Read Online Wuthering Frights by H.P. Mallory - Free Book Online

they realized they couldn't reach their souls on flat land, they would climb whatever they could find. This wasn't such a big deal if said victims were inside a house, for example, where most just toppled off their couches or kitchen tables. But if the victims happened to be outside ... Well, there had already been reports of deaths from creatures falling off bridges, buildings and rolling down the sides of mountains.
    "Where is the shipment arriving?" Quill asked as he exhaled a pent-up breath that spoke of his anxiety. I looked at him and was suddenly struck by how much older Quillan looked than he should have. As an elf who could live well beyond two hundred years, at thirty-two, Quill shouldn't have had a single line on his face. But I could already see the frown lines in his forehead and the beginnings of crows’ feet in the corners of each of his eyes. His previously shiny gold hair seemed lackluster now, with threads of grey weaving around his ears.
    This obviously wasn't an easy life, which was all the more incentive to get out of it. And although I didn't have an escape route planned yet, I wasn’t giving up. There was something inside me that refused to yield, something that was rallying, something increasingly pissed off as the days went by. I just refused to do this forever—and to carry on with the likes of Baron and his entourage. But mostly I refused to give my father the satisfaction of knowing that I would bend to his will. As to figuring a way out, I just needed a little more time—I needed to clear my head and come up with a plan. But for now, that plan would have to wait.
    "Loading docks," Baron answered as he started tapping his thick fingers against the surface of the table, which was worn in some places, stained in others.
    "What time's it comin' through, boss?" the were at the right of Baron asked, chewing on one of his long, dirty fingernails. He had the general look of a were—big and burly with shaggy, disheveled hair that looked as if it hadn't seen a shampoo bottle in decades. He had a longish beard and his teeth were yellowed from too much smoking, I guessed. All in all, he was totally gross.
    "Tonight," Baron answered as his eyes fell on me, a trace of mirth visible in their dark black depths. It was almost like an untold challenge—he was testing me to see what my reaction would be—to see if I was nervous or anxious about my newfound role. Well, even though I was more than anxious, I wasn't about to let him know that.
    "What time?" I asked, my face and voice revealing nothing. I' d not only taken his bet, but I’d doubled it.
    He smiled slightly and dropped his gaze to my bust casually, but I knew better than to think he was being casual. No, he was reminding me how close he'd come to forcing himself on me. He was trying to goad me. I felt my blood begin to heat up and forced myself to calm down, and not to react because that's what he wanted from me.
    "O dark thirty," he said, his eyes still fastened on my breasts.
    I held his gaze. "You might want to be more specific." He glanced up at me and I dropped my attention to the table, as if I were looking at his nuts which had nearly been sliced from his body only a few minutes earlier. Two could play this game. "I mean, after midnight, but before sunrise isn't exactly buttoned down." I looked up at his face again. "Is it?"
    He eyed me and his smile widened, as if he were turned on by my pretending to focus on his man appendage. "One a.m."
    "Hey, Baron, how about you drop this game you're playing with Dulcie and give us the information about the shipment?" Quill demanded, his voice irritated and his eyes burning.
    Baron said nothing, but cleared his throat, facing Quill. Apparently the charade was now over. I patted Quill's hand beneath the table to say thanks. He didn't face me, but squeezed my hand all the same. Yep, it was nice to know someone had my back.
    "Melchior said there'd be fifty cases comin' through the loadin' docks," Baron