Resistance (Dark Realm Series) Read Online Free Page B

ghoul, Lemrick. The one you killed in the
alley."
    Convenient. No possible way to question a
dead ghoul, not even with a séance.
    "Hey. Wait a minute. How did you know
I killed him?" Suddenly, I knew the answer. "You were watching us
before you hid in here, weren't you?"
    "I admit my cowardice," Fenwick
cried holding his hands in front of his face defensively.
    More likely trying to see if he could
pick off any of the loser's property. I shook my head. "And what did this
ghoul want in exchange for this information?"
    "Lemrick demanded a human,"
Fenwick replied.
    My eyes darted to Cam whose expression
had darkened, his blue eyes glinted and his mouth compressed in a tight line.
    "Why did he want a human?" I
asked thinking of how the ghoul had seemed intent on using the crystal and had
even turned away from his fight with me to do it.
    "I thought he just wanted a good
meal," Fenwick said calmly.
    "You little bastard," Cam yelled
and charged at the demon brandishing my silver dagger.
    I grabbed him around the waist, halting
him before he could do any damage. "I can't let you kill him." My
voice was a furious whisper. "We need him."
    After a few seconds, he stopped straining
against my hold. Shaking me off, he spun on his heel and then paced to the
front window to gaze out onto the street.
    "Show us where this factory
is." Turning to glance over my shoulder to include Driscoll, I crossed to
the counter to scrutinize the map. My s uperior officer was no longer behind me. Where
was he? "Driscoll?"
    He peeked out from behind the backroom
drape and when he'd surveyed the room—probably seeing the budding fight
had been averted—he stepped out with a swagger. "Just checking out a
noise."
    With a disgusted sigh, I motioned him
over. Fenwick pointed to the map in the general area of Southwark.
    "Where exactly is the factory?" I lacked
further patience with Fenwick's hedging. "I want the address."
    "Father," Cam suddenly burst
out with happy excitement.
    "Your father?" Fenwick asked,
peering out at him over his long pointy nose.
    "He's coming this way." Cam's
face lit with a smile.
    Rising to my feet, I joined the young man
at the window. Outside, a cloaked figure on the opposite side of the road
paused and glanced from side to side before commencing to cross. The hood
shrouded his features from view, but the figure did seem male by the way it
moved. Yet there was something distinctly odd. I couldn't quite put my finger
on it.
    "How do you know it's your father?"
I asked.
    "I recognize the braiding on his
cloak." Cam rushed to the front door.
    The trepidation I felt nagged me again.
"Wait," I yelled.
    He threw back the bolt lock and twisted
the knob.
    "What's happening?" Driscoll
inched forward before edging back toward the safety of the storage room.
    Cam opened the front door and yelled,
"Father."
    The figure passed under a street lamp and
the movement and fluttering under the cloak became visible, casting a misshapen
shadow. But then I realized what was so odd about the figure. Although giving
the illusion of walking, the figure had no feet.
    "That's not your father," I
screamed. "That's an Amalgam."

Chapter Three

 
    "Be
extremely subtle, even to the point of formlessness."
    Sun
Tzu , The Art
of War

 
    The instant the door opened, the cloak
fell back revealing a "man" made entirely of shiny black feathers.
But this impression was of the briefest duration before the parts of the man
scattered and ravens—a flock of at least one hundred—dove with
purpose toward the shop.
    My legs seemed stuck in quicksand as I
moved toward the door, grabbed its frame and began to push it shut. The ravens
swarmed through the narrowing entrance, the flapping of their wings, clicking
of their beaks and shrieking caws a cacophony of sound assaulting my ears. As
if in an organized dance, the birds broke into four groups, one squadron for
each of us.
    Cam dropped to a crouch covering his head
with his hands as the birds struck at him. Driscoll ran