Gabriel's Sacrifice (The Scrapman Trilogy Book 2) Read Online Free Page B

a bite, exaggerating the amazement of its taste. But it seemed to be working.
    Lowering her weapon, she took her utensil and did the same. After devouring its contents and using the spoon to scrape off as much sauce as she could, Mohammad gave her another.
    “Thought you’d like it.” He smiled. “Nothin’ like some good ol’ room-temp SpaghettiO’s.”
    The girl dropped the first can and was on to the second, peeling off its lid just as he’d done.
    “Mohammad,” he reintroduced himself, this time able to press a hand to his chest. “My name is Mohammad.”
    She looked at him, licking the sauce from her lips. “What about you?” he asked. “You have a name?”
    She swallowed hard, pressing her hand to her chest, and mumbled something.
    “What?”
    “A demon,” she said.
    “The hell you are!” Mohammad huffed, startling the girl a bit. He returned his voice to a comforting level. “You don’t have a name, then? I can give you one.”
    She looked at him.
    “Let’s see … the first word that came to mind when I saw you on the roof … well, maybe the first word isn’t such a good idea, but the second word, the second word was radiant .” He pointed to his eyes. “They’re beautiful.”
    She continued to stare at him.
    “So, from radiant, I’ll call you … Radia.”
    She stuck out her hand, demanding a third serving of SpaghettiO’s.
    He handed her another. “Mohammad,” he introduced himself for the fourth and final time. “Radia.” He pointed at her. “Mohammad and Radia.”
    And, at last, she nodded in understanding.
    “Good,” Mohammad spread out his arms. “And welcome to my home.”
    He smiled, hoping to win one in return. But no such luck. The hybrid was far too busy shoveling the canned pasta into her mouth to care much for his hospitality.
    “You must be thirsty,” he realized, turning to retrieve one of his juice packs; but when he returned, it was offered to only air.
    The third aluminum can, rolling slowly, dropped down off the nest, skipping and clanking some fifteen feet below.
    Friggin’ ninja .
    The sound of her footsteps could faintly be heard; he’d already had trouble placing her whereabouts. She’d headed for the boiler room, then off toward the corrugator, from then on he hadn’t a clue. “Good night, Radia,” he whispered. “Don’t slit my throat just yet please.”
    Mohammad would have trouble sleeping tonight, that much was certain; and he was going to leave his LED lantern on until morning. It’s claimed the thing could stay lit for some hundred thousand hours–something crazy like that–so he wasn’t too worried about it. But whether or not he’d live to see another hundred thousand hours, that was something else entirely.
    With just enough moonlight trickling in through its fabricated canopy, she ventured into the building’s darkness. Its inside was much larger than she had expected, plenty of space for her to explore, and plenty of places for her to hide.
    He’d reacted with such hostility at her name, Adeamyn. It must be something terrible. A new emotion had flooded her during that moment, one she’d never felt before and one she’d rather not feel again–like her face was the warmest part of her body. But she had a new name now, something about her eyes the pale-one had said.
    Raydea .
    She liked it–it suited her somehow.
    Every discernible exit had been blocked by these gigantic, auburn cylinders, the same cylinders on which balanced the pale-one’s feasting and weapons area. The roof, she believed, must be the only way in or out of this place.
    She listened as the pale-one shut the door to the top of the building. He had a name as well.
    Mohamyd .
    He was darker than most other pale-ones–his skin, the color of the structure she’d slept on beneath the last risen sun. He seemed capable of emitting happiness without killing, seemed genuinely pleased to hand her the cylinders filled with food. But he was still a pale-one, no matter the