Alan Price and the Statue of Zeus (The Nephilim Chronicles Book 3) Read Online Free Page B

matters I must attend to.” Ardat turned to leave but hesitated at the last moment and called over her shoulder, “Besides, I’d rather camp out in the middle of a storm than share a roof with a coward.”
    Ardat’s response was pretty much what Alan had expected; still he felt his stomach turn. For an instant he saw something other than remorse and pain in Raphael. Anger gripped the Archangel for a split second and released him just as fast. Instead of replying to Ardat, Raphael shook his head and turned to walk inside his home.
    On the outside the shack looked as though it could afford only a cramped single room. Inside, Raphael’s house was as spacious as any other. Alan did a double-take as he looked inside and was greeted by a large room opening up further with rooms to both his right and left.
    Alan’s mind struggled to make sense of the conundrum, “How is it so big on the inside?” he asked stepping into the house and closing the door behind him.
    Raphael shrugged as he moved deeper into his home. “You accept that angels and demons are in eternal conflict but you struggle with the idea that a structure could be larger on the inside than it appears on the outside?”
    Alan conceded the point. His eyes traveled around Raphael’s home. The place was any sea lover’s dream. Smooth pink and white shells mixed into the sand that acted as a floor. Nets and pictures of the sea lined the walls along with shelves holding large conches and sections of exotic coral.
    Alan wished he had more time to look around but his head was beginning to ache with the need for food. On one side of the massive open room, an unlit fireplace held a large, stone pot. “Hey, Raphael,” Alan said towards the right side of the house where he had seen the Archangel disappear once they entered. “I’m going to sample whatever is in this pot, if that’s okay with you …”
    When there was no answer, Alan decided he had no choice. If Raphael became upset with him, then he would find a way to repay the Archangel. Alan practically ran to the pot hanging over the remains of a long dead fire. Taking off the stone lid brought the aroma of some kind of seafood stew to Alan’s nostrils. A ladle was placed inside and Alan wasted no time in attacking the food.
    Seconds, minutes, Alan wasn’t sure how much time passed as he ladled spoonful after spoonful of the goodness into his mouth. The soup was cooked to perfection with just the right amount of salt and spice. Alan only paused to breath when he heard movement behind him.
    It was Raphael. Before Alan could guess how his behavior would be received or if he owed the Archangel an apology, Raphael extended a hand. A loaf of bread the size of a football was clenched in his grip. “Eat,” Raphael said with no hint of ill will in his voice. “There is plenty and you need it more than I do.”
    Alan continued to devour the food until only a few spoonfuls remained. His stomach felt as though it might pop the button on his jeans. With a sigh, Alan put the pot down and turned to his host. Raphael sat quietly in a large, wooden chair stationed in one of the corners of the room. Head lowered, he was consumed in repairing a net that looked as though it could be as old as the Archangel. His deft fingers traveled in and out of the worn mesh like a skilled professional. Alan thought it would be a good time to question his reluctant host further. The last thing he wanted to do was push Raphael away but still, he needed to start somewhere. “You’ve lived in this place on the supernatural plane all these years? Hidden away from human eyes and left to yourself by both angels and demons?”
    Raphael’s fingers continued to weave back and forth over the net but his grey eyes rose from his work, “That’s right.”
    Alan licked his lips strategizing on the fly, “After you came down with Michael to quell the demons who were setting themselves as gods among the Greeks, you decided to leave your