The Conch Shell of Doom Read Online Free Page A

Carolina within a couple of hours. The swan dive off the Copper Canyon broke almost one hundred bones by his estimation. His body took entirely too long to heal, putting him behind schedule. For two thousand years, he’d prevented the Awakening weeks, even months, in advance. He’d never cut things that close. At least Mr. Lovell didn’t have the Blade of Hugues de Payens, the one thing that could kill anything, including immortals. Franklin smiled at the idea of the final Awakening. He’d fantasized about life after Trenton since the days of the Roman Empire.  
    Two flashing blue lights appeared in the rearview mirror, cutting Franklin’s daydream short. The cops. Always there when you didn’t need them.
    “Damn.”
    The blade lay in the seat next to him. He covered it with his leather jacket. The Mustang, El Cid, could easily outrun the cops, but nothing could outrun radios or helicopters. Every Highway Patrolman, Sheriff, and City Police within a twenty-mile radius would be all over Franklin within minutes, and time was too precious to deal with a manhunt. He smacked the steering wheel as he pulled over onto the shoulder and then rolled down his window. A breeze brushed against his face every time a car passed. The police officer, a Highway Patrolman, shone a flashlight in his eyes. Franklin handed over his license and registration before the cop had a chance to speak.
    The patrolman looked over the ID, making sure it was authentic. Franklin knew how to make a fake better than anyone, and he’d never been caught. The cop looked too stupid to break that trend.
    “A Yankee, huh?”
    “Sure. Whatever the license says.” Franklin’s fake license included a home address in Pennsylvania. He wasn’t sure of the actual name of his birthplace, since it’d changed names so much over time. Maybe Switzerland or Austria? He couldn’t remember.  
    Man , he thought. That’s depressing .
    The cop gave Franklin back his ID and registration. He tried to open the Mustang’s door. Locked.
    “Step out of the car.”
    Odd. Cops didn’t usually try to open the door like that. Something didn’t feel right. Franklin hadn’t smoked weed in a while, so it couldn’t be a suspicious smell.  
    “What’s the problem?”
    The cop jutted his chin out. “I don’t like your face. I don’t like Yankees. I think you might have a record of indecent exposure. Pick one. They all give me probable cause. Out of the car.”
    Franklin reached for his jacket, hoping to grab the Blade of Hugues de Payens underneath it. He figured he’d get tased, or worse, if John Q. Law saw the weapon.
    “Don’t do that.” The cop laid a hand on his service weapon. “Show me your hands and come out slowly.”
    Franklin closed his eyes for a moment. He had a healthy respect for police officers. Every day on the job their lives were on the line, even if some of them got a perverse pleasure out of clubbing someone over the head without getting in trouble. That respect was the only thing keeping the cop’s neck from being snapped. Franklin got out of the car, holding his hands up.
    The cop pushed Franklin up against the car. He laid his hands on the roof while enduring a rather thorough pat down. He also noticed a hint of scotch on the patrolman’s breath.  
    Shame, Shame! What would your mother think?
    The patrolman spit on the Mustang’s hood. “Hiding anything in the car I should know about?”
    Franklin stared at the saliva, imagining a million different ways to kill the cop. Time was ticking, and Franklin’s destination seemed farther and farther away.  
    The cop poked Franklin in the back. “You deaf?”
    “Oh, you know. An engine, seats, radio, the usual.”  
    “How ‘bout I see for myself, Yankee boy?”
    “Just make it fast. I’m running late.”
    “Can’t have that, can we?” The patrolman grabbed Franklin’s hand and pushed it into his back. “Why don’t you have a seat in my cruiser while I take a look?”
    “I don’t