Read Online Younger Gods 1: The Younger Gods by Michael R. Underwood - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Michael R. Underwood
Ads: Link
Gardener?”
“Antoinette didn’t say. But we must hurry,” I said, heading out the door.
“Everything’s a hurry,” Carter said, locking up. “You first. I’m not going anywhere without you dead in my sights.”
“I’m certain your distrust will not undermine our efforts in any way,” I said, deploying sarcasm as best as I could.
With Carter behind me, we made our way to the subway. But the trains knew nothing of our pressing matters, so we had the pleasure of waiting for fifteen minutes before an F train arrived.
CHAPTER
TEN
T he city that never slept was still rousing itself from the dark of early morning when we reached street level. The Theater District was largely patronized by tourists, and was therefore mostly empty at 6:20 in the morning.
Carter and I hustled from the subway station to the upscale café. By the time we arrived, I was puffing visible breath, though Carter did not seem winded. Hopefully, he was truly “the muscle.” Remembering the blows from yesterday’s melee, I would be glad to have him on the front lines while I worked from the back lines.
The Flag Café had an international flavor, likely catering to the various overseas visitors to New York. The wall was covered with perfectly framed flags from around the world, and the entire restaurant had a poised sense to it, the propriety and attention to detail that came with the upper-class aesthetic. I’d found it strange that the cheaper cafés and diners served far more food, while the expensive restaurants had tiny portions. Not that I’d had a chance to eat at locations quite so exquisite as this. I’d treated myself to one such dinner, months ago, and regretted it for weeks following as I subsisted on ramen.
Antoinette waved us over from a corner booth. Her outfit was far more formal than what I’d seen her wear before. Slacks and a cable-knit sweater, complete with a pearl necklace that I took to be both jewelry and ritual implement.
Seeing her companion, I understood the formality. The man seated beside her screamed blue blood. He was a portrait of white aristocracy, the kind of man I frequently saw walking around the Upper West Side or midtown as if he owned the city. And I suppose, between the lot of them, they did own the city. He wore crisp slacks and had a blue suit coat with golden buttons at the sleeve. His hair was thin but immaculately kept, swept in a perfect wave over his wrinkled brow. I guessed his age at seventy, though he was in fine shape.
I was underdressed. Far underdressed. Formal clothing had not been on my priority acquisition list, and now I regretted it.
I made my way through the half-full café, Carter at my back. The older man did not stand. Another white man stood a pace behind and beside the patrician. I’d originally taken him for a café server, but he was dressed differently from the servers, and did not move from the patrician’s side. A servant of some kind, then.
Antoinette made introductions. “This is Jacob Greene, and Carter, scion of the Gadhavi.”
The patrician’s gaze slid over me and settled on Carter. “It is always a pleasure to meet one of the Nephilim.”
Nephilim? That would explain a great deal. Descendants of the unions of the gods and mortals, empowered with divine strength, charged to fight beasts of the Bold as well as their counterparts, the children of the Infernals.
Very interesting. And if Carter’d been assigned to me, that meant that the Greene reputation had truly spread far and wide. But would it end up helping or hindering our ability to stop Esther? I couldn’t help but wonder what she was doing while we were talking niceties.
“Jake, care to join us?” Antoinette asked.
I snapped back to the present and saw the others sitting, one chair pulled out for me. I quickly took my seat.
“I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t catch your name?” I asked the older man.
The patrician waited a moment before responding. “I didn’t give it. You may call me
“Antoinette didn’t say. But we must hurry,” I said, heading out the door.
“Everything’s a hurry,” Carter said, locking up. “You first. I’m not going anywhere without you dead in my sights.”
“I’m certain your distrust will not undermine our efforts in any way,” I said, deploying sarcasm as best as I could.
With Carter behind me, we made our way to the subway. But the trains knew nothing of our pressing matters, so we had the pleasure of waiting for fifteen minutes before an F train arrived.
CHAPTER
TEN
T he city that never slept was still rousing itself from the dark of early morning when we reached street level. The Theater District was largely patronized by tourists, and was therefore mostly empty at 6:20 in the morning.
Carter and I hustled from the subway station to the upscale café. By the time we arrived, I was puffing visible breath, though Carter did not seem winded. Hopefully, he was truly “the muscle.” Remembering the blows from yesterday’s melee, I would be glad to have him on the front lines while I worked from the back lines.
The Flag Café had an international flavor, likely catering to the various overseas visitors to New York. The wall was covered with perfectly framed flags from around the world, and the entire restaurant had a poised sense to it, the propriety and attention to detail that came with the upper-class aesthetic. I’d found it strange that the cheaper cafés and diners served far more food, while the expensive restaurants had tiny portions. Not that I’d had a chance to eat at locations quite so exquisite as this. I’d treated myself to one such dinner, months ago, and regretted it for weeks following as I subsisted on ramen.
Antoinette waved us over from a corner booth. Her outfit was far more formal than what I’d seen her wear before. Slacks and a cable-knit sweater, complete with a pearl necklace that I took to be both jewelry and ritual implement.
Seeing her companion, I understood the formality. The man seated beside her screamed blue blood. He was a portrait of white aristocracy, the kind of man I frequently saw walking around the Upper West Side or midtown as if he owned the city. And I suppose, between the lot of them, they did own the city. He wore crisp slacks and had a blue suit coat with golden buttons at the sleeve. His hair was thin but immaculately kept, swept in a perfect wave over his wrinkled brow. I guessed his age at seventy, though he was in fine shape.
I was underdressed. Far underdressed. Formal clothing had not been on my priority acquisition list, and now I regretted it.
I made my way through the half-full café, Carter at my back. The older man did not stand. Another white man stood a pace behind and beside the patrician. I’d originally taken him for a café server, but he was dressed differently from the servers, and did not move from the patrician’s side. A servant of some kind, then.
Antoinette made introductions. “This is Jacob Greene, and Carter, scion of the Gadhavi.”
The patrician’s gaze slid over me and settled on Carter. “It is always a pleasure to meet one of the Nephilim.”
Nephilim? That would explain a great deal. Descendants of the unions of the gods and mortals, empowered with divine strength, charged to fight beasts of the Bold as well as their counterparts, the children of the Infernals.
Very interesting. And if Carter’d been assigned to me, that meant that the Greene reputation had truly spread far and wide. But would it end up helping or hindering our ability to stop Esther? I couldn’t help but wonder what she was doing while we were talking niceties.
“Jake, care to join us?” Antoinette asked.
I snapped back to the present and saw the others sitting, one chair pulled out for me. I quickly took my seat.
“I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t catch your name?” I asked the older man.
The patrician waited a moment before responding. “I didn’t give it. You may call me
Similar Books
