after his own heart.
"I'm from Destination Delivery, and I have a certified letter for thirty-seven Nautical," Mathias said, pretending to reach inside his jacket for the envelope.
"What is it?" the man demanded.
"I don't know, but if you want to sign for it, you can see for yourself," Mathias said, wearing his mask of harmlessness.
The door slammed closed and Mathias could hear the man and woman talking again. Then came the sound of the chain being moved and the door opened wide to reveal a scruffy middle-aged man wearing shorts and a sweat-stained T-shirt, a filthy NASCAR hat perched atop his head, with long straggly hair like straw creeping out from beneath.
"I'm the resident," he said.
He held out a filthy hand, but instead of holding an envelope, Mathias had withdrawn his Glock, which he was pointing at the man's face.
"Sorry," he said with a sneer. "Guess I don't have a certified letter after all, but I do have this loaded gun."
The man's hands flew into the air. "What the fuck!" he exclaimed, slowly backing away from the door.
Mathias gestured for Febonio and Wallace to follow him inside, leaving Cole and Yelverton to watch the perimeter.
The woman immediately began to screech as Mathias closed the door behind him with his foot.
"What the fuck do you want? Get the fuck out of here!" she hollered. The child was crying all the louder now; a little boy or girl—Mathias couldn't tell—no older than two.
Febonio pointed his weapon at the child clutching at its mother's leg and brought a nicotine-stained finger to his lips. "Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh."
"Listen, I don't know what you want, but if you see it, take it," the man said. "We don't even live here."
Mathias was taken aback. "You don't live here?"
"Naw," the man said. "Friends of my old lady here do. . . . They asked us to watch the place while they're away."
Mathias had been in places of unnatural power before, and this didn't feel like one of them. Had Poole screwed up? he wondered. He looked around. The place was certainly nothing special from what he could see.
Wallace came around a corner, finished with checking the place out.
"Anything out of the ordinary?" Mathias asked.
The man shook his blocky head. "Looks like a fucking pigsty to me."
"What do you want?" the woman asked again, her voice shaking with fear and anger. She had picked up the crying child and was cradling it in her arms.
Mathias ignored the question, pulling his phone from his pocket. He had other things to concern himself with right now, such as the possibility of disappointing his mistress.
She didn't like to be disappointed, and he so hated to be the one to give her bad news.
Delilah was waiting for the phone to ring.
She sat in the backseat of another Range Rover, trying not to stare at the phone on the seat between her and Clifton Poole. But no matter where she looked, her eyes always returned to the phone lying silently beside her.
If only Poole could be so silent.
The Hound muttered incessantly, rocking back and forth, still clutching the infant-shaped vessel that had once contained her prize. Ever since she had forced him to lay his hands upon it, he had refused to let it go.
Poole had been driven nearly mad by his contact with the vessel, but he still seemed to be useful. Between bouts of screaming and crying, he had been able to tell that the object, which had been stored within the container of metal, was very aware that they, or rather she , was looking for it, and was doing everything in its power to hide its trail.
But Poole was good, very good, and was able to lift a reading even though the object's vast amount of power threatened to utterly destroy his mind.
Delilah hoped he would live long enough to receive the funds that were owed him for his services. He certainly was earning them.
He had demanded maps, and she
He could hear the woman in the background whispering. A child started to cry, and she instantly barked for it to shut up.
A mother after his own heart.
"I'm from Destination Delivery, and I have a certified letter for thirty-seven Nautical," Mathias said, pretending to reach inside his jacket for the envelope.
"What is it?" the man demanded.
"I don't know, but if you want to sign for it, you can see for yourself," Mathias said, wearing his mask of harmlessness.
The door slammed closed and Mathias could hear the man and woman talking again. Then came the sound of the chain being moved and the door opened wide to reveal a scruffy middle-aged man wearing shorts and a sweat-stained T-shirt, a filthy NASCAR hat perched atop his head, with long straggly hair like straw creeping out from beneath.
"I'm the resident," he said.
He held out a filthy hand, but instead of holding an envelope, Mathias had withdrawn his Glock, which he was pointing at the man's face.
"Sorry," he said with a sneer. "Guess I don't have a certified letter after all, but I do have this loaded gun."
The man's hands flew into the air. "What the fuck!" he exclaimed, slowly backing away from the door.
Mathias gestured for Febonio and Wallace to follow him inside, leaving Cole and Yelverton to watch the perimeter.
The woman immediately began to screech as Mathias closed the door behind him with his foot.
"What the fuck do you want? Get the fuck out of here!" she hollered. The child was crying all the louder now; a little boy or girl—Mathias couldn't tell—no older than two.
Febonio pointed his weapon at the child clutching at its mother's leg and brought a nicotine-stained finger to his lips. "Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh."
"Listen, I don't know what you want, but if you see it, take it," the man said. "We don't even live here."
Mathias was taken aback. "You don't live here?"
"Naw," the man said. "Friends of my old lady here do. . . . They asked us to watch the place while they're away."
Mathias had been in places of unnatural power before, and this didn't feel like one of them. Had Poole screwed up? he wondered. He looked around. The place was certainly nothing special from what he could see.
Wallace came around a corner, finished with checking the place out.
"Anything out of the ordinary?" Mathias asked.
The man shook his blocky head. "Looks like a fucking pigsty to me."
"What do you want?" the woman asked again, her voice shaking with fear and anger. She had picked up the crying child and was cradling it in her arms.
Mathias ignored the question, pulling his phone from his pocket. He had other things to concern himself with right now, such as the possibility of disappointing his mistress.
She didn't like to be disappointed, and he so hated to be the one to give her bad news.
Delilah was waiting for the phone to ring.
She sat in the backseat of another Range Rover, trying not to stare at the phone on the seat between her and Clifton Poole. But no matter where she looked, her eyes always returned to the phone lying silently beside her.
If only Poole could be so silent.
The Hound muttered incessantly, rocking back and forth, still clutching the infant-shaped vessel that had once contained her prize. Ever since she had forced him to lay his hands upon it, he had refused to let it go.
Poole had been driven nearly mad by his contact with the vessel, but he still seemed to be useful. Between bouts of screaming and crying, he had been able to tell that the object, which had been stored within the container of metal, was very aware that they, or rather she , was looking for it, and was doing everything in its power to hide its trail.
But Poole was good, very good, and was able to lift a reading even though the object's vast amount of power threatened to utterly destroy his mind.
Delilah hoped he would live long enough to receive the funds that were owed him for his services. He certainly was earning them.
He had demanded maps, and she
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